all his might. The referee blew again—more loudly. Still Harold paid no heed.
A red-faced and very angry referee came rushing up and seized the Freshman by the shoulder. The official jerked the ball out of Harold's hands.
With blazing eyes the referee cried angrily, "When you hear this whistle—put the ball down!"
A few more futile stabs at the Union State stonewall line and Harold, esteeming discretion for the moment the better part of valor, summoned Trask for a punt. The captain responded nobly by booming out a long sixty-yard spiral. Wing, State halfback, received it and was downed instantly.
The Union State supporters in the grandstand were shouting with joy and confidence. They had the ball back and the game was nearly over. Tate's rooters were wrapped in gloom.
State lined up. The weary Tate players crouched down to meet the onslaught of their opponents. Deciding to take no chances of fumbling so near his own goal line and knowing there were only a few minutes to play, the State quarterback summoned Swanson, the punter, back of the line.
"They may kick. I better play back—hey?" Harold yelled to Trask.
