could not explain. But the leather rolled away from him.
Like a flash Langridge was up, had picked the ball from the ground, and amid a perfect pandemonium of yells, was sprinting for Randall's goal, with not a man between him and the last chalk mark.
It was almost a foregone conclusion that he would touch down the ball, and he did, though Tom sprinted after him, with such running as he had seldom done before. But to no avail.
To the accompaniment of a whirlwind of cheers, Langridge made the score, and then calmly sat on the ball, while the others rushed at him. But he was safe from attack.
Oh, the bitterness in the hearts of the Randall lads! It was as gall and wormwood to them, while they lined up behind their goal posts and watched Lynn Railings kick the goal.
"Six to nothing against us," murmured Phil, with a sob in his throat. "Oh, fellows"
He could not go on, but walked silently back to the middle of the field.
"Now, boys, give 'em the 'Wallop' song!" cried Bean Perkins, with a joyousness that was only assumed, and the strains of that jolly air welled out over the field, mingling with the triumphant battle cries of Boxer.
But the Randall players heard, and it put some
