bled up; his straining fingers were searching for the welcome touch of the smooth leather. There it was locked tight in the grasp of the thick-set captain from New Haven.
A futile struggle to obtain possession of it, then the umpire poking about, managed to reduce the mass to order, and the teams lined up. No longer now did Hart see the crowds or hear the cheers and shouting; no longer did he think of who he was or what he was. There was the goal, there was the ball, and there was that wild-eyed, set-jawed man in front of him. But oh! the joyousness of the moment when he got through the line unhampered! Oh! the bound of his heart as he stopped the full-back's kick (with a noise heard upon the hillside) and saw nothing before him but the erratic leaps of the ball as it twirled across the turf! If he could only pick it up ! But just as he reached forward something bumped him from behind and he slipped and missed it. The Yale man did the same thing, and at last a half-dozen swooped down upon it at once. Another disentangling of the squirming pile of striped legs and blue elbows, and underneath was Minton, laughing in a nervous chatter. Line up again!
