Back to the dressing-rooms again now, with the policemen trying to make a path through the surf and surgings of the mob.
Elliott was talking like one demented, stamping his feet and working his elbows.
"Never mind, never mind!" he was crying.
"Oh, God, if we had had ten seconds more!" Another "Dutch uncle" was speaking:
"You held them down, but oh! confound it, boys, you can win! Oh! why don't you do it! Rogers, play in closer! Buck, don't let that man get by you again! Follow the ball! Follow that ball! Elliott, try their left end. Keep hammering at it; you gain there every time! Oh! oh! oh! win! There's forty-five nice long minutes ahead—make use of 'em!"
"It only seemed to me that we were out there ten minutes," chuckled Hart to Franklin. The left guard was rinsing out his mouth.
"This half will be long enough," he spluttered. "Hullo, we're off again! You did well, old man!" he added, slapping Hart on the back. "Keep it up. I'm proud of you!"
If any one wishes to know the progress of the second struggle (or the first for that matter), he may be referred to the diagram
