printed in the next morning's papers. To the uninitiated it may look like an engineer's profile platting, but it is well worth study.
Thirty-five minutes passed and it was the same thing over again. To and fro, hammer and hit, kick and return; bruises, charges, and countercharges, with long excursions toward the goal.
Now, how the great thing happened Hart never knew; but suddenly, as he scrambled to his feet, he saw a confusion down the field, off to the right. The umpire was working like a terrier at a rathole; the crowds were standing and still; but a striped-legged individual suddenly leaped into the air, and, turning around, addressed the gods at large with extended arms, and then threw a handspring!
Minton had the ball, and that was all there was to it! It was behind the Yale goal line! A hero had been made—a championship decided!
What matters the rest! More battering-ram work in the centre of the field, and then in the course of time the whistle blew. Time was up, and there was another ball for the Princeton trophy-room.
