THE GIRL AND THE GAME
friend—that I'd make 'em all cheer for me, and get wild over me, and carry me off the field on their shoulders, while nobody stopped to look at little Rowland with his nice clothes and his New York manner, who would be sitting beside her—so close beside her—on the grand stand.
"Ten minutes more!" shouted the time-keeper.
You'll remember this play, I know—when the ball was on their thirty-yard line and they dropped back for a kick? You remember we had worked the ball steadily up the field from our twenty-yard line chiefly by that series of tandem-mass plays. Somehow Cap was sending them all through on my side. But we were moving together in great shape, and we were desperate. Great Scott! how we were smashing their line, and how those fellows tried to use up time! I'm only a big ungainly guard. We fellows don't make any of the brilliant dashes that you people yell over. There's nothing romantic about our job; we just get down close to the ground and work and sweat. It isn't much
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