yards. Then Payne plunged through the centre for five yards.
“Only twenty-five more to go, fellows!” cried Blanchard. “Seven, fifty-three, six!”
That was Edward’s signal, and he rushed round behind Blanchard, receiving the ball as he passed. Head down, with Blanchard pushing him he plunged through the gap that Durant and Cochrane had opened up between them; a whitewashed line flew beneath his feet, and then he was thrown violently on his shoulder, and somehow as he fell the ball slipped away from him.
Dazed and breathless, he rose at last, to hear the joyous shouting from the St. John’s followers.
Durant was stamping about furiously and came up to him. “Oh, Butterfingers!” cried Durant. “How did you do it?”
Edward turned away sadly without answering. Charles Crashaw had heard the speech; he stood for a moment glaring at the boy who had reproached his brother. Then in the heat of his anger, he committed an error of