But whoever it was, he always found the hole awaiting him; Jackson always had Edward out of the way, and Carberry, striving to stop the gap, never succeeded in at once pulling the runner down.
“I’ll try to help you,” Sheldon breathed twice in Edward’s ear. “If you can’t get him, turn him in this way.”
But it was sufficiently apparent that with Williams opposite him Sheldon already had his hands more than full. Steadily, ruthlessly St. John’s proceeded up the field, hammering the necessary gains each time through the weak spot.
The St. John’s cheering grew more intense, the St. Timothy’s cheering more desperate. After every play Durant ran up to Edward, clapped him encouragingly on the back, cried cheerfully, “You can hold them, Ned!” He had never called Edward anything but Crashaw before.
Edward turned away dumbly. He was very tired—too tired to speak. He was grateful to Durant, but he did not much care now what