Randall when she was awarded the ball for interference and offside play on the part of her eager rival, who wanted to roll up a bigger total. There was only a little time left to play, and Kindlings desperately called upon his men in every way he knew how to rally and score again.
There were desperate—aye, even tear-stained faces—among the Randall players as they lined up. Hearts were beating as though they would burst. Lungs were panting, and tired muscles fairly begged for relief. There came a great heave as the big Californian tore a hole in the Fairview line to let Pete Backus through, but Pete was almost downed in his tracks, and ere the line could be formed again, the whistle blew, and the game was over.
For a moment the struggling players could scarcely realize it, and then, as the truth broke over the Randall lads, and they heard the shouting of the great crowd—as they knew the score twenty-two to five—they filed silently from the gridiron.
It is not writing of anything disgraceful against old Randall when I say that more than one player shed tears—bitter tears. And they were not assuaged by the hearty cheer which Fairview gave her rival.
"Now—boys, three—three cheers for Fairview!" called Kindlings brokenly, in return, and
