"Don't let them
gain an inch!"
"Whoop her up for Pornell!"
And then came a wild blare of tin horns and a waving of the
academy colors, brown and white. The waving of the Hall colors,
an American flag set in a border of green, came also, with an
equal din from horns and wooden clappers.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
So, the game went on for ten minutes, and the Pornellites had
gained exactly twenty-five yards -- no more.
"Looks like a stand-off," said several. "Say, maybe those young
soldiers aren't game!"
"That's what -- but we'll wax 'em!" was the answer, and then of a
sudden came another yell, for Pornell had the ball and was pushing
it straight ahead for Putnam's goal.
"Ten yards!"
"Five yards more!"
"Fifteen yards more!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
Toot! toot-a-root-toot! Clack-clack-clack, bang!
The Pornellites were now wild, but they stared blankly as they saw
plucky Tom Rover snatch the leather up and run back twenty yards
with it.
"He's going right through with it!"
"There goes Hardy after him!"
"Down they go!"
"Lushear has the ball! It's going back!"
"Run, Lushear, run! A dollar if you make it!"
"They can't catch him! Oh, pshaw! Down he goes!"
"But the ball is safe! A touchdown! Hurrah!"
The cry was correct.
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