Just as they were on the point of dashing together, Greg, as by previous arrangement, gave Dick a prodigious shove, at the same instant himself leaping forward.

So quickly was the thing done that Lehigh’s right end, ere he realized it, had grappled with Greg—–­and Dick was around the end, racing!

With a muttered growl of rage Lehigh’s man let Holmes go.  For a second or two, the college men were badly rattled.  Greg, with the agility of a squirrel, ducked low and got through, racing with all his might after Prescott.

Twenty-four yards were covered ere Prescott went down.  When he did so, Greg was standing back, saving himself that he might help Dick the next time.

Once more the ball was snapped back.  This time some brilliant faking was done.  The whole of the first movement looked as though the ball were to be pushed somewhere through the Army’s right flank, and Lehigh wheeled accordingly.  But it was a left-end pass, after all.  Dick and Greg got through by a very slight variation on their last ruse eighteen yards more gained!

In an instant, now, those in the Army seats were wild with enthusiasm.  The band crashed out joyously, a dozen measures, while the cadets sang one of their songs of jubilant brag.  Then all was suddenly still for the next bit of play.

While the men of both teams were hurrying to the line-up, a signal was noticed by hundreds that caused excited comment.

Brayton made some slight signal to Prescott Both Dick and Greg shook their heads sullenly.

“Confound Brayton!” shivered Lieutenant Barney.  “What does he mean by that?  He has signaled Prescott and Holmes asking them if they can put one more by Lehigh, and they have refused.  Ennis and all the Lehighs have tumbled.  Brayton-----”

“Seven—–­two—–­nine—–­eight!” voiced Quarterback Boyle.

Instantly Coach Carney’s face cleared.  It was an emergency signal, not yet used in the game.  As if unconsciously, all the men of the Army eleven had turned toward right guard.

The ball was snapped back.  Boyle took three steps of a plunge toward right guard, then suddenly dodged, passing the ball to Greg, who swiftly passed it to Prescott—–­and the race was on.

Lehigh’s right end made a gallant dash to stop Dick.  There was a mix-up in an instant.  All happened so swiftly that the spectators were not certain how the thing had been done.

But Dick Prescott, with Cadet Greg Holmes almost at his side, was charging across the lower field, past one of the halfbacks, and with only fullback really in their way.

There was a tackle.  But Dick was seen to come out of it, while Greg rolled on the grass with the fullback.

“Touchdown!”

The air trembled with the vibration of that surging yell as Cadet Prescott raced across Lehigh’s goal line.

“Humph!” ejaculated Haynes.  But he, too, was on his feet, watching the lively performance.