What was the matter? wondered many of the Army watchers.  Was Brayton becoming dissatisfied with his left wing?

“Humph!” rejoined Haynes sourly.

But the third time that the ball was put in play it went swiftly to Prescott.  Instead of trying to make his way around the end, Dick suddenly sped some what to the right.  Darrin had gone in the opposite direction, yet, thoroughly familiar with his old chum’s tricky ways of play, Dave had his eyes wide open.  So he wheeled, rushing at Prescott.  But he bumped, instead, with Greg, a fraction of a second before Dalzell could reach the spot and take a hand.

Then the whole Army line charged down on the endangered spot.  Dick was through, and the Navy men were having all they do.  In a twinkling Prescott had sped, on, now was he caught and downed until he had the ball within twelve yards of the Navy’s goal line.

Right off the Army cheer-master was on the job.  The corps yell was raised with Prescott’s name and Holmes’s.

Brayton looked flushed and happy.  He hoped yet to show these over-confident middies something.

Again the line-up was made for the snapback.  The midshipmen players were now justifiably nervous, though they gave no sign of the fact.

Again the signal was given.  Holmes received the ball and started.  The whole Army line veered to the left.  The Navy moved to mass in support of Darrin and Dalzell.

Yet, just as the Navy men thought they could stop Greg, it turned out that Prescott carried the pigskin.

Nor did Cadet Prescott lose any time at all in trying to buck the line.

Ere the attention of the Navy had been drawn away from Holmes, Prescott was off on a slanting line around the Navy’s right end.

Even Dave Darrin was properly fooled this time.  Dick had only to shake off a halfback and the fullback and he was over the goal line, holding down the ball.

Never before had Franklin Field heard a greater din than now arose.  The Army Band was now playing furiously, yet the musicians barely heard themselves.  The black, gold and gray pennants of the Army were waving frantically over half the field.  The noise of cheering must have been heard a mile away.

From the cadets themselves came some Army yell for which the cheer-master had signaled, but no one heard what it was.

The noise continued until the line-up had been effected for the kick for goal.

Brayton, flushed with delight, chose to make the kick himself.  The pigskin soared, describing a beautiful curve.  Between the goal posts it went, dropping back of the line.

Gloom had fallen over the middies, who realized that but three minutes time was left.

Swiftly as could be, the line-up was made for the kick-off.  It was the Army’s turn to start the ball, the Navy’s to come back with it, if possible, into Army territory.

The Navy soon succeeded in getting the pigskin a trifle over the middle line.  But the time was too short in which to do anything decisive.  The Army was strictly on the defensive, taking no chances.  Time was called.