Devoe got the kick-off and brought the ball back to his thirty yards; but he was injured when thrown and Bell took his place.  Smith and Mason each made two yards around the ends and Pearse got through left-guard for one.  Then a plunge at right tackle resulted disastrously, Mason being forced back three yards, and Smith took the pigskin for a try outside of right tackle.  He was stopped easily and Mason kicked.  Robinson got the ball on her fifty yards and ran it back to Erskine’s forty-three.  Once more the tackle-tandem was brought into play.  Smith failed to stop it, and the head of the defense was given to Pearse; but Robinson’s new left tackle was a good man, and yard by yard Erskine was borne back toward her goal.  The south stand blossomed anew with brown silk and bunting.

On her thirty yards Erskine was penalized for off-side and the ball was almost under her goal.  The first fierce plunge of the tandem broke the Purple line in twain and the backs went through for three yards.  Mason was hurt and the whistle shrilled.  A cheer arose from the north stand and a youth running into the field from the side-line heard it with fast-beating heart.

“Erskine!  Erskine!  Erskine!  Rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah!  Fletcher!  Fletcher!  Fletcher!”

Mason was taken off, protesting feebly, and on the next plunge of the tackle-tandem Neil, with Pearse behind him, brought hope back to Erskine hearts, for the “antidote” worked to perfection again.  All the pent-up strength and enthusiasm of Neil’s body and heart were turned loose, and he played, as he had known he could if given the opportunity, as he had never played before, either at Erskine or Hillton.  The spirit of battle held him; he was perfectly happy, and every knock and bruise brought him joy rather than pain.  His chance had come to prove to both the coaches and the fellows that their first estimate of him was the correct one.

Robinson made her distance and gained the twenty-yard line by a trick play outside of left tackle; but that was all she did on that occasion, for in the next three downs she failed to advance the ball a single inch, and it went to Erskine.  Neil dropped back and the pigskin settled into his ready hands.  When it next touched earth it was in Robinson’s possession on her own fifty yards.  That punt brought a burst of applause from the north seats.  Robinson tried tackle-tandem again and Neil and Pearse stopped it short.  Again, and again there was no advance; but when Neil picked himself out of the pile-up he made the discovery that something was radically wrong with his right arm and shoulder.  He sat down on the trampled turf to think it over and closed his eyes.  He heard the whistle and Reardon’s voice above him: 

“Hurt?”

Neil looked up and shook his head.  His gaze fell on Simson headed toward him followed by the water-carrier.  He staggered to his feet, Reardon’s arm about him.