But from the twenty-five-yard line the steady rushes went on again, back over the lost ground, and soon, with the half almost gone, Robinson placed the ball on Erskine’s five yards.  Twice the tandem was met desperately and hurled back, but on the third down, with her whole back-field behind the ball, Robinson literally mowed her way through, sweeping Paul and Mason, and Gillam and Foster before her, and threw Bond over between the posts with the ball close snuggled beneath him.

The south stand leaped to its feet, blue flags and streamers fluttered and waved, and cheers for Robinson rent the air until long after the Brown’s left half had kicked a goal.  Then the two teams faced each other again and the Robinson left end got the kick-off and ran it back fifteen yards.  Again the battering of the tackle-tandem began, and Paul and Gillam, nearly spent, were unable to withstand it after the first half dozen plays.  Mason went into the van of the defense in place of Gillam, but the Brown’s advance continued; one yard, two yards, three yards were left behind.

Mills, watching, glanced almost impatiently at the timekeeper, who, with his watch in hand, followed the battle along the side-line.  The time was almost up, but Robinson was back on Erskine’s thirty-five yards.  But now the timekeeper walked on to the gridiron, his eyes fixed intently on the dial, and ere the ball went again into play he had called time.  The lines broke up and the two teams trotted away.

The score-board proclaimed: 

Erskine 0, Opponents 6.

CHAPTER XXII

BETWEEN THE HALVES

Neil trotted along at the tail-end of the procession of substitutes, so deep in thought that he passed through the gate without knowing it, and only came to himself when he stumbled up the locker-house steps.  He barked his shins and reached a conclusion at the same instant.

At the door of the dressing-room a strong odor of witch-hazel and liniment met him.  He squeezed his way past a group of coaches and looked about him.  Confusion reigned supreme.  Rubbers and trainer were hard at work.  Simson’s voice, commanding, threatening, was raised above all others, a shrill, imperious note in a rising and falling babel of sound.  Veterans of the first half and substitutes chaffed each other mercilessly.  Browning, with an upper lip for all the world like a piece of raw beef, mumbled good-natured retorts to the charges brought against him by Reardon, the substitute quarter-back.

[Illustration:  Erskine vs.  Robinson—­The First Half.]

“Yes, you really ought to be careful,” the latter was saying with apparent concern.  “If you let those chaps throw you around like that you may get bruised or broken.  I’ll speak to Price and ask him to be more easy with you.”

“Mmbuble blubble mummum,” observed Browning.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Reardon entreated.