"Go in and win, Putnam!"
"That's the way to do it!"
"Take it from them, Pornell! Go for it! Take it!"
And Pornell did take it, and half the distance gained was lost.
Both teams were now warmed up, and for fully five minutes the ball flew back and forth, remaining at the end of that time almost in the center of the gridiron. Then Pornell tried some heavy mass play, but lost the leather on a fumble, and it came into Tom Rover's possession.
Away flew Tom, as though a legion of demons were after him, straight for Pornell's goal. The crowd began to shout itself hoarse.
"See Tom Rover! Go it, Tom, old boy, go it!"
"He can't carry it through! See, Conkey and Largren are after him!"
"There he goes down! Conkey has the leather!"
This was true, but ere Conkey could start to run Fred Garrison brought him to earth and the ball rolled out into the field.
Sam and a Pornell halfback made a rush for it.
"My ball!" yelled the Pornellite, who was twenty pounds heavier than the little captain.
"Not to-day!" retorted Sam, and snatched it
