of his team, his school, his undying fame in the college world.
Three yards to the goal line, and victory would be his.
All Lagonda Ledge held its breath as Vic Burleigh tore through a tangle
of tackles and sprang forward with long, space-eating bounds.
He seemed to leap through ten feet of air, straight over
the quarterback's head and land four feet from the goal with
the quarterback in his grip, while a Sunrise halfback out beyond
him was lying on the lost ball.

The bleachers now went entirely mad, for from the very edge of disaster,
the tide of battle was turned into the enemy's territory.
Before the Sunrise rooters had time to cease rejoicing, however,
the invincible quarterback was away again, and with two guards
and a center on top of Burleigh, now the plucky runner broke
across the Sunrise line, and a minute later missed a pretty goal.
And the opposing bleachers counted five.

The second half of the game was filled with a tense, fruitless strife.
Five points to five points, and four minutes of time to play. The struggle
had ceased to be a turning of tricks and test of speed. Henceforth, it was
man against man, pound for pound. Suddenly, the opposing team braced
itself and began a steady drive down the gridiron. With desperate energy,
the Sunrise eleven fought for ground, giving way slowly, defending their goal
like true Spartans, dying by inches, until only three yards of space were
left on which to die. The rooters shrieked, and the girls sang of courage.
Then a silence fell. Three yards, and the Sunrise team turned to a rock ledge
as invincible as the limestone foundation of their beloved college halls.
The center from which all strength radiated was Victor Burleigh. Against him
the weight of the line-bucking plunged. If he wavered the line must crumble.
The crowd hardly breathed, so tense was the strain. But he did not waver.