the chase, but it was a hopeless task, and in another minute the little
band of crimson-adorned Dexter supporters and substitutes on the
side-line were yelling like mad. The Dexter quarter placed the ball
nicely behind the very center of the west goal, and when it was taken
out none but a cripple could have failed to kick it over the cross-bar.
As Dexter's left-end was not a cripple her score changed from a 5 to
a 6.

But that was the end of her offensive work for that afternoon. Erskine
promptly took the ball from her after the kick-off, and kept it until
Neil had punctured Dexter's line between left-guard and tackle and waded
through a sea of clutching foes twelve yards for a touch-down. Devoe
once more failed at goal, and five minutes later the game came to an end
with the final score 22 to 6. Dexter was happy and Erskine disgruntled.

In the locker-house after the game Mills had some sharp things to say,
and didn't hesitate to say them in his best manner. There was
absolutely no favoritism shown; he began at one end of the line and went
to the other, then dropped back to left half, took in quarter on the
way, and ended up with full. Some got off easy; Neil was among them; and
so was Devoe, for it is not a good policy for a coach to endanger a
captain's authority by public criticism; but when it was all over no one
felt slighted. And when all were beginning to breathe easier, thinking
the storm had passed, it burst forth anew.

"Cowan, I don't see how you came to drop that ball," said Mills, in
fresh exasperation. "Why, great Scott, man, there was no one touching
you except a couple of schoolboys tugging at your legs! What was the
matter? Paralysis? Vertigo? Or haven't you learned yet, after two years
of football playing, to hang on to the ball? There's a cozy nook waiting