There was now but the scrub fullback between Tom and the opposite goal
line, though it was some distance away. Most of the leading team lads,
streaming and straggling along, were shouting to encourage Tom.

"Go on! Go on!"

"Touchdown! Touchdown!"

"Good run, Tom old man!"

Tom was getting into his stride. Sam was just ahead of him seemingly
getting ready to bowl over the scrub fullback, who was racing down the
field, eager-eyed, to tackle Tom.

"If Sam disposes of him I will make a touchdown," mused Tom, and then
Sam and the fullback came together. Sam went down in a heap at the
first impact, and the fullback--who was Henry Everett--came on,
scarcely hindered.

The next moment he tackled Tom and threw him heavily, though Tom kept
possession of the ball.

"Down!" gasped Tom, as he felt the weight of his opponent. The latter
arose.

"Got you; didn't I?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes," replied Tom, looking to where Sam Heller was leisurely getting
to his feet. Our hero watched his enemy narrowly. Was it only a
fancy, or was it true that Sam had not made half a try to throw off the