“Wrenched my ankle,” said Dennison. “I guess I’ll be all right in a
moment.”

Waring, the Fifth Former, who acted as water-carrier, ran out on the
field with his pail and sponge. Mr. Barclay examined the ankle, then
turned to Collingwood.

“I think he could go on playing,” he said. “But if I were you I’d take
him out now and save him for the St. John’s game. You don’t want to risk
his being laid up for that.”

Dennison protested, but Collingwood agreed with Mr. Barclay. He turned
and called, “Westby”; and as Westby ran out, Dennison picked himself up
and limped to the side-line.

It was Harvard’s ball in the middle of the field. Though it was only the
first down, Ballard dropped back to kick.

“Now then, Wes, hang on to it,” Collingwood cried as he and Westby
turned and ran to their places in the back field.

Westby had a faint hope that the kick might go to Collingwood; he didn’t
feel quite ready yet to catch the ball; he wanted to be given a chance
to steady down first. But he knew that was exactly what the Harvard
quarterback intended to prevent.

The ball came sailing, high and twisting; he had to run back to get
under it. Then he planted himself, but the ball as it came down was
slanted off by the wind, so that he had at the last to make a sudden