owing to the flukey wind, as some of the chagrined Marshall players
hastened to explain.

It began to look serious for the visitors, with Marshall again in the
lead. Time was a factor to be counted on now in deciding matters. All
Marshall had to do was to hold their opponents, and they would win. Of
course the desire to add to their score would always tempt them to
strive further; and this might give Chester the opening needed.

Jack sent the word around for a supreme effort. He felt that they were
capable again of turning the tables on the enemy, despite the fact of
their superior heft and experience.

When Fred, Joel, and the balance of the boys got that signal they
realized how it was now up to them to play like demons. They had
apparently been doing the best that was in them hitherto; but strange
to say there always seems to be just a little more vim and snap in a
football player's make-up that can be summoned to the fore when a
desperate situation arises.

All those devoted admirers who had traveled across to Marshall to see
them do the old town credit must not be disappointed, if it lay in
human endurance to wrest victory from impending defeat.

So spurred on by this incentive, and with their opponents resting
under the belief that they had the game already "sewed up," by reason
of that last touchdown, Jack's warriors exerted additional pressure,
and bent the line back until they were fighting on Marshall territory,
grimly pressing on a few yards at a time without a single fumble.