It was thrilling to see how like inexorable Fate they continued to
push forward, despite the frantic efforts of the locals to head them
off. Again was the crowd on its feet, every eye fastened on the
struggling mass of players. Hearts beat high with renewed hope among
those Chester onlookers. They realized that this was to be the
crowning episode in all the long and bitter contest, when Jack Winters
would bring every particle of skill and endurance he could command in
his fighting eleven to tear off a victory before the time had expired.

How desperately Captain Needham rallied his players to the defense! It
seemed as though they stood like a stone-wall against the rashes of
the visitors; and yet in spite of everything Chester managed to
continue gaining.

Now it was by a clever swing around the end; again it was a mass play
that tore through the center, and took the ball well along for perhaps
five or six yards before the runaway was downed. Chester still had the
ball, and that was the encouraging feature of it all; Chester meant to
hang on to the ball like grim death until the golden opportunity came
to try for a touchdown that would once again even up the score, now in
Marshall's favor by five points.

There was no talking going on now in the grandstand. Everyone was too
much worked up for such a thing. Besides, what with the outbursts of
spasmodic cheering, instantly quenched, and the necessity for silence
between times, no opportunity for exchanging opinions offered.

Many had their watches out and were casting apprehensive glances at
the dials. There remained much less than two minutes of time. Then the
referee's whistle must sound to indicate that the game was finally