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In the brief interval before the last period of the game began, Neil Durant, looking at his team-mates, saw in their faces determination and confidence. Nothing that he could say or that any one could say would alter their conviction that victory must rest with the red. That last period was a phase of the game that could justly be called a climax.

Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding retreat on her part. Step by step she was luring him away from the security of his human companionship. Once, as though a warning had in vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned his head and looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates, and at the two men who were calling to him.

Even on the to him memorable occasion when he broke through the second's line on a fumble and, seizing the ball, romped almost unchallenged over the last four white lines for a touchdown the incident went apparently unnoticed. One or two of his team-mates patted him approvingly on the back, but that was all. Clint was beginning to have moments of discouragement.

Whenever he crossed a flat-top bench some one of them always sighted him and bored straight for the spot, and his team-mates, noting this sudden burst of speed, wheeled as one and fell in behind him. Breed's one aim was to reach the hills, knowing that once among the trees he could shake them off.

As he raced down the field one thought was in his mind: to get into the play and tackle whatever Jefferson man caught the ball. Ned Stillson had made a clever kick-off; the leather oval flew to the right of Norris and settled into the arms of one of his team-mates, who had dashed forward only ten yards when Neil Durant met him with a clean, hard tackle and brought him solidly to earth.

It was frightful, and for twenty-four hours after, Batard was nervous and unstrung, starting at common sounds, tripping over his own shadow, but, withal, vicious and masterful with his team-mates. Nor did he show signs of a breaking spirit. Rather did he grow more grim and taciturn, biding his time with an inscrutable patience that began to puzzle and weigh upon Leclere.

And by the time Leclere, finally convalescent, sallow and shaky, took the sun by the cabin door, Batard had reasserted his supremacy among his kind, and brought not only his own team-mates but the missionary's dogs into subjection.

In the afternoon it seemed that there was a difference in the attitudes of his team-mates on the second, and, so inflamed had his imagination become by this time, he even imagined he detected a contemptuous tone in "Boots'" speech to him!

E.C. Shields, '94, '96l, center field and captain of the team that year, has described the winning of this game as the "most satisfactory moment" of his athletic career; the team was the best Michigan had ever had, and the game after the first few innings became a successful struggle on the part of the pitcher, Sexton, '98m, and his team-mates to make it a "shut-out."

Jan, the first dog to be loosed, took one long, ardent sniff at the trail before him and then loped on ahead with never a backward glance for master or team-mates. "Here, you, Jan! Come in here! Come right in here! D'ye hear me? Jan! Jan! You crazy? Come in here! Come here!" Jim Willis flung all his master's authority into the harsh peremptoriness of his last call.