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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.

As Heston broke away from the last tacklers, I backed suddenly into the outstretched arms of the Ohio State fullback, who, it appears, had been backing up step by step with me. Heston ran thirty yards for a touchdown. You can imagine how unpopular I was with the home team, and how ridiculous my plight appeared.

Bully for you, Jack Hammond; Uncle Sam can be proud of you," cried a sergeant of marines, who was gripping his hand with a clasp of steel. Through the crowd of sailors and marines at that moment came a slender lad who elbowed his way forward with the ruthless violence of a fullback determined upon a touchdown.

And while the fullback bore the ominous name of Budge, it was apparent from his bulky frame that this was just about the last thing he might be expected to do, for he looked as though a mountain would not move him. Silence fell upon the vast throng.

John’s made two ineffectual rushes; then their fullback, Warner, prepared to kick. Westby and Collingwood raced to their places in the back field. There was a tense moment on both sides; then Warner sent the ball flying high and far. It was Westby’s ball; the St. John’s ends and one of their tackles came down fast under the kick.

"They may not shoot if they see we're leaving," Scotty pointed out. "Uh-huh. And they might shoot, anyway." "They might. But we'll be moving fast, and I'll swing that boat from side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. Let's get going. We don't want too much daylight." Scotty unsnapped his harness and Rick took his pal's tank and regulator.

They had really played the better game and beaten their foes to a standstill. The nominal victory of the 'Varsity was a virtual defeat. And the 'Varsity knew it. For an instant they felt an immense relief, as they crowded around Wilson, the fullback, and clapped him on the shoulder.

In a game with Wesleyan, his opponent cried out angrily, "Keep your hands for pounding on your Bible, don't be sticking them in my face." One day in a game against the Scrub, Cowan had passed everyone except the fullback and was bearing down on him like a tornado, when within a few feet of the fullback the latter jumped aside and said politely, "Pass on, sir, pass on."

Then the whistle sounded, sharp in the still air, and the teams came trotting to the side-lines to take their sweaters and caps from devoted admirers and to stroll off, arm over shoulder, with people who minded not in the least the campus dirt those heroes had been gathering. Diemann took Ashley's arm. "Let's walk together," he said. The substitute fullback had been playing hard ball.

"If you failed us our goose would surely be cooked, you know, because the fellow who has been practicing as your understudy at fullback is a mighty poor fish, and Marshall will know it as soon as the first period is over, especially if they push us hard, and he breaks down, as he's pretty sure to do." "Oh! as to that, Jack, I'm not meaning to give up just now.