The Prospector | Page 9

enemy fast till the fury of their attack
be somewhat spent, or till fortune shall bring him aid.
"Get up! Get up there, 'Varsity!" yells the McGill contingent.
"Look at 'em saying their prayers!" shouts a boy.
"They need to," answers another.
"Get up, 'Varsity! Get up! Don't be afraid!" they yell derisively.
"Make 'em stand up, referee," a Montreal man insists.
Again and again the McGill captain appeals to the referee, who
remonstrates, urges, and finally orders the 'Varsity to get up or be
penalised.
Campbell perceives that something must be done. He moves Shock
from the centre to the left wing of the scrimmage and calls in Martin
and Bate from half.
By this time every 'Varsity man is on his feet, for he knows that Shock
is about to lead the "screw" and before the scrimmage is well formed
the McGill stone wall is broken, and Campbell is boring through it with
the bat, gaining a good ten feet and by a quick re- form ten more.
"Man, man, take heed. Yon's a dangerous game, I'm thinking,"
murmurs Shock's mother anxiously, to the amazed amusement of Lloyd,
who replies, "Why, Mrs. Macgregor, you seem to know the game as
well as the rest of us."
"Ay, Hamish has often showed me the working of the screw, and it is
not to be depended upon in a place like yon."
The 'Varsity team breathe freely again and go in with new vim, while
McGill settles down on the ball to recover steadiness.
But the 'Varsity captain has seen the screw work and resolves to try it
again. Once more he move Shock to the wing, signals to the quarters,
and again the Montreal stone wall is demoralised. But instead of
Campbell boring over the prostrate form of his big centre with the ball
the McGill captain, securing it, passes to Carroll, his quarter, who
dashing off as a feint to the right, passes far across the field to Bunch
on the left.

Bunch as usual is in his place, catches beautifully and is off down the
field like a whirlwind, dodging one, knocking off another, running
round a third, till between him and the goal line he has only the half
back, Martin, and the full.
The McGill people go wild again. "Bunch! Bunch!" they yell
frantically, crowding down the line after him. "He's in! He's in!"
But not yet. Red Pepper is swiftly bearing down upon him, and as he
comes within reach springs at him. But the wily Bunch has learned to
measure that long reach, and dodging back sharply, he slips round
Pepper and makes for the line ten yards away.
A long groan goes up from the 'Varsity support, while from a hundred
McGill throats rises the cry again--"He's in! He's in! A touch! A
touch!"
But close upon him, and gaining at every foot, is The Don, the fleetest
man in the 'Varsity team. For half a second it looks as if Bunch must
make the line, but within three yards of the goal, and just as he is about
to throw himself toward it, Balfour shoots out his arm, grasps his
enemy by the back of the neck, and turning round, hurls him back with
terrific force to the ground and clambers on top of him. It is a fierce
tackle, giving great satisfaction to all the 'Varsity supporters, but to
none more than to Mrs. Macgregor, who, as she sees the unfortunate
Bunch hurled to earth, exclaims with quiet satisfaction, "That will be
doing for ye, I'm thinking."
"Isn't she a great old warrior?" says Lloyd aside, to the young ladies.
"The Don! The Don!" cry the 'Varsity contingent. "We-like-Don! We-
like-Don!" they chant, surging across the corner of the field in the
wildest enthusiasm.
"Keep back! Keep back! Give him air." The referee, and the captains
with their teams, push the crowd back, for Bunch is lying motionless
upon the ground. "It's simply a case of wind," says little Carroll, the
McGill quarter, lightly.
"The want of it, you mean," says big Mooney, hauling Carroll back by
the neck.
In a few minutes, however, the plucky McGill half back is up again,
and once more the scrimmage is formed.
Gradually it grows more evident that McGill is heavier in the
scrimmage, but this advantage is offset by the remarkable boring

quality of the 'Varsity captain, who, upon the break up of a scrimmage,
generally succeeds in making a few feet, frequently over Shock's huge
body. As for Shock, be apparently enjoys being walked upon by his
captain, and emerges from each successive scrimmage with his yellow
hair fiercely erect, his face covered with blood, and always wreathed in
smiles. No amount of hacking and scragging in a scrimmage can damp
his ardour