Finding he could not recover, the fellow went after the ball with a scooping movement, and then did not come within several inches of it, greatly to the delight of the Yale crowd.
"Oh, Merry has every blooming one of them on a string!" cried Rattleton.
"He thon't do a wing to 'em--I mean he won't do a thing to 'em." The Yale men were singing songs of victory already, and the Harvard crowd was doing its best to keep up the courage of its team by rooting hard.
It was a most exciting game.
"The hottest game I ever saw played by freshmen," commented Collingwood.
"It is a corker," confessed Pierson.

"We weren't looking for anything of the sort a short time ago." "I should say not.

Up to the time Merriwell went in it looked as if Harvard had a walkover." "Gordon feels bad enough about it, that is plain.

He is trying to appear cheerful on the bench, but--" "He can't stand it any longer; he's leaving." That was right.

Gordon had left the players' bench and was walking away.
He tried to look pleased at the way things were going, but the attempt was a failure.
"Merriwell is the luckiest fellow alive," he thought.