A Dublin appeal was made for "Carried over," but--no--"Try for Cambridge." A deafening shout from behind the ropes, then a breathless pause whilst Lawrence stepped back to take the kick, then a shattering roar as the ball sailed between the posts.
Ten points all and three minutes left to play.
They were back to the centre, the Dublin men had kicked, Tester had gathered and returned to touch.

There was a line-out, a Cambridge man had the ball and fell, Cambridge dribbled past the ball to the half, the ball was in Cardillac's hands.
Let this be ever to Cardillac's honour! Fame of a lifetime might have been his, the way was almost clear before him--he passed back to Olva.
The moment had come.

The crowd fell first into a breathless silence, then screamed with excitement-- "Dune's got it.

He's off!" He had a crowd of men upon him.

Handing off, bending, doubling, almost down, slipping and then up again--he was through them.
The great clouds were gathering the grey sky into their white arms.