Presently a dangerous scrimmage was formed just in front of their goal.

For some minutes the ball was invisible, then by an apparently preconcerted movement the forwards of the Fifteen loosened and let it dart back into the open behind them, where lurked Tempest ready to receive it.

He did not wait to pick it up, but ran to meet it with a flying kick.

For a moment it seemed doubtful whether it would clear the onward rush of Redwood and his forwards.

But it did, and rose steadily and beautifully over their heads, and with the wind straight upon it, reached the goal and skimmed over the bar, amid the loud shouts of every one, conspicuous among which was my shrill voice.
Half-time! Now was my chance; and before the shouting had ceased, or the discomfited Eleven had quite realised their misfortune, I darted into the sacred enclosure, and presented the captain with his belt.
"I'm awfully sorry I wasn't in time," said I.