It was a sight to see those two cunningly lay wait for him, like two spiders for a fly.

There was nothing for it but to plunge headlong into their web in a desperate effort to break through.

Alas! brave man! Naylor has him in his clutches, the Craven forwards come like a deluge on the spot, our forwards pour over the Craven, and in an instant our hero and the ball have vanished from sight under a heap of writhing humanity.
"Down!" cries a half-choked voice, from the bottom of the heap.

It was rather an unnecessary observation, as it happens, but it served as a signal to both parties to rise to their feet and prepare for a "scrimmage." Now, if truth must be told, our school always had the reputation of being second to none in "going through a scrimmage," so while the players are scrambling to their feet, and waiting for the ball to be "grounded," I will explain what our method of doing the thing was.
It was nothing more nor less than a carrying out of the principle of the wedge.

The ball formed the apex; the fellows got up close to it, so as never to let it out of reach of their four feet.