Then the thing happened. On a third down, the opposing team tried a forward pass. It struck the receiver’s hands, seemed to rest there a split second, then went spinning into the air. When it next came to rest, it was in Kentucky’s hands. Like a rushing prairie fire he streaked down the side line for the far away goal. Once again, in his own mind, he was in old Nicodemus’ pen. It was moonlight. A shadow approached him, a Naperville man. Flash! He was past that shadow. Another, another, and another. Flash, flash, flash, he was past them all. Two tall, slim shadows stood out before him—the goal posts. Flash, he was past them as well. Then, with a deafening roar in his ears, he came to rest standing up. A touchdown for Hillcrest. The kick was good. The score was tied.
“We can’t let it stand there,” Kentucky said tensely as Dynamite came up. “We must not!”
“You’re wonderful, Kentucky,” his team mate whispered. “But think if only one of them had hit you!”
“Dynamite,” the Kentucky boy whispered to his running mate, “I had three uncles in the great war. Only one came back. Do you think they asked themselves about machine gun bullets and shells? Football is war, Dave.
“Besides,” he added, “they can’t get me. Nobody can. Even old Nicodemus couldn’t.”
The battle was begun once more. Enheartened, Dynamite took a chance. He put his team through that five-men-back formation. Somehow it failed. The tackle was thrown for a loss. Doggedly determined, he tried again. One more loss. Third down and seventeen to go. A punt and the enemy had the ball.
By four brilliant forward passes Naperville carried the ball back to Hillcrest’s ten-yard line.
“Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!” came from the right bleachers. “Hold that line! Hold that line!” came from the left. The nerves of every player on the field were stretched to the breaking point. Naperville charged the line. No gain. They charged again. No gain. Flash! They shot a pass. It never reached the receiver. With a leap that took him high in the air, Dynamite caught the ball, then plunged head foremost into the oncoming wall of opponents. Never had a tree been blasted, nor a mountain exploded more perfectly than was that line torn away. Never had Dynamite so deserved his nickname. He went through everything to their forty-yard line. There he was downed by the opponent’s safety man.