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296 "Oh, if he only gets it! If he only can get it!" murmured Kindlings as he watched Phil Clinton race after the ball.

It was a long, high fly, and Phil had to sprint well toward the back field to even get under it. He had turned and was racing with all his might. Would he judge it properly? Could he hold it after he got it?

He had turned again, and with his eye on the b,all was running backward now. He stumbled over a stone and seemed about to fall. There was a groan from the Randallites, but Phil recovered himself. The ball was almost over his head when he saw that he had not gone far enough back. It was too late to take another step, but Phil did the next best thing. He leaped up, and, with his right hand extended as far as it would stretch, he caught the ball. It was a mighty fine play and the yells and applause that followed testified to it.

"Runner's out!" decided the umpire.

Tom breathed easier. His heart had been in his throat when he saw what had happened to the first ball he delivered. But Phil had made good.

"What a magnificent catch!" exclaimed Dr. Churchill as he adjusted his glasses, that had been knocked off in the excitement.

"Yes," admitted another member of the faculty who sat near him. "And how Clinton can run! I'd like to see him on the gridiron."