armor for touch downs and truly had earned the title bestowed by the excited spectators of Ye Imperial Battering-Ram. But overweight and under-exercise had told at last, and as the game continued his assaults had weakened. The Duke of York's Gray Plumed combatants gained courage and in the second half began an assault that made down three times in succession and ended with a magnificent sweeping charge around left wing, carrying the boarhide four rods for a touch down. Another touch down would tie the game! Two would win it! With the Purple Plumed men's strength spent by their supreme effort in the first half, and with his Majesty's endurance almost entirely gone and yet a whole quarter of the game ahead, the odds were veering in favor of the Gray Plumed fighters.

They took full advantage of their opportunity. A series of brilliant offensives followed one upon the other, each charge putting the boarhide nearer the Purple goal-line. Their speedy quarter-back, the young Duke of York, was their tower of strength. Again and again his black coat of mail could be seen cutting deep into the Purple ranks. Another touch down was certain, and a second probable. Despair sank deep into the hearts of the Purple Plumed followers.

The king was no quitter; he had the heart of a fighter. With every ounce of his strength he strove to stay the impending defeat. But his great strength was spent, and his muscles refused to respond. The once mighty athlete, it seemed, must go down in defeat; age must bow before youth.

The keen-eyed Welshman, Sir David, who had yielded the task of refereeing in the second half to his countryman from York, saw it from the side-lines and understood. "If only the game could be delayed for a few minutes!" he thought. "Even one minute's minute's rest might allow Henry's superb strength to rally and stem the tide."

Closer and closer the relentless Gray Plumed phalanx battered their way to the Purple goal-line. With each charge the hopes of the Gray Plumed rooters rose higher and higher and those of the Purple sank lower and lower, until finally with a smashing charge the Gray Plumed captain carried the boar-hide to within one rod of the goal-line. It was a black moment for wearers of the Purple and a tense one for wearers of the Gray as the two lines reformed for the crucial charge.

Suddenly there arose a great cry from the queen's box: "The queen has fainted! The queen has fainted!" The whole throng caught it up and swelled. From one end of the grounds to the other went up a mighty tumult: "Long live the queen! Long live the queen!"

The Welshman from York, now refereeing the game, heard the tumult. "Hear ye!" he cried. "Ye time is out!"

The weary Purple Plumed knights welcomed the unexpected relief. All, save one, sank to the ground in exhaustion. But the king's fears for the queen overcame his spent muscles, and he stumbled toward the queen's box. Within a few paces he met Sir David.

"It is not serious, sire," he said. "Her Majesty partook of some fruit

that disagreed with her stomach. That and the sun made her dizzy. "Twill pass shortly. Meanwhile his Majesty will do well to stretch himself upon ye earthe and rest. Her Highness's discomforture might prove to be his Majesty's boon."

So saying he drew the half-resisting king back on the field and had him stretch out upon the ground, where attendants administered stimulants to him.

Five minutes later an announcement came from the queen's box that her Majesty was quite recovered and awaited the renewal of the game. Once more a great cry spread over the throng: "Long live the queen!"

The Gray and Purple Plumed lines reformed, and the game was renewed, but the Gray assault had lost much of its fierce drive. The delay had dulled its fighting edge. Three charges netted scarcely half of the single rod between them and the Purple goal-line. Half a rod to go! Could they make it? Followers of both Followers of both the Purple and Gray sat in chilled silence.

The boar-hide was snapped to the gallant duke at quarter-back. Once more his black-mailed form flashed around end. Two men went down before him! The goal seemed won. But the massive armored form of the Purple Plumed full-back, his strength renewed by the brief rest, smashed through the phalanx and bore down upon the charging Gray Plumed captain. Armor crashed upon mail -the ground trembled with the impact and the two giants went down together into the dust. After a second that seemed an hour, the armored form slowly arose. The mailed form lay still.

Once more the referee called time out. Attendants rushed upon the field to care for the injured Gray Plumed captain. Plumed captain. He was but momentarily stunned, however, and took the field after a few minutes. But the Grays had not only failed to make their touch down; they had also lost the ball. It now went to the Purple phalanx. Amid the shouts of their rooters and the stunned silence of the Gray rooters at this unexpected reversal of affairs, the combatants alined themselves to renew the struggle. Evidently the Purple Plumed men intended to kick the boar-hide. Their ends went out and the half-backs crouched near the line of scrimmage. The royal fullback stood behind his goal-line to receive the pass from center. The Grays had one faint hope. If there should be a slip somewhere—if the center should pass wide, or Henry should fumble—

For a moment the line crouched; then the ball was shot to the giant full-back. As the Gray Plumed linesmen, sword in hand, charged toward him, he dropped the ball straight, met it with a terrific blow from his right foot, and drove it high into the air over their heads. Higher and higher it spiraled! Farther and farther it sailed down the field and over the head of the frantic Gray Plumed safety. Fifteen rods! Three fourths of the length of the whole field! On the side-lines the Welshman gazed in amazement. mighty kick! And from a man who, only three fortnights ago, had kicked at the ball and missed it entirely!

A

The game ended with the boar's hide in mid-field. Henry's Purple Plumed knights had won by a touch

down. Henry himself was once more the athletic idol of his kingdom. From the far-flung corners of the grounds came the mighty shouts: "Long live the king-the Imperial Battering-Ram." His Majesty smiled wearily and waved a hand at the cheering multitude.

It was evening. The white moon shone down upon the royal gardens. Two men were strolling there.

"What think ye, Exeter," the younger inquired, "of the new royal sport?"

""Tis a royal sport indeed," replied the elder, the Marquis of Exeter. "And of the Welshman?"

The marquis paused thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke slowly. ""Tis better to have him for a friend than for an enemy. Mark ye, Sir George, within the year he'll hold the lord-chancellorship left vacant by Wolsey. The king counsels him; the queen looks upon him with awe and respect; and all England shall come to know his authority."

Sir George mused casually: "Then I shall open the doors of my country estate in Devonshire to his Excellency. A partridge hunt might please the future lord chancellor of England."

"He is indeed," quoth the holder of the king's bridle, "a gracious nobleman."

23

The moonbeams filtered softly through the windows where sat Sir David, the Welshman, and his countryman from York.

""Twas a great day for Wales," chuckled the latter. "With ye socalled Welsh pastime of foote ball in royal favor and my esteemed uncle, Sir David, in still higher royal favor, Wales shall rank high in influence and benefits under his gracious Majesty the King."

"Aye," responded Sir David indulgently, "but my reckless nephew came very near to ruining our socalled Welsh game as a royal sport of England."

A puzzled expression accompanied the nephew's inquiry. "Ruining it, d'ye say?"

In the moonlight Sir David's eyes could be seen twinkling merrily. "Aye, ruining it, my nephew, for did not ye beef-eaters from York come very near to overpowering his Majesty's drilled phalanx?"

"But what if they had, my dear uncle?" inquired the other. "When ye thought up this wild game of foote ball from nowhere in ye fertile mind, then dubbed it the Welsh pastime although heaven knows it's never been heard of in Wales-then sent me off to York to persuade the young duke to take up the sport and challenge his Majesty to a combat, ye certainly loaded me down with rules and directions, but never a word did ye say about fixing it so his Majesty's boar-hidesmen should win."

"Of course not, my boy," laughed the other, "but I didn't reckon that