Part 8 (1/2)

Friday afternoon the football squad met for more practice with the new signals. Friday evening each young man who was scheduled as being even likely to play the next day studied over the signals at home, then, under orders, burned his copy of the code. Sat.u.r.day morning the squad met for some more practice, though not much.

”I believe all of us are in trim now, sir,” Captain Prescott reported to the coach. ”I am rather sure all of our men know the new signals by heart, and there'll be no confusion. But, of course, for the first game, the old snap of our recent practice will be missing.

It has been a hard blow to us.”

”If we have to lose to-day's game,” muttered Mr. Morton, ”I'll be almost satisfied to lose it to Tottenville, after the manly and straightout conduct of Mr. Jarvis!”

”That same line of thought would make us content to go through a losing season, for all the fellows in other towns who received that betrayed code sent the information right back to us,” smiled Prescott. ”But we're not going to lose to-day's game, Mr. Morton, nor any other day's. Drayne's treachery has just about crazed the other fellows with anger. They'll win everything ahead of 'em, now, just for spite and disgust, if for no better reason.”

”Sometimes anger serves a good purpose,” laughed Mr. Morton.

”But it was pitiful to look at poor old Dr. Thornton yesterday afternoon. At first I thought he was going to faint. He seemed suddenly to grow ten years older. It cut him to the quick. He loves every one of his boys, and to have one of them go bad is just as painful to him as to see his own son sent to the penitentiary.”

”Is Dr. Thornton coming to the game this afternoon, sir?”

”Yes; he has never missed one yet, in any year that he has been princ.i.p.al of Gridley High School.”

”Then we'll make that fine old American gentleman feel all right again by the grand game that we'll put up,” promised d.i.c.k vehemently.

”I'll pa.s.s the word, and the fellows will strain themselves to the last drop.”

Orders were issued to the gate tenders to throw Drayne out if he presented himself at the gate.

Drayne did put in an appearance, and he got through the gate to a seat on the grand stand, but it was no fault of the gate tenders.

Drayne had spent some of his spare money at the costumer's. With his trim, rather slim figure Phin Drayne made up rather well as a girl. He wore black---mourning throughout, perhaps in memory of his departed honor---and a heavy veil covered his face. In this disguise Drayne sat where he could see what would happen.

At the outset it was Gridley's kick off, and for the next ten minutes Tottenville had the ball, fighting stubbornly with it.

But at last, when forced half way down the field between center and its own goal line, Gridley blocked so well in the three following plays that the pigskin came to the home eleven.

d.i.c.k bent over, holding the ball for the snapback, while his battle front formed on each side of him.

Dave Darrin, quarter-back, raced back a few steps, then halted, looking keenly, swiftly over the field.

Phin Drayne drew his breath sharply. Then his heart almost stopped beating as he listened.

”Thirty-eight---nine---eleven---four!” sounded Darrin's voice, sharp and clear.

”That's the run around the left end!” throbbed Phin Drayne.

But it wasn't. A fake kick, followed by a cyclonic impact at the right followed.

”They've changed the signals!” gulped the guilty masquerader behind the black veil. ”Then they've found out.”

With this came the next disheartening thought:

”That's the reason, then, why the coach ordered me out of the field Thursday afternoon. Morton is wise. I wonder if he has told it all around?”

Gridley High School was doing some of its brilliant, old-style play now. Prescott was proving himself an ideal captain, quick-witted, full of strategy, force, push and dash, yet all the while displaying the best of cool judgment in sizing up the chances of the hard battle.

But that which Phin Drayne noted most of all was that every signal used had a different meaning from that employed in the code he had mailed to the captains of the other school teams.

”It was all found out, and Gridley wasn't hurt,” thought Phin, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth. ”Good luck always seems to follow that fellow Prescott! Can't he be beaten? We shall see! Prescott, my fine bully, I'm not through with you yet.”