ey boosters on the grand stand went up a medley
of yells that dinned in the young left end's ears. Panting, all
but fainting, Dick was over the enemy's goal line and he had the
ball down.

When Dave had emerged from that fruitless clumping he had a broad
grin on his face. He saw that while Dick was not yet over the
goal line, only the fullback was in the way and the fullback
was no match for Dick in the matter of speed.

Then the yells told the rest. Back came the ball. Captain Wadleigh
nodded to Dave to kick the goal.

Captain Grant looked utterly wild. He had assured everyone in
Tottenville who had asked him that the Gridley "come ons" would
be eaten alive. And here-----!

Dave made the kick. After going down in that bunch Darrin was
not at his best. Body and nerves were tired. He failed to kick
the goal.

Hardly, however, had the two teams been started in a new line-up
when the time keeper did his trick. The game was over.

That last kick had failed, but who cared? The score was eleven
to two!

Ere the players could escape from the field the Gridley boosters
were over on the gridiron.

Dick and Dave were bodily carried to dressing quarters. Wadleigh,
who had shown fine generalship in this stiff game was cheered
until the boosters went hoarse.

"Gentlemen," cried Coach Morton, raising his voice to its fullest
carrying power as the dressing quarters filled, "it's probably
too early to brag, but I feel that we've got an old-fashioned
Gridley eleven this year."

"Ask Grant!"

"Ask anybody in Tottenville!"

The first yell was sent up by Ripley, the second by another substitute.

All the Gridley members of the team were excited at the close
of this game. Not even their weariness kept down their spirits.

Herr Schimmelpodt didn't attempt to enter quarters. He was now
too much of a "sport" to attempt that. But he stood just outside
the door, vigorously mopping his shining, wet face.

There were two extra places in the German's hired car. Dave,
of course, was asked to fill one of these, and Captain Wadleigh
was invited to take the fifth seat.

More dejected than ever were Bert Dodge and his chum, Bayliss,
as they slouched away from the grounds. They did not attempt
to invade the gridiron and join in the triumphal procession to
quarters.

"You can't seem to down that fellow Prescott," muttered Bayliss,
in disgust. "Just as you think you've got him by the throat you
find out that he'