d him out of serious danger. The
football squad was gloomy enough, however. Their star left end
man would not be in shape for the big Thanksgiving Day game.

CHAPTER XXII

THE THANKSGIVING DAY GAME

Say, you're a great one, Prescott, to throw us down in this way,"
chaffed Drayne, as Dick strolled into dressing quarters.

"Oh, come, now!" broke in Darrin impatiently. "It's bad enough,
Drayne, to have to play side partner to you in the biggest game
in the year, without having to listen to your fat-headed criticism
of better men."

Drayne flushed, and might have retorted, had not Wadleigh broken
in, in measured tones, yet with much significance in his voice:

"Yes, Drayne; cut out all remarks until you've made good. Of
course you are going to make good, but talk will sound better
after deeds."

Most of the fellows who were togging were uneasy.

They wanted, with all their hearts, to win this day's game. First
of all, the game was needed in order to preserve their record
for unbroken victories. Then again, Filmore High School was a
team worth beating at any time and Filmore boosters had been making
free remarks about a Gridley Waterloo.

So there was a feeling of general depression in dressing quarters.

Dick Prescott, with his dashing, crafty, splendid, score-making
work at left end, had become a necessity to the Gridley eleven.

"It's the toughest luck that ever happened," grumbled Hazelton,
right guard, to Holmes, right tackle. "And I don't believe Drayne
is in anything like condition, either."

"Now, see here, you two," broke in Captain Wadleigh behind them,
as he gripped an arm of either boy, "no croaking. We can't afford
it."

"We can't afford anything," grinned Hazelton uneasily.

"Oh, of course, we're going to win today---Gridley simply has
to win," added Holmes hastily.

"Yes; you two look as though you had the winning streak on," growled
Wadleigh, in a low voice. "For goodness' sake come out of your
daze!"

"Do you think yourself that Drayne is fit?" demanded Hazelton.

"He's the fittest man we have that can play left end," retorted
Wadleigh.

"Knocking, are you?" demanded Drayne, coming up behind them.
"Nice fellows you are!"

"Oh, now, see here, Drayne, no bad blood," urged Wadleigh. He
spoke authoritatively, yet coaxingly, too. "Remember, we've got
to keep all our energies for one thing today."

"Well, I'm mighty glad you two don't play on my end of the line,"
sne