"what's the use of playing football
with dudes that don't dare go on to the field if they haven't nifty
uniforms and clean collars?"

"That's our stand," retorted Hi with intense dignity. "North Grammar
will play no un-uniformed teams."

"And South Grammar won't play any dudes," shouted Ted defiantly. "We
want real meat to play against--no mush!"

"Let's hear what Central Grammar proposes on this question?" put in Hi
Martin hopefully. "Prescott, you said your school would be uniformed."

"Let's go home, fellows," proposed Ted, turning away and stalking off.
For a moment the other Souths hesitated. Then, with a yell, they started
off after their leader.

"Good riddance to muckers!" shouted a North boy derisively.

"Come to order, please," begged Dick. "Any one who calls names is out of
order. It's bad practice."

"Who asked you to run this meeting, anyway, Dick Prescott?" snapped
Martin.

"No one in particular, and I'm willing you should preside if you want
to, Martin."

"The Centrals ain't any better stuff than the Souths," observed one of
the Norths slightingly.

"Cut that out!" cried Dave, his eyes flashing. He stepped forward,
looking for the fellow who had made the remark.

"I call upon the North Grammar delegation to step aside and confer for a
few minutes," announced Hi. He led his own schoolmates some two hundred
feet away.

"Say, the whole scheme's gone to pieces," grumbled Tom Reade
disgustedly.

"Wait, and we'll see," answered Prescott hopefully.

The North Grammar boys talked matters over among themselves for two or
three minutes.

"There, see!" grumbled Greg. "Hi Martin is leading his crowd away.
They're all quitters!"

"That always seems to be the way with Grammar School fellows," sighed
Dick. "High School fellows do big things, but you can't ever get Grammar
School boys to stick together long enough to do anything!"

So Grammar School football died an almost painless death.

CHAPTER XIV

DICK STEPS INTO A DEATH-TRAP

"Hullo, Dave!"

"Hullo, Dick. I've been looking for you. My, but you're dressed up
to-night. Going to a party that I haven't heard about?"

"Not exactly," laughed Dick. "I'm going to call on Mrs. Dexter."

"Oho!"

"She sent a note that she'd like to have me call this evening. What it's
about I don't know."

"Then I can guess," offered Dave.

"What?"

"Mrs. Dexter was set on getting football uniforms for us. When the
league dropped out at the botto