Dick
maintained. "We've got to play somehow. I hope you fellows won't go and
lose your enthusiasm. Let's all hang together for football."

One by one the other boys dropped off, until only Dick and his five
chums were left at a corner on Main Street.

"I'm afraid a lot of the fellows will go and let their enthusiasm cool
over night," declared Harry Hazelton.

"Remember, fellows, we've got to have our football eleven, and we've got
to keep at it until we can really play a good game," insisted Dick.

"But what if most all the fellows drop out?" demanded Dan Dalzell. "You
know, that's the trouble with Grammar School fellows. They don't stick."

"There are six of us, and we'll all stick," proclaimed Dick. "That means
that we've got to get only five other fellows to stick. Surely we can do
that, if we've got hustle enough in us to play football at all."

"Oh, we'll have our eleven somehow," insisted Dave positively.

"How about our uniforms?" Tom Reade wanted to know.

"We'll have them, too," asserted Dick. "I don't know just how we'll do
it, but we'll manage."

Dick Prescott and his chums were in much better spirits after that brief
consultation. Then they separated, each going to his home for supper.

Dick's father and mother were proprietors of the most popular bookstore
in Gridley. It stood on one of the side streets, just a little way down
from Main Street. Over the store were the living rooms of the family.
Dick was an only child.

After stowing away such an evening meal as only a healthy boy knows how
to take care of, Dick reached for his cap.

"I'm going out to meet the fellows, mother, if you don't mind," said
young Prescott.

"I'm sorry to say that there's just one matter that will delay you for
perhaps twenty minutes," replied Mrs. Prescott. "Mrs. Davis was in and
ordered some books this afternoon. She wants them delivered this
evening, so I said I'd send you around with them. That won't bother you
much, will it?"

"Not so much but that I'll get over it," laughed the boy. "Maybe I'll
pick up one or two of the fellows, anyway."

"Richard, I'd rather you'd deliver the books before you meet any of your
friends," urged Mrs. Prescott. "The books are worth about ten dollars,
and if you have some of your friends along you may begin skylarking, and
some of the books may get damaged."

"All right, mother. I'll go alone."

Off Dick started with the bundle, whistling blithely. All his thoughts
were cente