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diff --git a/41410-0.txt b/41410-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac4715b --- /dev/null +++ b/41410-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8051 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41410 *** + + DICK HAMILTON'S FOOTBALL TEAM + + OR + + A YOUNG MILLIONAIRE ON THE GRIDIRON + + BY HOWARD R. GARIS + + AUTHOR OF "DICK HAMILTON'S FORTUNE," "DICK HAMILTON'S CADET DAYS," + "DICK HAMILTON'S STEAM YACHT," "FROM OFFICE BOY TO REPORTER," "LARRY + DEXTER'S GREAT SEARCH," ETC. + + + _ILLUSTRATED_ + + THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING CO. + CLEVELAND + + MADE IN U. S. A. + + Copyright, 1912, by + GROSSET & DUNLAP + + PRESS OF + THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO. + CLEVELAND + + + + +[Illustration: "GRAB HIM! DON'T LET HIM GET PAST YOU!" CALLED TOM +COLETON.] + + + + +PREFACE + + +MY DEAR BOYS: + +In writing this, the fourth volume of the "Dick Hamilton Series," +telling of the doings of the young millionaire on the gridiron, I have +had one particular thought in mind. That was to make as interesting a +story as possible for you. Now that it is finished, it is for you to say +whether or not you like it. I trust I may be pardoned if I say I hope +that you will. + +When Dick returned to the Kentfield Military Academy after his vacation +on his steam yacht, he found the football team of which he was a member, +in poor shape. In fact the eleven was laughed at by other military +schools, one of which refused to accept a challenge that Kentfield sent. + +How Dick hired a coach from Princeton and one from Yale, and how they +"whipped" the team into shape, how championship material was made from +them, you will find told of in this book. + +There is also related how Dick worked to save his father's wealth by +getting possession of certain electric road stock, which was held by a +crabbed old man who disliked cadets and football. Of course there is +also something about the bulldog, Grit, in this book, and about Uncle +Ezra Larabee, and the doings of our hero's friends and enemies are fully +set forth. + +Again expressing the hope that you will find this story interesting, and +that you will care to hear more of Dick Hamilton, I remain, + +Yours cordially, + +HOWARD R. GARIS. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. TURNED DOWN 1 + + II. WAR ON MR. HAMILTON 8 + + III. DICK'S PLAN 15 + + IV. FOOTBALL PRACTICE 26 + + V. DISQUIETING NEWS 36 + + VI. MR. DUNCASTER AGAIN 45 + + VII. THE COACHES ARRIVE 54 + + VIII. THE TRY-OUT 64 + + IX. THE ACCUSATION 72 + + X. DICK IS REBUFFED 78 + + XI. A RIVALRY 89 + + XII. THE MIDNIGHT ALARM 96 + + XIII. THE RESCUE OF DUTTON 101 + + XIV. THE ELECTION 111 + + XV. THE GAME WITH DUNKIRK 118 + + XVI. A DARING PLAN 126 + + XVII. UNCLE EZRA ARRIVES 135 + + XVIII. ANOTHER FRUITLESS ATTEMPT 142 + + XIX. A GREAT STRUGGLE 151 + + XX. JOINING THE LEAGUE 169 + + XXI. READY FOR BLUE HILL 175 + + XXII. THE BLUE HILL GAME 182 + + XXIII. SORE HEARTS 199 + + XXIV. TREACHERY 205 + + XXV. A DESPERATE RACE 212 + + XXVI. ANOTHER GAME 222 + + XXVII. DICK IS SUMMONED 231 + + XXVIII. "LINE UP!" 238 + + XXIX. HAMMER AND SMASH 246 + + XXX. THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN 255 + + XXXI. THE TROLLEY STOCK--CONCLUSION 264 + + + + +DICK HAMILTON'S FOOTBALL TEAM + + + + +CHAPTER I + +TURNED DOWN + + +"Well, if those fellows haven't got nerve!" + +"I should say so! Why it's a direct insult!" + +"We ought to challenge 'em to a sham battle. I know we could put it all +over 'em at that game, if we can't at football; eh, fellows?" + +"Sure thing!" came in a chorus from a group of cadets who surrounded a +rather fat, good-natured companion. The latter held an open letter in +his hand, and had just finished reading it, the contents causing the +various exclamations. + +"Say, Beeby," spoke Paul Drew, "are you sure it isn't a joke? Maybe +they're just trying to have fun with us." + +"Fun! This is serious enough," replied the stout youth, "Frank Anderson, +manager of the Blue Hill Academy eleven, takes pains to be very +explicit. Listen." + +Once more Beeby read the note. + + "In reply to your challenge for a series of football games, in the + Military League, and your request that we give you a contest at an + early date, we regret to say that our team cannot play yours. To be + frank, we do not think that your eleven is in the same class with + ours. We won nearly every game we played last season, and, you + know, as well as do we, that Kentfield was away down at the tail + end. + + "It is the sense of the Athletic Committee of Blue Hill Military + Academy that we must play with teams of greater strength and in a + better class than the one that represents Kentfield. If you wish, + perhaps I can arrange some games with our second team, but not with + the first. + + "Regretting very much that we cannot accept your challenge, I + remain, + + "Yours very truly, + + "FRANK ANDERSON, Manager." + +"Well, wouldn't that put a crimp in your bayonet?" demanded John Stiver. + +"They'll condescend to let their second team come over and beat us!" +exclaimed Ray Dutton sarcastically. "Bur-r-r-r-r!" + +"Oh, say, this makes me mad!" spluttered Beeby, and he made as though to +tear the letter to shreds. + +"Don't! Wait a minute!" begged Paul Drew. "Let's talk this over a bit, +first. Something's got to be done about it. We can't let this insult +pass. I wish Dick Hamilton was here." + +"Where is he?" asked Beeby, as he folded the crumpled letter. + +"He went to town to send a message home, I guess. He'll soon be back." + +"Let's go to the Sacred Pig, and talk this over," suggested Dutton, as +he opened a few buttons on his tightly fitting parade coat, for drill +among the cadets was just over, and they had not yet gotten into their +fatigue uniforms. + +"Yes, let's plan some scheme to get even with those Blue Hill snobs," +added Paul. "Say Toots," he went on to one of the janitors about the +academy, "if you see Mr. Hamilton, just send him over to the Sacred Pig, +will you?" + +"I sure will, Mr. Drew," and Toots, so called because he was generally +whistling some military air, saluted. + +The cadets still talking among themselves about the churlish letter they +had received, passed on toward a society chapter house--that of the +Sacred Pig--one of the most exclusive organizations among the cadets of +Kentfield. + +"If Anderson wanted to turn us down why didn't he simply say that all +their dates were filled?" demanded Beeby, on whom the blow fell +especially heavy, as he was manager of the eleven. + +"Well, if the truth _had_ to be told I suppose it might as well come out +first as last," spoke Paul frankly. + +"The truth!" demanded Innis Beeby, half indignantly. + +"Yes! Kentfield hasn't a good team, and we all know it. It's no one's +fault in particular," went on Paul, "but we don't practice enough, we +don't play well enough together, and we were the tail-enders last year. +We might as well face the music." + +"Even if it isn't particularly harmonious," commented Innis bitterly, as +he walked up the steps of the handsome society house. "Well, let's see +what we can do." + +The rest of the cadets followed, to be greeted by a number of other +students who were already gathered in the pleasant reading room. There +was a general movement toward the newcomers when the news quickly +flashed around, and the letter was passed from hand to hand. + +There were more comments, caustic ones in the main, and had Manager +Anderson been present he would probably have had several challenges to +fight, for the feeling was bitter against him. + +"You can't beat this for nerve!" declared Jim Watkins. + +"I say, let's get up a good team, and force 'em to play us," suggested +Teddy Naylor. + +"How are you going to force 'em?" demanded Frank Rutley. + +"Why, play such fast and snappy games that they can't refuse us--get in +the champion class--_make_ 'em recognize us." + +"Oh, it's easy enough to talk," murmured Innis, "but when it comes to a +football team----" + +"What's the matter with the football team?" demanded a new voice, and a +tall, good-looking cadet, bronzed almost to a copper color, came in. +"Are we going to have practice to-day?" + +"Hello, Dick!" + +"Glad you came in, Hamilton." + +"You're just in time to hear the news." + +These were some of the expressions that greeted the advent of the +newcomer. Dick Hamilton pressed up into the group of indignant lads, and +accepted the letter which Innis held out to him. + +"Read that!" spluttered the stout lad. + +As Dick read a dull flush crept up under his coat of tan. + +"Um!" was his only comment for a moment. Then he said: "Well, he didn't +soften it any. But how about it; isn't it almost true?" + +"That's what I say," cried Paul Drew. + +"We haven't a very good team, that's a fact," admitted Jim Watkins, who +played centre. + +"Oh, bosh! You fellows make me tired," declared Innis. "You are almost +as bad as Anderson." + +"Well, we ought to perk up." + +"Oh pshaw! We can play all right." + +"All we need is practice." + +"And a little harder work against the scrub." + +These and other comments flew back and forth. Dick Hamilton strolled +toward an easy chair near a table. Casually he picked up a paper, and +glanced over it as the discussion waxed warmer. There were two sides, +one set of cadets holding that the eleven was not so bad, and the others +maintaining that the players should not shut their eyes to facts, but +endeavor to correct their faults. Both factions numbered members of the +team, so it could not be said that prejudice shaped the opinions. + +"Well, what do think about it, Dick?" asked Paul at length, as he sat +down beside his roommate. + +"About what?" asked the young millionaire, somewhat absently-mindedly. + +"Well, for the love of mustard! Have you been dreaming while all this +racket was going on? And you read that letter, too! I say, Dick, what's +up?" + +"Oh, yes, I remember now. I was thinking of something else," and Dick +recovered himself with an effort, seeming to bring his thoughts back +from some distant point. "The football team." + +"Of course, the eleven--or, rather, the woeful lack of one. What's to be +done, Dick? I rather thought you might have a scheme, when you heard the +news." + +There was silence in the room for a moment, and nearly all eyes were +turned on Dick Hamilton. + +"A plan--yes--I might--by Jove, fellows, I believe I have a plan!" he +exclaimed suddenly. "It ought to work, too. We've got to have the best +team on the gridiron in the Military League, and just now I thought of +something that will bring it about." + +"Then in the name of the two-horned rhinoceros speak it quickly!" begged +Innis. "Say something so I can get back at this dub Anderson. I'll write +him a hot one!" + +"Oh, it will take a little while to put it through," went on the young +millionaire, "but I believe I can do it. Now my plan is----" + +At that moment one of the pages employed at the society house, which was +sort of cadet club, approached the eager group of students. + +"Beg pardon," the page said, "but here is a telegram that just came for +Mr. Hamilton." + +Dick tore open the yellow envelope. He read the message at a glance and +seemed to start as at the receipt of unwelcome news. + +"I've got to go out for a while," he said to his chums. "I'll be back as +soon as possible. This is important." + +"But your football plan," begged Innis. + +"I'll tell it when I come back," called Dick Hamilton as he hurried out, +leaving a much-wondering group of cadets looking after him. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WAR ON MR. HAMILTON + + +"The rumor is true then," mused Dick, as he hurried out of the chapter +house, and started toward the telegraph office. "I rather hoped it would +prove to be _only_ a rumor, but if dad has heard it also, there must be +something in it. Now I wonder if I can get hold of any more news, so I +can wire him? Let's see, what is it he says." + +Dick glanced again at the telegram that had been brought to him. It was +from his father, Mortimer Hamilton, a multi-millionaire, and was in +answer to a message the youth had sent his parent that day. + + * * * * * + +"Have heard rumor you speak of," the father's message read, "see if you +can learn more. Wire me at once. Our trolley interests are threatened. +They are trying to get me out of control." + + * * * * * + +"If they do that it will be a hard blow for dad," said Dick, as he +hurried along. + +Of late Mr. Hamilton had put much money in an important trolley line, +and had called in several other investments so that he might buy more +of the stock. A large part of his fortune was now involved in the +electric road, and if he lost the controlling interest it might mean his +ruin. + +Consequently our hero was not a little alarmed. Only that day he had +heard the disquieting rumor. It came from a fellow cadet, Sam Porter, +whose father was very wealthy. In the hearing of Dick, Sam had +accidently mentioned a deal his father was putting through, involving +the very electric line in which Mr. Hamilton was so vitally interested. +But then Sam did not know how much of the stock Mr. Hamilton owned, in +fact he did not know that Dick's parent was at all interested. + +But the young millionaire--for Dick was that in his own right--had taken +alarm at once, and had immediately wired his father. + +"And now I must see if I can get any further information," mused the +lad. "It will hardly be safe to ask Porter directly. I wonder if I could +pump him through Jake Weston, his crony? I'll try it, after I wire dad +that I'm on the job." + +While Dick is on his way to send the message I will take the opportunity +to explain to you something more about him, and also something about the +previous books in this series. As I told you in the first volume, +entitled "Dick Hamilton's Fortune," he was left a large sum by his +mother, who had been dead some years. But he must comply with certain +conditions of Mrs. Hamilton's will, before he could get control of his +millions. + +One stipulation was that he must use his funds to make some sort of a +paying investment. If he failed in this he would have to spend some time +with a crabbed old uncle, Mr. Ezra Larabee, who lived in a gloomy place +called Dankville. + +Dick tried several schemes to make money for himself, but, as may be +imagined from a lad who had had no experience, one plan after another +failed. But, at the last moment a small investment he had made, to help +a poor, but fine-charactered lad, named Henry Darby, start in the junk +and iron business, proved wonderfully successful, and Dick fulfilled the +conditions of the will. Uncle Ezra was much provoked that he was not to +get control of his dead sister's son, and his millions, but he was +routed, and had to flee from Grit, the prize bulldog Dick owned. + +"Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days," was the title of the second volume. In +that I told how Dick, to further comply with the instructions in his +mother's will, went to the Kentfield Military Academy. There he was to +make his way, unaided by any influence of his millions. + +He had an up-hill struggle, for there was a prejudice against him. But +he was delighted with the military life. He took part in the drills, in +the cavalry exercises, he helped to win a victory in a big sham battle, +and he fought a duel that had a curious outcome. He was wounded in a +broad sword combat, and was the means of saving the life of his enemy +Dutton, who later became his friend. + +Kentfield Academy was located in one of the middle western states, near +Lake Wagatook. Colonel James Masterly was superintendent, Major Henry +Rockford, commandant, and Major Franklin Webster, of the United States +Army, was the instructor in military tactics. Captain Hayden was head +master, Captain Grantly in charge of the science classes, and Captain +Nelton of those in mathematics. + +Dick, while attending there, was the means of solving the mystery of the +identity of "Toots," the whistling janitor, and when the society house +of the Sacred Pig burned down, and it was found that the insurance had +expired, Dick rebuilt the meeting place in much handsomer style than +formerly, thereby gaining the everlasting admiration of the cadets. + +Dick and his chums had many social pleasures, and if you care to know +how well they could dance, Miss Nellie Fordice, Mabel Hanford, Nettie +French or Mildred Adams could tell you. + +Dick spent his first summer's vacation at Hamilton Corners, a town named +after his father, who was the principal citizen there, as well as owner +of many local enterprises, including a bank. In the fall Dick returned +to the academy, and was promoted to a captaincy. + +In the third volume of the series, entitled "Dick Hamilton's Steam +Yacht," I told of a long trip our hero took in a steam yacht which he +purchased from his ample fortune. With a party of friends he went to +Cuba. + +Uncle Ezra Larabee thought that Dick did very wrong to spend so much +money, so the crabbed old man conceived a plan of kidnapping the youth, +and taking him in charge, to "teach him frugal ways," as he said. + +Mr. Larabee hired a small steamer, and set off after his nephew. He did +kidnap a youth--or, rather the men he hired did--but it was not Dick, +and that made all the confusion. However, Dick had trouble enough, for +his yacht was stolen, and he was left marooned with his friends on a +lonely island. How they built a raft, set out to sea, how they were +rescued, and the pursuit after Dick's yacht, aboard which was his mean +uncle--all this you will find set down in the book. + +After his trip Dick came back up north. All too soon the academy opened, +and our hero had to dock his fine vessel, don his uniform, and get back +to his studies. But he did not mind, once he was among his classmates +again, and he had been "buckling down to hard work" as he expressed it, +for a few weeks, when the events narrated in the first chapter took +place. + +Dick's interest was divided between anxiety over the plight that might +befall his father, and the "slump" that hung over the football eleven. + +"I hope my football scheme works," he said. "But I can't think about +that now. I must help out dad. It's too bad, after all the work he put +in on getting that trolley line in shape, to be threatened with the loss +of it. I must do all I can to stop it. I'll just wire him that I'll be +on the lookout, and then I'll see what I can pick up from Porter or +Weston." + +Dick knew where to find the two cadets in question. They were first-year +students, and were not members of the Sacred Pig, though they would have +given much to join. Dick was not especially friendly with them, but he +now resolved to cultivate their acquaintance, at least long enough to +see if he could get on the track of the men who were seeking to wrest +the control of the trolley line from Mr. Hamilton. + +After sending his second message, Dick strolled toward a "fashionable" +pool club in town, where many of the more "sporty" cadets spent much of +their time, when not at study. + +"Hello, Hamilton!" greeted Porter. "Have a cue. I'm tired of playing +Weston. He's too easy." + +Dick was a good pool and billiard player, and had two fine tables at +home. But somehow he did not play well on this occasion. Porter easily +beat him. + +"I'll try again," said the young millionaire, and when the second game +was well under way he gradually led the talk around to business matters. + +"My dad is great on business, and deals," chuckled Porter as he made a +good shot, and finished up with a run of six. "He's got a deal on now +that will put a few crimps in a couple of people that think themselves +some pumpkins." + +"Yes?" queried Dick, as he missed what seemed to be an easy shot. + +"Sure. That trolley deal I mentioned. But I forgot, I'm not supposed to +talk about it. Only there's some gazabo of a millionaire, down east or +somewhere, that will get the gaff all right. Say, I hear your dad is +pretty well up in business, Ham?" + +"Yes, he has a number of interests," spoke Dick, as he chalked his cue +for a billiard game. He was hoping it would not develope that he was the +son of the "gazabo" in question. + +"Well, my dad is the limit," went on Porter. "When this trolley deal +goes through, as it will, he'll be several millions better off. It's war +to the knife, so he told me. I don't know who he's fighting, but it's +some one." + +Dick knew, but he kept still. + +"It sure is war," he reflected as he made ready to shoot. "I must learn +all I can about the plans of Porter's father, and the men who are in +with him. Then I can help dad. And then--there's the football trouble. +Well, Dick Hamilton," and he paused for a serious moment before making a +nice shot that required plenty of "English" on it, "you sure have your +hands full." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DICK'S PLAN + + +Rain was coming down heavily when Dick finished the game, and he looked +out from the poolroom with rather a rueful face as he heard the +downpour. + +"I'll run you back in my car," offered Porter. "We can stop at Martin's +on the way in, and have a jolly little supper. What do you say, Ham?" + +Dick rather resented being called "Ham" by a youth who had known him but +a short time. Likewise he did not care to stop at Martin's. So he +covered his dislike as best he could, and answered: + +"No, thank you. I have some business to attend to, and I don't want to +keep you. Go on back to Kentfield, and I'll take a taxicab when I've +finished with my matters." + +"Oh, I suppose you follow in the footsteps of the governor, and are in +business too," almost sneered Weston. + +"Well, I help my father whenever I can," answered Dick, as the blood +surged up under his coat of tan. "Sorry I couldn't beat you, Mr. +Porter. I hope to have better luck next time." + +"You want to bring along all the luck you have, Hamilton," declared the +rich lad, as he put on his coat, while Dick settled for the games, which +he had almost purposely lost in order that he might have a better excuse +for talking to Porter. "I'm a pretty good shot," and he laughed in +Dick's face. + +"So I see," agreed Dick. + +"Then you won't motor back with us?" asked Porter, for he had an +expensive machine, which was in the repair shop a good part of the time, +owing to his reckless driving. + +"No, I've got several matters to attend to," answered Dick, and he +watched the two cronies going out together. + +The storm continued, the rain coming down harder than ever, and, as Dick +had no umbrella he decided to go down to the telegraph office in a +taxicab, a service but newly installed in the college town, but which +was taken advantage of by many students. + +Dick was not a spendthrift, and he knew the value of money. Still, when +he did not have to count his dollars, he did not see the harm in +spending a few in hiring an auto cab, when he had no umbrella. + +A few minutes later he was bowling along the rain-swept streets toward +the telegraph office which he had but recently left. + +"Dad will think I'm making the wires hot," he mused, as the taxicab +careened along, "but I guess I'd better keep him informed right up to +date. That Mr. Porter means business, if I'm any judge. Probably he has +a syndicate of rich men back of him, and they are trying to get control +of father's interests. But we'll put a stop to that if possible. + +"What a cad that Porter fellow is, with his billiard shots, and his +cigarettes! I could have beaten him easily, if I'd wanted to, but if I +had he might have turned sulky, and wouldn't have talked so much. As it +is I've gotten some good information out of him." + +Dick leaned back on the cushions and let his thoughts wander free. As he +had said, there were two big problems ahead of him. He wanted to see the +cadet football team triumph on the gridiron, and he wanted to help his +father get ahead of his enemies. + +Both matters were important to Dick, for he realized that his father's +interests, being now so much bound up in the trolley line, would suffer +seriously if antagonists got in control. + +As for football, our hero, who was one of the best members of the team, +wanted to see his eleven at the head of the Military League. + +And, for several seasons past Kentfield had been the tail-ender, and +practically out of the league. True, they had won some games, and big +ones, too, but it was more like a sudden spurt, and then the cadets +seemed to go "stale," and played in such poor form that inferior teams +beat them. + +"It's got to stop," said Dick to himself. "We've got to win, and if I +can put my plan through, and I don't see why I can't, we'll be at the +top of the heap pretty soon. That is if the fellows will work. And +they've got to! By Jove I'm not going to stay at a college where a +little dinky team like the one from Blue Hill, can put it all over us, +and write such letters as Beeby got to-day. + +"Poor Beeby! He felt it a heap. It was like the time when we were +marooned on that island, and he managed to snap-shot a lot of birds, and +came in to tell us about them. We thought he meant he had killed them +for dinner. Oh, that was a time all right!" and Dick fell to thinking of +the adventures he had gone through when he was taking the first voyage +in his steam yacht. + +The taxicab came to a sudden stop. The young millionaire looked out, and +through the rain he saw the telegraph office. + +"I guess the man will think I'm running a regular brokerage business," +he reflected as he alighted and went in. He sent a message to his +father, telling what he had heard from Porter during the billiard game, +and warning Mr. Hamilton to be on the watch for treachery. + +"There, I guess that will make dad get busy," said the lad. "Now I'll +wait for further instructions, and devote a little time to planning out +what I want to do for the football team. We've got to be champions of +the league or I'll know the reason why. What's the good of money if it +can't get you what you want?" + +"Where to now, sir?" asked the taxi-driver, as Dick got in the machine +again. "Like to go around town for a while? Most of the cadets do when +they get out." + +"Back to the college," ordered Dick a bit curtly, for he did not like +the familiar tone of the man. + +"Hum, he must be one of those tight-wads," thought the driver, as he +threw in his gears and started off. "I like a fellow that spends money." + +If he had known how much Dick Hamilton _could_ have spent had our hero +been so inclined, the taxi-man might have had a different opinion of +him. + +The machine was bowling along at a good speed, through the principal +street of the town, preparatory to turning off on the road that led to +the military academy. It was a cab with the front of glass, and Dick +could look out at one side of the driver, and observe what was going on. + +Suddenly, as they crossed a side street, an elderly man, with a big, +old-fashioned umbrella held low over his head, ran out directly in front +of the cab. + +"Look out! Stop!" cried Dick, involuntarily jumping up. "You'll run him +down!" + +The driver was on the alert, however, and jammed on the brakes with a +practiced hand, and a quick foot. With a shudder of springs and a +shriek of metal the cab came to a stop. Not before, however, it had run +into the man with the big umbrella, upsetting him, though so gently that +he was not hurt. His rain-shield however, was crumpled up and his legs +were entangled in it. + +Before the driver could leave his seat, Dick had jumped out and gone to +the aid of the pedestrian. + +"I hope you're not hurt!" the lad exclaimed, as he helped the aged man +to arise. "I'm very sorry it happened. I guess you held your umbrella so +low that you couldn't see us coming." + +For clearly it was not the fault of the driver that the accident had +occurred. + +"Ha! Hum! So that's what you think, eh?" demanded the man in a rasping +voice, as he fairly grabbed the broken umbrella from Dick's hand. "Here +I be, walking peaceably along the street, trying to protect myself from +the rain, when you reckless military students come along in one of those +fire-snorting new-fangled automobiles, and run me down. It was all your +fault, and if I could see a policeman I'd have you both locked up! How +many of those tin soldiers from the military academy have you in there +anyhow? Cadets! Humph! Much better be at some honest business instead of +learning to kill folks! Are there any more of you? If there are, come +out, and I'll give you a piece of my mind! Learning murder as a fine +art! How many in there?" and he glared at the taxicab. + +"I'm the only one," said Dick modestly. + +"Hum! Too mean to let some one else ride with you, I reckon. Well, it +was all your fault, and you'll have to settle with me. Duncaster is my +name, Enos Duncaster, and I don't intend to be imposed upon." + +Dick could not help thinking how like his uncle Erza Mr. Duncaster was. + +"It was your fault, you old hayseeder!" cried the taxicab man with a +nervous voice, for he had been mortally afraid of a fatal accident. +"What do you want to run under a machine that way for? Hey? Why can't +you look where you're going?" + +"Young man!" exclaimed Mr. Duncaster in a calm voice, "if I didn't know +that you were excited you'd pay dearly for this. You don't know me, but +I'll say, for your information, that I own enough stock in this taxicab +company to have you discharged. I'm sorry I ever invested in it, but I +didn't know them machines were so rip-snorting. Now you can go on, but +first give me your names." + +"What for?" demanded the driver suspiciously. + +"Oh, in case I find I have worse injuries than a broken umbrella," +replied the elderly man with a half-smile. "I may want to bring suit +against the company in which I hold stock." + +"Well, my name is Martin," replied the driver, "James Martin. I +certainly didn't mean to run you down, Mr. Duncaster. But the rain was +in my eyes, and----" + +"That will do," said the man with an air of authority. "Now who are +you--my young soldier lad? I don't believe in this war business, but the +country seems to be going crazy over it, so I might as well keep still. +Who are you?" + +"Hamilton--Dick Hamilton is my name." + +"Hum--Hamilton--no relation to Mortimer Hamilton; are you?" + +"He is my father." + +"What." + +"I say he is my father." + +"Why that's odd--I'm--no, never mind--so you're Mortimer Hamilton's son; +eh? I heard he had one, and that he was going to some sort of military +school. I'm sorry to see it. And so you're the one who ran me down? And +you haven't a crowd of roistering students with you?" + +"No, I'm all alone. I've been attending to some business for my father." + +"Hum! Business, yes. That's about all Mortimer Hamilton does. Well, you +may go. I know where to find both of you in case I want you." + +The odd old man gathered up what was left of his umbrella, and, +declining the aid of a policeman who came up to see what the gathering +crowd meant, Mr. Duncaster walked off. + +"We got out of that lucky," commented the taxi-driver, as Dick +re-entered the vehicle. "I sure thought he would fire me. Who'd think +old man Duncaster would be up here?" + +"Is he really a wealthy man?" asked Dick. + +"You bet he is. He lives away down in the country somewhere, and all he +does is to cut off the interest coupons from his bonds. He's a +millionaire, but you'd never think it to look at him. The idea of +walking, when he could hire a machine and ride. But he's close--awful +close." + +"I hope he doesn't make trouble," commented our hero. "If he does, let +me know. In spite of who he is I think it was his own fault that we hit +him." + +"Sure it was," declared the driver heartily. + +Dick was soon back at school and his first visit was to the society +house of the Sacred Pig. He found only a few of his cadet chums there, +as it was nearing mess time, and they had gone to dress for the meal. + +"Well, you're a fine fellow to run off and desert us the way you did!" +cried Innis Beeby, as he clapped Dick on the shoulder. "What's your +great scheme about a football team? The fellows are half wild trying to +guess. Couldn't you explain before you hiked away?" + +"No, didn't have time." + +"Then tell me now." + +"No, I'd like all the fellows to be together when they hear it and then +they won't get it twisted. I'll meet you all here after grub, and tell +you what I think of doing." + +"All right; it's a go." + +Dick found a goodly crowd waiting for him in the main room of the club +house, for word had gone around of what was about to take place. Our +hero wasted no time on preliminaries. + +"Boys," he began, "you know as well as I do, that we have received an +insulting letter from the Blue Hill academy. Our football team, of which +I have the honor to be a member----" + +"Hurray for the team!" cried Paul Drew. "Long may she wave, o'er the +land----" + +"Order in the ranks!" cried Innis Beeby, who was presiding. + +"Our team needs strengthening," went on Dick. "There is no use ignoring +the facts before us. We never have had a first class team--that is, to +judge by the records of the past. We have not a good team now, and I'm +as bad as the worst member, so I'm not shielding myself. That being the +case, what's to be done?" + +"Get a new team!" called someone. + +"Revamp the old one," cried another. + +"That's my idea exactly," went on Dick. "We must use the material we +have, but with this restriction--there must be a fair field and no +favors. The best men must be picked on the team." + +"Sure!" cried someone. + +"But who's going to do the picking?" demanded Beeby. + +"That's what I'm coming to," went on Dick. "I was going to tell you my +plan, when I had to leave this afternoon." + +"Tell it now!" was the general shout. + +"This is it!" replied the young millionaire. "You know what good +coaching can do for a team. I think that's what we need, and it is +casting no reflection on the present coaches, for we all know they can +devote only a little time to the work. Now what I propose is this: We +can get two of the best coaches in the country--say one from Yale and +one from Princeton. They can come here, and in a few weeks I'm sure they +can whip our team into shape. We have the material--all it needs is to +be developed." + +"That's right--but how can we afford to pay for a Yale and a Princeton +coach?" demanded George Hall. + +"I'll attend to that end," replied Dick calmly. "This is my treat. I +want Kentfield to have the best eleven in the league, and if coaching +can do it we'll have it. Then we can win some games. I'll pay for the +coaches, and we'll see what they can do. That was my football scheme. +What do you think of it, fellows?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FOOTBALL PRACTICE + + +For a few seconds no one spoke after Dick Hamilton had mentioned his +plan for improving the Kentfield eleven. But at length, with a +long-drawn sigh of satisfaction, Innis remarked: + +"Dick; you're a trump!--a brick!--an ice-cream brick on a hot +day!--you're all to the mustard!--a----" + +"Cut it out!" cried our hero, "can't you see how I'm blushing? But +seriously, fellows, is my plan all right?" + +"I should say it was!" exclaimed Paul Drew. + +"But look at what it's going to cost," objected George Hall. "Those Yale +and Princeton coaches are high-fliers--that is, if you can get them to +come--and then besides their salary, we'll have to board 'em. Though I +s'pose we could put 'em up at the Pig, provided they won't scrap all the +while over different training plans." + +"Oh, I fancy that part will be all right," remarked Teddy Naylor. + +"But do you think you can get any Yale or Princeton coaches to come +here--to Kentfield--with her poor, old, broken-down team--that is +according to Anderson," spoke Frank Rutley. + +"Well, of course we'll have to take a chance on that," replied Dick. "If +we can't get men from those two colleges we can try some others. But dad +is an old Princeton grad. and I have sort of a distant forty-second +cousin who was once a star half-back at Yale. I might get them to put in +a good word for us." + +"Hurray!" cried Innis in the excitement and exuberance of the moment. +"That's the stuff! Now we'll wipe up the ground with those Blue Hill +snobs! Whoop-la!" + +He shot out a sturdy fist, and squarely hit a football that Teddy Naylor +was balancing on his hand. The spheroid flew straight and true across +the room, and caught John Stiver on the chin. Stiver at that moment +happened to be looking at the sporting page of a paper and did not see +the ball coming. Consequently it was quite a surprise, and he went over +backward against Paul Drew, both going down in a heap. + +"I say, who did that?" cried John, as he arose with the symptoms of +wrath in his eyes. + +"I did, old chap!" confessed Innis contritely. "You see I felt so good I +wanted to start something. I beg your pardon." + +"Granted. But you certainly started something all right," remarked John +grimly. "There goes Drew's nose bleeding. You sure started something all +right." + +"Oh, I don't mind," responded Dick's roommate, as he went to a toilet +room to staunch the flow of blood. "If we get a good team and play some +stiff games I'll probably have worse than this before the season is +over." + +Innis went out with Paul to assist in attending to the bleeding member, +and the others resumed their football talk. There was but one opinion +about Dick's plan--everybody said it was just what was needed, and to +all suggestions that it would cost a mint of money, the young +millionaire declared that it would be worth all it cost him. + +"What's the use of having a fortune if you don't spend it?" he asked +with a smile. "Though I suppose if my Uncle Ezra hears about my latest +scheme he'll try again to kidnap me, to stop me from carrying it out. +But he isn't here, is he Grit, old boy?" and Dick stooped over to pet +his bulldog, who crouched at his feet, the animal being an honorary +member of the Sacred Pig Society. + +Grit growled at the mention of the name of Uncle Ezra. He had a deep +antipathy to that gentleman, and with reason, for Mr. Larabee hated +dogs, and kicked Grit on the sly every time he got the chance. + +"Then it's all settled," remarked Dick, when Paul and Innis had come +back to the general room. "I'll get busy writing some letters, and we'll +see what we can do. It's lucky the season hasn't started yet, for we +have plenty of time to get into shape." + +"Yes, and we'll not only do up Blue Hill good and brown, but we'll put +it all over Mooretown and some of the other teams in the Military +League," declared Innis. "But you fellows must get at practice, and try +and harden yourselves. I wish Bert Cameron was here--I don't know how +he's going to take to this new coaching idea." + +"Oh, Bert won't mind," declared Jim Watkins. "He'll be only too glad to +be relieved of the coaching, for I heard him say he was trying for an +extra exam. in maths, and he needs all the time he can get." + +Bert, who was a star football player, had given up active participation +in the game to act as coach for Kentfield. But, as his chums well knew, +he had not the necessary time to devote to the work of telling them what +to do and how to do it, and the team suffered in consequence. + +However, the mention of this gave Dick an idea. He did not want to hurt +the feelings of Bert, and, when the coach entered the club a little +later the matter was mentioned to him. + +"Go ahead, grand idea," he declared and his enthusiasm was not forced. +"I know I haven't been keeping you fellows up to the mark, and I'll be +glad to see some one here who can. Besides, I need all the time I can +get to bone away at my maths." + +"Then I'll go ahead," declared the young millionaire. "I'll have the new +coaches here in a week if I can get them, and I'll meet any financial +demand they make." + +"That's the way to talk!" cried Paul, clapping his chum on the back with +such energy that Dick uttered a protest. + +When our hero turned in at taps that night, his mind was filled with two +main thoughts. One was the future of the football team, and the other +was the trouble that threatened his father. Then another remembrance +came to him. + +"I wonder who that Mr. Duncaster is that we so nearly ran over?" mused +Dick. "He must know dad. He's a queer sort of a character, I guess." + +Dick little thought of what an important part in the future of himself +and his father this same Mr. Duncaster was to play. + +"Well, I'll see if I can get any more information from Porter about the +deal his father is in," said Dick to himself, as he turned over to +compose himself for sleep. "There must be more than one man in the game, +and it's up to me to find out who the others are, so dad can be on his +guard. I hope he doesn't lose control of the trolley, for a lot of small +investors have put all their money in it, and if other interested men +get hold of it the investors might lose all they have. I guess that's +why dad is so worried. I'll cultivate the acquaintance of Porter and +Weston, though I don't care much for them." + +A better day for football practice could not have been desired. There +was just enough crispness in the air, and the gridiron, newly marked +with its chalk-lines was green under the autumn sun as a crowd of cadets +released from drill and studies, flocked over the campus, shouting and +laughing. + +"Line up there, you scrubs!" called Paul Drew. "This is where we walk +all over you. Here, Dick, catch this!" and he kicked a puzzling spiral +toward the young millionaire. + +Dick made a jump for the ball, but it slipped through his fingers. + +"Wow! Rotten!" he cried. "That wouldn't do in a game." + +"That's right," agreed Innis. "But you're no worse than the rest. Look +at Watkins miss that drop kick he tried to make." + +Shouts of derision from the scrub greeted the effort of Watkins to boot +the pigskin. The scrub, in spite of its unenviable position, had been +doing better in practice than the regular team. Captained by Tom Coleton +the lads had scored many a touchdown on their superiors, and they were +proud of it. + +"Line up, fellows!" called Teddy Naylor, the Varsity captain. "We'll see +what we can do." + +The game at Kentfield was played under the old rules of halves, instead +of quarters, and, in fact, all the teams in the Military League +preferred that style. + +Goals were chosen, and it was announced that two ten minute halves would +be played. Dick was to play at quarter-back, John Stiver at left +half-back, Ray Dutton at right half-back, Paul Drew at left guard, +George Hall at right tackle, Teddy Naylor at full-back, Frank Rutley at +left tackle, Jim Watkins at centre, Innis Beeby at right guard, Sam +Porter as left end, and his crony, Jake Weston, at right end. + +The scrub were to kick off, as Teddy wanted to see how well his men +could rush back the ball. Not that he expected much, but somehow, under +the stimulus of the new plan proposed by Dick, there was a more +confident feeling among members of the Varsity eleven, than had existed +in some time. + +"I think we'll surprise 'em to-day," remarked Paul Drew, as he took his +place beside Jim. + +The signal was given, and Hal Foster made a big dent in the side of the +ball. It came sailing toward the spread-out Varsity team, and was caught +by Dick. He started back over the chalk marks, well protected by +interference. + +"Grab him! Don't let him get past you!" called Tom Coleton, who was in +charge of the scrub. Dick's helpers shoved aside several impetuous lads +who tried to break through to tackle him, and it looked as though he +might make a sensational run. But when Bart Gerard slipped past Paul +Drew, and got in to the running lad, there was a quick, fierce tackle, +and Dick went down heavily. + +"Not so bad! Line up!" cried Bert Cameron, who stole a few minutes from +his studies to come out and see how the play was going. + +"Get ready, fellows!" cried Dick, as he took his place behind Jim, while +the big centre leaned over and prepared to snap back the ball when the +signal was given. + +Dick called out a string of numbers which indicated that Ray Dutton was +to take the ball between the left guard and tackle of the scrub. The +ball came back, and with all his might Dutton leaped for a hole that +Beeby and Hall made for him. On and on he struggled pushing and being +pushed. + +"Brace, fellows! Brace!" implored Coleton, and his men tried, but there +was no withstanding the fierce rush of the Varsity. Through they went, +and when Dutton was finally stopped he had gained five yards. + +"It's been some time since we did that," commented Dick, as he looked +back at the ground covered--ground whereon were strewn fallen players +for the rush had been a fierce one. + +Again came the line up, and again the advance with the ball, Stiver +taking it this time for a run around end. He made a good gain. Then +followed more rushing tactics, until, when in reasonable distance of +the goal, Dick gave the signal for a try for one from the field. + +Straight and true the ball came back to Teddy Naylor, and the next +instant it was booted over the crossbar. + +"Wow!" cried Beeby capering about. "That's the stuff. Now if that was +against Blue Hill I'd stand on my head!" + +"Impossible, old chap--I mean impossible to stand on your head--you're +not balanced right," panted Dick, for the last few minutes of play had +been strenuous. "But it was good work all the same." + +"You can't repeat it," declared Coleton, half chagrined yet glad that +the Varsity was picking up. + +But the Varsity did even better, for they rolled up two touchdowns in +that half, a thing they had been unable to do since practice started. + +They did not have things all their own way, however, for the scrub +played so fiercely and with such desperate energy in the next half, that +they, too, got a touchdown, and would have had another but for a +splendid tackle Porter made. + +"Good!" cried Teddy encouragingly, for Porter was not a good player, and +would not train properly. But he had been picked on the team early in +the season, when available material was scarce, and the captain did not +like to drop him now. His fine stopping of the man with the ball, +however, showed what he could do when he tried. + +The play was resumed. There were only a few more minutes left, and the +scrubs were trying with all their might to score again, while, on their +part, the Varsity was trying to stop them. The scrub had the ball on the +Varsity twenty-five yard line, when the signal came for a play through +centre. + +Dick half guessed that it was coming, and when the man with the ball +made his appearance in the hole torn for him, our hero met him with a +suddenness that shocked them both. + +"I've got you!" cried the young millionaire. There was a revolving +struggle, and then something hit Dick on the head. It became black all +around him, and he went down in a limp heap, while he heard some one +crying: + +"Get up, fellows, Hamilton's hurt!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DISQUIETING NEWS + + +There was a singing in Dick's ears. He seemed to be on a heaving, +rolling sea, and he dimly wondered how he happened to be back on board a +boat. Then he felt a dash of water on his face--cold, stinging +water,--and he half imagined himself back on the raft with a sea +breaking over him. Next he felt some one lifting him to his feet, and he +heard the murmur of voices. + +"That was a nasty blow." + +"Yes. Who did it?" + +"Shall we send for the doctor?" + +"I'm--I'm all right," protested Dick feebly, as he opened his eyes. He +came back to earth with a shock, and the boatlike motion suddenly +ceased. "I--I----" + +"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Paul anxiously. + +Dick put his hand up to his head. A big lump was beginning to form, and +was tender to the touch. His head started to ache and hum. + +"That was my fault," contritely confessed Hal Foster, of the scrub. "I +was trying to stop you from making that tackle, when my feet slipped +from under me, and shot right at your head, Hamilton. I hope you're not +much hurt. I'm awfully sorry." + +He took hold of Dick's arm in a brotherly fashion. + +"It's all right--don't mention it old chap. It was no one's fault. I +shouldn't have jumped in so quickly. I'm all right again. Come on, we'll +finish the game." + +"No, the time's about up," announced Teddy. "We've had enough for +to-day. And it's been better practice than we've had in a long while. I +guess we're all anxious to get on Hamilton's team." + +"Hamilton's team?" asked Sam Porter, in a curious tone. "Since when has +it been _his_ eleven?" + +"Oh, I forgot you hadn't heard the news," went on Teddy. "Why Dick is +going to pay for two of the best coaches in the country, and we're going +to have a team as _is_ a team. That's why we all played so well to-day, +I guess--even the scrub." + +"Thanks!" exclaimed Tom Coleton. "We'll do you up good and proper +to-morrow just the same." + +"Not with Dick Hamilton's team," cried Teddy with a laugh. + +"It isn't going to be my team at all," declared Dick, as he supported +himself on Paul's shoulder and walked along, after his head had again +been bathed in the cold water. "I don't want it known as that. I'm only +doing what any fellow would do--putting up some cash to help out. It +isn't my team at all." + +"I should say not!" sneered Porter. "Hamilton's team--that sounds like +playing favorites all right." + +"Yes, if it keeps on this will be known as the Kentfield-Hamilton +Military Academy," added his crony. + +Dick heard, and his face flushed. He took a step toward the two lads, +but he was unsteady on his feet, for the blow on his head had been +severe. + +"You'll have to take that back Mr. Porter," said our hero a bit stiffly, +"and you too, Mr. Weston." + +It was seldom that the cadets addressed each other thus, and only when +there was some feeling engendered. + +"Take what back?" demanded Porter. + +"What you said about favorites," went on Dick. "I won't stand for that." + +There was that in his look and manner, and in his words that impressed +not only his friends but the two cronies as well. They realized that +Dick as an upper classman, had considerable influence, and, though they +had their own following, due to their wealth and their willingness to +spend money, they doubtless felt that they had gone too far. + +"Oh, well, I didn't mean anything," said Porter, half sulkily. "I--I was +only joking." + +"I don't like such jokes," declared Dick grimly, and he looked at +Weston. + +"Same here," muttered Porter's crony. "I was only fooling." + +"Your apologies are accepted," was Dick's reply. He walked on, half +supported by Paul, and when his chums saw how evidently weak he was they +wanted him to go to the doctor's office. But Dick would not. + +"I'll be all right in the morning," he said. "All I need is a little +rest. We're getting right into football good and proper," he added with +an attempt at a smile. + +"Yes, starting off with a hospital list," added Teddy. "Don't have too +much of it, though." + +Dick was rather lame and stiff the next morning, and his head was in +poor shape for study, so he cut some lectures, and got excused from +drill and artillery practice. In the afternoon however, he was much +better, and insisted on going through light practice in signals playing +one half against the scrub, his place being taken by a substitute in the +second period. + +Whether it was because Dick was off the team, or because the scrub +played with fiercer energy, due to their defeat of the day before, was +not manifested, but the Varsity was beaten by a score of fourteen to +eleven, and once more there was a feeling of gloom in the ranks of the +first eleven. + +"Oh, it's all right," Teddy assured his players. "We will make up for +it to-morrow. By the way, Dick, when are your coaches coming?" + +"I've written, and I expect an answer some time this week. It may take a +little longer than I hoped, but I told them not to let money stand in +the way. I have made an offer to Burke Martin of Yale, and Wilson +Spencer of Princeton." + +"Martin and Spencer!" cried Teddy in delight. "Say, if we get them here +they'll make even the goal posts play the game. There aren't any two +better coaches living." + +"It pays to get the best," said Dick, with a smile. "I have had my +father send a line to the athletic committee of the Tigers, and I told +him to write to our distant relative who once went to Yale, and get him +to put in a good word for us." + +"Fine!" cried the captain. "I fancy they'll make the team all over again +when they get here. I may lose my place." + +"Nonsense!" declared Dick. "But the way I feel about it is this--we want +the best men to represent Kentfield, and we'll let the coaches do the +picking. I don't want to play unless they say I'm better, in my +particular place, than some other fellow. It's a fair field and no favor +for me." + +"Same here," declared Naylor. "I'll step out the minute I'm asked to. +It's for the honor of Kentfield, not for any particular player. But it +would be rubbing it in if they turned you down Dick, after what you've +done--putting up all that money." + +"Say, look here, that's a matter I want to speak about!" exclaimed Dick +with sudden energy. "I don't want the coaches to know who is putting up +the money--I don't want it known that I am doing it. They are both fair +men, and I know you couldn't influence them with a million dollars. But +let this matter be kept quiet, and have it given out that the athletic +committee of Kentfield is supplying the funds. Then there can't be +anything said against me." + +"I guess that would be the best way," assented Teddy. "I'll call a +meeting right away and we'll settle it. But you say you have already +written to the coaches." + +"I did, but I wrote in the name of the committee," said Dick. "I took +that liberty, as I wanted to conceal my part in the affair. I thought it +would be all right." + +"Sure. I'll see that it is." + +The athletic committee at a meeting that night, endorsed the action of +our hero, and the members were bound to secresy in the matter as to who +was supplying the money with which to pay the coaches. + +For the next few days practice went on, and there was a distinct +improvement in the playing of the Varsity team, to the disquieting of +the scrub, for those unfortunate players were shoved all over the +gridiron, and several were laid up with bruises, as the first eleven +was playing for touchdowns, and secured several. Still their playing was +anything but what it should be, and the lads themselves realized it. But +they were willing to learn, and anxiously awaited the arrival of the +coaches. + +Dick, meanwhile, had spent some time with Porter and his crony, though +he did not like their companionship. He played many games of pool and +billiards with them, losing occasionally, and again, by some brilliant +cue work, making the two gasp with astonishment and chagrin. + +"I don't see how it is that you don't win oftener," spoke Porter a bit +suspiciously one day. + +"Oh, well, it's luck I guess," declared Dick, and then he steered the +conversation around to the topic on which he wanted information--the +plan to wrest the control of the trolley line from his father. + +But Porter either did not want to tell more, or could not. He declared +that his father's plans were coming along in great shape, and that Mr. +Porter was a wonder as a financier. + +"There'll be some surprised millionaires when my dad gets through with +them," he boasted. + +"Is he doing it all alone--I mean hasn't he some men associated with +him?" asked Dick as carelessly as he could as he made a neat carom shot. + +"Oh, I guess there are some pikers in along with my governor, but he's +the main squeeze," declared Porter. "He lets some fellows trail along +so he can use 'em when he wants to. But he gets most of the dough, and +he keeps it too. I hope the deal soon goes through, for I want my +allowance increased, and the governor promised to raise the ante as soon +as he gets control of this electric road. By the way, it's somewhere out +your way, Hamilton. You must have heard of it." + +"I have," answered Dick as quietly as before. + +"Is your dad interested? I hear he has scads of money. Maybe he's in +with my father." + +"No, I fancy not. It's your turn, Weston," and Dick turned aside to +conceal a grim smile on his face. + +That night there was a letter for Dick from his father. It contained +disquieting news, for it bore the information that the enemies of the +millionaire were getting more active. + + * * * * * + +"There is some other man besides Mr. Porter who is in this matter," +wrote Mr. Hamilton. "I can't just learn who he is, but he holds a large +number of shares, that he has bought up in little lots from the original +holders. If I could learn who he is, and get in touch with him, I might +persuade him to sell me some stock, so I would have the controlling +interest. Then I could bid these others defiance. If you can learn who +this man is, Dick wire me at once. I'll do the same for you, but as +things are now they certainly look bad for the Hamilton family. But +keep up your spunk." + + * * * * * + +"Poor dad," mused Dick, "I guess managing finances is about as hard as +trying to re-shape a slumping football team. But we'll both do our best. +I wonder who that unknown man is?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MR. DUNCASTER AGAIN + + +"I say, Dick, are you in?" + +It was a cautious voice making this inquiry after a gentle knock at the +door of the room where our hero and Paul Drew lived when they were not +playing football, drilling with the other cadets, or reciting their +lessons. + +"Who is it?" whispered Dick to his chum. + +"Blessed if I know. Sounds like Beeby, and again it might be Teddy. +Going to let him in?" + +"Sure. No one's around this early and it's safe. Unbolt the door. I've +done enough boning to-night." + +It was shortly after Dick had received the letter from his father, in +which the disquieting news was given, and the two cadets were preparing +their lessons for the morrow. + +But as this was ever-wearying work, to be disposed of as quickly as +possible in case any pleasure was available, the two friends welcomed +the disturbing knock. + +"Come on in," invited our hero as his chum opened the portal. "What's +up, anyhow." + +"Something doing," replied Innis Beeby cheerfully as he slid inside the +room, and carefully closed the door. "Are you fellows ready for a little +fun?" + +"It depends on what kind," answered Dick. "Are you going to run one of +the six-pounders up on the chapel steps, or turn the flag upside down?" + +"Neither. But did you know that Porter and Weston were giving a little +spread to-night?" + +"A spread? No! And those fellows only freshmen of the freshest kind," +answered Paul. "Say, we ought to take 'em down a peg." + +"Exactly what I think," agreed Beeby. "I came over to see if you didn't +want to join in the fun. We're going to invade their spread, take Porter +and Weston captive, and carry them into town." + +"Then what?" inquired Paul eagerly. He was always ready for fun. + +"We'll make them do 'sentry-go' in front of the town jail. Have them +march up and down with wooden guns on their shoulders. Maybe they won't +feel sick!" + +"But will they do it?" asked Paul. + +"They'll have to if we make a freshman matter of it. Otherwise they'll +go to Coventry for the rest of the term. Oh, they'll do it all right. +How about it, Dick?" + +Now our hero had shown a curious lack of interest in the matter of +hazing Porter and Weston, from the time their names were mentioned. He +seemed to cool down all at once, though he had always done his share +heretofore in making the first year men feel their inferior positions. + +"Well?" asked Innis Beeby, after a pause, as he glanced at the young +millionaire. + +"Oh, what's the use?" inquired Dick. "Can't we let 'em alone? It might +make trouble in the football team if we put them through the third +degree too strong." + +"Bosh!" cried Innis. "They need it. Besides, if any fellows take offense +at a little hazing they're not fit to play on the football team. Eh, +Paul?" + +"Sure not." + +But Dick was thinking what effect his participation in the affair would +have, especially when he still wanted to get some information from +Porter, and depended on keeping in with that worthy in order to secure +it. + +"Come along, Dick," urged Innis. + +"Oh, I don't know," and the young millionaire paused before a case full +of books--a case seldom opened. "I ought to do some boning, and----" + +"What!" cried Beeby aghast. "Don't speak of such a thing again. You +nearly gave me heart disease. Come along and have some fun. We don't +often have a chance at it, but there is a faculty pow-wow to-night, and +the coast is unusually clear. That's why Porter had his spread I guess. +We'll go over, make a rough house, and take him and his friend out for +an airing. Then we'll all feel better. Come on, Dick." + +There was no help for it, and, somewhat against his will, our hero made +ready to accompany his chums. He did not like to go, as he feared to get +on bad terms with Porter. + +It was a very much surprised party of surreptitious midnight feasters on +which our hero and his chums burst half an hour later. The spread was +being held in the apartments of Porter, for he had hired a sitting room +as well as a dormitory chamber. Both were well filled with most of the +members of the "sporting" set. + +"What does this mean?" demanded Porter indignantly, as the upper +classmen made their appearance. "I think I did not invite you to my +little affair." + +"No, we didn't wait for a bid, Porter, though it was mighty careless of +you to overlook us," retorted Beeby. "But we came, anyhow. Now I guess +you can come with us, Porter and Weston. We're going to initiate you +into the mysteries of the gun club." + +There were significant glances from the other cadets for they knew what +this meant. Many of them had been through it on previous occasions. + +"We're not coming!" exclaimed Porter aggressively. + +"No, and you haven't any right to interrupt us in this manner," +declared his crony with dignity. "Leave here at once." + +"With you, dear friend, and not otherwise," put in Teddy Naylor. "Come +on, it's part of the game." + +But Porter and Weston could not see it that way. They protested, and +made a show of fighting. They appealed to the other cadets, but the +latter said they had better comply with the demands of the upper +classmen. + +Even then the two cronies remained ugly, and made a show of resistance, +until Beeby and the others, tired of the delay, made a sudden rush, tied +the captives with ropes that had been brought for the purpose, and +marched them quietly from the building. + +"Here, you let go of that rope, Hamilton!" cried Porter, as he saw Dick +holding one end of the cords that bound the hands of the two captives +together. + +"Can't do it--nohow," was the grim answer, and yet Dick wished that he +might, for he was afraid that this would prove an insurmountable barrier +to future talks with the son of the man who was seeking to ruin Mr. +Hamilton. + +"Then I'll get even with you," threatened Porter. "I'll make you fellows +sorry for this night's work, you see if I don't." + +"Don't mind him--he's talking like a cannon-swab," said Beeby with a +chuckle. + +In a little while the two captives had been placed in front of the town +jail, with instructions to march up and down before it, bearing on their +shoulders grotesque wooden guns made for the hazing purpose. + +"And if you desert inside of an hour, you know what it means," +threatened Jim Watkins. "You'll belong to the Down and Out Club after +that. So keep on the job." + +Porter and Weston knew better than to disobey, for their chums, who had +been present at the spread, had whispered to them of the dire penalties +that would follow a disregard of the hazing instructions of the upper +classmen. So the two cronies marched gravely up and down the dark +street, while occasional pedestrians paused to gaze, chuckle silently as +they realized what was in progress. + +"I'm not going to stand it!" indignantly declared Porter after a half +hour of the ordeal. + +"We'd better," counseled Weston. "I don't want to stay at Kentfield for +a month with not a soul to speak to but you. We've got to do it." + +"All right. But I'll get even with Hamilton for this. I think he started +it. I'll get square with him." + +"Same here," and Weston shifted his gun to the other shoulder, and +marched forward wearily. + +The night wore on, and in the shadows of several buildings the upper +classmen who had originated the joke on the two freshmen, looked on and +chuckled in mirth. Occasionally they called out a remark to the +sentries. More people passed, and some paused to laugh, to the anger of +Porter and Weston. Policemen walked by, but they were familiar with that +form of hazing and did not make any complaint of the odd sight. Some of +the prisoners in the jail peered out from their barred windows and +jeered. All this was bitterness to the two. + +After a time Beeby and his chums wearied of the joke, and on the +invitation of George Hall went to a nearby soda fountain for some +chocolate. + +"They'll skip out as soon as we're gone," declared Ray Dutton. + +"No, I think they'll stick," declared Innis. "Anyhow, Dick, you go back +and take a look. We'll keep your chocolate for you." + +Our hero did not relish the task, but did not want to object. +Accordingly, he walked back to the corner where he could look down the +street and catch a glimpse of the two cadet jail-sentries. They were +still on their posts. + +Dick turned back to join his chums, and, as did so he almost collided +with a man coming around the corner in an opposite direction. + +"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed the cadet. "I didn't see you." + +"Very evidently," was the rasping reply. "That's the trouble with you +young men, you never look where you're going. Ah! I see, another one of +the soldiers--and if it isn't the same one who nearly ran me down the +other night in an automobile." + +Dick recognized the aged Mr. Duncaster. + +"I--I'm afraid it is," our hero faltered. "I--I didn't mean to, I'm +sure. I didn't hurt you this time." + +"No, but it's not your fault that you didn't. You came around that +corner under a full head of steam. Have you run down any more persons in +your auto?" Enos Duncaster asked sarcastically. + +"No, and that time it wasn't my fault." + +"Hum--let's see--your name is Hamilton--son of Mortimer Hamilton--I know +him--a hard man in a bargain. Well, I'll let you off this time. Who are +those two young men marching up and down over there--chums of yours?" + +"Yes--we--we're hazing them," faltered Dick. + +"Ha! Hazing! A senseless and foolish proceeding! But just what I would +expect of you soldier lads--heartless and cruel. Well, let me pass, I've +wasted enough time on you." + +Mr. Duncaster's voice was grim and harsh. He brushed by Dick roughly and +passed on down the street, muttering to himself about the foolishness of +youths in general, and in particular regarding those boys who attended +military schools. + +Dick, having assured himself that the hazed ones were still patrolling +their post, returned to his chums and helped get away with some +chocolate soda. + +There was a telegram awaiting our hero when he reached his room later +that night, Porter and Weston having been released from their hazing +duties. + +"Hum, I guess that's from dad," mused Dick. "I wonder what the new +developments are?" + +Rapidly he scanned the few words. They were these: + + "Dear Dick: Enos Duncaster is the name of the man who holds a lot + of trolley stock. See if you can locate him for me. I understand he + lives somewhere in the vicinity of your academy. Trouble is + thickening. I need help." + +"Whew!" whistled Dick. "Enos Duncaster! He's the man who holds the +stock, and whom both sides are after. And I'm in his bad books if ever a +fellow was! Whew! I can see the finish of this without any spectacles!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE COACHES ARRIVE + + +Cavalry evolutions were ordered for the next day, followed by a field +drill, and a service march of several miles, so that there was no chance +for football practice. + +"And we need all we can get, too," remarked Dick to Paul. + +"Let's suggest to Colonel Masterly that he give up lessons and drill +while the gridiron season is on," suggested Paul with a smile. + +"Yes, I can see him doing it," cried the young millionaire. "Which horse +are you going to ride, Paul?" + +"The little black--I'm fond of him, though he is a bit vicious." + +The boys were on their way to the cavalry barracks, and in their wake, +and ahead of them, were other cadets hastening to secure their mounts, +for the bugle was impatiently calling. + +"Do you think Spitfire is safe?" asked Dick, naming the steed Paul had +said he would use. "Why don't you take the little gray I used to ride? +He's a good steady mount, though a bit slow." + +"That's the trouble," was the answer, as Dick's roommate tightened the +belt of his sabre. "I want to keep up with the rest of the bunch. No, +I'll take Spitfire. I reckon you'll ride Rex; eh?" + +"Sure," for Dick had brought his own fine horse to Kentfield with him, +together with his bulldog, and Grit was now ambling along behind the two +chums, occasionally uttering a low bark of satisfaction, for the dog +loved to go along on the practice "hikes." + +"Well, be careful," cautioned the wealthy youth, as Paul went in to +saddle up. + +"All right," laughed his chum, but there was a serious look on the face +of our hero, and he resolved to keep near his chum that day. + +Artillery practice followed the cavalry drill, and the cadets, sitting +as straight as ramrods on the caissons while the horses galloped around +at full speed, leaped off the moment the sudden halt was made, +unlimbered, fired rapid shots and, limbering up again, went off at a mad +gallop to repeat the operation. + +"Forward march!" signalled the bugler when arrangements had been made +for the "hike," and the eager horses, astride of which were the no less +eager cadets, started off. + +It was a pleasant day, though a trifle cool, and the service overcoats, +with their flashily yellow linings, showing gaily in the sun when they +flapped back, felt very comfortable. + +At first the march was in orderly array, while Major Webster, and some +of the other military instructors, passed here and there among the new +cadets, telling them the proper way to manage their horses. Dick and his +chums, however, having passed several terms at the academy, needed no +hints. + +"Don't hold your snaffle reins that way, Mr. Porter," said the major to +the new lad as he rode up beside him. "You can't control your horse in +an emergency. Let me show you," which he did, also correcting a fault he +noticed in the way Weston sat on his steed. + +"Humph! I guess I know something about horses," complained Porter, when +the instructors had passed on. "I straddled one before I came here. I +had a German riding master, and what he didn't know about horses wasn't +worth putting on ice. I'll ride as I please." + +As he spoke, he put spurs to his horse, digging them in viciously, and +as the startled animal leaped forward, the cruel lad wrenched the poor +brute's mouth open with the strong curb bit. There was a momentary +confusion among the horses immediately surrounding Porter, and several +of the older cadets called sharply to him to "stop his funny work." + +"Oh, you fellows make me tired!" Porter grumbled. "Why don't you do some +fast riding." + +"You'll get all the fast riding you want if you stay long enough," spoke +Paul sharply. + +A little later the order was given to ride at will, and Major Webster, +galloping back to Dick, said: + +"Captain Hamilton, you and Lieutenant Drew take several of the new +cadets and ride around by the long lake road. Give them some points. +Take about ten--Mr. Porter and Mr. Weston, fall in with Captain +Hamilton's squad." + +"Hum! I guess Captain Hamilton thinks he knows it all," sneered Weston. + +"Not a bit of it," answered Dick good naturedly. "But orders are orders +you'll find. Come ahead, and I'll show you a fine bit of road, some +magnificent scenery, and we'll have a good gallop. Look out there, Paul, +I don't like the way Spitfire is acting!" The young millionaire called +this suddenly as he saw his chum's steed waltzing up to another animal, +with ears laid back as though to bite, and so cause trouble. + +"I can manage him," answered Paul confidently, as he put the restless +steed about in a rapid circle. + +Dick's little squad, himself and Paul the only really military +experienced riders in it, set off along a cross road that would bring +them to the shore path of Lake Wagatook. There, as the young captain had +said, was a fine road with scenery that one would have to travel many +miles to equal. + +"Now for some fast riding!" called Dick, when they came to a long open +stretch. "You can go as far as you like, Porter." + +"Good! Then here I go!" + +Viciously he again spurred his horse, and his example was followed by +his crony. The two animals sprang away together, but Porter's stepped on +a round stone, stumbled, and almost fell. The boastful lad proved that +he did know something about animals, for he pulled up the beast's head +sharply, and got him in hand again. Not before, however, the frightened +steed had collided with some force into Spitfire. + +Paul's horse lashed out instantly with its hind hoofs, and then, with a +shake of the head bolted. The cadet attempted to pull him in, but, a +moment later, uttered a startled cry. + +"My curb rein is broken!" + +It flashed through Dick's head in an instant what that meant. Naturally +ugly, Spitfire, now unusually frightened, was practically beyond +control. Paul was doing his best but was rapidly being carried down the +broad highway, with Porter and Weston galloping after him, their own +steeds none too well in hand. + +"I've got to stop him!" exclaimed Dick. "I've got to catch Spitfire and +stop him, or Paul may be hurt! That brute isn't fit to ride. Come, Rex!" + +Rex needed no spur. Off he started like a racer, and Dick, looking back, +flung over his shoulder at the other cadets: + +"Come on, fellows, keep up as well as you can!" + +Rex soon fell into his stride, and fairly skimmed along the smooth +road. But Paul was quite a distance ahead, and Spitfire was running +hard. Dick could see his chum sitting easily in the saddle, now and then +leaning forward trying to grasp the broken and flapping end of the curb +rein. + +"Don't do it! Wait! I'll catch you!" shouted Dick, but it is doubtful if +Paul heard him. + +"Come on, Rex old man, we must do better than this. We can beat +Spitfire," spoke Dick gently, patting his horse on the neck. Rex +understood and let out a few more "kinks" of his speed. + +The young millionaire soon reached and passed Porter and Weston, whose +steeds had soon tired of the speedy spurt. But not so with Spitfire. +Dick knew he would have a race. On galloped Rex, and before him sped +Spitfire. + +"A little better, boy, a little better," urged Dick. And a little better +Rex went. + +Dick could now see that he was overhauling the uncontrolled steed, and +he was glad of it, for he feared Paul might be flung off, in spite of +the lad's skill in horsemanship. + +"I'll have him in another minute," reflected Dick, when there suddenly +loomed in sight a big touring car, and right at a point where the road +narrowed. Spitfire was viciously shaking his head, now and then holding +it low. + +"Jove, he'll crash into that car!" cried Dick aloud. "Why don't they +keep that infernal horn still? It's making him wilder," for the +autoists were frantically tooting away. + +"I've got to get in ahead of him, and ride him off to one side," thought +our hero. "Rex, old boy, I hate to do it, but--just a touch." + +Gently Dick pricked his pet animal with the spurs--just a touch, for +voice was not quite incentive enough. Like a shot Rex sprang forward, +and covered the ground so rapidly that in another brief instant the +young millionaire was ahead of his friend, and between Spitfire and the +now stationary auto. Then, with the skill of long practice, Dick urged +Rex up to Spitfire, who was losing speed, and a moment later the +frightened steed had been forced off the road, into the grassy side +path, and headed toward a fence, which effectually stopped farther +progress. + +"Well ridden! Excellently well ridden!" cried the man at the wheel of +the auto. Dick saluted, for there were several ladies in the car, and +then turned to Paul. + +"All right, old man," he asked anxiously. + +"Yes, but I might not have been a little later. I should have looked to +my reins. Thanks--for coming as you did," and Paul warmly grasped Dick's +hand. + +"You knew I'd come. Now let's see if we can mend that leather and ride +back. Are you game?" + +"Oh, sure. I fancy Spitfire has had all he wanted for to-day." In fact +the animal was much subdued after his run. The auto passed on, not even +the tooting of the horn causing Paul's steed to prance. Then he and Dick +managed to patch up the curb leather, and rode back to meet the other +cadets. + +"Don't spur up so suddenly when other horses are too near you," advised +the young captain to Porter, who seemed a bit ashamed of the trouble he +had caused. + +"I beg your pardon, old man--and yours, Captain," spoke the lad, who +though impulsive, was not a bad fellow at heart. + +"All right," answered Dick easily. "We'll take it a little more slowly +now." + +They finished the ride in about two hours, reaching the academy as the +last of the other riding squads came in. Dick made no report of the +little incident which, but for his promptness, might have had a fatal, +or at least a serious, ending. + +Rifle practice, and field telegraph work occupied the rest of the day, +and there was a final drill and inspection in the late afternoon. + +"A pretty strenuous day," remarked Paul to Dick, as they went to their +room that evening. + +"Yes, and there'll be another to-morrow." + +"How so?" + +"We must get in some good football practice, for I expect the two +coaches soon, perhaps to-day." + +"Then Martin and Spencer are both coming?" + +"Yes, the good salary and the influence of the old grads, including dad, +brought them around." + +"I'm glad of it. Now Kentfield will do something." + +Out on the gridiron were a score or more of the mole-skin clad warriors, +doing all sorts of things to a harmless pigskin spheroid. It was booted +and passed about. + +"Line up! Line up!" called Teddy Naylor. "Get together fellows! Where +are you scrubs? We're going to send all of you to the hospital. Come on, +Dick, run through some signals." + +Eleven panting youths faced eleven others, and the ball went sailing +into the midst of the Varsity. George Hall caught it, and ran back with +it, well protected by interference. But some of the scrub managed to get +through, and downed him before he had gone far. + +"Down!" panted George, as he tried to rise from underneath a mound of +human forms. + +"Down indeed, but too soon," remarked a strange voice, to one side of +the scrimmaging lads. They all looked up. Two young men stood looking at +the heap of humanity. They were strangers to all the cadets. + +"May I ask--perhaps you don't know it, but only members of the academy +are allowed out here," spoke Teddy Naylor a bit stiffly. + +"Oh, but we were sent for," remarked one of the strangers. "We just +came, and we were interested in seeing you play." + +"You were sent for?" repeated the captain. + +"Yes, that is----" + +"Oh, isn't this Mr. Martin?" asked Dick, striding forward and holding +out his hand. + +"Yes," was the answer from the man with a small black moustache. "I'm +Mr. Martin and this is Mr. Spencer," and he indicated his companion. + +"Fellows, the coaches have come!" cried Dick. "Now to learn how to play +football!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TRY-OUT + + +Scores of expectant lads sat in the meeting room of the Kentfield +Academy gymnasium. They faced two quiet gentlemen, who, from time to +time, whispered to each other. Beside the two gentlemen were Teddy +Naylor and Innis Beeby, who also, as the minutes passed, conferred in +low voices. + +"Hadn't we better start?" asked Innis, of the football captain. + +"No, we'll wait a few minutes longer. Porter and Weston aren't here, and +I want them to come." + +"Those fellows will never train for the eleven." + +"Yes they will. There is good material in both of them. Here they are +now. I guess we've got enough. Will you start her off, or shall I?" + +"Oh, you'd better, Teddy. I'll say something later if it's necessary. +Better introduce 'em formally first, and let 'em do most of the +talking," and the stout cadet looked at the two coaches. + +"Fellows," began Teddy, arising and moving forward a bit nervously, "you +all know why we are here--that is I suppose--we are here--we came----" + +"Good, Teddy!" called someone encouragingly. "Say it over, we missed +part of it." + +"We are here----" + +"Because we're here!" interpolated another tormentor. + +"Oh, hang it all! We've met to discuss football!" cried the captain in +desperation. "The athletic committee feels that something should be +done--you all know how Blue Hill turned us down--we've got to play +better. We now have two of the best coaches in the country, and they're +going to have charge. I take pleasure in introducing to you Mr. Burke +Martin of Yale, and Mr. Wilson Spencer of Princeton." + +"Three cheers for both of 'em!" cried someone, and the big gymnasium +reverberated with the shouts. Mr. Martin nodded to his colleague to +speak first, and the Princeton coach arose. + +"I am glad to see you all so enthusiastic," he began. "You know why the +services of Mr. Martin and myself were secured, and I assure you that we +will do our best to get your team into shape. To do this we may have to +tell you some unpleasant truths, and some of you who imagine yourself +good players may find that you cannot make the team--at least not at +once. But I hope there will be no hard feelings. Now to begin with, I +want to say something about training, as that is my specialty, and +afterward Mr. Martin will give you a little talk about playing the game +to win." + +Thereupon the Princeton coach touched briefly on the more important +points of the training system. It was soon evident to the Kentfield lads +that they had not done enough of this in times past, and perhaps this +was the cause of some of their defeats--at least they ascribed it to +that. + +"Football men, among other things, need quickness," said Mr. Spencer, +"and beyond all else, according to Michael Murphy of Pennsylvania, than +whom there is no better trainer, the players on the gridiron need to +have plenty of superfluous energy to draw on. That is you need a sort of +reserve stock to use at the time of a big match. Your mental condition +is no less important than your physical. You must _want_ to win, and you +must feel that you are _going_ to win. + +"The care a player takes of himself in the summer determines in a great +measure how soon he can get into condition in the fall." + +"We had pretty good training on Dick's yacht," whispered Innis to Teddy. + +"Now, I propose that we start at the beginning," went on the coach. +"We'll have some setting-up exercises, some track work, and general +gymnastics, and then we'll get in a position to pick the men for the +Varsity by a series of try-outs." He made some special references to the +details of training, and then yielded to Mr. Martin. + +The latter went into the fine points of the game, emphasizing the needs +of the individual players, laying stress on what the backs, tackles, +ends and guards should do, and urging on the lads the necessity for +fast, snappy playing. + +"Demoralize your opponents by the quickness with which you jump into +formations," said the Yale man. "As soon as one play is finished be +ready for the next. In defense, never give up, no matter how the game +seems to be going against you. Hold hard, tire out the other side, and +then you may have a chance to get the ball and--win!" + +He spoke at some length, and his remarks were eagerly listened to. Then +Innis got up, and, after a trifling show of nervousness, and two or +three false starts, which gave the cadets a chance to "rig" him, he +said: + +"I want to say that I'm sure none of us will feel any resentment if, +after a fair trial, it is decided by the two new coaches that he isn't +fit for the team," went on the stout lad. "I know my own failings and +I'll be trying to get my weight down----" + +"Don't eat so much," urged Jim Watkins, and there was a laugh, whereat +Innis blushed. + +"And I'm going to train hard," he concluded. "I guess that will be all +this evening." + +The meeting broke up, but the boys lingered to talk with each other, +many surrounding the coaches, and asking all sorts of questions. + +It had been arranged with Colonel Masterly that Mr. Martin and Mr. +Spencer could occupy rooms in the Senior dormitory, and Dick, through +the athletic committee, had provided for paying the bills. + +Preliminary work of training started the next day, and though some of +the boys thought it useless, they went through the exercises. But the +two coaches were too wise to keep the cadets at mere gymnasium work too +long, and so some field work with the ball, and some running exercises, +were arranged. + +Several candidates could not stand the pace and the grind and dropped +out, but their places were eagerly taken by others. The scrub members +were enthusiastic, and each one hoped to make the Varsity. + +"Now we'll try a little practice game, between the first and second +teams," proposed Mr. Martin, about a week after the arrival of himself +and his colleague. "It will be in the nature of a try-out, for probably +those who do the best work will be put in the first squad, and from that +the men for the Varsity will be picked. That does not mean, however, +that those who fail to make good this time will be barred. We will keep +on the lookout for good material all the while." + +"And I want you boys to feel that you are always being watched," added +Mr. Spencer. "We'll have our eyes on you when you least expect it." + +"That's what we want," declared Dick with a laugh. "We want the best +team possible." + +"Yes--Hamilton's team," sneered Porter to Weston. + +"He'll be sure to make it, anyhow," added the latter. + +"If he does, and I don't, I'll kick up a row," threatened the rich lad. + +"So will I. Come on let's go to town and have a pool game. I'm pretty +dry, too. + +"Better not get caught with any of that bottled stuff," cautioned +Porter. + +"Don't worry. They will have to be pretty foxy to spot me, but I'm not +going to be a temperance crank just because those coaches say so. Come +ahead and we'll have some fun. It will be stiff enough work to-morrow." + +The practice game was a hard one. Each player did his best, and on +several occasions, after a hard scrimmage, time had to be taken out +while some cadet had the wind pumped back into him, or a twisted ankle +vigorously rubbed. + +Slowly but surely the Varsity pushed back the luckless scrub. Slowly but +surely a touchdown seemed about to be made. Dick gave a signal for a +fake kick. John Stiver, the left half-back was to take the ball, run +wide toward his own right end, pass the pigskin to Teddy Naylor, at +full-back and the latter was to try and advance it for a touchdown. + +All went well until Teddy got the ball. Then, as he was charging around +the end, with Dick and Stiver forming interference for him, he dropped +the ball. Something like a groan came from the young millionaire, for he +saw their chance to score lost. Tom Coleton, of the scrub, came charging +through, but the next instant Dick had made a grab for the pigskin, +picked it up, and, dodging Coleton, made a dash toward the goal line. + +The day was saved, for our hero, making a splendid run, planted the ball +squarely between the posts, and behind the final chalk mark. + +"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the triumphant cry. "Varsity touchdown!" + +"But it wouldn't have been one except for Hamilton," remarked Mr. Martin +grimly. "Naylor, how did it happen that you couldn't hold the ball?" + +"I don't know," answered the luckless captain. + +"We can't have that," remarked Mr. Spencer with a dubious shake of his +head. "Well, try for goal." + +It was an easy shot, and Innis made it quickly. Then the game went on, +but the Varsity could not score again, and the scrub was equally unable +to advance the ball when they had it. + +"That will be enough for to-day," announced the coaches. "We are going +to make some changes to-morrow. The list of the first squad will be +posted in the gym." + +There were anxious looks among the players. Who would be on the +preliminary Varsity team. It was a question every cadet asked himself. + +"Well, if I don't make it," reflected Dick, "I will have so much more +time to try and get on the trail of Mr. Duncaster. But--I want to play +football." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ACCUSATION + + +"Come on, Dick!" cried Paul excitedly, as he burst into the room where +his chum was industriously boning away over the pages of his +trigonometry. "Hurry up!" + +"What's the rush, son?" calmly asked the young millionaire. + +"Haven't you heard? The list of the Varsity players has just been posted +in the gym." + +"Who told you?" + +"Toots. He was whistling 'Just Before the Battle, Mother,' when I +spotted him, and he sung out that the list was up. I want to see if my +name is there." + +"It sure is--you played your head off yesterday," declared Dick. + +"That's no sure sign. I wish I had your chances." + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Dick. Yet, deep down in his heart he could not +help feeling that perhaps, after all, he might be put on the scrub. He +had played his best, but he had made some errors, and one fumble. Yet +it would seem that his run and touchdown would count for much. + +"Aren't you ever coming?" asked Paul. "Jove! I can't wait." + +"Sure I'm coming," answered his roommate, as he tossed the book upon a +heap of others. "No use getting excited though." + +It was the day after the try-out game, and the coaches after a long and +none too easy process of elimination had arrived at some definite +results. They had made up a tentative Varsity team. + +As Dick and Paul hurried across the campus toward the gymnasium, they +saw many other students bent on the same errand as themselves, for the +news had quickly spread, and each cadet who had football aspirations was +anxious to see if he was one of the lucky eleven. + +There was such a crowd about the bulletin board that for a time Dick and +his chum could not get near it. They heard many names called out though, +for the second team was posted as well as the first. + +"There's Beeby--lucky dog--he's made it!" exclaimed someone. + +"I thought he was too fat," came in disappointed tones from Roy Haskell, +who coveted the centre rush's place. + +"And Hall--he's on." + +"Yes, and there's Dutton and Stiver, both on the first team." + +"Say--look--Teddy hasn't made it!" + +"Get out!" + +"Sure not! Look, he's on the scrub." + +"Poor Teddy. That's because of that fumble yesterday. Who's got his +place?" + +"I can't see. Oh, yes, it's Coleton!" + +"Say, did you hear that?" asked Paul in a low voice of his chum. + +"Yes, it's bad news. But Teddy will be on before we get through the +season. He's a better all around player than Coleton. Can you get up +there now?" + +"I guess so. Come on. Say, let a fellow up, will you?" begged Paul of +those about him. + +As they were worming their way up they heard another piece of news. + +"Porter is off," remarked one lad. + +"I thought he'd be," came from Jim Watkins. "He made two bad fumbles +yesterday, and he isn't quick enough for an end." + +"Can you see, Dick?" asked Paul, as he clung to the side of his +companion. "Is your name there." + +"I don't know yet--Hey, Frank, get your head out of my way for a second; +will you?" + +"Sure thing, Dick. Tough about Teddy; isn't it?" + +"Yes, but don't worry. We'll have him back." + +"I hope so." + +"Now can you see?" implored Paul. + +"Yes, your name----" + +Dick paused a moment. + +"Well!" panted his roommate. + +"Is there all right. You're on the Varsity." + +"What position?" + +"Left guard--where you wanted to play." + +"But what about you, Dick?" + +"Oh, I'm down at quarter all right," and from the calm way in which he +said it those who heard him would never have imagined that Dick's heart +had almost stopped beating when, for a brief moment, he thought he had +caught sight of his name on the second list. + +"Good, old man!" cried Paul fervently as he clasped his chum's hand. "I +knew you'd make it. Now we'll see what sort of a team we'll have with +the two changes. Are those the only ones made?" + +"Yes, Porter and Naylor are off." + +"Who's got Porter's place?" + +"Hal Foster--a good fellow, too." + +The throng surged about the bulletin board, newcomers arriving every +minute, and all the cadets making various observations as they were +pleased or disappointed. Teddy Naylor was not in sight. He had heard the +news, and in the bitterness of his heart he kept to himself for a while. + +Yet he did not complain. Teddy played the game fairly, and he was a +loyal son of Kentfield. He was willing to defer to the judgment of the +coaches--yet no one but himself knew how he longed to be among the first +squad, and with a grim setting of his lips he resolved to make it +before the big games were played. + +"Well, come on," invited Paul to Dick. "I'll treat you to a soda on the +strength of this." + +"Don't you think it will put us out of training?" + +"One can't. We've got to celebrate in some way." + +The two chums strolled across the campus arm in arm, toward a spot where +an enterprising dealer, well aware of the desire for sweets on the part +of the students, had set up a little confectionery shop. + +As Paul and his chum neared it they saw, walking toward them, Porter and +Weston. The cronies were talking earnestly together. + +"I wonder if Porter's heard?" ventured Paul. + +"If he hasn't he soon will. I'm sorry for him. He's a brilliant player, +but careless. He may come back before the season is over." + +"He isn't much of an addition to the team--too snobby for me," spoke +Paul in a low voice. + +Porter suddenly seemed to become aware of Dick's presence, for Weston +called his attention to it. Glancing up quickly, a black look passed +over the features of the rich youth. Then striding ahead of his +companion, he confronted our hero. + +"Well, you've heard the news I suppose?" he snarled. + +"About the announcements being made?" inquired Dick gently. + +"No--about me being off the team." + +"Yes, I'm sorry, but perhaps----" + +"Oh, yes; you're sorry!" snapped Porter. "But I notice that _your_ name +is down all right." + +"Yes," and Dick controlled himself by an effort, for the tone was +insulting. + +"We all know why you're on the Varsity. It isn't because of your star +playing." + +"I never claimed to be a star," was the calm answer, "but I probably +played well enough to be picked." + +"No, you didn't!" fairly shouted Porter. "You were picked because it is +your money that's paying the salaries of the coaches and they were +afraid if they didn't pick you that they'd lose their jobs. That's why +you're on the Varsity, Dick Hamilton, and you can put that in your pipe +and smoke it!" + +Porter, with a sneer on his puffed and red face, swung around angrily, +and started off. + +"Wait one minute, Mr. Porter," called Dick in a strangely quiet voice. +"I want to say something to you." + +"No, let me say it," begged Paul quickly, as Porter turned and faced +them. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +DICK IS REBUFFED + + +For a moment the four cadets--two on one side and two on the +other--stared at each other. The face of Dick Hamilton was rather pale, +but he held himself well in control. As for Paul, he had one hand on the +shoulder of his chum, and had taken an eager step forward to confront +Porter. + +That bully regarded the two friends with a sneer on his face, and the +countenance of Weston wore an amused smile. + +"Well, I thought you were going to say something," half-snarled Porter. +"If you are, put some steam on. We're in a hurry." + +"You made an accusation just now," went on Paul, making a motion to Dick +to keep silent. + +"I did, and I think I can back it up. Why it's plain to everybody how +the thing is worked. It's even known as Hamilton's football team, and no +wonder he is picked to play on it." + +"It isn't my team at all!" burst out the young millionaire. + +"Well, you're paying for the coaches," put in Weston. "That's why +they----" + +"They don't know a thing about it!" cried Paul Drew. "That's what I want +to say. From the beginning it was feared that something like this might +crop up, and so Dick arranged to hand the money to the athletic +committee, of which I happen to be a member. Our committee pays the +salaries of the coaches, and also for their board, and the coaches +themselves only know that much. They have no more idea that Dick is +footing the bills than that an inhabitant of Mars is doing it, and if +any one makes a statement to the contrary--well, we have a way of +dealing with such persons at Kentfield," and Paul looked significantly +at Porter and Weston. + +"Does that satisfy you?" asked Dick quietly, as Paul paused. "I would +have told you the same thing, but perhaps it is just as well to come +from a member of the committee. I am only too glad to help out the team +by hiring the coaches, but they don't know me from any other player, and +I took my chances with all of you. If I had been turned down, as I half +expected to be, it would have made no difference." + +"Wait until you get turned down, and then you'll sing a different tune," +remarked Porter bitterly, and Dick realized how he must feel. + +"I'm sorry," said the young millionaire gently, "and if I had any +influence at all you should be on the Varsity, for I think you are a +good player." + +"The coaches don't," and Porter laughed sarcastically. + +"There's plenty of chance yet," went on Dick. "We are to have another +practice game this week, and there may be a turn about in some players." + +"I have a large sized gold framed picture of 'em naming me," exclaimed +Porter with sarcasm. "But I take back what I said about your money +getting you on. It did seem so, at first." + +"Perhaps naturally," agreed Dick. "But your apology is accepted," and he +held out his hand. "I hope we can be friends," he concluded. + +"I guess so," mumbled Porter, with rather a shamed air. + +"I presume Mr. Weston seconds what his friend says," spoke Paul +significantly. + +"Oh, yes," and it was with rather an obvious effort that the crony made +reply. "Come on, Porter, or the best billiard tables will all be +occupied." + +"Well, I'm glad that's over," remarked Dick to Paul, as they turned +away. "I was afraid this would crop up, and it's just as well to settle +it. I only hope it does settle it, and that no other fellows will think +as Porter and Weston did." + +"Oh, some of them are bound to think it anyhow," said Paul easily. +"Don't mind it, for it will wear away sooner or later. I'm afraid, +though, that the team will be known as yours." + +"I don't want that, Paul." + +"Can't be helped, old man. After all it's a high honor. I wish I could +afford a football team, and a steam yacht." + +"Maybe you will some day. And, come to think of it I may not have a +steam yacht much longer." + +"Why, are you going to sell it?" + +"No, but dad's finances are in a bad way, and may become worse." + +"You don't mean to say he's lost all his money?" and Paul gave Dick a +startled glance. + +"Oh, we have enough to keep the wolf from howling under the parlor +windows, and I don't expect to have to go to work in Uncle Ezra's woolen +mill right away, but dad is involved in some trolley deal, and it's +'crimping' him, as he says. He's got most of his money tied up in it +now, and some men, of whom Porter's father is one are trying to get the +road away from dad." + +"Does Porter know this?" + +"He doesn't know it's my father whom his father is fighting, and I'd +just as soon he wouldn't. But I've got to do something to help out, and +one thing is to locate a Mr. Duncaster," and Dick told of his encounters +with the eccentric man, and how he held a large block of stock in the +trolley line. + +"I'll help if I can," agreed Paul. Then they got their ice cream sodas, +and strolled back to the academy. + +That night Dick wrote his father a long letter, explaining about the +football team, and also detailing his meetings with Mr. Duncaster. + + * * * * * + +"He lives in a place called Hardvale," wrote Dick, "and he seems to be +as hard as the place is named. However, I'll try to see him, and get him +to sell you the stock. You had better write me some specific +instructions, and say how high I can go in bidding for it. If Mr. +Porter, whose son is here at Kentfield, learns that Duncaster has the +stock, he may have a try for it, so I'll have to go at it quietly. But +I'll do my best." + + * * * * * + +Then, having done as much as he could in his father's business matters, +our hero resumed his interrupted studies. + +There was more football practice the next day, and the coaches now put +the Varsity team through some rigorous work. The cadets were a little +inclined to find fault at the strenuous tasks assigned to them, but the +experts were exacting, and said that if Kentfield expected to be in the +championship class she must work for it. + +Meanwhile the scrub was being moulded into shape, for a good opponent is +a necessary element in practice, and unless there is something to fight +against practice goes for little. + +And how eager that same scrub was to make touchdowns against the +Varsity! How they did work, taking desperate chances all the while, and +the individual players making names for themselves by brilliant dashes. +For they all wanted to get on the first team, and they bore in mind what +the coaches had said about giving them a chance if they did well. + +"We certainly have our work cut out for us," remarked Dick, after a +particularly gruelling day. "I'm as lame as a fellow who's tumbled +downstairs." + +"Same here," agreed Paul. "Some one walked all over me in that last +scrimmage." + +But the effect of the hard work was fast becoming noticeable, for the +team was getting to be like "nails" as Mr. Martin said, and the players +were working more in unison. + +There was a practice game between the Varsity and scrub on Saturday, and +it was the best one yet, from a critical football viewpoint. The coaches +nodded their heads in approval when the first team made six touchdowns. +And, though the scrub did manage to get a field goal, it was not to the +discredit of the Varsity. + +"We're picking up," declared Dick, as he ducked under a shower bath in +the gymnasium. "We'll be able to challenge Blue Hill again, and they +won't dare turn us down." + +"I think we're going to try on some other team first," said Paul. "I +heard the coaches talking about it. But say, who's going to be our +captain--have you heard?" + +"Not a word about it. Maybe it will fall on you, since Teddy is out." + +"Jove! it would be an honor, but I don't hope for it. I'd like to see +you fill that berth," went on Paul unselfishly. + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Dick. "I guess--blub--glub--ugh!" for he turned +his head up and the shower from the spray filled his mouth and nose +unexpectedly. + +"Wow! That was a wet one!" he cried when he had caught his breath. + +"Dutton would like to be captain, I hear," put in George Hall, who was +in the next shower to Paul. "He says he's going to try for it." + +"And he'd be a good one," declared Dick heartily, for he and his former +enemy were now firm friends, though not exactly chums. + +There were many speculations as to who would head the eleven, but the +coaches had advised the cadets to wait until the Varsity team was +definitely selected before holding an election, and this had been agreed +to. + +There came a long telegram for Dick late that Saturday night. It was +from his father, and showed more plainly than anything else how anxious +the financier was. For he did not wait to write a reply to Dick's +letter, preferring the speed of the wire. + + * * * * * + +"See Duncaster by all means," read part of the message, "and offer him +ten points above par for the stock--all he has. It's a big price, but it +will soon be worth more. See him soon." + +"I'll make a trip out there Monday," decided Dick. "Whew! Things are +beginning to happen evidently." + +With Paul for a companion our hero hired an auto and made the journey to +Hardvale. Grit sat on the floor of the tonneau, with a contented look on +his ugly but honest countenance. + +"Grit may come in handy if Duncaster sets his dogs on us," remarked Dick +with a grim smile, as they bowled along at good speed. + +"Why, do you expect trouble?" asked Paul. + +"Not exactly, but I imagine he hasn't much use for me. He didn't act +very friendly the last time we met, and then the sight of the auto may +make him angry, remembering how we ran him down. But it's too slow to +take a horse. I hope we find him at home." + +It was rather a lonesome part of the country through which they were +traveling--a sparsely settled district that, somehow, reminded the young +millionaire of the gloomy landscape at Dankville where his Uncle Ezra +lived. + +Mr. Duncaster was at home, a fact which a crabbed old housekeeper +conveyed to the boys in no very cheerful voice. + +"But I don't believe he'll see you," she added. "He's just woke up from +his afternoon nap, and he's always a little riled then." + +"Hum," mused our hero, "rather an unfavorable time to call, but it can't +be helped. Will you tell him Dick Hamilton wants to see him?" he +requested of the housekeeper. + +"Oh, I s'pose so," and the woman went off grumbling, leaving the two +lads standing on the doorstep. + +"Polite," commented Paul with a short laugh. + +The woman came back presently. + +"He wants to know what you want," she said. + +"I'd like to see him, and explain in person," said the young +millionaire, "but will you tell him it is about the stock of the Midvale +Electric Road he holds. I wish to purchase it for my father." + +"Oh, you do; eh?" snarled a voice behind the housekeeper, and the +wizzened and rather scowling face of Mr. Duncaster was thrust out. "So +that's why you called on me, Dick Hamilton? I haven't forgotten you, as +you'll note. Ha! There's another of the tin soldiers," he sneered as he +caught sight of Paul. "If I had my way you'd all be breaking stone on +the road, and you wouldn't have those soldier suits on, either," and he +chuckled hoarsely. Clearly he was none the better for his nap. + +"I called in reference to the Midvale stock," explained Dick, trying +hard to keep down his anger and speak politely. "My father told me to +offer you ten above par for it." + +"Ten; eh?" and Mr. Duncaster chuckled. "Did he say you were to go higher +in case I refused that offer?" + +"No, he did not." + +"Well then you can go back where you came from and tell your father that +I won't sell." + +"Do you mean for that price? Do you want more money? I can wire my +father, and say----" + +"You needn't say anything for me!" snapped the crabbed man. "I won't +sell at that price, nor any other he can offer me. I've had a better +offer than his, you can tell him, but I won't do business with him. Now +get away from here! This isn't war time and I don't want a couple of tin +soldiers on my front steps," and once more the old man chuckled at his +insulting words. + +Dick and Paul flushed, but made no retort. + +"Won't you consider any offer at all from my father?" asked the young +millionaire, wondering if the other bid for the stock had come from Mr. +Porter. "I will send him a message, telling him you----" + +"I told you that you needn't tell him anything from me!" snapped Mr. +Duncaster. "I won't sell, and that's all there is to it! Now get out!" +and he slammed shut the door. + +For a moment Dick paused irresolutely on the steps. Then, with a shrug +of his shoulders, he said: + +"Turned down! Well I'll have to try some other way. It will be a +disappointment for dad though." + +As the two chums walked out of the yard the chauffeur came toward them +with a small pail. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Dick. + +"Get some water for the radiator. It's almost out. I see a well over +here." + +He approached it to draw up the bucket, when a window was raised, and +the head of Mr. Duncaster was thrust out. + +"Here! Keep away from that well!" he cried. "You shan't have any of my +water for your old rip-snorting contraption. I believe you are the +fellow who ran into me the other night. Get away from there and water +your machine somewhere else." + +"Hum! You're a cheerful companion for yourself in your old age," +remarked the chauffeur, as he turned back. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A RIVALRY + + +"What are you going to do?" asked Dick of the auto driver, as the three +walked out of the yard of the mean man, watched all the way by the +squinting eyes of Mr. Duncaster. + +"Oh, I'll go to some place down the road where they're not so careful of +their water," was the answer. + +"Have you enough to run on?" asked Paul, and the chauffeur assured them +that he had. The next resident was a cheerful farmer, who not only gave +permission for them to take all the water they needed, but even drew it +from the well for them. + +"And if your machine needs a drink, perhaps you will too," said the +farmer's wife. "I've just made some hot coffee, and I'd like you all to +come in and have some." + +"We will!" assented Dick, and most grateful was the beverage, for riding +in the open car was chilly. + +"What a difference in people," commented Paul, as they started off +again. + +The young millionaire felt almost as badly at sending the discouraging +news to his father as Mr. Hamilton must have felt on receiving it. But +he immediately wired back a cheerful telegram to his son. + + * * * * * + +"Don't worry," he advised, "we'll try some other way, and perhaps you +may be able to get around Duncaster later. I'd come on and tackle him +myself, but I can't spare the time." + + * * * * * + +Thereupon Dick began to devise ways and means of inducing the miserly +and crabbed financier to part with the stock. He even thought of taking +part of the money that was in his own right, and making an offer higher +than the one authorized by his father, but he reflected since Mr. +Hamilton had not told him to go more than ten points above par value, +perhaps there might be a special reason for this. + +"I might take a crowd of the fellows out to his house some night and +haze him," ventured our hero. + +"Let me go along if you do," begged Paul eagerly. "I'd like to get even +with him for calling us tin soldiers." + +"I'm afraid it can't be done," and Dick sighed. "I'll have to think of +something else." + +Football practice now occupied all the spare time the cadets had. Early +and late they were on the gridiron, playing under the watchful eyes of +the two coaches, who still found many faults to correct. + +"No team is perfect," declared Mr. Spencer, "but we want Kentfield to be +as nearly so as possible. You boys must do better on kicking though, for +you may meet some team where you'll have to depend on your +leg-and-foot-work to pull you out of a hole." + +"And they're not quite as fast as I'd like to see them," added Mr. +Martin. "They don't snap back into place quickly enough after each play. +Now try it again. Get in the habit of running back into place instead of +walking. Be lively!" + +They lined up again, to run through some new plays and formations, and +then were ready for the scrub, against whom they made such a good +showing that both coaches warmly congratulated their charges. + +"I wish poor Teddy was back on the Varsity," confided Dick to Paul, as +they finished the day's practice. "He's feeling it very much, and he's +falling off in form." + +"Yes, I was afraid of that. I wonder if we couldn't do something?" + +"I'm afraid not. Porter is playing well on the scrub though. He's much +faster than he was in getting down on kicks, and he tackles fiercely. +Did you ever have him come at you?" + +"Indeed I have," answered Paul ruefully. "I've got a lump on my head +yet where he threw me down last week. But that's the way to play the +game." + +"Sure. Say, don't you think it's rather queer not to have a captain?" + +"Yes, and it's evident that Teddy isn't going to stand any show for it +now. It will be some one of the present team, I fancy." + +"Probably. Have you heard any rumors?" + +"Well, George Hall would like it--in fact every fellow would, but Dutton +is the hottest after it. He's pulling wires all he can--in a legitimate +way, of course, and lots of the fellows like him." + +"I don't blame him. Well, I'll vote for him, when the election is held." + +"I won't!" declared Paul stoutly. + +"Why not?" + +"Because I'm going to vote for you, old man." + +"Nonsense! I don't know as I want it." + +"You deserve it, which is more. No one has done as much for the +Kentfield eleven since the academy was started as you have this one +season, and you ought to be captain. Then you couldn't kick when they +called it Dick Hamilton's football team." + +"Oh, get out!" cried the young millionaire, yet he was not displeased at +his chum's sincere words. And what normal healthy lad would not want to +be captain of an eleven? + +There was much buzzing talk the next few days concerning the captaincy, +and when the coaches announced that the present Varsity eleven would +stand, at least for the present, and that in order to play match games a +captain would be needed, the excitement grew apace. + +"Nominations to-morrow night!" cried Paul one afternoon as he burst into +the room he and Dick shared. "Dutton's name is sure to go up. I'm going +to nominate you and I've got the promise of nearly enough votes to put +you through." + +"Look here!" began Dick, "I don't want----" + +"It doesn't matter what you want!" cried Paul, clapping his chum on the +back, and doing a sort of war dance around him, "you haven't anything to +say in this matter. You just come to the meeting and see what happens." + +It was a lively session, for several matters cropped up that needed to +be settled. There was also a manager to be chosen, and, as Beeby did not +want the place, preferring to spend more time in practice and training, +it was practically decided to have some one not on the team to look +after business ends. + +Dan Hatfield was talked of for manager, and his name met with such +instant favor that none other was considered. But when it came to the +captaincy that was a different matter. + +The little boom that started in favor of George Hall was so feeble that +he himself saw that he had no chance, and nipped it. There was much +talking and putting together of heads when Mr. Martin arose to announce +that nominations for captain were in order, and that the names would be +posted three days, and then voted on. + +"I nominate Ray Dutton!" sung out John Stiver, who was the particular +chum of the former. + +It was quickly seconded, and then up jumped Paul Drew. + +"I nominate Dick Hamilton!" he sung out. + +"Second it!" came promptly from Dutton himself, a courtesy that Dick +acknowledged with a bow. + +The former rivals--now rivals again--faced each other with smiles, but +there were anxious feelings in the hearts of both. + +"Three cheers for the candidates!" cried Jim Watkins, and they were +given heartily, with a tiger added. + +"Any more nominations?" asked Mr. Martin. + +"Well there's luck in odd numbers, I nominate Frank Rutley!" called out +Porter with a laugh. "We might as well have a good choice while we're at +it." + +Weston seconded this name, and there were no comments. Thereupon the +three names were posted on the bulletin board, and the meeting +adjourned. + +"Well, what do you think of it, Dick?" asked Paul, as they strolled back +to their room. + +"I'm glad I'm nominated, of course, but----" + +"Well, but me no buts, what is it?" + +"Dutton is very popular, and I can't help remembering how he was against +me when I first came here. But I'll take my chance with him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE MIDNIGHT ALARM + + +Wire-pulling extraordinary went on at Kentfield for the next two days. +Each candidate had his particular friends, who worked hard to gain votes +for him. + +It was soon seen that Rutley had no chance, and though he would poll +several votes, the main contest was between Dutton and Dick Hamilton. + +"And you're going to win!" declared Paul with enthusiasm, as he clapped +his chum on the back. "I've got nearly enough votes promised right now, +and I know I can gain over more of the fellows." + +"But say, old man, don't make such a fuss. You make me feel----" + +"No matter how you feel, you're going to be captain! I'm sure of it!" + +"Well, there's no use saying I don't care how the election goes, for I +do," declared Dick honestly. "I'd rather it was some one else than +Dutton though, who was against me." + +"Why, you're not afraid of him; are you?" + +"No, but you remember the old rivalry. I'm afraid it will make talk, but +I want to say right here and now that if he is elected he won't have +any better friend than I, and I'll play my head off to help his team +win!" + +"We all know that!" cried Paul, looking at his chum admiringly. "It goes +without saying. Now I'm off to see some more of the first year fellows." + +"Don't make too much of a fuss about it," begged Dick. "Don't make it +look as though I'd give my head to be elected. I want it, of course, +but----" + +"I understand!" cried Paul lightly as he hurried off. + +As the time for election drew nearer the excitement increased and there +were all sorts of rumors floating around. Votes were openly bought and +sold, but in a friendly, boyish fashion, the inducements being nothing +more important than "treats" or some special favors. Some even traded +the horses assigned to them in the cavalry drills, one cadet getting a +handsome black he coveted in exchange for a rather poor roan, but Dick +gained a vote thereby. + +Paul Drew was a faithful lieutenant in his chum's cause, and he did +valiant work. As for the young millionaire and Dutton, they kept +discreetly out of it. They met several times during the course of the +first day's electioneering, and gaily chaffed each other on the chances +they stood. + +"I hear you won't have one vote, 'Ham,'" laughingly declared Dick's +former enemy. + +"That's right," half-seriously assented our hero. "I told all my friends +to vote for you." + +"So I heard. Kind of you. Come on over and I'll buy you a soda." + +"No. They're on the forbidden training menu now." + +"That's so, I nearly forgot. Well, come on up to the Sacred Pig, and +we'll have some toast and tea," for there was a lunch room in the +society house. The two rivals went off arm in arm, watched by an +admiring throng of cadets, for they were both great favorites with their +schoolmates. + +At the close of the first day it was generally admitted by the workers +on both sides that the two candidates for captain had about the same +number of votes. Rutley was "not in it," as Paul said, and the lad +himself laughingly admitted this. Still Porter and his particular set +were working in his interests, not so much because they really wanted +him, as that they did not want Dick to win, and they took this means of +deflecting votes from him. At the last minute, it was rumored, the +Rutley votes would be swung to Dutton. + +"But you've got heaps of chances yet, Dick," declared Paul, "and there's +lots more time to canvass." + +But not much electioneering could be done on the next day, for a +competitive drill was ordered and after that was to come artillery +practice. There was barely a chance for some football work, and it had +to be cut short. + +What little was done, however, demonstrated that the team was shaping up +well, and the coaches were more than pleased. + +"We'll have them play the Dunkirk Military Academy next Saturday," +announced Mr. Spencer, "and we'll see what they can do in a real +contest." + +"I have great hopes of them," declared Mr. Martin. "Of course they ought +to beat Dunkirk, for it's a smaller academy than this, but if they roll +up a big score, bigger than Blue Hill did against the same team last +year, Blue Hill can hardly refuse to play our boys, and I understand +that their refusal to meet Kentfield is a sore point." + +"It certainly is. Oh, we'll whip our lads into shape yet, and then Blue +Hill can look to her laurels." + +The two coaches walked over to the gymnasium, for they kept themselves +in condition by hard physical work on the apparatus, as well as by +out-door practice. + +All through the academy that night went the buzz and hum of talk about +the election. Several votes changed hands, so to speak, though it could +not be said that Dick's chances were increased thereby. In fact Paul was +a little downcast as he reckoned up the number he was sure of for his +chum, and thought of the number needed. + +"But I'll get them!" he told himself fiercely as he looked at the list +in his hand. "There are some new fellows I haven't seen yet." + +"Oh, go to bed," advised Dick, who was tired with the day's duties, but +Paul would not. + +The young millionaire was sleeping soundly when Paul came in a little +later. + +"Well?" asked Dick, half awake. + +"Not very well," answered Paul dubiously, "but it may be in the morning. +Dutton certainly has lots of friends." + +"All right," announced Dick as cheerfully as he could. + +It was after midnight when the two chums, as well as several other +cadets, were awakened by an alarm wildly shouted. + +"Fire! Fire! Fire!" came in startled tones from a voice they recognized +as that of Toots. "Fire in the ammunition house!" + +Paul and Dick were out of bed in the same instant, and rushed to the +window. They saw a red glare, and the cry of Toots was echoed by other +janitors. + +"By Jove! The ammunition house is blazing!" cried Paul aghast. "If that +goes up----" + +"It's far enough removed from the main buildings," cried Dick, as he +began hurriedly to dress, "but it may damage the Sacred Pig. Besides, +there are some valuable guns in there--and Paul--I forgot--Grit is in +there! Come on!" and Dick raced from the room, half attired as he was. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RESCUE OF DUTTON + + +"What do you mean? Grit in there--in the ammunition house?" cried Paul, +hurrying after his chum. He wondered whether he had understood Dick +rightly. + +"Yes, he's there," came the reply, and the young millionaire never +turned around as he sped down the corridor that was rapidly filling with +half-dressed cadets who had been aroused by the cries of the janitors. +"They're repairing the stable where I keep him nights, and as it was +unlocked I put Grit in the powder house so no one would steal him. Now +it's on fire!" + +"We'll get him!" cried Paul. "Come on, fellows, Dick's dog is in there!" + +The flames were now more plainly visible, and they were gaining rapidly. +Two of the janitors, one of whom was Toots, had pails of water and were +dashing the fluid on the fire, while others were unreeling a hose. + +The ammunition house was a large one, made in the main of concrete, but +there was built on it a small, wooden shed under which some empty +packing boxes and cases were stored, and where some garden tools were +kept. It was this shed which had caught fire, and unless it was quickly +put out the flames might communicate to the wooden door of the powder +house proper. There could be but one result then--an explosion. + +Everyone realized this as he rushed on to fight the fire. Some of the +professors were now up and were issuing orders, but there was so much +excitement that no one paid much attention to them. + +"Is there a good water pressure?" panted Paul. + +"I don't know," answered Dick, as he ran on. "There was the other day +when we had fire drill, but maybe just when we want it there won't be +any." + +"Hurry! Hurry!" shouted Toots, as he and the others dashed pail after +pail of water on the fire. + +"Use the hose! Turn on the water!" cried Ray Dutton, who was just ahead +of Dick. "Why don't you turn on the pressure?" + +"Guess they don't know how to do it," answered the young millionaire. +"One of those men is a new hand. Come on, boys, I can't see Grit burned +to death!" + +"He's howling now," cried Paul. + +Indeed the frightened yelping of the imprisoned animal could be heard +above the roar and crackle of the flames, and Dick increased his speed. + +"I'm coming, Grit! I'm coming!" he shouted, but it is doubtful if the +dog heard him. + +The burning shed was in front of the only door to the ammunition house, +and the fire must first be extinguished before the portal could be +reached. To go through the flames now was out of the question. + +"Keep back, boys! Keep back!" cried Major Webster. "There may be an +explosion any moment. Keep back!" + +"But my dog is in there!" shouted Dick. "I must get Grit out!" + +"You can't. It's madness to go too close!" + +"I'm going to!" replied Dick grimly. "We'll put out the fire." + +"Then use the hose--don't go too close with the buckets. That wooden +shed should never have been built where it is." + +"Come on! Get the hose into action!" yelled Dutton, and taking the +nozzle from the hands of puzzled and inexperienced men, the cadet +directed it at the fire, while Dick and Paul, aided by some of their +companions, turned on the water, the supply coming from a big storage +tank, raised high on metal supports to give the necessary force. + +A moment later the water spurted from the nozzle and sprayed on the fire +with a hiss of steam. + +"That's the stuff!" shouted Dick. "We'll soon have you out of there, +Grit! Wait a minute, old boy!" + +This time the dog heard his master's voice, and a joyful bark replaced +his howls of fear. + +It was high time that there be used some more effective means of putting +out the fire than buckets of water, for the flames were burning +fiercely. + +"It's lucky that the door of the powder house is thick," murmured Major +Webster. "It will take some time to burn through. But if it does----" + +He did not finish his half-spoken thought, but shuddered as he looked at +the cadets grouped around the burning structure. He wanted to order them +away, but he knew the only safety lay in putting out the flames to +prevent the explosion. And the cadets seemed to be the only ones capable +of handling the situation, for the janitors had completely lost their +heads and were so confused that they could not obey the simplest order. + +"Get the other hose into action!" cried the major, for there were two +small lines available for use at the powder house. "You'll never get it +out with one." + +"I'll attend to it!" answered Dick, and, leaving Dutton and Paul to +manage the one line, he and John Stiver ran to the other and began +unreeling that. + +The flames were now at their height, and were blazing high, the loose +and light wood of the packing boxes making excellent fuel. + +"Hurry! Hurry!" nervously ordered the major, doing all he could. +Colonel Masterly and some of the other instructors now arrived, but +there was little they could do. + +"If we can only keep the fire away from the door a little longer," +murmured the colonel. "They are subduing it, don't you think, Major?" + +"They are doing good work--plucky lads. It takes an emergency like this +to show their mettle." + +"Do you think the door will catch?" + +"I hope not, but----" + +It was a vain hope, as they could see a moment later. + +A puff of wind blew the smoke and flames aside for a second, and the two +men could look plainly at the thick door of the ammunition building. +What they saw caused them to start back, for a tiny whisp of fire was +eating away at the edge of the portal. + +"Too late!" groaned the colonel. "We must get the boys back! We shall +have to let it burn. Get back, boys! Get back!" + +"We'll have it out in another minute!" yelled Dick, as he turned on the +water from his line. "I'm going to save Grit!" + +The fire died down for a few seconds, owing to the increased amount of +water poured on it, but it was only for a moment, and then it flared up +again. But the cadets fought on grimly. Some were even using pails, +dipping water from a nearby cistern, and they would not obey the orders +of the teachers to keep back. They did little good, however, as they +could not get near enough to make much of the fluid effective. + +The door of the powder house was now burning in a larger area, and it +seemed that the explosion might come at any moment. All saw it, and +while they knew that they themselves could get a safe distance away, and +while they realized that even if the powder did blow up, none of the +college buildings would be damaged, it was different in the case of +their favorite club house--the Sacred Pig--for it was close to the +blazing structure. + +"It will be 'roast pig' in a few minutes," murmured Paul Drew ruefully. + +"I should say yes," agreed Dutton. "But we won't let it happen. If only +the water holds out!" + +Once more came a howl from the imprisoned Grit. + +"Poor dog!" cried Dick, stooping down to see if there was a chance to +get in and save his pet. But there seemed to be none. + +Almost at that instant the roof of the burning shed fell in, carrying +with it part of the half consumed structure. This gave a better view of +the powder house door, which was seen to be on fire in several places. +Grit's howls of anguish became louder. + +"I can't stand that--I'm going to save him!" cried Dutton to George +Hall. + +"But how can you? You can't get near the place." + +"Yes, I can--there's a side window. I wonder some of us didn't think of +it before. I can reach it by a short ladder, and break open the window +with an axe. Here goes. You handle the hose in my place." + +Before George could make any objection, Dutton had thrust the nozzle +into his friend's hand and was running toward the powder house. On his +way he caught up a light ladder and a fire axe that was on one of the +hose reel carts. + +"Where are you going, Dutton?" called Major Webster. + +"To get Dick's dog--out through the window. I can do it all right." + +"Come back!" cried the major, but the cadet did not heed. + +Dick was having his hands full with the hose and for a moment he did not +see what his former enemy had done. The fire was a little less fierce +now, as the material on which it fed had been nearly all consumed, but +the door was blazing in spots. They played water on it, but as fast as +one area of fire was extinguished it would break out in another. + +There came a crash of glass and a cry from Dutton. + +"I'm in! Look out for Grit. Here he comes--through the window!" + +"Grit! Through the window!" cried Dick in amazement. "Why--how----?" + +"Ray went in after him!" called George Hall. + +"There's the dog." + +At that instant the cadet inside the powder house thrust Grit out of the +window. The brute fell harmlessly in a heap on the grass, but sprang up +a moment later and rushed toward the fire-fighting cadets. + +"Here, old man!" cried Dick, and the dog went into a demonstration of +joy, fawning all over his master, while the youth hugged the ugly but +loving animal close in his arms, the hose being grasped by ready hands +as he let go of it. + +"Come out, Dutton, come out!" cried Major Webster. "Come out at once." + +Hardly had he spoken than there sounded from within the powder house a +dull explosion. It was not a hard one, and no evidences of it could be +observed outside the structure. But the cadets and professors looked at +each other in alarm, their faces lighted up by the dancing flames. They +all knew what it meant. + +"The beginning of the end!" remarked the colonel gravely. "Get back, +everyone! I order it!" + +"But Ray Dutton is in there!" cried Dick. "He may be injured and can't +get out. I'm going to save him!" + +The young millionaire sprang away. Grit started to follow. + +"Come back at once!" ordered the colonel. + +"Not until I save him!" answered Dick. "He risked his life to save my +dog, and now I'll rescue him! Go back, Grit. Wait for me." + +The dog whined but obeyed, and Dick ran on. As he passed by the second +hose reel he grasped from it an axe. Straight for the door of the powder +house he ran, the water from the two lines of hose falling in a spray +around him. + +The fire was now sufficiently out to permit of reaching the portal over +the wet embers which still glowed faintly. The shed had fallen apart and +what was left of it was burning on one side. Little tongues of flame +spurted here and there on the main door. + +Dick rushed up and with the axe began raining blows on the portal. His +fellow cadets cheered lustily, and then devoted all their energies to +keeping the water playing about their brave comrade. He was soaked +through but in this lay his only safety, for the flames still were +dangerously close. + +There came another slight explosion inside the powder house. Evidently +small cases of the gun cartridges were going off, but as they were all +blanks there was no danger from bullets. + +"Ray--are you alive--are you all right?" cried Dick, as he paused for a +moment. There was no answer, and he rained the blows from the axe more +madly than before. + +With a crash the door gave way. Flinging his implement aside, Dick +sprang into the powder house. There was an anxious moment, and the +cadets and instructors waited in fear and trembling. + +"He may be overcome by the powder fumes," said the colonel. "Poor +lads--they may both be killed." + +An instant after the colonel had spoken a form appeared in the blackened +doorway. One form? No, two, for in his arms Dick Hamilton bore the limp +body of Dutton. + +"He's got him! He's got him!" yelled Paul Drew, and a great shout +followed his words. + +On staggered Dick with his burden. Grit saw his master in the now +dimming light from the fire, and barked joyfully. + +"Back! Get back everybody!" panted the young millionaire. "She's going +up! There's a fire inside! Get back--quick!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE ELECTION + + +Dick was seen to stagger, and it was no wonder, for Ray Dutton was no +light weight. + +"Let me help you!" shouted Paul, as he ran toward his chum. He grasped +the limp legs of the unconscious cadet, while Dick carried the +shoulders, and together they hastened on. + +"Back! Get back!" cried Dick again, as his schoolmates crowded up around +him and Paul. "The explosion will come any minute! There's fire in +there!" + +"Back this instant, every one of you! You can't do anything more!" cried +Colonel Masterly sternly, and the boys knew it was now time to obey. +Those holding the hose lines dropped them, and the crowd of +fire-fighters surged back. + +"Is Dutton dead?" gasped Paul. + +"Not dead--and not hurt much, I hope," answered Dick. "He was overcome +by the powder fumes--there was a little explosion almost as soon as he +got inside--some sparks must have blown in the window. But he saved +Grit." + +"And you saved him." + +"Come on, we'd better get farther back!" cried the young millionaire as +Paul hesitated, and was about to lay Dutton down. "The force of it +will----" + +His voice was drowned in a detonating report, and the darkness of the +night was lighted by an intense glare. The powder house had blown up, +and the wind of the concussion knocked down Paul and Dick in a heap with +the unconscious Dutton. Other cadets who had not run far enough back +were also bowled over. + +Then came intense blackness, following the bright flash and this was +succeeded by the patter of small missiles tossed into the air by the +force of the powder. + +"Jove, I hope none of the chunks of concrete come this way!" cried Paul +as he got up. "Are you hurt, Dick?" + +"Not a bit of it. Look at Dutton though." + +"He doesn't seem to be," answered Paul, as he looked at the unconscious +cadet as well as he could in the dim light that came from a few +scattered and burning embers blown here and there by the explosion. + +"Oh--I'm--I'm all right," gasped Dutton, as he slowly sat up. "What +happened?" + +"My it sounds good to hear you speak again!" cried Dick, as he put his +arms around his friend and assisted him to arise. "You were overcome in +there when you went in to get Grit, and I took you out. Now the whole +thing has gone up, but it doesn't seem to have done much damage." + +Scores of cadets now crowded around the three lads. The rain of missiles +had ceased, and quick inquiries showed that beyond a few scratches or +bruises no one was seriously hurt. The heavy concrete side of the walls +of the powder house had merely toppled outward, almost in four solid +pieces, and it was only the light wooden roof, purposely made so, that +had been much shattered. It was the fragments of this that had rained +down. + +The fire was effectually scattered by the explosion and what little +remained was quickly extinguished by the janitors with pails of water, +and one hose line. The other had been blown apart and was useless. + +Colonel Masterly and the other instructors went about among the lads, +making sure that none needed hospital treatment. They came to where +Dick, Paul and Ray stood. + +"Hamilton, let me congratulate you on your pluck and daring in saving +your comrade's life," said the colonel gravely, as he shook hands with +Dick in the light of several lanterns that had been brought up. "It was +a brave act." + +"Well, he saved Grit, and it was the only way I could pay him back," +replied our hero simply, as he fondled the dog that leaped up on him +with demonstrative affection. + +"I couldn't bear to hear Grit howl," explained Ray, who had now +recovered from the powder fumes. "Let's go see if the Sacred Pig is +much damaged," he added quickly, for neither he nor Dick liked to pose +as heroes. + +"I fancy the building is not much harmed," spoke the colonel. "Most of +the force of the explosion was upward. You young gentlemen deserve a +vote of thanks from the faculty for the manner in which you acquitted +yourselves to-night, and I will see that you get it. Now we had better +go back to the dormitories. The night is rather chilly." Indeed it was, +lightly clad as everyone was. + +Beyond a few shattered windows, and some broken glassware in the pantry, +the society house of the Sacred Pig was not damaged, at which the cadets +were very glad. The excitement quieted down, and after the doctor had +looked over Dutton, and pronounced him safe and sound, the students went +back to their beds, but hardly to sleep much. + +An investigation was made the next day, to discover if possible the +cause of the fire, but beyond the fact that it had started in some +refuse of the shed nothing could be learned. + +"It was careless on my part to allow the shed to be there," said the +colonel. "When we rebuild the ammunition house I will have it placed +farther off, and there will be no wooden structures attached to it. We +must not risk another accident like this." + +In view of the fire, lessons were suspended that day, and only a short +drill ordered. When this was over the electioneering began again, for +in the afternoon the selection of the football captain was to be made. + +There was quite a change of sentiment, and Paul Drew found that he had +to do very little pleading now to get the promise of votes for Dick. + +"It was the pluckiest and nerviest thing I ever saw done," declared +Harvey Nolan, one of the new cadets, who had hitherto resisted Paul's +pleadings, being firm for Dutton. "I like Ray immensely, but I think +I'll vote for Hamilton." + +"If this keeps on it will be unanimous for him," said Paul in delight. +He was hardly prepared for what followed. + +The cadets were assembled in the gymnasium, and Mr. Martin, by request, +was presiding over the important session. + +"I understand you are now ready to proceed with the election for a +captain and a manager," began the Yale coach. + +"Sure," came the inelegant but hearty reply from several. + +"There are three candidates," went on the coach. "Mr. Hamilton, Mr. +Dutton and Mr. Rutley. How will you vote, by ballot or acclimation?" + +"Ballot--ballot!" came the cry. + +"Very well, then I will appoint the tellers, and you----" + +"One moment, if you please," interrupted Dutton, as he arose. "There +has been a slight mistake made. There are only two candidates in the +field--Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Rutley. I wish to withdraw in favor of Mr. +Hamilton. You--you all know what he did last night--for me," faltered +Ray, and his voice was a trifle husky. "After that I could not stand +against him in the election." + +"Yes, you will--I insist!" cried Dick, jumping up. "I don't want you to +withdraw." + +"You can't help yourself, old man!" cried Ray heartily, playfully +shaking his fist at Dick. "I want all you fellows who were going to vote +for me to vote for Dick Hamilton--that is unless you are committed to +Frank Rutley," and he bowed in the direction of that cadet. + +"No one can vote for me--I'm out of it!" called out Frank. "I'm for +Hamilton." + +"Hurray!" cried Paul Drew. + +"Three cheers for Dick Hamilton!" sung out someone, and how those cheers +were given! + +"Do I understand that both you young gentlemen withdraw?" asked Mr. +Martin. + +"I do," answered Ray. + +"Same here!" called Frank. + +"Then, as there is but one candidate in the field, perhaps it is +unnecessary----" + +"I move that Dick Hamilton be unanimously elected captain of the +Kentfield football eleven, by acclimation, and long may he wave o'er +the team of the strong and the team of the brave!" cried Dutton. + +"Second it!" cried Frank. + +"All those in favor of this motion will signify it by saying 'yes,'" +called the coach. + +"YES!" was the reverbrating shout that fairly made the walls ring. + +"Then Dick Hamilton is the football captain, and I beg to extend him my +congratulations," said Mr. Martin. + +"And I, also," added his colleague, and the two coaches stepped from the +platform, and advanced toward the blushing young millionaire, while his +friends crowded around him to do him honor. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GAME WITH DUNKIRK + + +There was little else to do at the meeting in the way of business. Dan +Hatfield was unanimously named for manager, and then the coaches +announced that after a few more days of practice the team would be ready +for the first game of the season, to be played on the grounds of the +Dunkirk Military Academy, a school similar to that of Kentfield, and +situated about twenty miles away. + +"It is rather a disadvantage not to open on your own grounds," said Mr. +Spencer, "but it cannot be helped. I hope you will play all the better +for the slight handicap, and I am sure you can win if you try." + +"Yes, Dunkirk is hardly in your class," put in Mr. Martin, "but it was +the best arrangement we could make under the circumstances. You really +need practice against other opponents than your own scrub eleven, and +this will give it to you. If you roll up a good big score, then it will +be time to talk of taking on Blue Hill, and some of the larger teams." + +"Blue Hill beat Dunkirk twenty-six to nothing last year," remarked Dick. + +"Then you want to take their measure about forty-six to nothing," +remarked Mr. Martin, "and I trust you do it." + +There was some hard practice in the next few days, harder practice than +any the cadets had yet experienced, but the effects of it were +noticeable. They had more confidence in themselves, they were better +kickers, quicker in getting down the field, and in offensive work they +played together like clockwork. On the defense there was still something +to be desired, but that would come with practice the coaches knew. + +"Well I guess I'd better go to the railroad station and arrange about +getting the tickets for the team to go to Dunkirk to-morrow," remarked +Manager Hatfield, the day before the game. + +"You needn't get any tickets for the team and substitutes," spoke Dick. + +"Why not?" + +"Because I've hired some touring automobiles that will take us over and +bring us back." + +"You have! Say, Hamilton, there's class to you all right! You're a +brick! This will be great, and we'll save the money in the treasury. We +need it, too. I hope we get a good crowd to swell the gate receipts." + +The team that was to open the season was the same that had been +practicing against the scrub lately. Teddy Naylor could not make good, +and so was not to play, but he was promised by the coaches that he +would be the first substitute called on, and this was some consolation. +Porter was warned that unless he trained and practiced better he would +be dropped altogether, and his sullen answer was that he "didn't much +care." + +As many of the Kentfield cadets as could manage it went on the train to +see the game. Four big cars, which Dick generously hired, transported +the team and substitutes, and they started off amid cheers and songs, +with the auto gaily decorated with flags. + +"It's a good start all right," remarked Paul to Dick, as they flew down +the road. + +"Yes, and I hope the coming back will be even better." + +"Why, you're not afraid of not beating them; are you?" + +"Not exactly afraid, but I never was captain of a big football eleven +before, and I guess I'm a bit nervous. Of course we'll beat Dunkirk, but +I want it to be by a big score." + +"Oh, don't worry. We'll make out all right." + +There was a big crowd in the grandstands when the team and substitutes +drove up, and they were received with cheers as they alighted from the +autos. The Dunkirk team had not yet appeared, but their manager met +Hatfield, was introduced to Dick, and then the lads were escorted to +their dressing rooms. + +"There come our fellows," remarked Dutton a little later when, as he +was slipping into his jersey, a great cheer was heard, followed by the +Kentfield cry. + +"Yes, and they've got their voices with them," said Dick. "They're great +shouters." + +When the Kentfield team trotted out they were met with a rousing welcome +of vocal sounds, not only from their own cohorts, but from the Dunkirk +sympathizers. + +"They're friendly all right," remarked Dick. "Come on, fellows, we'll +line up and run through some signals." + +He and his men were soon in practice, and the young captain was glad to +note that no one had gone stale. Everyone seemed on the alert. + +A little later the Dunkirk team trotted out, to be met with a salvo of +cheers, and then they, too, lined up and began to work with the ball. + +"They are a fast, snappy, little lot, but I think we have them for +weight," remarked Paul, looking critically at their opponents. + +Dunkirk won the toss, and elected to defend the north goal. Kentfield +was to kick off, and on the whole Dick was rather glad, as he could thus +early get the measure of the offensive tactics of their enemies. + +Beeby sent the ball spinning well down the field as the echoes of the +whistle died away. The pigskin was neatly caught, and one of the Dunkirk +players began running back with it. + +"Nail him, fellows," cried Dick. "Don't let him gain much!" George Hall +broke through the interference and had the man down before he had +covered ten yards. Then came the line up. + +"Watch out now, boys," warned the captain, as the Dunkirk quarter-back +began giving the signal. + +At the line of Kentfield came a man, hurling himself toward a hole that +had been partly opened between Paul Drew and George Hall. Into the +opening the man went, but no further, for he was neatly stopped. Only a +yard was gained. + +"That's the way to do it!" cried Dick in delight. "Hold 'em, boys! Hold +'em!" + +Once more Dunkirk made a gallant try, this time around left end, but +again the man with the ball was nailed, and thrown for a loss. + +"They'll have to kick," cried Dick. "Watch out!" + +The backs retreated, and it was well they did for Dunkirk had a powerful +ball-booster in the shape of their full-back, and the leather went well +into the territory of our friends. + +Hal Foster caught it, and protected by excellent interference he rushed +it well back before he was downed. + +"Now to see what we can do!" exclaimed Dick, as he knelt down back of +Jim Watkins, to pass the ball. He signalled for Frank Rutley to take the +ball through right tackle, and it was executed to perfection. In vain +did the Dunkirk captain beg and plead with his men to hold. Dick's +players pushed and shoved Frank through for a ten yard gain. + +"That's going some!" panted the left tackle as he took his place again. + +Dunkirk was saddened by the advance, thus easily made, though she was +not discouraged. But when Ray Dutton went through the line for another +substantial gain, and when, without the necessity for kicking in the +next scrimmage, John Stiver got through between tackle and guard for +eight yards, then there were anxious hearts. + +"Walk up for a touchdown!" called several in the crowd of Kentfield +supporters in the grand stand. + +"We'll do it!" cried Dick. + +The coveted touchdown came a few minutes later, the ball having been +carried down the field in a series of whirlwind rushes. Paul Drew was +shoved over the line, and then Jim Watkins kicked goal. + +"Our first points!" cried Dick in delight. "Now the team is beginning to +play." + +And play they did. It was a foregone conclusion after that, and Dunkirk +had no chance. They realized it, and when, after the first half, there +were thirty points in favor of Kentfield, and none for their opponents, +the captain of Dunkirk said to Dick: + +"Our only hope now is to hold you down. You're better off now than Blue +Hill was against us." + +"That's what we're after," declared the young millionaire. "We're going +to wallop Blue Hill when we get the chance, too." + +The second half was a repetition of the first. Once on a fumble Dunkirk +got the ball, and another time as a penalty for holding on the part of +too eager George Hall. The home team tried desperately hard to score, +and several of their men were knocked out, but it was not to be. + +Once, when because of a miscalculation, the man with the ball got +through Dick's line, the young captain had a momentary fear lest his +team be scored against. But Hal Foster was on the alert and nailed the +panting man with the ball. + +There came some fierce scrimmages for Dunkirk was desperate, and Hal was +knocked out. This gave Teddy Naylor a chance to get in the game, and he +rushed in with eager impetuosity. + +"I'm going to make a touchdown!" he declared. "Let me try, Dick." + +He was given a chance, and made good, bursting through the line of +Dunkirk players, shaking off a fierce tackle by the full-back, and +making a score after a forty yard run amid frantic cheers. + +After that the Kentfield lads took it a little easier, for which their +opponents were duly grateful. Teddy Naylor kicked a beautiful field +goal, and then time was called, with the score fifty to nothing in favor +of "Dick Hamilton's team," as his chums insisted on calling it. + +"Oh, but I feel good!" cried our hero as he ran to the dressing rooms. + +"You look like a peach," said Paul. "One eye is half closed and your +nose looks as if some one had hammered brass work on it." + +"They did, I guess. But you're no picture either. Look at your left +ear." + +"Wish I could. But never mind. We beat 'em!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A DARING PLAN + + +"Well, what do you boys think of yourselves?" asked Coach Martin the day +after the game with Dunkirk, when the football eleven and its supporters +had gathered in the gymnasium preparatory to going out to practice. + +"Why, did we do so rotten?" asked Innis. + +"Had we ought to have piled up a bigger score?" inquired George Hall. + +"We did make a few fumbles--at least I did, and once I didn't take care +of my man," admitted Jim Watkins. "But----" + +"No, I haven't a bit of fault to find," went on Mr. Martin. "I was just +wondering whether you felt more confident of your playing ability than +you did before we came. I want to get a sort of line on my ability." + +"Yes," put in Mr. Spencer, "we are far from finding fault with you, for, +on the contrary I think you did exceptionally well. We couldn't ask for +any better results, but what Mr. Martin means is whether or not you +yourselves feel satisfied." + +There was a moment's hesitation. The boys did not know exactly how to +take the questions. + +"I wish we could beat Blue Hill to a standstill," murmured Captain Dick. + +"And then wallop Mooretown," added Ray Dutton. + +"Say, can't we challenge Blue Hill now?" asked John Stiver eagerly. + +"Yes, let's do it!" came a chorus of voices. + +"Better wait," advised Mr. Martin with a laugh and a quick look at his +colleague. "If you sent Blue Hill another challenge so soon, they'd only +laugh at you, and very likely they would say you arranged the whole +coaching plan merely to beat them. If you will permit us to suggest +something, we have another scheme." + +"What is it?" sung out Innis with engaging frankness. + +"We will play some other strong team before we again ask Blue Hill to +let us have a chance at them," suggested Mr. Martin. "Then, if we win, +as I hope we shall, we will be more in their class. Beating Dunkirk +hardly put us there, even though we made a bigger score against them +than Blue Hill did. And then, after you get your second wind, so to +speak, we will consider getting into the Military League. Do you agree +to that plan?" + +"Sure!" came instantly from all present. The boys would have agreed to +anything that would have paved the way to tackling Blue Hill. + +"Then we'll go ahead on that understanding," proceeded the coach. "And +now for the second part of the plan. You know it is of little benefit to +play some team weaker than you are. What you want to do is to take on +some eleven that you know is going to be hard to beat. That will bring +out whatever good points we have not yet discovered. Is that clear?" + +Once more the boys looked at each other in some astonishment. What was +the coach leading to? + +"Am I making myself clear?" he asked again. + +"Yes. Sure. Go ahead," were some of the answers. + +"Then the plan of Mr. Spencer and myself is this," went on Mr. Martin. +"We will put you through some hard practice in the next week, and then +we will challenge Haskell University." + +For a moment there was a period of intense silence in the room. Then +several half-astonished gasps could be heard. Once more the boys looked +at one another, but this time, instead of with puzzled glances, it was +more with looks of fear, or at least uncertainty. + +"Haskell University," murmured Dick Hamilton. + +"Champions of the Military League year before last," added Innis. + +"And likely to be again this year," put in George Hall. + +"And he wants us to tackle them--us the tail-enders," muttered Jim +Watkins. "It can't be did! We'd all be in the hospital, fellows, and +our team would be crippled." + +Talk was flying thick and fast now, and almost every remark seemed to be +against the daring plan of the coaches. Then Dick realized that he, as +captain, ought to say something. It would not do to knuckle under in +this craven fashion. A team to do anything must do or dare. + +"If Haskell will take us on, we'll play them," he said simply, as he +arose in his seat. "But will they, after Blue Hill turned us down?" + +"I'm glad that at least your captain isn't afraid," spoke Mr. Spencer, +for he and his colleague had heard the half-suppressed whispers of +objection. "I know it sounds like a big thing to you, for I know what a +strong team Haskell has. But I believe it will do you good to play that +eleven. Of course if you don't feel that you could stand the pace, +or----" + +"Go on! Challenge 'em! We'll play 'em." + +"Of course we will." + +"And beat 'em, too!" + +These expressions took the place of those heard a few minutes before. It +argued a good change of heart. + +"I'm glad to hear that," commented Mr. Martin. "Then if Manager Hatfield +will confer with us after the meeting and practice, we will arrange to +get a date with them." + +"But will they play us?" asked Dick. "You know they always like to +arrange big games, and they may not want to take us on." + +"Oh, I fancy that can be arranged," spoke Mr. Martin easily. "Mr. +Spencer and I know the coach there and he is a good friend of ours. I am +acquainted with the captain, too, and I am almost sure they will give us +a game. Now let me congratulate you once more on the showing you made +yesterday, and suggest that we get out to practice. We can't get any too +much if we are to play Haskell--and beat them." He concluded his remarks +with a grim smile. + +"Beat 'em! We'll be lucky if we hold 'em down to as much as the score by +which we beat Dunkirk," remarked George Hall, as he stepped out beside +Captain Dick. + +"Here! None of that!" cried the young millionaire, half seriously. + +"None of what?" asked George. + +"That treason talk," replied Dick. "I want you all to feel that we're +going to win, or there isn't much use playing." + +"Oh, well, just as you say," agreed George with a laugh. "Do you think +we'll win, Paul Drew?" + +"Of course," was the answer, for Paul was always loyal to his chum. + +As several of the cadets were lame and stiff from the unusual exertion +in the Dunkirk game, only light practice was indulged in. Several minor +faults were corrected, and then the coaches put their charges through +some wing-shift plays, and gave them a chance to improve their work in +the on-side kick and the forward pass, in both of which the Kentfield +lads were a trifle uncertain. + +"Oh, we'll have you in shape to tackle Haskell before you know it," said +Mr. Martin encouragingly. + +If any of the players were doubtful about this they did not say so, and +they took heart from the confident air Dick Hamilton assumed. + +In the days that followed the practice gradually became more and more +rigorous, and, as a result, fast, snappy playing became the order of the +day. + +"Have you heard whether or not Haskell will play us?" asked Paul of Dick +one night, as they sat in their room studying and waiting for "taps" to +sound. + +"No, I haven't. I meant to ask Hatfield to-day whether he had heard from +their manager, but I was so busy drilling a squad of raw recruits that I +didn't get a chance. Guess I'll go to his room now and ask him. I'll +have time I think." + +As Dick arose there sounded the mournful yet sweet notes of the bugle +that was a signal for "lights" out. + +"Too late!" exclaimed Paul. + +"I'll chance it," ventured Dick. "I can cross to his dormitory by the +rear path, and the sentries are hardly posted yet. Besides, I guess they +won't report me when they know it's football matters. I'm anxious to +know." + +"Better stay here--morning will do," counseled Paul. + +"No, I'm going, I'll be right back," replied his roommate, and off Dick +started before the last notes of the bugle had died away. + +Rules regarding being out of the academy after taps were very strict, +except at certain times when more liberty was allowed. But this was not +one of those occasions, and Dick knew he would have to be careful. He +did not mind indulging in a few pranks occasionally, but now, as he was +on the eleven, and captain as well, it behooved him to be careful, so +that he would not be barred from athletics. + +He swung quietly along the tree-shaded path leading to the dormitory +where Hatfield had his rooms. The path was not so well shaded now as in +summer, for the trees were almost leafless save for certain oaks, the +brown foliage of which rustled in the night wind. + +"Sounds like a storm," mused the young millionaire. "I hope it keeps +clear long enough for the Haskell game--that is if they'll play us." + +As he strolled along he kept a lookout for any sentries, for sometimes +new cadets were picked for this duty, and they took delight in reporting +their older comrades. But the coast seemed to be clear. + +"Guess I'll go see how Grit is, before I go to Hatfield's room," said +Dick half aloud, for his pet was now kept in one of the stable barracks. +"Poor old fellow, I wish they'd let me keep him with me nights; but they +won't." + +He swung off in the direction of the building where the cavalry horses +were kept, and, as he neared the one where his dog slept he saw a dark +figure step out from behind a tree. The figure was that of a cadet with +a rifle. + +"Hope that's a friend of mine," mused Dick grimly. + +A moment later came the command: + +"Halt!" + +Dick obeyed. + +"Who goes there?" was the inquiry as the rifle was swung around. + +"Friend." + +"Advance friend, and give the countersign." + +Dick was startled. Though this was strictly in accordance with the +rules, it was something that was seldom enforced. And, to tell the +truth, Dick did not have the countersign. + +"Well?" came the impatient query. Dick wondered who his challenger could +be, for the face was in the shadow. + +"I--I'm afraid I haven't the countersign," faltered Dick, who was +somewhat annoyed. "Is it actually necessary?" + +"Of course it is," was the snapping answer. "Otherwise I shouldn't have +asked for it. If you haven't it, you're under arrest." + +"I'm Dick Hamilton," said our hero, "and I was on my way to see Hatfield +about some football matters. Besides taps have only just sounded." + +"Some time ago," was the curt reply. "Besides Hatfield's rooms aren't in +the stable." + +"I know, but I wanted to see if my dog Grit was safely fastened." + +"Oh. Well, I'm sorry," but there was no contrition expressed in the +voice, "but I'll have to place you under arrest for trying to run guard, +Captain Hamilton," and with that the sentry stepped out from under a +tree, revealing himself as Sam Porter. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +UNCLE EZRA ARRIVES + + +For a moment Dick half thought it was a joke, and he was about to laugh +it off. The idea of a member of the football squad--even though +temporarily deposed from the team, stopping another team member when on +athletic business, even though against the rules, was almost unheard of. + +"I guess it's all right--you might remember the countersign for me," +said Dick lightly. + +"Not much!" snapped Porter. + +"Why not?" + +"Because I don't choose to. You're under arrest and you will so report +to Major Webster. + +"Do you mean it?" + +"I certainly do." + +"But it's--it's so unusual." + +"That's just the reason I'm doing it. They make a fellow do guard duty +on a frosty night, to catch guard-runners, and then some one kicks when +he does it. No, I'm in earnest, and if some of the other fellows who do +sentry-go would be the same, they'd stop this. I don't care enough +about war tactics to be a sentry, but as long as I am here no one can +run the guard on me." + +"I wasn't running the guard. I told you where I was going. I want to see +if Hatfield had heard from the Haskell team yet." + +"And I find you headed toward the stable where your dog is kept, so I +can believe you or not as I choose." + +Dick started. It was, in a measure telling him that he had not spoken +the truth and for a brief moment he felt the hot blood mount to his +head. Then he calmed down as he remembered that he was captain of the +eleven, and, in a measure responsible to his men for his conduct. +Besides, he reflected quickly, Porter might be trying to force him into +a quarrel, and that would never do. + +"Very well," answered Dick, as quietly as he could, "I'll report to the +major. Good night!" He swung on his heel and turned aside. + +"Um!" was the only reply that Porter grunted out, as he resumed the +patrolling of his post. + +"Well?" asked Paul, as his chum entered. + +"Not well--bad. I was caught." + +"By whom?" + +"Porter." + +"Porter. Hum! Was he in earnest about it?" + +"He seemed so," and Dick recounted the conversation. + +"Well, there's something in what he says," agreed Paul. "Sentry-go is no +fun, but as long as we're at a military school we have to do it once in +a while. Still if enough of us enforced the rules, as I suppose we ought +to do, there'd be one of two things happen. They'd either abolish it, or +running the guard would stop, and there wouldn't be anything for the +sentries to do." + +"That's so. Well, I'm the goat to-night. Might as well have a bad job +over with. I'm going to report." + +"Then you didn't see Hatfield?" + +"No, we'll have to wait until morning to hear." + +Dick went off in no very happy frame of mind, and he was a little uneasy +as to what form of punishment the major would mete out. But he was +fortunate in finding that old soldier entertaining a war comrade in his +room, and swapping campaign stories. The major was, therefore, in a very +amiable mood, and after listening to Dick's frank report said: + +"Hum! Well, don't do it again. You may write me out a page of field +tactics and consider yourself relieved of arrest. Don't do it again. +Good night, Captain Hamilton." + +Dick saluted and swung away, highly pleased at the lightness of his +task. He heard the major and his comrade-in-arms laughing as he strode +away, and the instructor in tactics exclaimed: + +"That's not a circumstance to what we used to do, eh, Ned, when we were +camped near some city and wanted to go in and have a good time?" + +"That's right," agreed his friend. + +Dick's little escapade was known all over the academy next morning, and +there was almost universal condemnation of Porter's act. But Dick, to +the no small astonishment of his chums, declared that the deposed +left-end had done just right. + +"What are you sticking up for him for?" asked Paul in some indignation. +"It'll get so all the other sentries will do the same thing." + +"Well, that might not be so bad. Besides, I do think he did right--even +though class custom is against it. Then, too, I don't want to get on +unfriendly terms with him. I hope to keep in touch with that old miser +Duncaster through Porter." + +"Oh, yes, about your father's business. How is it coming on?" + +"Not very well. I hear that the other side has made a very good offer to +Mr. Duncaster, but he has turned them down the same as he did me. There +are other matters cropping up, however, that make things complicated in +the electric road business, and poor dad is worried to death. I don't +know what his next move will be." + +"Did you hear whether or not we'll have a game with Haskell?" + +"No, but here comes Hatfield now. We'll ask him. He has some mail, +perhaps he just heard." + +"It's all right!" joyfully called the manager, waving a letter at Dick. +"They'll play us next Saturday. Those coaches must have quite a pull." + +"Will they put in their first team?" asked Dick anxiously, for there +would be little glory in beating the Haskell scrub. + +"They'll do that, and also come here to give us a game." + +"On our own grounds? Good!" cried Paul. "We'll play our heads off!" + +"It's great!" declared Dick. "I only hope we--but there of course we're +going to win!" and he changed his sentence with an assumed confidence he +hardly felt. + +"Will we work any of the new plays on 'em?" asked Paul. "I like the wing +shifts and the sequence plays." + +"We'll work 'em if we get a chance," said Dick. "It will all depend on +what sort of a game they put up. We may have to kick a lot." + +"Well, we're up to snuff on that line," declared the manager. "Now I +must arrange the details. I hope we get out a big crowd and make some +money." + +"And I hope the fellows come out to practice this afternoon," spoke +Dick. "Come on Paul, we've got the science lecture on now." + +The scrub, against whom the Varsity matched forces that afternoon, had +been having some secret practice of their own, and they worked a couple +of tricks on the rather surprised first team that netted a good gain, +and eventually a touchdown. + +"That's something you must be on the lookout for," said Mr. Martin, who +was a bit chagrined over what had happened. "It isn't enough to play +well on your own team, you must watch what the other fellow is doing. +Now try again, and put some ginger into your work." + +"Yes, you're getting a bit stale I'm afraid," declared Mr. Spencer, and +he added some rather sharp words of correction. + +The Varsity members were somewhat hurt. They did not know that the words +were spoken intentionally, and to force them to do a little better. + +The rebuke had the desired effect, and thereafter the unfortunate scrub +team was shoved all over the gridiron, not only not getting within +striking distance of their opponents' goal line, but having three +touchdowns rolled up against them in short order. + +"That's something like!" cried Mr. Martin in approval. "Now, Hamilton, +try that wing shift," he whispered to Dick. "I think we can fool them." + +It was a well executed play, and when the man with the ball got safely +away, and through the scrub line Dick slipped and fell, for the ground +was soft from a recent rain. Down he went at full length into a puddle, +with another player on top of him, and when he arose he was rather a +sorry-looking sight, but not injured. + +Time was called directly after that, and as the players filed off the +field, passing through a little knot of spectators, Dick heard his name +called. + +"Well, of all the disgraceful sights, you certainly present one!" +exclaimed a rasping voice. There was a menancing growl from Grit, whom +one of Dick's friends held in leash. Our hero looked toward where the +voice had sounded. + +"Uncle Ezra!" he faltered, as he saw his grim-visaged relative. + +"Yes, I'm here, and I must say of all the brutal exhibitions I ever saw, +this is the worst. I never saw a bull fight, but it can't be much +worse!" + +There was some laughter at this, and Dick looked at his crabbed uncle in +some alarm. + +"Have you come to see me?" he asked. + +"Not exactly. I came because your father is in trouble, and I want to +help him." + +"Trouble? What kind--the--" began our hero. + +"If you'll go somewhere and get washed up, and put some clean clothes +on, so you won't look so much like a tramp, I'll talk to you," said Mr. +Larabee stiffly. "I've come to take you back home, Nephew Richard." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ANOTHER FRUITLESS ATTEMPT + + +For a moment the young millionaire did not know what to say or think. +His father in trouble! Uncle Ezra had come to take him away from +Kentfield! And in the height of the football season just before the +first big game! + +"Is my father ill?" asked Dick. + +"No, not ill, only worrying over business. I always said he had too many +irons in the fire, and now some have burned him," declared the old man +as he walked along beside his nephew out of ear-shot of the crowd. "I've +come on to try my hand at helping him." + +"But what can you do here?" asked Dick. "And why must I leave +Kentfield?" + +"To help your father. I should think you'd be glad to. He needs money. +It costs money to stay here and play those silly, dangerous games." + +"Not very much money, Uncle Ezra." + +"Don't tell me! You ought to be in my woolen mill earning four dollars +and a quarter a week, instead of wasting cash here. Now I want to have a +serious talk with you, Nephew Richard. Your father is in trouble, and +it's your duty to leave here and help him." + +"I think I can help him by staying here just as well. But did he tell +you to take me away from Kentfield--just when I have the football team +in good shape? Did he say I was to leave?" + +"No, he didn't exactly say so, but I know it would help. Besides, you +might get injured playing this game, and then you'd be a cripple for +life. You ought to be at work. Now I can make a place for you in the +mill. In time you could work up to twelve or fifteen dollars a week, and +of course, being my nephew, and the son of my only sister, I'd give you +a chance. Better come, Dick. You might be hurt here." + +"And I might be hurt in the mill, Uncle Ezra. I have heard of people +being caught in the machinery." + +"Well, of course it's possible," admitted the crabbed man. "But you must +be careful. Besides if you got hurt in the mill it would be in a good +cause. Though I warn you I carry accident insurance for all my employees +and you can't collect any damages from me." + +"Then I think I'll stay and play football, Uncle Ezra." + +"Oh, the perversity and foolishness of the rising generation!" groaned +Mr. Larabee. "But hurry on and get cleaned up. It is a disgrace for me +to be seen walking with you, and I have on my best black suit that I +don't want to get spoiled. Besides I must hurry back. I have a lazy +hired man that loafs when I'm away." + +Dick thought that any hired man who would not take a little chance of +resting when his taskmaster was away from home would not show much +spirit. But there was Mrs. Larabee to reckon with, and she was almost as +much of a "driver" as her husband. + +"There, now I am ready to hear all about it," said Dick, when he had led +his uncle to one of the reception rooms of the academy, and had removed +most of the traces of the recent football conflict. "Are father's +affairs in much worse shape?" + +"I should say they were!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "This man Porter--why +Nephew Richard--what is that on your nose?" and the horrified old man +sprang from his chair and approached our hero. + +"Nose? What's the matter with it?" asked Dick in some alarm. + +"There's a great big cut on it! How did it happen?" + +"Oh, that's where I tried to stop Hal Foster's shoe with my nose, I +expect. That's nothing. It's only a little cut. You should have seen the +one I had last year. And when Teddy Naylor broke his collar bone----" + +"That's enough! Not another word about the brutalities of football! I've +heard enough! It's disgraceful. Let us talk about something else." + +"I'm anxious to hear about father's affairs," said Dick. + +"I don't know very much," replied his uncle, "but I know that his +enemies are pressing him hard to get the control of the trolley line +away from him, and it is paying well, too. I never thought it would, but +your father insisted that he was right. But he has too many irons in the +fire, I'm sure. This time this Mr. Porter is fighting him, and when I +saw your father yesterday he said he did not know what to do, because a +Mr. Duncaster would not sell his stock." + +"Yes, I know that Mr. Duncaster," said Dick, with a grim smile at the +recollection of the interview with the man. + +"I came here to argue with him," said Mr. Larabee. + +"You did?" cried Dick. + +"Yes, your father consented. He said you had been unable to do anything +with him, and it would do no harm if I tried. I'm a fighter, I am!" and +Uncle Ezra squared his jaw aggressively. "I'll make him do as we want +him to." + +Dick had his doubts about this, but said nothing. He had, moreover, a +little feeling against his uncle. + +"I want to help dad myself," reflected the young millionaire, "and I +believe I can do more with this Mr. Duncaster than Uncle Ezra can. I +don't like him 'butting in,' but if dad told him to it must be all +right. But I don't believe he'll have much success." + +"Now I thought if you could take me to see this person who has the +stock," went on Mr. Larabee, "I can induce him to sell it. Once your +father has possession of it matters will be all right. Could we go out +to his place this afternoon?" + +"Oh, yes," agreed Dick. "It is not much of a run to Hardvale." + +"I'm glad of it, for then I can start back home to-night. If I take +along some sandwiches, which perhaps you can get from the kitchen here +for me, I can ride all night in a day coach, and so save a hotel bill. +We'll start for Hardvale at once. It is within walking distance, I +presume." + +"No," answered Dick, and he felt a secret delight in his answer, "the +only way to get out there and back in time for you to make an early +start for home is to take an auto." + +"An auto!" cried Uncle Ezra in horror. "Never! I'll never waste money on +one of those affairs, and when I undertook to come here on your father's +business I stipulated that I would pay all expenses. He is to give me a +commission for doing the work, provided I get the trolley stock, and the +less expenses I have the more money I can make." + +"But if you don't hire an auto you'll be here so long that you'll have +to stay over and pay a hotel bill," said Dick, trying not to smile. + +"Couldn't we hire a horse and carriage, or go in a trolley car--trolleys +are cheap." Mr. Larabee looked hopeful. + +"There is no trolley line to Hardvale," said Dick, "and a horse and +carriage would be too slow. It's an auto or a hotel bill, Uncle Ezra." + +"Oh dear! What a hard world this is! Well, let us go and get a cheap +auto. I'll bargain with the driver." + +The chauffeur wanted six dollars to go out to Hardvale and back with his +taxicab. At the first mention of the price Dick thought his uncle would +have a fit. Then, with a grim tightening of his lips, the old man began +to bargain. + +"I'll give you two dollars," he said. + +"It wouldn't pay for my time, oil and gasolene," declared the man. + +"I'll make it three, and not a cent more!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra firmly, +with his hand on his pocketbook as if afraid it would be taken away from +him. + +"You'd better walk!" said the chauffeur. "I haven't any more time to +bother with you." + +Uncle Ezra begged and pleaded, but the driver was firm. + +"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do," said the crabbed old man finally. +"I'll pay your price, though I want you to understand that I think it's +robbery, but will you throw in some sandwiches for my supper. I'm going +to travel all night." + +"Oh, yes, I suppose so," finally agreed the chauffeur. "Though it's the +first time I've ever given a tip in my own cab. Hop in." + +They arrived at Mr. Duncaster's house a little before dusk, and Uncle +Ezra rapped on the door. There was a long silence and he knocked again. + +"Nobody home I guess," ventured the chauffeur, who was lighting his +lamps, preparatory for the trip back. + +"Let me try," suggested Dick, and he gave several vigorous blows on the +door. Uncle Ezra had rapped lightly, probably so as not to unduly wear +out the pair of ancient gloves he was wearing. + +This time a window over the front door was opened, and the head of Mr. +Duncaster, graced with a nightcap and a tassle, was thrust out. + +"What do you want? Go away from here! I've gone to bed!" he shouted. +"I'll have you arrested for disturbing the peace! Get away!" + +He started to close the window. + +"Here! Wait!" cried Mr. Larabee. "I want to talk to you about your +trolley stock." + +At the mention of stock the window was opened again, and once more the +head came out. + +"Stock is it? Trolley stock? I suspected it was something like that when +I smelled your gasolene wagon coming to my door. Well, that stock isn't +for sale, and don't you bother me any more about it. I won't sell to +either side. Now you get away. I always go to bed early and it's past my +sleeping time now. Get away!" + +"But you don't understand!" cried Mr. Larabee in desperation. "We want +your stock, and I am authorized to offer you----" + +"I won't listen to you! Get away, I'm going to sleep!" The head was +drawn in and the window came down with a bang. + +"Wait! Hold on! I'll increase the price! I must talk to you!" cried +Uncle Ezra, but Mr. Duncaster was firm, and there was no reply to +repeated knockings. + +"I guess we'd better go," said Dick gently. He had surmised how it would +be. + +"I'm going to try the back door," said Uncle Ezra craftily. "Maybe I can +surprise him." But he had his knocking for his pains, and came back +crestfallen. + +"Come on," suggested the chauffeur. "I want to get back and do some +business where I can make something." + +"Humph! You made enough out of us," declared Mr. Larabee as the man +cranked up. "Now don't you forget my sandwiches." + +They were bowling along through the outskirts of the town when suddenly, +around the corner swung another auto. The driver of the one containing +Dick and his uncle tried to get out of the way, but it was impossible. + +The next instant there was a crash of glass, and Dick found himself +sitting on the curbstone, while his uncle with a slight cut over his eye +from which the blood was coming, was holding to a street lamppost. Both +autos were slightly damaged, but the drivers were not hurt and they +proceeded to lay the blame one on the other. + +"I'll sue you for this! I'll have damages! I'm an injured man!" cried +Uncle Ezra, as he put his handkerchief to his cut eye, while Dick tried +to get up, but found that he could not. + +"By Jove! I hope my leg isn't broken!" he thought in dismay. "And the +Haskell game Saturday! Whew, this is tough luck!" + +Once more he made an effort to get up, but fell back in a faint as a +sharp pain shot through his ankle. He was conscious of a horrible fear +of being disabled, as he felt some one lift his head while a girl's +voice exclaimed: + +"Why, it's Dick Hamilton! Call a doctor, Mildred." Then Dick lost +consciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A GREAT STRUGGLE + + +"Don't worry, he'll be all right presently. No, his leg isn't +broken--only a slightly sprained ankle. He lost his senses because of +the collision shock, as much as from the pain. He's coming around all +right." + +Dick heard these words as if in a dream. He felt a soft hand on his +head--he knew it was that of some girl, but for the life of him he could +not tell who it was. He was aware of the smell of pungent drugs, and +then he felt some one take hold of his ankle. He uttered a little moan +of pain. Then he heard another voice saying, as he opened his eyes: + +"Oh, Mildred, he's conscious now." + +"Yes, Mabel," answered another girl, and then Dick knew who she was +without looking up into the face of the young lady who hastily withdrew +her hand from his head. + +"Miss Hanford," murmured the young millionaire, as he recognized the +girl over whom he and Dutton had so nearly fought a duel in our hero's +early cadet days. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you know me!" she exclaimed. "Mildred Adams and I were +passing along the street just when that dreadful automobile crash came. +It's a mercy you weren't all killed." + +"Indeed it is!" chimed in Miss Adams. "But Mabel kept her nerves +splendidly. She lifted your head, and then she sent me for a doctor." + +Dick looked around to observe that he was in the rear room of a drug +store, and that a man, evidently a physician, was standing by, regarding +him with a professional air. + +"Well, young man, how do you find yourself?" asked the doctor. + +"Pretty well, as long as nothing is broken." + +"No, you're all right that way. You had a lucky escape." + +"How is my uncle?" asked the lad anxiously. + +"Only a slight cut. The drug clerk is putting some plaster on it. Shall +I call him in?" + +"Will I be able to play football Saturday?" There was a querulous note +in Dick's voice. + +"Humph! That's all you lads care about. As soon as you crawl through a +knot hole without getting killed you want to rush off to battle. Play +Saturday? Well----" The doctor paused. + +"I've just _got_ to!" cried Dick. "We meet Haskell--it means a lot to my +team. I've got to play!" + +"Well, I guess we can fix you up if you wear a leather bandage on that +ankle. It might be a good deal worse. I'll take another look at it." + +"We'll tell that elderly gentleman--your uncle--that you are all right, +and ask him to come in here," said Miss Hanford. "Come, Mildred." + +They withdrew, and as the physician was tightening the bandages on +Dick's ankle Mr. Larabee entered. His appearance was not improved by a +large piece of sticking plaster over his right eye, and he looked more +aggressive than ever. + +"I told you how it would be if we rode in one of them automobiles!" he +exclaimed. "It's all your fault, Nephew Richard, and you'll have to pay +the doctor bills. I shan't, and what's more I shan't pay that driver +either. He ought to be more careful." + +"Please don't get excited," begged the doctor, with a regard for Dick's +nerves. + +"I'm not excited!" cried Uncle Ezra, "but I know my rights and I want +'em, too! I'm not excited, but I'll have the law on that murdering +villain of an automobile man! I'll sue 'em both. I'll collect damages. +We'll see if there's any justice in this land!" and he smote his +clenched right fist into the open palm of his left hand. "I'll have my +rights. I'm not excited, but I'll have justice." + +"All right, Uncle Ezra," spoke Dick calmly. "Is the chauffeur hurt?" + +"I don't care whether he is or not. I'll have the law----" + +"I'm all right--only some bruises. It was that other fellow's fault, he +was on the wrong side of the street. Are you all right, Mr. Hamilton?" +asked the chauffeur, at that moment entering the room. He knew Dick, +having driven him about many times. + +"Glad you're not injured," spoke the lad. "Is your machine in shape to +run? I want to get back to the academy. The fellows may hear about this +and think I'm worse hurt than I am. Can you take me back?" + +"Sure. Only my front lights, and some of the glass windows were smashed. +I'll run you back." + +"Nephew Richard, do you mean to say you're going to ride back in that +miserable man's machine?" demanded Mr. Larabee. + +"Why certainly," replied the young millionaire calmly, as he arose from +the couch on which he had been lying. The doctor assisted him. "Why +shouldn't I go back that way. I don't want to use my ankle more than I +have to before the game." + +"Well, all I've got to say is that you're more foolhardy than I thought +you were, and I wash my hands of the whole affair," said Uncle Ezra +bitterly. "I'm going back home and report to your father. I'm sorry I +couldn't do anything with Mr. Duncaster, but he is an obstinate man. And +what's more, I won't pay hire for that automobile, either." + +"Yes, you will!" cried the driver. + +"That will be all right," spoke Dick quickly, making the driver a +concealed motion, which the man understood. + +"I'm going back to Dankville," went on the crabbed old man, "and I hope +I never have to leave it again. My nerves are all shattered by what I've +gone through, and if I'm a physical wreck as I expect to be after this +accident I'll sue you for heavy damages," he threatened, to the auto +driver. + +"Go ahead," was the calm reply. Then, after he had bidden Dick a rather +cool good-bye, Uncle Ezra departed. He did not ask for the sandwiches +for his lunch, and Dick wondered at it. + +"A strange character--rather strong-willed I should say," observed the +physician, when Uncle Ezra had gone. + +"Yes," agreed Dick simply. He rather thought his uncle might have +remained to see that he got to his room safely. But since the attempted +kidnapping affair there had been more coldness than ever between Dick +and his aged relative. + +"Are you feeling strong enough to be moved?" asked the doctor. + +"Oh, yes, and I'm much obliged to you." + +"You also have the young ladies to thank," spoke the medical man with a +smile. + +"Oh, of course," assented our hero. He managed by the help of the +chauffeur to limp out to the waiting taxicab. Miss Hanford and Miss +Adams were in the drug store. + +"I can't thank you enough for your first-aid-to-the-injured services," +said Dick with a smile, as he shook hands with the young ladies. "It +was very good of you." + +"Oh, you're not done with us yet," said Miss Hanford gaily. "I've +telephoned for my cousin Harold, and he's going to go to the academy +with you. He'll be here in a few minutes. Here he is now," she added, as +a tall, good-looking lad entered the store. Mabel introduced him to +Dick, and though our hero insisted that he could get along well enough +with the help of the chauffeur, Harold Johnson insisted on accompanying +him in the cab. + +"Let us know how you are?" called Mabel after them, as they started off, +the crowd that had gathered dispersing, now that the excitement was +over. + +"Well old man, you certainly had a time of it!" exclaimed Paul Drew, +when young Johnson had safely delivered his charge and departed. "What +are you trying to do, anyhow?" + +"I don't know. It all came so suddenly there was no time to do anything. +I'm sorry about Mr. Duncaster though. I wish Uncle Ezra had not butted +in, for now it will make it all the harder for me when I try again to +get that stock." + +"Are you going to try again?" + +"Surely. Dad needs it. But I'm not going to worry about that now. We've +got to devote all our attention to the Haskell game." + +"Do you think you can play?" + +"I'm going to!" declared Dick fiercely. + +He received visits from every member of the eleven and most of the +substitutes before taps that night, and they were all relieved when they +found that the young captain's injuries were not as severe as had at +first been reported. + +Dick was not able to practice the next day, but the following one he was +on the gridiron, and he was delighted to find that, aside from a little +stiffness, his ankle did not trouble him. + +"Fellows, this is your last chance," declared Coach Martin, the day +previous to the great Haskell game. "Make good now and----" + +"To-morrow," put in Mr. Spencer with a smile. "And don't forget that +you're going to win!" + +In spite of a slight pain in his ankle, Dick never ran the team to +better advantage than he did in practice that day. + +"Oh, for to-morrow!" he exclaimed to Paul in their room that night. + +What crowds there were! They overflowed the grandstands and surged upon +the space around the Kentfield gridiron. They stood several deep along +the ropes stretched to keep them back, and still they poured through the +entrance gates to the delight of the cadets. + +"We'll make some money all right off this game!" exulted Manager +Hatfield. "And we need it, even if we have a millionaire on the team." + +"No, we can't expect Dick to do it all," said Paul. + +"He's mighty good to hire the coaches," commented George Hall. "Oh, +say, if we can only win! Has the Haskell bunch arrived yet?" + +"No, but they'll soon be here. Come on, our fellows are going to get in +practice." + +Out on the field trotted the Kentfield eleven, with the score of +substitutes, wrapped, Indian-like in blankets, squatting on the side +lines, until such time as they would be needed to form some opposition +for the Varsity. + +This soon came, for the coaches, after putting the boys through some +recently evolved formations, called on the scrub. Then the practice was +harder. + +A roar burst from a thousand throats as the Haskell team trotted out, +for they had brought many supporters with them. Then came cheer after +cheer--cheers for Kentfield and for their opponents. + +"They're a husky lot all right," observed Dutton grimly, as the +Kentfield cadets ceased their practice to "size-up" their foes. + +"And beefy," added John Stiver. + +"Oh, say, don't get heart-disease so soon," advised Dick with a laugh. +"Wait until you see us walk through 'em." + +The preliminaries were soon arranged, and luck was with Dick for he won +the toss and selected the east goal, with what wind there was in his +favor. This gave the ball to Haskell to be kicked off, and a few minutes +later, the twenty-two sturdy youths took the field. Dick placed his men +with care, and gave an anxious look all about him, as the Haskell centre +"teed" the new yellow ball on a little mound of earth on the middle +line. + +Shrilly blew the whistle, and a moment later there was a dull "thump!" +as the toe of the big centre rush found the pigskin, and sent it well +into Kentfield's territory. Ray Dutton caught it, and, tucking the +spheroid under his arm he sprinted down over the chalkmarks, gathering +speed at every stride. + +"Cover him, fellows! Cover him!" yelled Dick, and the right half-back's +supporters gathered in front of him as well as they could. But the +opposition streamed through. Dutton ran on until in front of him loomed +Peters, the gigantic right guard of Haskell, and then the plucky cadet +ran no more, for he was heavily thrown. But the ball had been carried +back to Kentfield's forty-yard mark. + +"Line up, boys!" yelled Dick. "Go through 'em now." + +He stooped down behind Jim Watkins, and began calling the signal for +Stiver to circle Haskell's right wing. Back came the ball, and Stiver +got it on the jump, but so fast did the opponents of Kentfield stream +around to meet him that he did not gain more than three yards. + +"They're strong!" murmured Dick with a bit of despondency in his voice, +for he had seen how in vain his men hurled themselves against the +stone-wall-like line of Haskell. + +"So much the more credit if we beat them!" whispered Paul. + +The captain was half decided on a try around the other end, but a +movement in the line told him this was almost suspected so he called for +a fake kick with Dutton to take the ball. + +The spheroid came back true, and John tucked it against his chest as, +with head well down, he hurled himself forward. But the hole was not +there, and once more the enemies of Kentfield got through so that only +two yards were made. + +"We've got to punt," thought Dick, as he gave the signal. + +Straight and true the ball sailed from the toe of Hal Foster's shoe--far +into the territory of Haskell, so far indeed that their full-back had to +retreat to gather it in. Back he sprinted, protected by his eager mates. + +"Get to him, boys! Get to him!" pleaded Dick, and into the knot of +players rushed Beeby, Drew and Hall. Hall was shoved aside and Paul Drew +was put out of business, but Beeby dodged through, and, a moment later, +his powerful arms circled his man--the man with the ball. Down they went +in a heap. + +A few seconds later the offensive tactics of Haskell were in operation, +and powerful they were. First came a smashing attack between left guard +and centre that netted five yards. Once more the line was bucked, and +through left guard and tackle came hurtling the man with the ball. +Another gain was netted around right end, and then came a line play on +the other side. Kentfield was being pushed back, and thus far her +opponents had found no necessity for kicking. + +"Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" pleaded Dick. "Brace!" + +His men tried, and with such power on the next play that only one yard +was made. + +"That's it!" cried the captain gleefully. + +On the side lines the coaches watched the struggle. + +"I'm afraid they're too much for 'em," murmured Mr. Martin regretfully. + +"Yes, perhaps, but the game is young yet, and it's full of chances. +Besides, did you note the brace they took?" + +"Yes--it's great--we'll have a fine team before the season is over." + +Smash and bang went the attack on Dick's line. He did all that mortal +captain could do to infuse some of his own strength and courage into his +men, but it seemed that it was not to be. Down the field the ball was +rushed until it was within thirty yards of the Kentfield goal. + +"Touchdown! Touchdown!" demanded the crowd in sympathy with Haskell. + +"Hold boys, hold!" yelled the Kentfield adherents and they sang cheering +songs and gave their school war-cries. + +"Don't let 'em through!" almost tearfully pleaded Dick, though it seemed +that a score was inevitable. "Brace! Brace!" + +Once more a hammer-like attack, and the ball was on Kentfield's +twenty-two yard line. Then it looked as if at the next play either a try +for goal would be made, or that some lucky player on Haskell would smash +through and dodge his way to a touchdown. + +But something happened. Through some miscalculation when Haskell's +quarter got ready to pass the ball on the next play he found his man +missing, through inattention to the signal. Thereupon the quarter ran +with it himself, without having covered the necessary five yards to one +side. This carried with it a penalty which sent the ball back to +Kentfield's thirty-seven yard line, and Dick breathed easier. The almost +inevitable was postponed for a little while. + +A forward pass was next attempted by Haskell, but the memory of the +recent fizzle must have been on the minds of her players, for the ball +was juggled. Perkins, the left guard fell on it, and then, after a +hurried line-up, Matthews, the full-back, tried for a goal from the +thirty-five yard line. + +The ball rose well, for he was amply protected, and a yell of delight +came from a thousand throats as Haskell's supporters thought they saw +their side scoring. But Matthews did not have good aim, and the ball +struck the posts and bounded back where Dick got it. + +"Our ball!" cried Dick in delight, as the pigskin was brought out to +the Kentfield twenty-five yard line. + +"Are you going to kick?" whispered Paul. + +"No, we'll buck the line again. I think they're tired." + +The captain's judgment was vindicated, for on a wing shift Ray Dutton +went through for ten yards, and at this unexpected breaking up of the +powerful line of Haskell there were roars of delight from the home +crowd. + +Again Dick sent a man smashing through with the ball, and the opponents +were tumbled to one side, for the Kentfield guards and tackle were +fierce now with the desire for revenge, and they tore great gaps in the +ranks of the men before them. + +A fake kick gained another substantial distance, and then misfortune +came, for there was holding by some of Dick's men, and they lost the +ball on a penalty. But so far had they advanced it into the territory of +their enemies that the Haskell captain ordered a kick. Dick saw their +game now. + +"They think to tire us, for, they think I'll begin smashing their line +again. Then, at the close of the half they'll knock us all apart," he +reasoned as he helped form interference for Foster, who had caught the +ball. + +"Instead of that we'll kick!" instantly decided Dick. "That will keep +the ball in their territory, but if they send it back I'll chance some +more smashes." + +He called to the full-back to boot the leather forward, and back it came +with unerring aim. It was somewhat of a surprise to Haskell, and they +were a bit demoralized, for they had not expected such fierce playing, +nor such good generalship. Then followed another punt from the Haskell +full-back, and Stiver caught the ball. + +"Rush it back!" ordered Dick, his voice scarcely heard above the tumult. + +Stiver was shortly downed, but Kentfield had the ball, and once more +began to smash at the line with all the fierceness of which she was +capable. Haskell was plainly taken by surprise, but they held their +opponents to advantage and in two downs only ten yards were gained. A +kick was inevitable, and it came. + +This time, after rushing the ball back until downed Haskell tried some +new tactics. They worked a neat forward pass, and an adaptation of the +wing shift so that in a few minutes Kentfield's goal was again menaced. + +"Now's the time to hold again!" cried Dick, and hold they did, until +Stiver was injured and had to leave the game. Ford Endton was called in, +and then the smashing went on once more. + +Slowly Kentfield was being pushed back, and about all Dick could hope +for was the whistle that would announce the end of the half, for that +would save being scored on. + +Once more fate came to his aid. There was off-side play on the part of +Haskell, and one of her men was detected "slugging". As a result +Kentfield got the ball, and her opponent was penalized ten yards. Dick +promptly ordered a kick, and the pigskin was sent whizzing down the +field into Haskell territory. + +Haskell at once kicked back, but gained little, and then Dick called for +some more line plays. It was a bad move, as the ball could not be +advanced and Dick had to kick again. Then back at the wearied Kentfield +players came burrowing and boring their enemies, until our friends were +shoved back up the field. + +Nearer and nearer to their own goal they were pushed, until the ball was +within five yards of it. Dick begged and pleaded, but it is likely that +not all the urging in the world could have prevented a touchdown, only +that the whistle blew, ending the half, and the tired players rushed +from the field. + +"Well, we didn't score," remarked Dick somewhat gloomily to the coaches +who hurried out to him. + +"Score? Nobody expected you would against that team!" cried Mr. Martin. +"But look what you did. You equaled them all around, and they couldn't +score on you." + +"They feel worse than you do!" exclaimed Mr. Spencer. "You boys did +nobly. I fancy Blue Hill is trembling at this moment." + +"I hope so," said Dick. "But I want to score next half." + +The rest, and the words of praise showered on them from all sides at the +plucky game they had put up, did much to put heart into our heroes. They +went back into the contest with an eagerness that was a delight to the +coaches and their captain. + +An exchange of kicks followed the second half initial send-off, and when +Dick's team got the ball they once more tried their bucking. The first +try, however showed that Haskell's line had been much strengthened, and +this was because several new players had gone in, whereas, with the +exception of two, the Kentfield team was the same. + +"They're afraid of us!" Dick whispered in delight to Paul. "They held +out some of their best players--now they have them in. We're up against +the strongest team they have," and this was so. + +Wishing to save his men as much as possible, Dick called for some +wing-shift and fake-kick plays that proved to be good ground-gainers. +But there was a fumble in one, and Haskell got the ball. + +Her smashing attack proved the virtue of the new players, and in less +than ten minutes of play in the second half the ball had been shoved +over for a touchdown, and the goal was kicked. + +"Oh, but that's tough!" sighed Innis. + +"It might be worse!" said Dick, as cheerfully as he could. "We're +holding them well, considering the new men they have, but we're going +to score now." + +He and his men made a good try for it. They got the ball on a fumble +after some play following the touchdown, and began to rush it back. For +a moment their attack was so irresistible that Haskell crumpled to +pieces. Then, maddened and ashamed at having a smaller-sized team treat +them thus, they braced, and the advance of Kentfield was stopped. + +Again Haskell came smashing at Dick's line. He knew what it meant. They +were determined to have another touchdown and the plucky captain was +just as determined not to let them get it. But it seemed as if it must +come. + +Smash, bang! Smash, bang! came the heart-breaking attack. Haskell was so +sure of herself now that she did not kick. But she was a little too +sure, for she held in the line again, and the ball came to our friends. +It was promptly punted out of danger, but instead of returning the punt +Haskell once more came back to the banging tactics. + +"Another touchdown!" was the demand. + +"Never! Never!" thought Dick in desperation. + +The ball was within ten yards of his line. He knew there could be but a +few minutes more of play. + +"Hold 'em fellows, hold!" he implored. "If we can keep 'em down to one +touchdown it's as good as a victory for us!" + +Hold the Kentfield cadets did, though slowly but surely they were being +shoved back. They even dug their hands into the dirt until their nails +bled, but it seemed useless. + +"Now boys for a touchdown!" called the Haskell captain with a laugh. +"We're going to get it, too!" he added, looking Dick straight in the +face. + +The signal came. Into the line came smashing the man with the +ball--straight through a hole that had been torn with savage energy +between Drew and Watkins. Straight at Dick the man came, Haskell's big +guard. Dick tackled him like a tiger, and felt himself being bowled +over. A sharp pain shot through his injured ankle, and he knew the +bandage had slipped. But he also knew something else, for the ball had +bounced from the grasp of the guard and lay within reach of our hero. + +He pulled himself from underneath the husky guard, though the pain in +his foot was excruciating, and like a flash was up. Then, before any one +knew what he was doing, he had booted the ball well down the field, +though the kick cost him unbearable pain. But he had saved another +touchdown against his team, for at that moment the final whistle blew, +and the great game was over. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JOINING THE LEAGUE + + +They had to carry Dick off the field, but there was a happy smile on his +face in spite of the terrible pain of his injured ankle. + +"Only one touchdown and a goal against us, and the best team Haskell +could put in the field, fellows!" exulted the plucky captain. "It's +almost as good as a victory." + +"There could be no more honorable defeat," murmured Coach Martin. + +"I should say not!" exclaimed his colleague. "Our work hasn't gone for +nothing." + +"Let me congratulate you, Captain Hamilton!" cried the captain of +Haskell, as he strode up to shake Dick's hand. "We sure thought we would +wipe up the earth with you, but--well, we were astonished, to put it +mildly." + +"We'll beat you next time," said Dick simply. + +"I shouldn't be surprised but what you did," he agreed. "You certainly +have improved wonderfully. Where'd you get those coaches?" for the two +had walked on in advance. + +"Oh, they were a sort of an experiment," answered the young +millionaire, "but it worked out all right. Kentfield needed some +improvement and----" + +"She's more than got it!" cried the other captain. "Boys, three cheers +for the pluckiest team we ever went up against!" he called, and how the +cries rang out; bringing joy and a mist of tears to the eyes of our +injured hero. + +"Three cheers for Haskell!" called Dick in return, and the compliment +was given. + +"We'd have scored again but for that plucky tackle of yours, and your +kick," said the guard whom Dick had thrown in the nick of time. "Hurt +yourself much?" + +"No, it's only where I twisted my ankle before. I'll be all right in a +few days, and ready for more games." + +The crowd was thronging from the field, as Dick was carried into the +dressing room. There some hot applications, and skillful bandaging, put +his ankle in such shape that he could manage to get around on a cane +that some one provided. + +"It was great! Great, old man!" cried Paul, circling in delight about +his chum. "I never thought we could do it. Did you really think we would +win? I hope you're not disappointed." + +"Only a little," admitted Dick. "I hoped we might win up to the time I +saw their team come out on the field. Then I knew they were too much for +us. But we held them down!" + +"Indeed we did." + +"And the next thing to do is to get into the Military League, and wipe +out the unnecessary insult that Blue Hill handed to us, by giving them +the worst drubbing they ever had." + +"Sure," assented Paul. + +There was quite a crowd of hero-worshippers outside the dressing rooms, +waiting to get a sight of Dick and his men, and cheer them. Among the +throng our hero espied a pretty face he knew, and straightway he made +for it as well as he was able. + +"Congratulations!" called Miss Hanford. "Oh, it was a glorious game! but +I'm so sorry you were hurt." + +"It's nothing," murmured Dick gamely, though as he spoke a spasm of pain +shot through him. + +There were not a few on the hospital list as a result of the +Haskell-Kentfield game and in view of that, and the great work that had +been done, practice was omitted for a few days. When it was resumed it +was light, for there were several of the best players, besides the +captain, to be considered, and good men were scarce. + +On all sides among the various groups of cadets there was heard nothing +but praise for Dick's team. Only one little crowd had anything +unpleasant to say, and this was the faction headed by Porter. + +"If Porter had played there wouldn't have been so many gains around left +end," said one of the rich lad's cronies. + +"That's right," added Weston. "Porter was our mainstay before he got +put off by Hamilton's influence." + +"Who says by Dick's influence?" demanded Paul Drew hotly. + +"I do!" + +"Then you don't know what you're talking about, and I advise you not to +repeat it," spoke Dick's chum grimly, and Weston slunk away. + +But what little feeling there was died away in the memory of the +glorious game that had been played, and even some of the instructors +were enough interested in athletics to congratulate Dick and his chums. + +"What's the next move?" asked Paul of his roommate, as they sat in the +precincts of the Sacred Pig one night, talking over matters of the +gridiron. + +"Well, we ought to join the Military League, I think. We are practically +out of it through the refusal of Blue Hill to accept our challenge, and +I presume we'll have to join over again," was the opinion of Dutton. + +"That's right!" cried Dick. + +"Will they let us in?" asked George Hall. + +"They'll have to," was what Manager Hatfield said. "I am going to have a +consultation with the coaches to-morrow, and we'll decide on what to do. +If we are admitted, as I have no doubt we will be, we'll challenge Blue +Hill Academy again." + +A correspondence was at once begun with the necessary officers of the +league, and it was carried on to such advantage that inside of a week +Kentfield was formally notified of her election to the organization. +This was composed of several military academies, as I have said, and the +winning of the football championship carried with it the possession of a +gold loving cup. + +Hard practice was the rule for the next few days, and then came a game +with Mooretown which Kentfield won. The next week she played a small +team, not in the league, and the week following came a contest with +Richmore, one of the tail-enders of the league. This resulted in a big +victory for Kentfield, and further advanced her prestige. + +"Have you challenged Blue Hill yet?" asked Dick of the manager one day. + +"I'm going to this week. I think we've won our spurs now. How is your +ankle, if we do play?" + +"Fine as a fiddle. I've taken the bandage off. Oh, we'll play for our +lives when we meet those fellows!" + +Blue Hill could now have no reason for refusing to meet Kentfield, and +though they offered no apology for their former sarcastic letter, they +accepted the challenge. + +Dick was with Manager Hatfield when the answering missive was received. + +"That's the stuff!" cried the young millionaire. "Now we'll practice +harder than ever." + +Toots, the janitor, approached our hero, whistling "In the Prison Cell I +Sit." He saluted and seemed to want to say something. + +"What is it?" asked Dick. + +"I've just got word, Mr. Hamilton, that your dog Grit has been +arrested--or, that is, taken to the pound for going about without his +license tag on, which is against the law," said the janitor. + +"Grit taken to the pound! Who did it?" cried Dick. + +"Some fellow by the name of Duncaster," was the unexpected reply. "He +had a policeman take the dog in, and you have to pay ten dollars to get +him out. Half of it goes to that Duncaster man for causing the dog to be +taken in." + +"Duncaster!" murmured Dick. "He's fighting us all along the line! I'm +going to town!" he called to a group of his chums who had gathered about +him. + +"I'll go with you," and Paul hastened after his friend. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +READY FOR BLUE HILL + + +Dick was half wrathful over the action of Mr. Duncaster, and half +because of the action of some cadet who must have enticed Grit to town, +for a few students, admiring the bulldog had, in times past, often led +him off with them. Nor was Grit unwilling to go, for he loved action, +and by reason of his lessons and his football practice his master had +little time to take him out. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Paul, as his chum swung around toward +the stable. + +"I'm going to find out who took my dog to town, and then I'm going after +him," was the answer. "He had nerve, who ever he was." + +"Do you think Duncaster did it? Because he knew it was your animal?" + +"He may have done so, but I doubt it. He's just naturally mean and +cranky, and when he found Grit wandering about the street he probably +notified a dog-catcher. I didn't think they were so strict when cool +weather set in. Poor Grit! In a pound with a lot of curs! His feelings +will be hurt." + +In answer to Dick's inquiries one of the stable men stated that Cadet +Porter had come and gotten Grit, leading him off by a leash attached to +his collar. + +"Did he say I said for him to take Grit?" asked the young millionaire. + +"No, sir, I can't say as how he did. But he's been real friendly with +the dog, Mr. Porter has, and Grit knows him. Mr. Porter and Mr. Weston +went off together with him. I hope you don't blame me, Mr. Hamilton," +and the man seemed a bit alarmed. + +"No, it wasn't your fault. But, after this, please don't let any one +take Grit without my permission. First thing I know he'll be stolen, and +then Uncle Ezra will be as happy as a lark." + +On the way to town Dick and Paul met Porter and Weston returning. The +faces of both were flushed, and they were smoking cigarettes. Porter +seemed ill at ease as he encountered Dick, and the latter resolving to +settle the matter once and for all said: + +"What right had you to take my dog, Porter?" + +"I'm mighty sorry, Ham," was the contrite answer, and for a change +Porter was not blustering and overbearing as he usually was. "You see I +took him in, as I've done once before, and you didn't mind, but----" + +"Yes, but this time I _do_ mind!" exclaimed Dick sharply. "He got away +from you, didn't he?" + +"Yes, I tied him to the leg of the billiard table, while I shot a match +with Weston. Beat him, too, and I must have felt so jolly over it that I +forgot about Grit. When I went to look for him he was gone--he'd slipped +out of his collar. I guess he was lonesome for you. He got home all +right, I hope." + +"No, he didn't!" replied Dick in no gracious tones. + +"He didn't?" Porter was manifestly surprised. + +"He's in the pound, and I have to pay ten dollars to get him out." + +"Whew! That's tough luck! I'm mighty sorry about it. If I wasn't so +counfoundedly short of funds now I'd give you the money for the fine +right away. As it is I'll owe it to you." + +"No, you won't!" cried our hero sharply. "I'll pay it myself, but don't +take Grit away again--please." He added the last as he happened to +remember that he was captain of the football team, and that Weston, +Porter's crony, was a member of the eleven, and that Porter might also +play later. It would not do to be on bad terms with them, for the sake +of the team. + +"Oh, well, you needn't be stiff about it," murmured Porter. "I didn't +mean any harm. How did I know the dog would get away." + +"You didn't, I presume," agreed Dick, a little mollified. "But don't do +it again. Come on, Paul." + +"You cad!" muttered Porter, as Dick swung around. "I'm beginning to +hate you! I'll get even, some day too. You put me off the team!" + +"Oh, I wouldn't feel that way," suggested Weston, who was not a half-bad +chap. "You may get a chance yet." + +"Not after this blamed dog incident. Why didn't you have an eye on the +brute?" + +"Why should I? It was your affair." + +"Oh, well, if that's the way you feel about it, don't come with me +again!" snapped Porter, who was in ill humor. + +The pound of the town was in a stable back of one of the police +stations, and there Dick found Grit chained up with several other dogs +of much lower degree. + +"Hello, old boy!" greeted the lad, and Grit nearly broke the chain to +leap upon his master. + +"Be careful," warned the poundkeeper. "He's got an ugly temper." + +"Not when he's treated right," was the answer. "I'll take him along. +Here's his collar," for Porter had handed it over before parting from +Dick. "I'll take him home. To whom do I pay the ten dollars?" + +"To me. Half goes to the town and the other half to the man who caused +the dog to be taken in. Rumcaster is his name, or something like that. +He's been here several times since the dog was brought in, asking if the +fine was paid. He wants his share, Mr. Rumcaster does." + +"Duncaster is my name! Duncaster!" exclaimed a rasping voice, and the +man who had been so unpleasant to Dick made his appearance. "And so the +dog's owner is here, is he? I guess this will be a lesson to him. +Where's my five dollars?" + +"Here!" exclaimed Dick suddenly stepping forward. + +"Ah, ha! So it's that Hamilton soldier fellow!" exploded Enos Duncaster, +as he saw our hero. "It was your dog; eh? You should know better than to +let unmuzzled and unlicensed dogs run loose in the streets. But it's +what might be expected of a young man who goes to school to learn a +murdering trade. Bah! I'm glad it _was_ your dog!" + +"The dog is licensed, and was running loose because the cadet who took +him without my permission did not take care of him," answered Dick +quietly. + +"Hum! I can't help that young man! The law is the law and I'm entitled +to my five dollars. It will keep me in groceries for a week. I don't eat +much!" and the old man chuckled grimly as he pocketed the bill, and +tottered off on his cane. + +"Come on Grit, old boy!" called Dick, as he paid over the other five +dollars, and led the now rejoicing animal away. + +The young millionaire tried not to feel any resentment against Porter, +but it was hard work. Not so much on account of the ten dollars, as +because of what might have happened to Grit. On his part Porter was +cooler than ever toward Dick, but it did not so much matter as our hero +had learned all he could about the financial operations of the rich +lad's father,--and since he knew who held the large number of shares of +electric stock. + +"Not that it's doing dad much good to know," mused the young +millionaire, "for Duncaster will be more against me than ever now, I'm +afraid. He won't even listen to me." + +Fortunately the necessity for hard work on the gridiron gave Dick so +much to think about that he did not have much time to worry over this +matter, though he made up his mind to aid his father whenever +opportunity presented. + +Hard practice was called for, in preparation for the Blue Hill game, and +the young captain and the coaches were glad to see the snappy playing, +and the aggressive spirit manifested. + +"I think we can defeat them, after what we did to Haskell," said Dick. + +"I do also," agreed Mr. Martin, and Mr. Spencer was no less positive. + +It was three days before the game, and the boys were "on edge" and +fit to make the battle of their lives. That night Dick was paying a +visit in the rooms of Innis Beeby, when George Hall came in. + +"What's the matter up in your bungalow?" asked Jim Watkins, coming in +during a deep discussion of a new wing shift play. + +"Nothing--why?" asked Dick quickly. + +"I thought you might be sick. I just saw Dr. Fenwick going in there," +was the answer. "But you seem healthy enough." + +"Dr. Fenwick--going to our room!" cried Dick, starting up. "It must be +Paul. He wasn't feeling well this evening, and wouldn't come out with +me. I'll go see!" and he hastened away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE BLUE HILL GAME + + +The thoughts of the young captain were rather alarming as he made his +way to the apartment he shared with his chum. He had paid little +attention to the complaint Paul made of not feeling well, thinking it +was only a temporary indisposition. That had been several hours before, +for time had passed quickly in the room of Innis, with the spirited talk +of football. + +"And he had to send for a doctor when I wasn't there with him!" +exclaimed Dick to himself regretfully. "That was tough. But I kept +thinking he'd join us every minute or I'd gone back. I hope it isn't +anything serious." + +Then he recalled several stories he had read of football players being +secretly "doped" before big games in order that they would go "stale" +and not be in form. + +"That may have happened to Paul!" half-gasped the young captain. "Some +of those Blue Hill fellows, fearing we will beat them, may have sent him +some dope. If they have----" + +Then Dick laughed at his preposterous fears, and by this time he was at +his room. Behind the closed door he heard the murmur of voices. One he +recognized as that of his chum, and the other was Dr. Fenwick's. + +"Well, he's alive at any rate," thought the young millionaire. "He can't +be so bad." + +Nevertheless it was rather an alarmed countenance of Dick Hamilton that +gazed in on his chum a moment later. Paul was in bed, and in the room +was one of the academy orderlies, while the physician was bending over a +table, mixing some medicine in a glass. + +"Paul!" cried Dick impulsively. "What's the matter? Jim Watkins just +told me Dr. Fenwick was here. How did it happen? What is the matter? I'm +so sorry I left you alone, but I thought every minute that you'd be +over. I'm all cut up about it." + +"It's all right, Dick, old man," replied Paul, but in fainter tones than +he was in the habit of using. "I'm just a little under the weather I +guess. I'll be on the active list again soon." + +"I hope so," murmured the captain, with the memory of the impending Blue +Hill game. Paul was one of his best players--one who could always be +depended on in an emergency--one who always had some "go" left in him, +when it seemed that mortal flesh and bone could do no more. He could +tear through the line, and break up interference better than any guard +Dick had ever seen, and for nailing the man with the ball Paul was a +star. No wonder the young captain did not want to lose him. + +"Is it anything serious, Doctor?" asked Dick. + +"I hope not," replied Dr. Fenwick. "I don't like some of his symptoms, +but they may pass away." + +"How did it happen--how did it come on?" inquired the young millionaire. + +"Oh, I hadn't felt well all day," replied the plucky left guard, "but I +didn't think anything of it. Then a little while ago I suddenly felt +dizzy, and before I knew what was happening I keeled over--fell on the +floor. Brooks, in the next room, heard me, and came rushing in. He got +the doctor--that's all I know." + +"And I wasn't here?" exclaimed Dick reproachfully. + +"I fancy it is only due to an upset condition of the stomach," put in +the physician. "He has an attack of vertigo, which is not uncommon. +There, Mr. Drew, I'll leave this medicine, and look in on you in the +morning. If you need me in the night don't hesitate to send for me." + +"I'll look after him," promised Dick. The physician and orderly were +about to leave when several of the cadets who had been in Beeby's room, +and who wondered at Dick's sudden desertion, came trooping in, to ask +all sorts of questions concerning Paul. + +"Now, young gentlemen, this won't do!" insisted the doctor cheerfully +but firmly. "Mr. Drew must be kept quiet. He is in no danger, and +you'll have to leave." + +They did, after nodding pleasantly to the sick lad, and then Dick began +a vigil of the night. + +"Jove! I hope Drew doesn't go back on us in the Blue Hill game," +remarked Dutton. + +"It would sort of break us up, even though Berkfeld fills in pretty well +at guard," spoke George Hall. + +As for the worriment of the young captain, only he himself realized the +depth of it. + +Paul was restless all night, and had a slight fever. Dick was a faithful +nurse, administering the medicine regularly. Once his patient was +delirious, and murmured something about matters at home. Again he +fancied himself on the gridiron, and called out: + +"Touchdown! Touchdown! We've got to make a touchdown! That's it. Go +through the line now!" + +"Poor Paul," murmured Dick. "I'm afraid it will be quite a while before +you play again." + +Twice, when the lad's condition seemed worse, Dick was on the point of +sending for Dr. Fenwick, but he refrained and the spell passed over. + +Morning came, pale and wan, shining in the room where the electric +lights burned with a sickly glow. Dick turned them out and softly laid +his hands on Paul's cheek. + +"He seems cooler," he whispered. "I believe the fever has gone down. I +hope it has. He's sleeping soundly. I--I believe I'll lie down for a +moment." + +Dick himself felt weak, for he had been up nearly all night, and the day +before he had practiced strenuously. He stretched out on the lounge, and +before he knew it he was sleeping soundly. He awakened as a voice called +faintly: + +"Is there any water handy, Dick?" + +"Paul! How are you?" he cried, springing up. "Oh, I must have dozed off! +That was careless of me. Are you all right? I'm a swell nurse, I am." + +"Oh, don't worry. I'm much better, and I'm hungry and thirsty." + +"That's a good sign. I'll get some fresh water." + +Paul drank eagerly, and Dick, taking his temperature with the +thermometer the physician had left, was glad to note that the little +silver column was at ninety-eight and three-fifths, or normal. + +"Your fever's gone!" he announced, with a thrill in his tired voice. + +Dr. Fenwick came in a little later, and seconded the opinion Dick had +formed. Paul was weak, but the danger had passed, he announced. + +"It must have been something he ate," was what the doctor said, and Dick +thought no more about "dope." + +"Will I be able to play Saturday?" asked Paul eagerly. + +"Humph! Yes, I think so, if you get back your strength. You lost +considerable in a short time. But take it easy at first." + +They missed Paul at practice that day, and as Dick was somewhat worn +with his sleepless night, the coaches did not insist on very strenuous +work. What was done, however, showed that the Kentfield eleven was +holding its own. + +Paul was out the next day, and did light work. He was a bit "off his +feed" as he expressed it, but he was sure he would be all right when it +came to the big game. + +Little was talked of in the academy but the coming contest, which was to +take place on the Kentfield gridiron. Some of the sporting crowd had +what they called "big money" up on the game, but few of the football +contingent indulged in this practice. + +"I got odds of two to one from some of the Blue Hill crowd," boasted +Porter, who had a liking for betting. "I could have gotten bigger odds +before the Haskell fight, but the Blue Hill fellows are a bit shy now. I +should think you'd back your own team, Hamilton," he said, with a half +sneer at Dick. + +"It isn't in my line," was the answer, "though I've no objections to you +fellows backing us for all you're worth. We'll come in winners, I'm +sure." + +"I wish I could play," spoke Porter more earnestly than he was in the +habit of doing. "Is there any chance for me, Hamilton?" He had +effectually put his pride in his pocket to thus appeal to the lad who +for no cause he disliked. + +"I wish there was," answered the captain. "Of course you will have the +same chance as the other subs, and if the fight is as rough as I expect +it will be, we may be playing all of you before it's over." + +"Then I can't go in at the opening?" + +"I don't see how you can very well. Of course I haven't it all to say. +Why don't you go see the coaches?" + +"What good would that do. They're in your pay, and----" + +"That will do!" cried Dick sharply, and Porter knew enough to stop that +sort of talk. He turned away, a bitter look on his face and a bitter +feeling in his heart. + +"I'll get even with you yet," he muttered. "I'll fix you and your +football team, Dick Hamilton!" + +Dick was like some anxious mother the night before the game. He went to +the rooms of each of his players and saw that they were in. Inquiries as +to how they felt met with the reply that they were all "fit." + +Paul Drew seemed himself again, and assured Dick that he was ready to do +battle with their common foe. + +"Wouldn't it be great if we could shut them out altogether?" he asked +exultingly. "After the fuss they made about not wanting to play us, and +the record they've made, if we could bar them from crossing our +line--wouldn't it be immense?" + +"'Dreams--idle dreams,'" quoted Dick with a smile. "I shouldn't ask +anything better, but I'm afraid they're too strong for us. Why they came +within an ace of beating Haskell the other day." + +"That was on a fumble." + +"I know, but fumbles count in football. No, if we beat them by a good +score I'll be satisfied, even if they cross our line." + +It was the day of the great game, a great game in the sense that +Kentfield had made a record for herself in a remarkably short time under +the skillful coaching of Mr. Martin and Mr. Spencer, and because she was +to meet a foe who had despised her--meet a team that, hitherto had not +considered our cadet heroes worthy of their steel. In a sense it was a +triumph for Kentfield even before the game was started. As for Dick he +was modestly proud. + +There was a record-breaking crowd in attendance, for the word had gone +around among lovers of football that Kentfield was putting up a great +game, and the grandstands that in years past had held only a scattering +throng, now overflowed. + +"We'll be able to pay all our debts and close the season with a +balance," exulted the manager and treasurer together. + +"I'd rather win this game and lose every dollar!" cried Dick, as he ran +to join his comrades on the gridiron. + +Blue Hill was to kick off, and after the preliminary arrangements the +pigskin was "teed" in midfield and there came a hush while each captain +looked to see if his men were all placed. + +"Are you ready?" came the call. + +"Ready," answered Dick. + +"Ready," answered Ford Haskell, the Blue Hill captain. + +The whistle blew, and hardly had the echoes died away than there sounded +the soul-stirring "ping" and the toe of Tod Kester's shoe dented the +leather as the big centre sent the ball well into the territory of our +friends. + +"Now boys, back with it!" cried Dick. "Shove for all you are worth when +it comes to a line up!" + +Jake Weston caught the ball, and the speedy right end was down the field +with it like a shot. He dodged several of the Blue Hill men, but at last +Ned Buchanan, the husky right guard, got his arms around him, and Weston +went down hard. + +"Ready boys--come on," cried Dick, and this was the signal for a fake +kick without any other word being given. They lined up and before the +surprised Blue Hill team was aware of what was happening, and when their +startled full-back had begun a retreat ready to catch the ball John +Stiver had the pigskin, had passed it to Hal Foster and the latter +smashed through the line for a ten yard gain. + +"That's going some!" cried Innis Beeby when the scrimmage was over. + +Indeed it was a good gain for that play, and Dick and his men rejoiced. +Quickly they lined up again, and this time Dutton was sent smashing +through between left guard and tackle. But this was not so successful, +for the Blue Hill lads massed at that point, and blocked the advance +after four yards had been covered. + +But the ball had been advanced enough so that Dick felt he need not call +for a punt, and this time he gave the signal for a play around right +end. John Stiver got the ball and got into the play on the jump but to +his own surprise and that of his comrades, he was almost nailed in his +tracks by Lem Gordon, the husky left guard who broke through Innis +Beeby. + +Instead of a gain there was a loss of a few feet, and, seeing it, Dick +felt his heart sink. Blue Hill had developed unexpected strength. + +A kick was now necessary, and the ball was sent spinning into the +enemy's territory. They ran it back a short distance, and then came +their line up. + +"Now, boys, see how we can hold 'em!" cried Dick cheerfully. "We'll have +the pigskin in a couple of downs." + +"Not much!" cried Captain Haskell, of the Blues. + +Against the Kentfield line came smashing Rud Newton, the left half. He +tried for a hole between Frank Rutley and Paul Drew at left tackle and +guard respectively. Rutley held like a stone fence, but Paul, after a +moment of opposition, gave way and Newton came smashing through. Dick +and Hal Foster managed to nail him, however, but not before five yards +were gained. + +"You've got to hold better than that, boys!" called Dick, but they all +knew it was Paul who had given way, and there was not one of them but +what feared he would not hold out through the game. His recent illness +was doubtless responsible. + +Again Blue Hill tried a smashing play in the same place, hoping they had +found a weak spot, but Dick and his men were ready, and Paul was +supported to such advantage that not a foot was made. + +There came a try for around the left end, but Tom Coleton and his +colleagues were there ready to nab the man, and he actually ran back and +was downed for a loss. Then came the inevitable kick, and Dick's side +had the ball, practically where it had been in the first scrimmage. + +"Do or die!" murmured our hero, and he called for some line-smashing +plays. They were given with a will, but there was a defense that was +well-nigh impregnable, and murmurs of astonishment began to go around +among the spectators. + +"They're as evenly matched teams as have ever played!" declared Coach +Martin. "There may be no score." + +"Oh, our boys have _got_ to score!" cried Mr. Spencer. + +Back and forth the game see-sawed, the ball most of the time, save when +there was an exchange of kicks, being in the centre of the field. It was +a kicking game, and Dick rejoiced that he had men who could be depended +on to punt. + +Again and again did the opposite sides hurl themselves against each +other in the line, neither team being able to gain. Then a kick would be +called for. This made it interesting for the spectators, but it was +wearing on the players. + +At last Dick, in desperation, decided on some sequence plays. These were +three maneuvers to come one after the other at a certain signal, there +being no word given for each individual play. Usually this was not done +until the ball was within about twenty-five yards of the goal, when +desperate work, to disconcert the opponents was necessary, but our hero +thought he might now gain some ground in this way. + +"We've got to do it! Pull together now!" called Dick. This meant that +three plays, previously decided on were to come without further word +from the quarter-back. + +The plays were right half-back through right tackle, left tackle through +right tackle and left half-back through right tackle, thus directing +three smashing attacks in quick succession against the same place in the +Blue Hill line. + +The first attempt did not gain much, but when Frank Rutley came at the +unfortunate Jean Trainor, who had just sustained one tremendous smash, +there was a clean ten yards reeled off. Then, without a word being +uttered, John Stiver jumped for the same breach on the next line up, and +fifteen yards were gained. + +Kentfield's supporters nearly went wild, for her boys were now within +striking distance of the enemy's goal. But there was an enraged crowd of +opponents to be reckoned with, for the Blue Hill cadets were half +frenzied with the trick that had been played on them, and Dick knew he +could not hope to work it again. + +He called for an end run, and it seemed as if it would result in a good +gain, but George Hall was downed before he had gone far. Then came a +smash at the Blue Hill centre, and to the dismay of Dick, Paul Drew +fumbled the ball. In an instant one of the Blue Hill players fell on it, +and quickly booted it out of danger. + +There was a groan, and Dick felt his heart sink. All their brilliant +work in the sequence had gone for naught. The Blue Hill crowd went wild +with delight. + +"Line up!" called Dick grimly, and once more he began his line-smashing +tactics. But there was no gain, and a kick was called for. Similarly +the opponents of Kentfield could not advance the ball, and they punted. +Then after some see-sawing work, time was called for the ending of the +first half, with the ball on Blue Hill's forty-yard line. Neither side +had scored. + +"Well, what do you think of 'em?" asked Mr. Martin of Dick. + +"Hard as nails," was the reply. + +"I fancy they have the same opinion of you," said Mr. Spencer. "But I +think you can get one touchdown the next half. They are tiring. Do you +think you can risk another sequence play?" + +"I believe so. I'll try it on the other side next time." + +"I would, but wait until you're nearer their goal." + +The rest period seemed all too short for the tired players, but they +came out on the gridiron again leaping, laughing and shouting, though +some showed the marks of the conflict. + +There were shrill cries from many girls and women in the grandstands and +Dick, giving a quick glance up saw Nellie Fordice, Mabel Hanford and +some of their friends. + +The second half began with a rush that meant business. Each side tried +the line-smashing, but found it as before, and there was much kicking. + +Blue Hill finally had the ball, and there was a moment's consultation +before the signal was given. Then came a terrific smashing play at Paul +Drew. Dick saw one of the Blue Hill players deliberately strike Paul in +the stomach with his elbow. Poor Drew went down in a heap, and over him +climbed the man with the ball, making a six yard gain before he could be +stopped. + +"A foul!" cried Dick, and reported to the umpire what he had witnessed. +But that official had seen nothing, or at least said he had not. + +"Watch 'em!" warned Dick to his players, while Paul had some wind pumped +back into him. + +"Can you play?" asked Mr. Martin. + +"Yes--of course!" was the half-fierce reply. + +Once more came a smashing attack at the unfortunate left guard. His +opponents had discovered his weakness. Though he was not struck, the +attack was so merciless that he could do nothing, and he had to be +carried off the field, his weak condition being partly responsible, for +his stomach still troubled him. + +"Get in the game, Natron," called Dick, to the substitute guard, and +then the Blue Hill attack was directed on the other side of the +Kentfield line. But there Innis Beeby was ready for them, and he tackled +his man with such fierceness that time had to be taken out to restore +his half-scattered senses. + +"They won't try any more slugging here," said the right guard grimly. + +But Blue Hill was evidently "out for blood," and the slugging went on. +The umpire saw it once, and ordered the offender out of the game. + +All this while, however, the ball had been steadily advanced toward the +Kentfield goal, and after Tom Coleton had been knocked out, giving +Porter a chance to get back on his old position of left end, the advance +was even faster. + +Then, in one black and disheartening moment, came the fatal play. It was +around Porter's end, in spite of the desperate effort Hal Foster made +to tackle the man, the ball was touched down, and the goal kicked. + +There were tears in the eyes of more than one Kentfield player, and Dick +felt his heart sinking. But he grimly called on his men to respond, and +for a time they had the ball in their enemy's territory. + +Another of Dick's men was knocked out, and two of the Blue Hill players +had to retire. The time was getting short, and Dick once more decided to +use the sequence work, for with so many new cadets on the other side, he +figured that they would not be prepared for them. + +The plays were rattled through, and this time with such relentlessness +that in a short time the ball was within ten yards of the Blue Hill +goal. + +"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imploring call from the Kentfield +grandstands. + +"Touchdown it shall be!" thought Dick fiercely. He sent Innis Beeby +smashing through centre for three yards, and then, hoping Dutton could +make the remaining distance, passed the ball to him. + +Right into the line smashed the big right half-back, but someone tackled +him with a fierceness that sent him unconscious to the ground, the ball +rolled from his arms, and a moment later a Blue Hill man had it, and was +racing down the field with all the speed left in him. + +There was not a player to stop him, for all of Dick's team had been +drawn close in, hoping for the touchdown, and before they were aware of +what was happening the man with the ball was on the forty-yard line. + +"Catch him! We've got to catch him!" yelled Dick. "It's another +touchdown if we don't!" + +After him sprinted every man on the Kentfield team, save Dutton who was +still stretched on the ground, and then, straggling after their +opponents, came the Blue Hills in scattered formation. + +It was a foregone conclusion, for the Kentfield players were so wearied +with their recent line-smashing attack that they could hardly run, and +with tears in their eyes they saw the ball again touched down back of +their goal posts. They had been so near to scoring, only to see their +hopes dashed from them, and on what was nearly a fumble. + +The goal was kicked and the score stood twelve to nothing against our +friends. Dutton was revived, but was unable to resume play, and a +substitute went in. There were only a few moments of the game left. + +Desperately Dick called on his men for those last few minutes, and they +did play to fierce advantage. There was some kicking, and when the +Kentfields had the ball they rushed it down the field so fast that they +were soon within striking distance of their opponents' goal. + +Then fate, in the shape of the time whistle blew, and the contest was +ended. Blue Hill had won. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +SORE HEARTS + + +"Dick, I'm so sorry." + +It was Paul Drew who spoke, and he limped around the room where his chum +sat staring gloomily out of the window into a mist of rain. The weather +was in keeping with the hearts of the cadets of Kentfield academy. + +"It was tough, wasn't it, Dick?" + +"It was--very. I suppose I counted too much on winning that game. Others +didn't seem so much to matter. But Blue Hill----" + +"I know, Dick," and Paul spoke softly. "But they didn't play fair." + +"That's what lots of the fellows say, and I saw you hit once. I've no +doubt but what there was more slugging--but that doesn't excuse us for +not winning." + +"No, of course not, but----" + +Paul was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," called Dick, but +there was no welcome in his tones. + +"Say, old man, you act as though your best girl had sent back your +letters unopened!" exclaimed Ray Dutton as he came in, wearing a +bandage on his head, where he had been kicked in that last +heart-breaking attack on the Blue Hill goal line. "Don't be so down and +out about it. Kentfield has lost before, and lived through it." + +"Yes, I suppose so," and Dick turned aside from the contemplation of the +gloomy weather outside. "But it--hurts." + +"Of course it does, but all is not lost yet. We have a chance for the +championship." + +"A mighty poor one." + +"Well, it's a chance, isn't it? If we hadn't had so many men knocked out +we could have won, even at that. Blue Hill made one touchdown against us +by straight playing. We were about to do the same to her. Then they got +one on a fumble. It was my fault for being so silly as to be knocked +out, but----" + +"It wasn't your fault at all!" cried Dick. "No one could have played +better than you did. That whack on the head was enough to bowl anyone +over." + +"Yes, I guess it was," admitted Ray, as he gently felt of a lump the +bandage covered. + +"And the way they handled Paul was rotten," went on the captain. + +"Oh, I'm not kicking," declared the plucky guard. "I'll be ready for 'em +next time." + +"I'm glad there is a next time," spoke Dick. "How do we stand, anyhow?" + +"There are several games yet," said Dutton, "and we can win most of +them easily. The only hard ones are with Mooretown and the next one with +Blue Hill. That's the last, and we need to win that and the Mooretown +contest to get the championship." + +"It's a big contract," said the young millionaire with a sigh. + +"Oh, brace up!" cried Dutton as cheerfully as he could. "Here come some +of the fellows. Don't let 'em see you in the dumps, Dick." + +Our hero tried to look cheerful, but it was hard work. Several of his +players filed in. It was the day after the defeat by Blue Hill and there +were sore bodies as well as sore hearts, for there had been more men +knocked out in that desperate conflict than in any previous one. And, so +said the senior cadets, there was no game ever played by Kentfield in +all the years of her history that was more fiercely fought. + +"Blue Hill has the best team in years," said Innis Beeby. + +"So have we!" cried Jim Watkins. + +"Granted, and we're going to be the champions," went on the big guard. +"But it sure does make me sore to be licked after we practically made +all our preparations to do Blue Hill." + +Dick brightened up when he saw that he was not the only one who took the +defeat to heart, and the talk drifted to the various incidents of the +game. It was agreed that Blue Hill had not played exactly fair in a +number of instances, but it was decided to keep quiet about this. + +"They'll say we're soreheads if we kick," said Paul. + +"I know one 'sorehead,'" remarked Ray with a grimace as he felt of his +wound. "But wait until next time!" + +The two coaches were disappointed but not discouraged. They had hoped, +not only for their own prestige, but for the sake of the team, that Blue +Hill would be defeated. + +"But I'm glad there's another chance at them," remarked Mr. Martin +grimly to his colleague. + +"Yes, I fancy Blue Hill will have to bring along plenty of substitutes +when we meet them again," and Mr. Spencer smiled. + +"Oh, the next game is at their grounds, you know." + +"Well, that isn't so good for our chances, but even at that I have no +fear of the result. If we can get our boys into shape, and their +injuries heal, I would be willing to stake a good sum on our side, if I +were a betting man." + +Porter was one of the disappointed ones, because he had lost a large sum +of money on the result. He talked much about it, and even seemed +inclined to blame Dick for the defeat. + +"If he had let me go in earlier they wouldn't have gained so much on +us," he said boastfully. + +"Oh, get out!" cried Dutton in disgust. "Why, one of the biggest gains +they made was around your end, and it resulted in a touchdown. + +"Well, my foot slipped." + +"And I guess the fellow's did who kicked me," said Ray grimly. "But +don't make any cracks like that Porter. You're no better than the rest +of us." + +"I'm not saying I am, but I want to play from the start of the game next +time." + +He importuned Dick to this end, as soon as active practice was resumed, +but Tom Coleton was again available and the captain did not feel like +displacing him. + +"He'd better look out, or I'll fix him!" threatened Porter to his crony +Weston. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Dick Hamilton. He ought to let me play. I'll get square somehow." + +"Oh, I wouldn't talk that way," said Weston weakly. He wanted to be +loyal to his team, yet he was under obligations to Porter for he owed +him a large sum of money. "You wouldn't do anything mean, would you?" he +asked. + +"Why doesn't Hamilton let me play then?" inquired Porter, not answering +the question. + +"I don't know. You may have a chance for one half of the Mooretown +game." + +"I want to play the whole game--not half, and if I get knocked out it's +my fault. But I'd like to see the fellow try to do any funny business +with me," and Porter shot out his jaw aggressively. He was quite a boxer +in an amateur way. + +"Well, don't do anything rash," cautioned his crony, but Porter walked +off, muttering to himself. + +Gradually the soreness and stiffness of the players wore off toward the +end of the week and they were practicing with their usual vim. Though +many had been on the hospital list, almost the entire Varsity was +available for a game the next Saturday, when one of the league contests +was played with Ralston Academy. Kentfield won easily, and further +clinched her chances for being the champion. But the hardest +games--those of Blue Hill and Mooretown were yet to come. + +Of Mooretown, Dick had no fear as to the result, but Blue Hill was +another matter. Still he strengthened his heart when he saw his men in +vigorous practice. + +"They certainly are a great team!" he exulted, "and they are as hard as +nails." + +Even in the gloom of defeat and in the preparation for gridiron battles +yet to come, Dick had not forgotten his father's troubles. He kept in +communication with Mr. Hamilton, and learned that matters were +temporarily at a standstill. + +"They can't get the controlling lot of stock from Mr. Duncaster, and +neither can I," wrote Dick's father. "So matters stand. But I have a new +plan. I am coming to Kentfield soon, and I'll see that obstinate +gentleman myself." + +"Dad coming here!" cried Dick in delight as he read the letter to Paul. +"I hope he's in time for the Mooretown game." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +TREACHERY + + +Mr. Hamilton arrived at Kentfield the day before the game with +Mooretown. Dick welcomed his parent enthusiastically, and introduced him +to all his chums, with whom the millionaire was soon on friendly terms. + +"You'll have a chance to see us play, dad!" cried the captain. "You'll +go Mooretown with us; won't you?" + +"To see you beaten?" asked Mr. Hamilton quizzically. + +"Not much! We'll wipe up the gridiron with them!" cried Ray Dutton. +"We've got to, if we want that loving cup," he added with a laugh, "and +Blue Hill, too." + +"Well, I guess I'll come," assented Dick's father. "But I have some +business to transact first." + +"I'm afraid you won't transact much of it," spoke Dick in a low voice. +"Mr. Duncaster is very obstinate." + +"How are you going to Mooretown?" inquired Mr. Hamilton. + +"By special train. Our manager has arranged for one. I did think of +autos, but the roads are pretty poor and then we want to take a big +crowd with us to 'root' for a win. So we'll go by train." + +"Then I'll come along. Now tell me about this Mr. Duncaster," and Dick +proceeded to do so, detailing his own visit, and that of Mr. Larabee. + +"Hum! A hard man to do business with. Still I've got to try, for it +means a lot to me," and Mr. Hamilton sighed. Dick noticed with regret +that his father's face was much more wrinkled than it had been, and the +gray hairs were more numerous. + +"The strain is telling on him," mused the lad. "I wonder what would +happen if he lost all his money--and if I lost mine," for of late Dick +had transferred most of his funds to his father, to use in the electric +road deal. In fact most of the Hamilton fortune was now tied up in that +line. + +"But I guess dad will make out," concluded our hero. "He has been in +tight places before, and has always pulled through." + +Mr. Hamilton set off to see Enos Duncaster, and Dick made his father +promise to take dinner with him that night at the Sacred Pig where an +impromptu spread had been arranged in honor of the visit of the +millionaire. Major Webster Colonel Masterly, and several of the academy +faculty had promised to attend. + +"It won't be much on the 'eat' line for you fellows and me," Dick had +warned them, "we can't break training until after we have wiped out the +disgrace of the Blue Hill defeat, and that won't be for two weeks. Then +we'll have a feast that is a feast." + +"Good!" cried Innis Beeby for he was fond of feasts, and suffered under +the rigorous football regime. + +Dick was waiting for his father's return from Mr. Duncaster's house that +evening, sitting in his room trying to study. He was not making much +headway for he was thinking of many things--of the game on the +morrow--of the one with Blue Hill, and of what success his father would +meet with. Paul Drew was out at a society meeting. + +There came a knock on the door, a timid hesitating sort of a knock, and +Dick, wondering who it could be, called out: + +"Come in!" + +Sam Porter entered, first looking around the apartment to see that +Dick's roommate was not present. + +"Are you busy, Hamilton?" he asked, and there was that in his voice that +caused Dick to wonder at him. There was a thickness and a sort of +leering familiarity that was unusual. + +"No, I'm not busy. Come in and make yourself comfortable. There's an +easy chair," and Dick knocked a pile of books from one to make room for +his visitor. + +"I want to ask a favor of you, Hamilton, and I want you to grant +it--understand?" and Porter looked sharply at the captain. "I want you +to promise." + +"I can't promise, until I hear what it is," said the young millionaire +good-naturedly. + +"Yes you can--if you want to--un'stand?" Sam Porter leaned forward. + +"You want to grant me this favor--un'stand," went on Porter, "or you'll +be sorry. Sorry, see?" + +"What is it?" asked Dick, trying not to show the disgust he felt. + +"I want to play in that Mooretown game to-morrow--play full +game--un'stand? I don't want to sit on side lines like some poor Indian +wrapped up in a blanket--I want to go in from start an' wallop them +fellers. Un'stand? I want to play. You can put me in as well as not. +Will you? It's favor, Ham, an' if you don't do it, you'll be sorry!" + +"Why?" asked Dick, for there was a vague threat in the tones of his +caller. + +"Well, nev' min'. Will you let me play?" + +Porter was not himself. Dick had never seen him thus, and he feared lest +some of the teachers discover his condition. He thought it best to +temporize with him. + +"I'll see what I can do," he promised good-naturedly. "Come and see me +in the morning. You'd better go to bed now." + +"Go to bed?" and Porter's voice rose. "Why, wha's matter me? Ain't I +a'right?" + +"Yes, but if you are to play to-morrow you'll need a rest. See me in the +morning." + +"All right. I'll go. But if I can't play whole game you be sorry, Ham. +You're good feller--you let me play--be sorry if you don't--tha's all," +and Porter lurched from the room, while Dick shook his head sorrowfully. + +Mr. Hamilton came up to Dick's room about an hour later. It needed but a +look at his face to see that his errand had proven a failure. + +"Well?" asked Dick, but he knew what the answer would be. + +"Mr. Duncaster wouldn't even talk to me when he learned what my object +was," said the millionaire wearily. "I guess we can't do anything with +him, Dick. But never mind," he added more brightly, "I can try another +scheme. They haven't got us beaten yet, Dick, my boy!" + +Dick put his father up in an apartment in the Sacred Pig after the +little banquet. It was a gay affair in spite of the millionaire's +disappointment, and the boys voted him a brick. + +Porter approached the captain the next morning. He did not seem at all +ashamed of his condition of yesterday. + +"Well, Hamilton, am I to play?" was the somewhat sharp question. + +"You'll have to take your chances with the other subs," was the young +captain's answer. "I can't make any changes in the Varsity now. I may +after the first half, if we find Mooretown easy enough." + +"Yes, that's it!" sneered Porter. "You'll only put me in on the easy +games. I won't stand for it. Either I play the full game, or off comes +my suit for the season." + +"You can please yourself about that," and Dick turned aside. + +"You'll be sorry for this!" muttered Porter, as he walked away. + +The last arrangements had been made, the team and substitutes surrounded +by the crowd of students who could not go to Mooretown, had been cheered +again and again, and Grit had been decorated as a mascot. + +The crowd which was to accompany the players on the special train had +all gathered, and the march to the depot was begun. Mr. Hamilton was +with Dick. + +"Humph! Our special hasn't pulled in yet," observed Manager Hatfield +when the station was reached, and there were no cars in waiting "That's +funny. The agent said it would be surely here ready for us. I'll ask him +about it." + +Dick was standing near the manager when he questioned the station +master. That official seemed greatly surprised at the crowd of players +and spectators. + +"Your special train?" he exclaimed. "Why you countermanded the order for +it. The game was off, I understood, so I sent the engine and cars +back." + +"Sent them back!" cried Dick. "How was that?' + +"Why, I had them all here, and the engineer had steam up, waiting for +you. About an hour ago one of your students came down here and said +Mooretown had cancelled the game, and that you weren't going to play. +So, as I didn't want the special standing here in the way of the regular +trains, I sent it back to the yard." + +"Can we get it again?" asked Hatfield, wondering what had happened. + +"Not inside of several hours." + +"What sort of a student told you we didn't want it?" asked Dick, +excitedly. + +"A tall lad, rather stout, and with quite a good color--you know--sort +of beefy." + +"Porter!" whispered Dick, involuntarily, and several heard him. + +"The special has been sent back, we can't get a train in several hours, +and we're due at Mooretown at two o'clock," spoke the manager. "They'll +claim the game by forfeit if we don't show up, and then----" + +"Good-bye to our chances for the championship," put in Beeby gloomily. + +"There's been treachery here," murmured Dick, as he gazed at the blank +faces of his companions. "Treachery! This is what Sam Porter meant when +he said I'd be sorry." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DESPERATE RACE + + +For a few moments the surprise of the cadets was such that they could +think of nothing to do. It seemed almost impossible that their plans +should be defeated by such a simple means, yet such was the case. A look +down the empty tracks showed not a sign of their special train, and +further appeals to the agent only confirmed what he had first said. + +"It's no use, boys," he declared. "That special has been sent back and +it will take a long time to get it again, even if I could. The train +dispatcher made a certain schedule for it, and once that is busted it's +hard to get it in shape again." + +"Isn't there a regular train they can take?" asked Mr. Hamilton. + +"Not for three hours." + +"And that will be too late," said Paul dismally. + +"Whew!" whistled George Hall. "This is tough! Let's wire Mooretown and +tell them what happened. They'll call the game off I'm sure, and not +make it a forfeit for us." + +"What good would it do if they did?" asked Jim Watkins. "There are only +two more games for us to play in the championship series. This one with +Mooretown and the one next Saturday with Blue Hill. This is our only +chance, and if we can't take it we won't get another one at Mooretown, +as they break training to-day, after this contest. No boys, it's all up +with Kentfield's chance at the trophy, I reckon." + +There was silence for a moment, but the cadets were doing some hard +thinking. + +"That cad Porter!" exclaimed Innis Beeby. "What could have induced him +to play such a contemptible trick?" + +"I suppose because I wouldn't promise to let him go in for the full game +to-day," replied Dick reluctantly. + +"Are you sure it was Porter?" inquired Paul. + +"He's about the only one who is capable of such a thing as this," said +Innis, looking at Weston. + +"I'm going to make sure," spoke Dick, and he inquired particularly of +the agent as to the appearance of the cadet who had given the false +information about there being no need of the special train. The detailed +description left no room for doubt. It was Porter. + +"And, now I come to think of it, the young man laughed as he was going +away, after he heard me give the engineer of the special the orders that +he wouldn't be needed," said the station agent. + +"He laughed; eh?" repeated Dick. + +"Yes, and I think he said something about a joke, but I can't be sure. +Anyhow I thought it was sort of funny to hear him chuckle when he was +walking away, for I know how set you boys are on football, and I +reckoned you'd be sorry if a game was cancelled. But I had other things +to think of, getting the trains on their regular schedule after the +special was out of the way, so I didn't pay much attention." + +"Well, Porter has put us in bad," declared Ray Dutton. "The sneak! I +wish I had him here now." + +Several glances were turned in the direction of the crony of Porter, as +if he might know something of him. Weston flushed uneasily, but he rose +to the situation. + +"Fellows," he said earnestly, "I hope you don't think that I had any +hand in this. Porter and I have been thick, I know, but of late he +hasn't had so much to do with me. But, on my honor, I never knew a thing +about this. He never hinted it to me, or if he had I hope you will +believe me when I say that I wouldn't have stood for it, and that I'd +have told Hamilton right away, so his mean plan could have been stopped. +I hope you believe me." + +"Of course we do, Weston," said Dick. "I'm afraid Porter hasn't been +himself lately. But let's forget about that now. The thing to do is to +consider how we are going to get to Mooretown." + +"How can we, without a train available?" asked Beeby. + +"I don't know--I'm going to think," declared the captain with a brave +effort to keep cheerful against heavy odds. + +"Suppose you let me try," suggested Mr. Hamilton. "I know some of the +higher railroad officials, and if I telegraph them they may be able to +get a special back here in time for you to play." + +The boys brightened up at this, and the millionaire wrote several +messages which the agent clicked off to headquarters. There was barely +time, if a special arrived inside of half an hour, for the cadets to get +to Mooretown in season to play the game, but it was a small margin. + +"If we had carriages enough we could drive," said Hal Foster. "The wagon +road to Mooretown is shorter than the railroad line." + +"We never could do it in time," objected Frank Rutley. + +At this moment the agent came out from the office with several telegrams +in his hand. + +"I'm sorry," he announced, "but they say at headquarters, Mr. Hamilton, +that they'd like to oblige you and the boys, but two hours is the +shortest time in which they can get the special in shape again. No +engineer is available." + +Once more dull hopelessness fell upon the boys. Dick was almost in +despair. He saw all his plans of being captain of a championship +football team being dashed to the ground. It was a bitter blow. + +The two coaches, likewise, were much disappointed, for it would be not a +little to their credit to have whipped into first class shape a team +that, the season before, was the tail-ender of the military colleges. + +The young captain was pacing up and down the depot platform. His +companions left him alone for a space for they knew how he felt. + +"Well," began Dick after a pause, "I guess----" + +He did not finish the sentence, but stood in a listening attitude. From +down the road there came a steady hum and roar that told of some +approaching vehicles. + +"Automobiles," remarked Paul Drew. "If we had enough of them----" + +An instant later there swung into view around the bend in the road four +big auto trucks, new ones, each in charge of a man. The trucks were +powerful ones, designed to carry heavy loads a long distance and they +glistened with new paint, while in gold letters on their sides was the +name of a business firm in a large city just beyond Mooretown. + +At the sight of these--of their ample capacity--large enough to take the +team and the crowd with them, Dick's heart gave a bound. He made up his +mind instantly. + +"Fellows!" he cried, "if those men will hire me those trucks we'll play +Mooretown yet. I'm going to see!" + +"Hurray!" cried George Hall, and Mr. Hamilton smiled in a gratified way +at the quick wit of his son. + +"I say!" cried the young millionaire, stepping out in front of the first +truck and holding up his hand, "will you do us a favor?" + +"What's this--a--hold up?" asked the man good-naturedly, as he jammed on +the brakes. + +"Yes, we're held up--our special has gone--we've got to get to Mooretown +soon or we forfeit the championship game. Will you take us in those +trucks? I'll pay you well, and stand for all damage. Will you?" + +His voice was eager, and the man, who had been a boy himself once, and +fond of sport, was visibly impressed. + +"I'd like to oblige you," he said slowly, "but I don't know as I can. +You see I'm in charge of these four trucks. I work for the auto firm +that built them, and the flour company in Denville that purchased them +made an agreement that before they would accept them, the machines must +be run from the factory to their place. That's what I and my men are +doing now. The flour concern wanted to test the running gear, and it +will be a good test all right." + +"It will be a better test with a load of us fellows in," said Dick with +ready wit. + +"I suppose so," admitted the man, scratching his head, "but I don't know +as the flour firm would like it. There might be some damage, and----" + +"I'll stand for it!" put in Mr. Hamilton quickly. "I'm Mortimer +Hamilton, of Hamilton Corners." + +Though he spoke quietly his words had an instant effect for the man had +evidently heard of the millionaire. + +"Is that so?" asked the chief auto driver quickly. "I know you. I own +two shares of stock in your electric road. Simpson is my name--Ruddy +Simpson. I hope the rumors that the road is going to fail aren't true, +Mr. Hamilton." + +"The road will never fail, if I have to sink in it every dollar I own!" +cried Mr. Hamilton. "But we've got other business in hand now. Can you +take these boys to the game?" + +"I'll do it!" suddenly cried Mr. Simpson. "I'll take a chance. Hop in +boys, and I'll get you there on time if the gasolene holds out. We've +got to pass through Mooretown to Denville. Hop in!" + +"Hurrah!" cried the now hopeful cadets, and they piled into the four big +trucks. They had to stand up, and there was considerable crowding, but +they did not mind this, and there was room for all. + +"Now for the game!" cried Dick as the ponderous machines started off, +the station agent waving a farewell. + +"I guess this will put a spoke in Porter's wheel," murmured Beeby. +"He'll feel sick to think that we got to the game after his mean +trick." + +"We're not there yet," remarked Dick a bit dubiously, for he knew the +eccentricities of autos. "We've got to make pretty good time, and there +are several hills to climb." + +"Don't let them hills worry you," said Mr. Simpson. "I helped build +these trucks, and I know what they can do. We'll take any hill you can +give us, with a heavier load than this on. Only, of course, we haven't +an awful lot of speed. But I'll push them to the limit. Turn on all you +can!" he called back to the three men. + +"Sure!" they shouted in reply, and the motors hummed and throbbed under +the strain. + +For the first few miles the roads were good, and speedy time was made, +so that Dick ceased some of his worry lest they arrive too late. Then a +sandy stretch was encountered, and the motors whined out a protest, but +they kept on. + +"Think you can do it?" asked the captain of the man in charge. Dick and +the team and substitutes, together with his father, were in the first +machine. + +"Oh, we'll do it," was the reply, and Mr. Simpson's voice had a +confidence he did not altogether feel. It was no small responsibility, +for it was a desperate race against the fleeting minutes and hours. + +After the sand, came a good piece of highway, and then a stiff hill, but +the trucks made it safely and at fair speed. + +"We'll do it!" announced Mr. Simpson after about two hours. "There's +one long hill now after this one we're climbing and then we can coast +down into Mooretown." + +"Good!" cried Dick, and he felt some of the strain of anxiety leaving +him. + +A few minutes later, when the foremost auto had reached the crest of the +rise, the driver of the truck containing Dick and the team remarked, as +he pointed ahead: + +"There's Mooretown, but you can't see the cadet football field yet." + +"Oh, I guess they'll be there expecting us," replied the young captain. + +Down the other side of the long slope started the first truck, the +others following in procession. + +"Well, we did better than I expected we would," remarked Mr. Simpson. +"These trucks----" + +He stopped suddenly, as a sharp jar and crash came from somewhere in the +mechanism of the machinery. The brakes had been set as the descent was +begun, and the car had been traveling slowly, but now a sudden increase +in speed was noticed. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Hamilton quickly. + +"Aren't we going a bit too fast down hill?" inquired Mr. Martin. + +The driver shut his lips with a grim tightening. He yanked back on the +brake handle with all his force. Then a startled look came over his +face. + +"The brake rod is broken!" he cried. + +Gathering speed the ponderous truck, with its load of humanity--the +cadet football team shot down hill, bumping over stones and hollows, +swerving from side to side, the steering wheel making the firm hands of +the driver tremble. + +"Haven't you got two brakes?" gasped Dick. + +"Yes--got the foot on one--she won't hold her with this load," was the +panting answer. + +"Can't we jump out before it goes any faster?" asked Hal Foster. + +"Stay where you are!" fairly shouted the man. "Maybe I can guide her +down." + +He was tooting the horn frantically to warn possible approaching +vehicles that his was out of control. Fortunately the hill was straight, +and a level stretch at the bottom gave promise of a long coast that +might check the awful speed the car would have when it reached the foot +of the declivity. + +Faster and faster went the runaway truck, and now from behind came the +frantic calls of the other cadets who realized the danger to their +football team. And there was grave danger--danger that could not be +avoided, for Simpson, yanking again and again on the brake lever, only +made more certain that it would not work, and the foot brake was +pitifully inadequate to check the now rushing vehicle. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +ANOTHER GAME + + +There was silence for a time among the cadets of the football +team--silence broken only by the whirr and hum of the machinery as it +ran free, for the gasolene had been shut off. Under the big tires +crunched the small stones and gravel of the road. + +"Can't you start the motor and hold her back on the reverse?" shouted +Dick above the noise. + +Simpson shook his head. + +"I'd rip her all to pieces if I did," he answered. "Queer about that +brake rod snapping. That's not in my department, but I'd like to get +hold of the man that inspected and tested it," he added grimly. "I'd +break him!" + +Dick looked into the faces of his chums. There was a quiet, strained +look in all of them, but none of them showed craven fear. He glanced at +his father, and Mr. Hamilton smiled at his son. + +"I guess we won't be behind hand now," he said. + +"No," and Dick shook his head. Then he glanced over the side of the +truck and noted how the trees were slipping by. They were going at +ever-increasing speed. + +Luckily they met no other vehicles on the hill, or there might have been +trouble. The auto drivers in the rear, finding they could do nothing +were keeping up as close as they could, to render any assistance if +possible. + +It was well that the speeding truck was strongly and ponderously made, +and that it was hung low, otherwise it would have toppled over. As it +was they all swayed from side to side dangerously, tossing the occupants +against one another. + +"Good practice for the coming game," remarked Dutton. + +"I hope it doesn't take their nerve," said Mr. Martin in a low voice to +his colleague. "This may have a fearful effect." + +"Their nerves are good," declared the Princeton coach, "but I wish this +was over. There's a good bit yet to go, and we'll travel faster at the +end, for the hill is steeper there." + +Mr. Martin silently nodded, and then looked ahead. As he did so he could +not refrain from a startled cry, for the hill took a sudden, steep dip, +and it seemed impossible for any auto not under control to make it +successfully. + +Before any one could do anything, had it been possible, the car was at +the dangerous descent. Simpson drew in his breath sharply and grasped +the steering wheel with firmer grip. + +"Whew!" whistled Paul Drew. "This is awful!" + +Dick said nothing, but he moved up closer to his father. Fear was +clutching his heart, for he dreaded lest that all be killed. + +"This is about the end!" gasped the driver, as the steeper part of the +hill came to an end. "The worst is over." + +The cadets could now look ahead, and see a level stretch. They were +beginning to breathe easier. + +"Once I'm on that I'll be all right," went on the driver. He reached it +a moment later, but the speed of the ponderous car was not checked much. +It had too great momentum. + +Suddenly Dick gave a cry of fear, and pointed forward. They all saw it +at the same time. Three hundred feet away was a narrow bridge and at +that moment there appeared on it, turning in from a side road, a man +driving a team of horses attached to a light carriage. And, as the +cadets looked, the horses seemed possessed with sudden fright at the +view of the oncoming auto. They reared, and the driver had all he could +do to hold them in. + +Then one animal, worse than its mate, kicked over the traces and, coming +down, got tangled in the harness. It fell heavily, right in the centre +of the bridge, dragging down its mate. The man leaped out to go to the +heads of the horses, and, as he saw the approaching auto he held up his +hand and shouted a warning. + +"Stop! Stop!" he cried. + +"I can't!" yelled back Simpson. "Cut the harness! Push the horses off +the bridge!" + +The man was working frantically. Simpson gave a last desperate yank on +the brake lever. It was still out of commission, as he knew it would be. +There seemed to be no escape from the impending crash which might mean +death for a number of them. + +"I'm going to jump!" cried George Hall, worming his way to the rear of +the truck, which was going almost as fast as when on the hill. + +"Don't you do it!" cried Dick, with all the energy he possessed. "Here, +Simpson, turn into that hayfield! Make for the stack! Run the auto into +it! That will stop us without damage!" + +"By gasolene! I believe you're right!" yelled the driver. "I'll do it. +It's our only hope." + +"But the fence! The fence!" shouted Paul. "We'll smash into it!" for a +rail fence shut off from the road the field at which Dick had pointed. + +"That fence!" yelled Simpson in supreme contempt. "I'll smash it into +kindling wood! Hold fast everybody! Here we go!" + +A moment later he had swung the car toward the hayfield. Fortunately it +was on a level with the road, or the front part of the auto would never +have sustained the shock. Through the fence the ponderous machine +crashed as if it were paper. The next instant the big car plowed +straight into a big stack of hay. + +Like so many rubber balls, the football players were thrown forward +against one another, and Dick and the two coaches were tossed out into +the fragrant timothy. + +Then a cheer burst from the other cadets in the three following trucks +which had come to a stop. For they saw that their comrades were safe. +The man on the bridge had succeeded in disentangling his horses and they +were now quiet. + +Simpson leaped from his seat, which he had managed to maintain, and +looked under the truck. + +"I knew it!" he cried. "Brake rod busted. Oh, if I had the man who made +that!" + +"Can we go on?" asked Dick anxiously as he picked himself up from the +hay. + +"Wouldn't dare to without this brake rod being fixed" replied the +driver. "There are more hills." + +"Here, you football fellows get in one of these other trucks. We'll pile +out and walk to the grounds--it's not far," called Percy Haddon. + +"That's the stuff!" shouted Manager Hatfield. "We haven't any too much +time. Are you boys all right?" + +"Sure," answered Paul with a laugh. "We're ready to play the game of our +lives." + +"That's right!" came in a chorus from the others. Now that the strain +was over there was a bit of hysterical feeling, but it soon passed +away. + +Little time was lost in making the transfer. The football team and the +substitutes got in one of the other trucks and were soon being whizzed +off to the grounds. The other two trucks, containing as many of the +remaining cadets as could squeeze into them, pressed on, and only a few +had to walk the remaining distance. + +Simpson backed his truck out of the hayfield which had practically saved +a number of lives that day. Then the driver began work at repairing the +brake rod, his companions promising to return for him when they had +taken the cadets to the grounds. + +Nor would Simpson accept any pay for the services he had rendered that +day. + +"I've got stock in your road, Mr. Hamilton," he said, "though it is only +two shares. This was a good test of the trucks, and I'm glad only a +brake rod busted. It was better to happen now than after I had delivered +'em. I'm satisfied." + +The Mooretown cadets were becoming anxious about the non-appearance of +their opponents, for the hour for the game was fast approaching, when +Dick and his players came running out on the gridiron. They were greeted +with a rousing cheer, for, though the rules called for the forfeiting of +a contest to the non-appearing team, the Mooretown cadets were true +sportsmen and hated to take this advantage. + +"Jove! But I'm glad you fellows came!" cried the Mooretown captain as he +wrung Dick's hand. "We were horribly afraid you wouldn't show up. What +was the matter? I thought you were coming by special train." + +"We were, but there was a mix-up and we had to charter these autos. But +we're here and we're going to beat you!" + +"Yes, you are!" and the home captain laughed. "Well, I'll show you the +dressing rooms. We've got a smashing big crowd here to-day and the +weather is just right. It would have been a shame to disappoint 'em." + +"Well, it's too bad to have 'em see you defeated, but it can't be +helped," said Dick with mocking seriousness and they both laughed. The +fright of the dangerous ride was fast passing away from all of the +Kentfield team. + +They were soon in their suits and out on the gridiron practicing. +Meanwhile the Mooretown lads were at work with the ball, and the +Kentfield coaches were critically sizing them up. + +"Not nearly as fast as our lads," declared Mr. Martin. + +"That's right. I don't expect a walkover, but there ought to be no +question as to who is going to win--unless this auto affair has got on +the nerves of our lads." + +The crowd continued to arrive. The grandstands were like some gorgeous +sunset in appearance, with the hats of the pretty girls, and the waving +of flags and banners. Cheers and songs, made music in keeping with the +day. + +"Line-up!" came the cry, and when the whistle blew, and the ball was +kicked off, twenty-two figures clad in earth-stained suits made a mad +dash for each other. The game was on. + +From the time of the first scrimmage Dick knew that his team had the +contest safe, for one smashing through the line of Mooretown told the +story. The men had over-trained and had gone "stale." On the other hand +the Kentfield lads were as fresh as the proverbial daisies. + +"Take her along for a touchdown, boys!" ordered the captain, and down +the field the ball was worked in a steady succession of rushes. In vain +did Mooretown try to stem the tide against them. Once, when their goal +line was almost reached, they did brace, and Dick began to plan a trick +play. But it was not needed, for the next moment Dutton was shoved over +for the touchdown, and the crowd of Kentfield students went wild with +delight. The goal was kicked easily, and then began the hammer and tongs +work again. + +Once again that half Kentfield made a touchdown, not as easily as at +first, for Mooretown had waxed desperate, but it was made. Not that it +was all "pie" to quote Dick, but they had the "measure" of their +opponents, and they began to see the championship looming clearly before +them. + +Twelve to nothing was the score in favor of Kentfield at the end of the +first half, which came to a close with the ball once more almost over +the Mooretown line. + +There were sore hearts among the players on the home team, and Dick and +his lads knew just how their opponents felt, but it was a fair game, +with no quarter and it was the fortunes of war. + +"I'm afraid you're going to make good," said the Mooretown captain to +the young millionaire, as the second half started. + +"We've just _got_ to," answered Dick. "We want that gold cup." + +Hammering away again, the Kentfield lads advanced the ball. Mooretown +got it on a fumble once, and did some pretty work in punting, but it was +of no avail. Again they had the pigskin because of the penalty inflicted +on a too eager Kentfield player, and they made a desperate try for a +field goal, but it fell short. + +After that there was no more danger to our friends, and they kept the +ball advancing by steady rushes, or, to rest his men, Dick would call +for a forward pass. Again and yet again was the Mooretown goal line +crossed, amid the frantic cheers of the Kentfield contingent, and when +the final whistle blew the score was twenty-nine to nothing. + +"Victory!" cried Dick in exultation, as he hugged as many of his players +as he could. "Now for Blue Hill next Saturday and we'll have such a +feast as never was at Kentfield before!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +DICK IS SUMMONED + + +The Kentfield cadets accepted the invitation of their late opponents, to +stay and see them break training. + +"As long as we didn't have a chance at the championship I'm glad you +fellows have," confided Captain Russell of Mooretown to Dick. "Of course +we'd have liked to have beaten you chaps, but I guess we over-trained. +We haven't any regular coaches, and we did the best we could." + +"You sure did," assented Dick heartily. "It's too bad you went back. You +were fine early in the season." + +"I know it, and that shows that it pays to have regular coaches who know +their business. How in the world did you fellows manage to get Martin +and Spencer?" + +"Oh, we worked it by a forward pass," replied the young millionaire with +a laugh. + +There was jolly fun at Mooretown that night, in spite of the defeat. The +team burned their suits at a big bonfire, and danced around the blaze +like Indians, singing college songs and cheering their opponents who, +in turn shouted for their plucky but unfortunate enemies. + +Then came a long and rather dreary ride back to Kentfield in a way-train +that stopped at every station. But the boys enlivened the trip by songs +and cheers so that they were not very lonesome. + +"Well Dick, I must get back in the morning," said Mr. Hamilton to his +son when they said good-night in Dick's room. + +"You won't try to see Duncaster again?" + +"No, it would be of little use. He is evidently set in his ways. My only +hope is that he doesn't turn over to the other side. If he does----" + +The millionaire paused. + +"Well?" asked Dick suggestively. + +"The Hamilton fortune will be a thing of the past, son." + +"As bad as that?" + +Mr. Hamilton nodded. + +"But I'm not going to give up," he declared. "I have some other irons in +the fire, and I may be able to forge them to the shape I want. It's +going to be hard work, though, and it would be much easier if I had the +Duncaster stock. By the way, you say that Porter chap, whose father is +working against us, attends here?" + +"Yes, but I fancy he won't after to-morrow," said Dick significantly. + +He was right. Sam Porter's room was vacant the next day, and he left no +word of where he had gone. He knew his trick had been discovered, and +that it had gone for naught. + +Several days later he sent a note to his former crony Weston, asking to +see him, but Weston refused. + +"I was his friend once," he said to Dick, "but I'm done with him now. +I'm for the football team first, last and forever!" + +"And you're one of our best players!" exclaimed the young captain +heartily, for he appreciated what it meant to break with Porter. + +Football matters at Kentfield were now drawing to a close. There was but +one more game to play--that of Blue Hill, but in the eyes of the cadets +it was the most important of the season because of what the outcome +carried with it. There was a tie for the championship between our hero's +football eleven and that of the academy which had sent the insulting +letter that resulted in such a change of policy. + +"Get ready for the last week of practice," ordered Coach Martin, on the +Monday following the Mooretown game. "It's going to be hard, too, but I +don't want any one to over-train. Take it a bit easy when you find +yourself tiring." + +"Yes, we want you in the pink of perfection Saturday," added Mr. +Spencer. + +There followed days of the most careful preparation. It was like getting +ready for the final great battle between two rival armies. Football +suits were looked to, for a rip in a jacket or a sweater might spoil a +play at a critical point. The lads replaced the worn cleats on their +shoes, that they might brace themselves when the Blue Hill players +hurled themselves at the Kentfield line. + +As for their physical condition, the cadets were looked over by the +trainers and coaches as if they were race horses. Tender ankles were +carefully treated and bandaged. Sprains were rubbed in the most +scientific manner, and did any one complain of a little indisposition +the coaches were up in alarm. + +And the boys were in the "pink of condition." Never had they felt finer +nor more able to do battle for the championship. Never were they more +confident, for, somehow, Dick had talked them into the firm belief that +they were going to win. + +As for our hero, he had a worry that he kept to himself, and, now that +his father had returned to Hamilton Corners, the lad let it prey on his +mind even more than he had when the millionaire was at the academy. + +"Our fortune in danger," mused Dick. "That sure is tough luck. Not that +money is everything, or really much in this world. But, after you've +gotten used to having it, I guess it's hard to spin along without it. +But perhaps it won't be so bad as dad fears. I would certainly hate to +give up my steam yacht, and I may have to leave Kentfield. Whew! That +would pull a lot!" and he sat staring in moody silence at the walls of +his tastefully decorated room. + +There was a movement at Dick's feet and Grit half arose to poke his cold +nose into his master's listless hand. The lad started. + +"Grit, old boy!" he murmured and the animal whined in delight. "Whatever +happens they can't take you from me," went on the young millionaire. +"But there's Rex. Maybe I can't afford to keep a horse. Oh, but I'd hate +to part with him!" + +He could not keep back just a suspicion of tears from his eyes, as he +stroked the short ears of the bulldog, who seemed to know that something +was amiss. + +"Oh, well, what's the use of crying over spilled milk before you come to +the bridge!" Dick exclaimed at length. "I'm not going to worry until +it's time; and that isn't yet. Guess I'll go for a canter on Rex. That +will clear the cobwebs away." + +He was soon galloping over the country, glad to be alone for a little +while to think over the problems that were bothering him. As the noble +animal galloped along around the lake path, and Dick felt the cool +November wind on his cheeks, somehow there came to him a feeling of +peace. + +"After all, it may come out right," he whispered as he patted the neck +of the horse. "And I'm going to have one more try at Duncaster. I won't +undertake to see him. I'll write him a letter and explain some things +he doesn't understand. Maybe it will just pull him the right way." + +The thought was an inspiration to him, and he turned Rex about and +galloped to the stables. + +"Well, what's all the correspondence about Dick?" asked Paul that +evening, as his chum was busily scratching away in their room. "I +thought you answered Miss Hanford's last letter yesterday." + +"Humph! Seems to me you've been doing something in the way of writing +letters yourself. But this is business. I'm making a last appeal to +Duncaster." + +Dick was not very hopeful as he mailed the epistle to Hardvale. + +It was the day of the Blue Hill Game, and final practice, save for a +little "warm-up" on the gridiron, just before time should be called, had +been held. The coaches had issued their last instructions, Dick had +given his men a little talk, and all that could be done had been done. + +"It's do or die now," grimly remarked the young captain. "We're fit to +the minute." + +"Have you heard from Duncaster?" asked Paul. + +"No, and I don't expect to. He'll keep the stock I expect, or trade it +to the Porter crowd. It was a slim chance, but it didn't make good." + +"Well," remarked Paul, a little later, when Dick had been nervously +pacing about the room. "I suppose we might as well go out on the +gridiron." + +"It's a bit early," objected Dick. "The Blue Hill crowd won't be here +for an hour yet." + +There came a knock on the door, and Toots stood there saluting between +the strains of "Marching Through Georgia." + +"Telegram for you, Mr. Hamilton--it came collect," announced the +janitor. + +"Humph. Can't be from dad, he always pays his messages," remarked Dick, +as he handed over the money, and tore open the envelope. When he had +read the few words he gave a gasp of astonishment. + +"What's the matter?" asked Paul quickly. "Bad news." + +"No. Good!" cried Dick. "Listen. This is from Mr. Duncaster--no wonder +he sent it collect. He says: 'Have your letter. I will grant your +request and sell you the stock. Come and see me at once, as I am leaving +for Europe for my health. I go to-night.'" + +"Then you'd better hustle out to Hardvale!" cried Paul. "Hurray! That's +great." + +Slowly Dick crushed the telegram in his hand. + +"I can't go," he said slowly. + +"Why not?" + +"I haven't time to go out there and get back to play the game--and--I'm +going to play the game!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +"LINE UP!" + + +Paul, looked at Dick Hamilton with something a little short of +open-mouthed wonder. He could not understand him. He realized the vital +necessity of the Hamilton forces getting control of the trolley stock +that Mr. Duncaster held. Now, when the opportunity offered, Dick calmly +turned it down. + +"Do you know what you're saying, Dick?" asked his roommate. "This is the +only chance you'll have--perhaps to save your father's fortune." + +"I know it." + +"And you're not going?" + +"What? And desert the team in the face of the biggest game of the year? +I guess not. Dad wouldn't want me to." + +"Some one can play in your place--perhaps for half the game. You could +go out in an auto and back in a short time." + +"Of course I might, but I'm not going to," and the young millionaire, +who might not be a lad of wealth much longer, calmly looked to see if +his canvas jacket needed any last attention. "If I went out there it +would take some time to arrange about the transfer of the stock, and I +never could get back in season to play the game. Besides I want to start +off with the boys from the first kick against Blue Hill." + +"I don't blame you--but--it's a big price to pay." + +"I know it, but it's worth all it will cost. Why I couldn't leave now, +practically in the face of the enemy. I may not be a whole lot to the +team, and probably there are fellows on the scrub who can play +quarter-back as well, if not better, than I can. But I've trained with +the boys all season. I'm their captain, however unworthy, and I've got +to stick by 'em. It would be treason to go now. I've got to stick." + +"But can't you do something? Can't you send Duncaster some word? He says +he leaves to-night. Telegraph him that you'll see him directly after the +game. Explain how things stand, and maybe he'll make allowances." + +"I will," decided Dick, "but I haven't much hope. He is very much set +against football, and he has no especial love for me. I can't understand +why he should give in about the stock. Perhaps he feels that he must +close up some of his business matters if he is going away. Then, too, +dad's offer may be better than the one Porter made him. I can't +understand it, but I'll take a chance and send him a wire, asking him to +meet me after the game." + +"Have you got the cash to pay for the stock?" asked Paul. + +"Oh, I can give him a check to bind the bargain, and dad can settle with +him later. I haven't as much in the bank as I had, for I let dad invest +it in the electric line." + +"Then you stand to lose too, if you don't get Duncaster's stock." + +"Yes, but what of it? If we win this game, and Kentfield is the champion +of the league, I'd be willing to lose almost all I had. I fancy dad left +an offer with Mr. Duncaster, better than his first one, of an advance of +ten per cent., and instructed the crabbed old chap to let him know when +he was ready to accept it. Instead, he sends me word, and I--well, I'm +not going--that's all. That is not until after the game. It's what dad +would want me to do--he'll understand," said Dick softly. + +"Well, you've got nerve--that's all I've got to say," complimented Paul +admiringly. + +Dick wrote his telegram, and he took the precaution to give Toots the +money to prepay it. + +"Duncaster might refuse it, if it went collect," he remarked with a grim +smile. "I can't take any chances. Then, Toots, arrange to have a speedy +taxicab waiting for me at the end of the game. I'll make a bee-line for +Hardvale as soon as the last whistle blows," he explained to Paul. "Want +to come along?" + +"Sure." + +It was almost time to go out on the gridiron now. Dick gave one brief +and half-regretful thought to the opportunity he might be missing. Then +he murmured: + +"Well, the game--from now on!" + +He had no idea of wiring his father the news, but he felt that after all +it would be better to explain it personally. + +"If dad was only where he could make a jump to Hardvale he could clinch +the deal," he mused, "but it's impossible." + +"Hark! What's that?" cried Paul as they were about to leave their room. +It was the sound of a swelling, boisterous cry--a joyful shout--a +challenge. + +"The Blue team has arrived!" exclaimed Dick. "Come on! Now for the +battle!" + +Already there was quite a crowd in the grandstands, and more people were +arriving every minute. The ticket takers had their hands full, and the +ushers were as busy as bees. For rumors of the fierce game that was +likely to be played had prevailed for the last two weeks, and there was +every indication of a record-breaking crowd. + +"Our treasury will be filled!" cried the manager of Kentfield with +exultation. "This is a great day for us--even if we don't win." + +"We're going to!" declared Dick with conviction. + +As Dick turned around he saw a tall, well-formed young man approaching +him. Something about the face seemed familiar, and, as the newcomer +smiled, Dick remembered. + +"Hello, Larry Dexter!" he exclaimed. "Where in the world did you blow +from? Sent to report the game?" + +"No, but I wish I was. I'm up here on a mystery case and, as I had a +little time to spare I thought I'd see you fellows win. I heard about +the game. Go in and beat!" + +"Thanks! We're going to try. Say, but I am glad to see you, Larry. Come +on over here and I'll see that you get a good seat. Or would you rather +be on the side lines?" + +"On the side lines I think." And Dick soon arranged so that his reporter +friend would have a good place. + +"See you later," he called as he went back on the field. + +"I'm afraid not," answered Larry. "I'll have to get away in a hurry. +I've got an appointment, but I'll stay long enough to see you pile up a +good score," and though Dick looked for his friend after the game, he +did not see him. + +"Who is that?" asked Paul, as Dick joined him. + +"That's Larry Dexter. One of the best reporters in New York. I met him +when I was there, right after I got my fortune. He's a fine chap. But +it's about time for the Blue Hill crowd to arrive." + +Those of you who have read my Larry Dexter Series need no introduction +to the hero of those books. Larry was a farm boy, who had an ambition to +become a reporter on a big New York paper. In the book "From Office Boy +to Reporter," I told how he did this, and in the other books of the +series I related some of his strange adventures. + +The Blue Hill cadets had come on a special train, and the team drove up +from the station in a large carry-all that had been provided for them by +Dick and his chums. A few days before the game the plans had been +changed so as to bring the contest to Kentfield instead of having it on +the Blue Hill gridiron. + +"Well, you're on time, I see," said our hero, as he shook hands with +Captain Haskell of Blue Hill. Haskell had been newly elected, to take +the place of a friend who had unexpectedly been called away. + +"Yes, and we're got our winning suits on." + +"Well, we'll see about that," responded Dick with a quiet smile. "Now if +you'll step over here we can arrange the details, and then both sides +can have some practice." + +"Sure," and a little later with the two coaches representing Kentfield, +and two from Blue Hill, the captains conferred. + +"I presume Blake will be all right for umpire," said Mr. Norton one of +the visiting coaches. + +"You mean George Blake--who umpired in our last game?" asked Mr. Spencer +quickly. + +"That's the one." + +"We'd prefer some one else," said Mr. Spencer quietly, before Dick could +interpose the objection that was on his lips. + +"You don't like him? Why?" asked Captain Haskell quickly, with some +wrath. + +"Because he doesn't see all that goes on in the line," was the calm +answer of the Princeton coach. "I don't believe it is necessary to say +more." + +"Well, if I----" + +"It's all right," broke in Coach Norton for Blue Hill. "If you object to +him, we'll take some one else. How will Jacob Small do?" + +"Of Lehigh?" + +"Yes." + +"We'll accept him gladly," assented Mr. Spencer. "Now as to the other +officials," and they were quickly settled upon. + +"Heads or tails?" asked Dick, as he prepared to spin the coin for choice +of goals. + +"Um--heads," spoke Captain Haskell quickly, as the quarter went spinning +into the air. + +"Heads it is," announced Dick without a tremor in his voice. The first +little indication of fate had gone against him, but it could not be +helped. He hoped to get the choice, as there was no wind blowing, and +naturally no advantage in goals, so that the winner of the toss could +elect to have the other side kick off if he liked. Dick had planned to +let Blue Hill kick if he had won the say of the spinning coin, but it +was not to be. Which would Haskell select? + +There was a moment's hesitation as the rival captain tested the wind +with a moistened, up-lifted finger. Then he announced his choice. + +"We'll take the north goal. You fellows can kick off!" + +"All right," spoke Dick and he tried not to show the little +disappointment in his voice. "Then as it's all settled we can get to +practice." + +Dick had hoped to get possession of the ball immediately after the kick +off and by a series of whirlwind rushes demoralize his opponents. Now he +would have to change his plans. + +"Well, we'll see how we can hold them," he said to Paul, as they went +over to their side of the field to run through some plays. + +There was fast, snappy, preliminary work. Dick paused once or twice to +observe his opponents. + +"No sign of them going stale," he reflected. + +The hour for play had come. The officials had settled all the details. +The new ball had been blown up, and the cover laced tightly. Carrying it +in his hand the referee advanced to the centre of the field and handed +it to Dick. + +"Are you ready?" the official asked. + +The young millionaire nodded. + +"Line up!" called the referee as Dick handed the ball to Innis Beeby to +kick off. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +HAMMER AND SMASH + + +With a graceful curve the pigskin sailed down the field, high over the +heads of the eager, waiting Blue Hill lads, beyond even their full-back +who had not stationed himself far enough in the rear. He had to do a +nimble sprinting act before he was ready to receive the spheroid on his +ten yard line. Then, tucking the leather close to his chest, and with +head well down he ran low back toward the Kentfield goal. + +"Get to him, boy, get to him!" cried Dick. "We mustn't let 'em gain an +inch if we can help it." + +Like hounds from the leash, the young millionaire and his companions +raced toward their quarry, and an instant later the two eager advancing +lines met, eleven straining lads trying to bore in through ten others +and get at the man with the ball. + +Frank Rutley got him--it was Tod Kester, the big centre and Tod went +down, a young mountain of flesh piling on top of him and the plucky left +tackle. Now the real battle was about to begin, and the engagement was +not long in opening. + +"All ready. Kansas City--four hundred--six--eleven--twenty-six!" + +Thus the sharp tones of Joe Bell the Blue Hill quarter, as he signalled +his men. Then came a rush and there was a terrific impact on that part +of the Kentfield line guarded by Paul Drew and Frank Rutley. It was a +strain, but they stood it, and the wave of struggling humanity, in the +centre of which was the Blue Hill left-half with the ball, was dashed +back. + +"No gain! That's good!" muttered Dick. "We're holding 'em!" + +Again came the signal, and once more that terrific impact, but this time +on the other side tackle and guard. Evidently Blue Hill was trying to +find the weak spots. + +Still again did Kentfield withstand it, and tossed back into their own +territory their aggressive enemies. + +"Watch out for a fake kick," Dick warned his chums, and they closed +in--all but Hal Foster the full-back, who would not be drawn in to his +disadvantage. + +There was a quick signal, and a forward pass was tried. It came at a +time when Dick and his chums were expecting either a kick or a fake +kick, and showed what chances Blue Hill was willing to take. But they +made good, for they gained several yards, and had the ball this much +nearer Kentfield's goal. Dick felt a little sinking feeling at his +heart, but he smiled bravely. + +"We'll stop 'em next time," he said grimly. + +Hammering and smashing again became the order of play, and at +Kentfield's line came the Blue Hill lads with bulldog tenacity. But they +had no weaklings to meet, and after a try through Drew and Rutley again, +they endeavored to circle Weston's end. But the former crony of Porter +was on the alert and like a snake he wiggled through the protecting +interference and got his man when only one yard had been gained. Then to +give his men a breathing spell Captain Haskell called for a kick, the +ball being punted to Kentfield's fifteen yard line. Tom Coleton ran it +back five yards before he was downed by a fierce tackle from Ned +Buchanan, and then Dick and his mates had a chance to show what they +could do. + +"Smash 'em! Smash 'em!" murmured Paul in memory of his former game. + +"Everybody keep cool," counseled Dick. "We don't want any penalties. +Play a clean game. Get ready now." + +In snapping tones he called the signal. It indicated that some sequence +plays were to be tried--plays for which no further intimation would be +given. + +Between left tackle and guard plunged Ray Dutton, and before he could be +stopped he had planted the ball five yards in advance toward Blue Hill's +goal. + +Another line up, and Hal Foster came plunging through a big hole that +had been torn for him between centre and right guard. On and on he +came, wiggling and squirming to gain every inch. In vain did Captain +Haskell call on his men to stop the play. Kentfield seemed irresistible, +and eight yards were reeled off, the grandstand contingent of our +friends going wild with delight. + +But Dick and his mates paid little attention to this. They had other +matters to occupy them. There was another play to be made. + +In silence, broken only by their panting breaths, the cadets again lined +up, and as Jim Watkins passed the ball back to Dick, the latter shoved +it into the waiting arms of John Stiver. John was on the run and with +the aid of Rutley he sprang eagerly into the hole between the opposing +left tackle and end, being preceded by Dutton who saw that the way was +clear. It was a smashing attack, delivered at the right moment, Tom +Coleton following in to see that no fumble was made. But none was, and +ten clean yards were ripped off, a bigger gain than Blue Hill had yet +made. + +"Now, again, boys!" yelled Dick in delight, and now he gave the signal +for an end run, that his panting lads might have some relief. It was +Dutton's cue to take the ball around to the Blue Hill right end. But +this was not so successful, as several of the opposing players were on +the alert and were ready to nail him. He ran to one side and was +actually forced back a yard before he went down. + +"It might be worse," said Dick cheerfully. "We'll try it differently +this time." + +An on-side kick netted a good gain, and then came a forward pass, which +was not so successful. There was a fumble--just whose fault it was could +not be said--and one of the Blue Hill players fell on the ball while +wild yells from their supporters told of the joy in their camp. + +"Watch out now!" warned Dick again. But there was no kicking or trick +play. Blue Hill was evidently going to depend on her slightly superior +weight, and retain her line-smashing tactics. At Kentfield she came with +a rush that carried her opponents off their feet for the time. + +"Hold! Hold!" yelled Dick desperately, and his men tried to do so. + +"Go on! Go on!" screamed Haskell. "Smash 'em to bits, but get through!" + +Dick was watching for any slugging, but his opponents seemed to be +playing a clean game. On came the man with the ball, and twelve yards +had been ripped out through the very centre of the line of our heroes +before they managed to nail Tom Hughes, who was worming his way forward +with the pigskin. + +So terrific was the next impact that Paul Drew went down and out and a +pail of water was hastily called for. He was well soaked and massaged, +until his breath came back with a gasp. + +"Can you stay in?" asked Dick anxiously. + +"Sure!" panted Paul, but his voice was not as strong as his captain +would liked to have heard it. + +"Stand by him," whispered the young millionaire to Frank Rutley. "They +may try to put him out again." + +Full two minutes were taken out to enable Paul to feel more like +himself, and Dick was not mistaken when the next play was made. It was a +terrific attack at Paul's place in the line. But sturdy Frank Rutley was +ready for them, and John Stiver was also on the alert, so that when the +Blue Hill's right half came plunging forward this time, he was met with +such opposition that he reeled back gasping. + +"Don't try here again!" called Frank to him significantly, and Paul +breathed a bit easier. He was rapidly regaining his strength. + +But though the attack had thus been hurled back once, the next time was +not so successful and through a wide gap came the man with the ball with +such fierceness and speed, that he reeled off fourteen yards, and now +the pigskin was on Kentfield's thirty yard line. + +"Look out for a try for goal," warned the captain, for he heard reports +that Blue Hill had been practicing that for the past week, putting in a +new man who had great abilities in the kicking line. + +But the kick did not come, though the visitors made a fake attempt. It +was only partially successful, however, and there was a fumble which +enabled Dick to slip in and get the ball on a bounce. He was in two +minds about what to do, but having sized up the mode of his opponents' +playing, and reckoning the time left in the half, he decided to punt the +ball back instead of keeping it and trying to advance it by rushing +tactics. + +"That will tire them if they want to begin smashing at our line again," +he reasoned, "and will let Paul have a little more time. We're holding +them all right, and maybe we can tire them more than they will us." + +Thus in a flash he outlined his policy and sent the leather hurling back +over the heads of the half-maddened Blue Hill lads who were chagrined at +their fumbling. + +"Come on!" cried the captain of the Kentfield lads. "We want to down +their man in his tracks if we can." + +It was almost done, and in fact the runner only managed to gain a few +yards before he was fiercely thrown by Innis Beeby. + +Again came that seemingly wearying, and never-ceasing attack on the +line. But Dick's men were on the alert, and though another attempt was +made through Paul he held firmly. + +The pace was beginning to tell though, and panting breaths and +palpitating hearts murmured their story. Dick resolved on more kicking +if he got a chance at the ball. But it seemed that he was not to get +it--at least right away. Once more up the field it was being advanced by +short sharp rushes. Blue Hill seemed content to keep on with her bulldog +playing, perhaps trusting that her men would last longer than would +Dick's. + +There was no denying the strength of the opponents of Kentfield. They +were trained to the second, and the two coaches whom Dick's money had +secured began to be a little direful of the result. + +"Can they stand it?" asked Mr. Spencer of his colleague. + +"Well, if they don't they're not what I think them to be," was the +convincing answer. + +The cheers and songs of the Blue Hill contingent seemed to give them +added strength. They still had the ball, in spite of all the efforts of +Dick and his men to hold them, to force a kick, or to get through and +block the plays. Steadily and surely the leather was nearing the fatal +line. + +"Look out boys! Look out!" warned Dick. "Play hard." + +He himself was working like a Trojan, getting into every opening, taking +all kinds of hard knocks, really doing more than his share. Nor were +there any shirkers in all the eleven. Hal Foster, at full, instead of +staying back to be on the watch for kicks, or to block men who got +through his mates, played well in. There was need of it, for Kentfield +was being shoved back, and every ounce of weight to back her up told. + +"Hold boys, hold!" begged and pleaded Dick desperately. He saw his goal +line being menaced and it seemed as if Blue Hill, as she came nearer +striking distance, grew wild with desire to cross it. + +The fatal play came with such suddenness that it almost took the heart +from Dick's cadets. After a smash at centre, which was hurled back, and +a try between left tackle and guard, which netted only a yard, there was +a quick shift to one side on the part of the Blue Hill players. + +An instant later Dick saw Rud Newton, the stocky left half-back burst +through with the ball under his arm. Like a flash the young millionaire +sprang to tackle him, but he was not quite heavy enough, and Rud broke +away. Full-back Foster was now Dick's only hope, but to his dismay he +saw that Hal had been drawn in, and was now hopelessly entangled in the +mass of his own and the opposing players. + +There was not a soul between Newton and the Kentfield goal, and toward +it the left half was now sprinting with all his speed. Dick gave a gasp, +sprang to his feet and was off after him like a flash. But Newton had +too much of a start, and the best the captain could do was to vainly +touch him with outstretched hand a yard from the goal line. In another +second Newton was over and had touched down the ball. + +The first score had been made against Kentfield and the heart of Dick +was sore as he slackened his pace and watched his own men and those of +Blue Hill running up to witness the first act of the drama that meant so +much to all of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN + + +Wild cries of delight, victorious shouts, the shrill voices of the +girls, mingling with the hoarser tones of the men and youths, the waving +of flags and banners, the shaking of canes adorned with the Blue Hill +colors, showed the appreciation of the first gain in the battle. + +"Yah! I thought your team was such a much!" yelled an ardent Blue Hill +supporter to some Kentfield cadets in the stand next to him. + +"So it is," was the cool answer, though there was a sore heart back of +it. "We never play our best until the other team gets a touchdown. +That's the only look-in your fellows will have." + +"Oh, it is; eh?" demanded the other with a hoarse laugh. "Well, just +watch our boys rip you all to pieces from now on." + +The goal was kicked, making the score six to nothing against our +friends, and Dick saw dubious looks on the faces of his chums. + +"This is nothing!" he cried gaily. "It's the only taste of the honey-pot +that we'll let them have. Come on now, we've got time to make a +touchdown this half." + +Play was resumed after the kick-off, and an exchange of punts followed, +both sides seeming willing to take this method of regaining their +strength, which had been almost played out. + +When Blue Hill got the ball after a series of brilliant kicks that had +delighted the spectators, she once more began her rushing tactics. But +either some of her men were careless, or they were too eager, for they +got off side, and there was some slugging which the alert umpire saw, +and as a penalty the ball went to Dick's side. + +"Now rush it up," he called eagerly, and then began such a whirlwind +attack that Blue Hill was fairly carried off her feet. Right up the +field from her own thirty-five yard line did Dick's men carry the +pigskin, until on Blue Hill's twenty yard mark the young millionaire +decided for a try for a field goal. It was a magnificent attempt but +failed, and before any more playing could be started the whistle blew, +ending the half. + +Rather dejectedly Dick and his team filed to the dressing rooms. The two +coaches met them. + +"It's all right! It's all right!" cried Mr. Spencer. "You boys couldn't +do better. You haven't made any mistakes. Keep on the same way next half +and you'll have them." + +"I hope so," murmured Dick. + +"I know it!" declared Mr. Martin with conviction. "They can't keep up +their pace, and they haven't any good subs to put in." + +"That's right," agreed his colleague. "The way you carried the ball up +the field after their touchdown showed what you could do. If there had +been time you'd have scored. They can't stand that smashing attacking +business, but you can hold them if you try. Then, at the right time, get +the ball and take it up. One touchdown and goal will tie the score, and +another touchdown will win the championship for you." + +"Boys, will we do it?" cried Dick, turning to his cadets as they +surrounded him in the dressing rooms under the grandstand. + +"Will we?" cried Innis Beeby. "Will a duck eat corn meal, boys?" + +"Sure!" came the enthusiastic answer. + +Back again on the gridiron trotted the twenty-two sturdy lads to indulge +in a little limbering-up practice before the second half should start. +Then came the warning whistle. + +"They'll kick off this time," said Dick to his men, "and that will give +us the ball. We want to rush it right up the field without giving 'em +time to catch their breaths. Try the sequence plays again, they worked +well." + +With a resounding "pung" the leather sailed into Kentfield territory. +Beeby caught it and began a rush back that was not destined to last +long, for with great fierceness he was tackled by Lem Gordon, and +heavily thrown. But Beeby was as hard as nails, and arose smiling, +keeping his foot on the ball. + +"Now boys, play like mustard," called Dick, as a signal for the +sequence plays, none other being given. The successive rushes that +followed fairly carried the Blue Hill players off their feet, and so +impetuously did Dick and his men smash into the line, going through +centre, between guards and tackles, and around the ends that, inside of +five minutes of play, the ball was on Blue Hill's ten yard line. + +"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled enthusiastic Kentfield "rooters," and from being +glum they were now wild with delight and eagerness. + +"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imperative demand. + +"Hold! Hold 'em!" pleaded the Blue Hill throng. + +"They ought to make it now or never," said a gray-haired man as he half +rose to watch the next play. "They must shove it over if they work as +they have all the way up the field." + +Dick paused for a moment. He was deciding on the next play. Blue Hill +was frantic and might take any unfair advantage. The Kentfield men were +like hounds after a stag--it seemed that nothing could keep them back. +Dick sent Ray Dutton through centre for five yards. + +He came back into the line gasping, for he had been tackled hard. + +"Only a little more now, fellows!" yelled the captain. "Nothing can stop +us now." + +"Yes, we can!" cried Haskell in desperation. "Don't let 'em through, +boys!" + +His half-wild players managed to stop Stiver with the ball after a three +yard gain. But two more yards were needed--six feet. + +Dick gave the signal for big Beeby to take the ball, and the next +instant the sturdy guard had hurled himself into the gap made for him. +For a second or two it seemed that he could not make it, so fiercely did +Blue Hill brace. Then, slowly but surely they began giving way under the +terrific pressure of the eager Kentfield cadets, and then came a wild +yell from Beeby, who was half smothered under a mass of players. + +"Down!" he gasped, and with his last strength cried "Touchdown!" + +The heap of players slowly dissolved. For a moment the spectators were +in doubt, and then, as the meaning of the joyous dancing about of +Kentfield, and the glum appearance of her opponents was borne to them, +the sympathizers of Dick's team burst into a frenzy of shouts and cheers +while the flags and banners were riotously waved in the maze of color. + +The score was tied a moment later as the goal was kicked. Who would make +the next points? + +Quickly the ball was put into play again, and there followed an exchange +of punts--a grateful relief from the line-smashing tactics that had +carried the pigskin over the goal mark. It was a rest for both sides for +Blue Hill had been played almost to a standstill and Dick's men were +panting and gasping from their terrific efforts. But it seemed worth all +it cost. + +Seldom had there been such a situation in the annals of the Military +League. Two of the best teams that had ever been represented playing +such fast football, and the score tied at such a critical moment meant +something. Add to it that the elevens were not on the most friendly +feeling, because of what had taken place early in the season, and there +was a situation that would make even a blasé football enthusiast "sit up +and take notice," as Innis Beeby said. + +The slightest turn of events might send the scale up or down now, +bringing victory or defeat. For a time both sides played warily, taking +no chances for the championship hung on the next few minutes. + +Then, as Dick's side got the spheroid, he called for some more of the +terrific playing. Nobly his men responded and eagerly. Almost too +eagerly it seemed for there was a fumble at a critical point and one of +the Blue Hill men seized the ball. Back toward the Kentfield goal he +sprinted with it, and for a moment Dick nearly had "heart disease" as he +said afterward. But this time Teddy Naylor, who had gone in to replace +Hal Foster at full, because Hal's weak ankle went back on him, tackled +the man, and the danger was over. But Blue Hill had the ball, and took +advantage of it by kicking it far enough away so that Kentfield would +have to work hard to regain the lost ground. + +"Smash 'em! Smash 'em!" ordered Dick, as his men lined up. So fierce was +the attack and the offense that Paul Drew was knocked out, and could not +come back in time to play. Ford Baker went in. + +This was rather a blow to Dick, and when John Stiver keeled over a +little later, from a blow on the head, the chances of Kentfield were not +improved. Sam Wilson went in at left half, and his playing was a +distinct revelation, for he jumped into the line with such energy that +he tore off ten yards on his first play. + +"Good!" cried Dick. "A few more like that and we'll have the game." + +The half was nearing a close. There had been more kicking, and several +scrimmages. Then Blue Hill had the ball, and Haskell called on his +cadets for a last desperate effort. They responded nobly, and Dick's +team, weakened as they were by the extraordinary hard pace, began to +give way. + +Up the field they were shoved until they made a stand on their twenty +yard line. + +"We've got to hold if we want the championship," said Dick simply, but +his words meant much. + +And then came one of the surprises of football. The people on the stands +were holding their breaths in anxiety, each individual almost praying +for his particular team. It looked bad for Kentfield, as she was being +steadily shoved back, and the time was fast passing. It seemed that she +would either be beaten, or that a tie game would result, necessitating +another conflict. + +Haskell gave orders for a fake kick, and so often had he worked that +play during the game that Dick's men at once were aware of what was +going to happen. Around the end of the line came smashing the Blue Hill +full-back who had taken the ball from his left half-back. Right around +he came, but Dick was there to tackle him. With all the fierceness and +energy of which he was capable the young millionaire sprang at his man. +They came down together. + +The ball rolled from the full-back's arms at his impact with the earth, +and like a flash Dick saw his chance. He was up in an instant, had +grabbed the leather, tucked it under his arm and was racing down the +field toward the goal of his enemies. + +He had a ninety yard run ahead of him, and the Blue Hill full back was +waiting for him with open arms. How he got past Dick never knew, but +those watching saw him fiercely bowl over his opponent like a tenpin. +Then on and on he sprinted, while a wild riot of yells from the +grandstands urged him forward. + +On and on he ran--on and on. His breath was rasping through his clenched +teeth--his legs seemed like sticks of wood, that were somehow actuated +by springs which were fast losing their power. + +"Can I do it?" he gasped. Then he answered himself. "I'm _going to do +it_!" + +He heard the pounding of feet behind him, but he dared not look back. On +he kept. Chalk mark after chalk mark passed beneath his vision. At last +he ceased to see them. He looked for the goal posts. They seemed miles +away, but were gradually coming nearer through a mist. + +He felt someone touch him from behind. He heard the panting breath of a +runner--he felt his jacket scraped by eager fingers, but he kept on. + +Then, when he had no more breath left; when it was all black before his +eyes, he crossed the last line--fairly staggered over it and fell with +the ball in the final touchdown--the score that won the game--for the +whistle blew as his men and their enemies were running up. + +Dick had won the championship. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE TROLLEY STOCK--CONCLUSION + + +The grandstands were trembling and swaying under the foot-stamping, +yelling crowd that enthusiastically cheered the victorious Kentfield +cadets. Dick felt as if it was all a dream until he found himself half +lifted to his feet and felt his comrades clapping him on the back, +yelling congratulations in his ears, while a dozen or more were trying +to shake his hand at once, for the gridiron had been overwhelmed by a +riotous throng of substitutes and spectators as soon as the final +whistle blew. + +"Oh, Dick! Dick!" cried Paul, limping up to his chum. + +"We--we did 'em!" gasped the captain. + +"_We_ did 'em?" questioned Dutton, also among the cripples. "_You_ did +'em you mean, Dick Hamilton. It's your team from start to finish!" + +"Oh, bosh!" cried our hero. + +There was a lull in the cheering on the stands, and suddenly, in the +silence, there broke out the shrill voice of an old man--evidently one +unused to football games. + +"By heck!" he cried, "That was a great run! I never see a better one! +Golly, but he scooted. This is the first time I ever see one of these +games, but it won't be the last! Who was it made that home run." + +So still was it that Dick could hear the question and answer for he was +not far from the stand. + +"It wasn't a home run," some one informed the old man, "it was a run for +a touchdown, and Dick Hamilton, the Kentfield captain, made it." + +"Dick Hamilton? Where is he now? I want to see him. I've got something +to say to him." + +As in a dream Dick wondered where he had heard that voice before. Then +like a flash it came to him--Enos Duncaster! But Mr. Duncaster at a +football game--one between teams of the "tin soldiers" whom he affected +to despise. It seemed impossible. Dick looked to where the old man was +now vigorously applauding though every one else was quiet. There could +be no mistake. It _was_ Mr. Duncaster--the holder of the trolley stock. +Yet how came he at the game? + +"I want to see him. I want to see that Dick Hamilton!" Mr. Duncaster was +saying. "I came to see him--I've got important news for him, and I'm in +a hurry." + +"You'd better go to him, Dick," advised Paul. "Maybe it isn't too late +about that stock." + +Dick felt a thrill of hope. At intervals of the game he had half +regretted his decision to play instead of going to keep the appointment +with the eccentric rich man. He had feared it would be too late, and +that his message to Mr. Duncaster would set that peculiar individual +against him. + +Dick turned his steps toward where Mr. Duncaster stood in the +grandstand. As the youth passed along he was congratulated on all sides. + +"Great run, Hamilton! Great!" was called again and again. + +"I want to shake hands with you, Dick Hamilton!" exclaimed Mr. Duncaster +heartily. "And I want to say I've got a different opinion of you boys +than I had. I guess I was mistaken. + +"Just after I sent you that message, saying your father could have the +stock, I picked up a magazine and read an account of a football game. It +was the first I'd ever read, and thinks I to myself I'd like to see it. +Then, when I got your message saying you were going to play, and +couldn't come to see me I made up my mind to come to see you. I did, and +by heck! it was great--great! But your run was the best of all. + +"First I was a little put out because you didn't come to see me, and I +half made up my mind to give the stock to Mr. Porter. But I see now why +you wanted to stay and play the game. You couldn't desert, and by heck! +I'm glad you won! Shake hands again!" + +Dick did so, in a mist of tears that would not be kept back. The +reaction was almost too much for him. To win the championship, and in +the next breath to be told that his father's plans need not fail, was +almost too much. + +He managed to stammer out his thanks to Enos Duncaster, whom many +spectators were regarding curiously. + +"You cadets are all right!" the old man was saying. "It takes more spunk +than I imagined to smash into each other that way. I'm coming to all the +football games after this--that is as soon as I get my health back. I'm +off for Europe now. I've just about got time to catch my train. + +"Here's the stock your father wants, Dick Hamilton. I've got it all +ready for you in a bundle, and inside is the address of my lawyers. You +can----" + +"But the pay----" stammered Dick. + +"That's all right--you can send it to my lawyers. I'm in a hurry. Now +good-bye--I'm off to the hot springs!" And once more he wrung Dick's +hand. "That was a great run--great!" cried Mr. Duncaster, as he made his +way off the stand. + +"Three cheers for Dick Hamilton!" called Ray Dutton. + +And how the people did cheer! + +"And three for Mr. Duncaster--a convert to football!" shouted Paul Drew, +and if they were not as loud as the first cheers they must have warmed +the old man's heart. + +Dick sent a telegram to his father conveying double good news--about the +football victory and about the possession of the stock. + +"I guess your troubles will be over now dad," wired Dick. + +They were seemingly for a time, but later other financial matters +involved Dick and his father, and how they turned out, and how Dick met +them will be told in the next volume of this series, to be called "Dick +Hamilton's Touring Car; Or, A Young Millionaire's Race for a Fortune." +In it we shall meet Dick and his friends and some of his enemies, and +learn how he triumphed over the latter. + + * * * * * + +There was great rejoicing in Kentfield that night when the team broke +training and the suits were burned. True to his word, Dick provided the +finest banquet the cadets had ever had spread in their honor. There were +speeches innumerable, and the coaches were given their full share of +praise. + +But it was toward Dick that most eyes were turned and he was called on +again and again to respond to a toast. + +"Well, which do you feel better over, Dick?" asked Paul that night, as +they went to their room, "winning the championship or getting the stock +from Mr. Duncaster?" + +"Both," replied the young millionaire with a smile. "But it certainly +was great to convert Mr. Duncaster into a gridiron rooter; eh, Grit?" + +And Grit whined in delight, jumping up on Dick, while the two chums sat +down in the little room and played the great game all over again. + + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + + + + THE DICK HAMILTON SERIES + BY HOWARD R. GARIS + +A NEW LINE OF CLEVER TALES FOR BOYS + + +DICK HAMILTON'S FORTUNE + +Or The Stirring Doings of a Millionaire's Son + +Dick, the son of a millionaire, has a fortune left to him by his mother. +But before he can touch the bulk of this money it is stipulated in his +mother's will that he must do certain things, in order to prove that he +is worthy of possessing such a fortune. The doings of Dick and his chums +make the liveliest kind of reading. + + +DICK HAMILTON'S CADET DAYS + +Or The Handicap of a Millionaire's Son + +The hero, a very rich young man, is sent to a military academy to make +his way without the use of money. A fine picture of life at an +up-to-date military academy is given, with target shooting, broad-sword +exercise, trick riding, sham battles, and all. Dick proves himself a +hero in the best sense of the word. + + +DICK HAMILTON'S STEAM YACHT + +Or A Young Millionaire and the Kidnappers + +A series of adventures while yachting in which our hero's wealth plays a +part. Dick is marooned on an island, recovers his yacht and foils the +kidnappers. The wrong young man is spirited away, Dick gives chase and +there is a surprising rescue at sea. + + +DICK HAMILTON'S AIRSHIP + +Or A Young Millionaire in the Clouds + +This new book is just brimming over with hair-raising adventures of Dick +Hamilton in his new airship. + + +DICK HAMILTON'S TOURING CAR + +Or A Young Millionaire's Race for Fortune + +A series of thrilling adventures. Dick and his friends see the country +in a huge touring car. Their exciting trip across the country, how they +saved a young man's fortune and other exciting incidents are very +cleverly told. + + * * * * * + + + +THE BOY-SCOUTS + +BANNER-SERIES + +By GEORGE A. WARREN + +Author of the "Revolutionary Series" + + +The Boy Scouts movement has swept over our country like wildfire, and is +endorsed by our greatest men and leading educators. No author is better +qualified to write such a series as this than Professor Warren, who has +watched the movement closely since its inception in England some years +ago. + + + THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS + _or The Struggle for Leadership_ + +This initial volume tells how the news of the scout movement reached the +boys and how they determined to act on it. They organized the Fox +Patrol, and some rivals organized another patrol. More patrols were +formed in neighboring towns and a prize was put up for the patrol +scoring the most points in a many-sided contest. + + + THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS ON A TOUR + _or The Mystery of Rattlesnake Mountain_ + +This story begins with a mystery that is most unusual. There is a good +deal of fun and adventure, camping, fishing, and swimming, and the young +heroes more than once prove their worth. + + + THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT + _or The Secret of Cedar Island_ + +Here is another tale of life in the open, of jolly times on river and +lake and around the camp fire, told by one who has camped out for many +years. + + + THE BANNER BOY SCOUTS SNOWBOUND + or A Tour on Skates and Iceboats + +The boys take a trip into the mountains, where they are caught in a big +snowstorm and are snowbound. A series of stirring adventures which will +hold the interest of every reader. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE NAN SHERWOOD SERIES + +By Annie Roe Carr + + +In Annie Roe Carr we have found a young woman of wide experience among +girls--in schoolroom, in camp and while traveling. She knows girls of +to-day thoroughly--their likes and dislikes--and knows that they demand +almost as much action as do the boys. And she knows humor--good, clean +fun and plenty of it. + + + NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP + or The Old Lumberman's Secret + + NAN SHERWOOD AT LAKEVIEW HALL + or The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse + + NAN SHERWOOD'S WINTER HOLIDAYS + or Rescuing the Runaways + + NAN SHERWOOD AT ROSE RANCH + or The Old Mexican's Treasure + + NAN SHERWOOD AT PALM BEACH + or Strange Adventures Among the Orange Groves + + * * * * * + + + + +THE JANICE DAY SERIES + +By HELEN BEECHER LONG + + +A series of books for girls which have been uniformly successful. Janice +Day is a character that will live long in juvenile fiction. Every volume +is full of inspiration. There is an abundance of humor, quaint +situations, and worth-while effort, and likewise plenty of plot and +mystery. + +An ideal series for girls from nine to sixteen. + + JANICE DAY, THE YOUNG HOMEMAKER + JANICE DAY AT POKETOWN + THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY + HOW JANICE DAY WON + THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Dick Hamilton's Football Team, by Howard R. Garis + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41410 *** |