That much was a correct guess. Tom didn"t intend anything of the sort.
All in a flash Reade, as prearranged, dropped the ball, punting it vigorously.
Up it went, soaring obliquely over Gridley"s left flank and far beyond.
Just a second before the ball itself started, little Fenton had put himself in motion. By the time that the ball was in the air Fenton was past Hallam"s line and scorching down the field.
Now Forsythe and every Hallam man comprehended all in a flash.
Fenton had caught the ball with a nicety that brought wild whoops from the Gridley boosters, now standing on their seats and waving the Gridley colors.
"That little fellow looks like a streak of light," yelled one Gridley booster.
The description wasn"t a bad one. Fenton was doing some of the finest sprinting conceivable. Before him nothing menaced but big Harlowe, Hallam"s fullback. Harlowe, however, was hurling himself straight in the impetuous way of little Fenton.
It looked like a b.u.mp. There could be but one result. Fenton would have to go down to save the ball.
Harlowe reached out to tackle.
Fenton came to a quivering stop, just out of reach. Then, almost instantly, the little left end dashed straight forward again.
But the move had been enough to fool Harlowe. Of course, he a.s.sumed that Fenton would spring to one side. Harlowe imagined that it would be a dodge to the left, and Harlowe leaped there to tackle his man.
But Fenton, actually going straight ahead, fooled the calculation of his powerful adversary and got past on the clever trick.
Harlowe dashed after his sly opponent. But Fenton, still almost with his first big breath in his lungs, was running as fast as ever. A man of Harlowe"s size was no one to send after a greased mosquito like Fenton.
So nothing hindered. Amid the wildest, noisiest rooting, Fenton stepped it over Hallam"s now undefended goal line, reached down and pressed the pigskin against the earth for a touchdown.
On the grand stand the noise was deafening. The whistle sounded and the flushed players of both teams came back to range up for the kick from field. Dave, his cheeks glowing, took the kick.
He sent a clean one that scored one more point for Gridley.
The cheering and the playing of the band still continued when the two elevens again lined up for play during the last five minutes of the game. The referee was obliged to signal to the leader to stop his musicians.
Forsythe looked hot and weary. His expectation of an easy victory had come to naught. Unless he and ten other Hallam boys could work wonders in five minutes.
But they couldn"t and didn"t. The time keeper brought the game to a close.
"Gridley has handed us six to nothing," muttered Forsythe, as he led his disheartened fellows from the field. "That puts us with the other second-rate teams in the state."
"A great lot of orders you needed, didn"t you?" was Captain d.i.c.k Prescott"s happy greeting as Dave met him beyond the side lines.
"You won that game for us, just the same," retorted Dave.
"I?" demanded d.i.c.k, in genuine amazement.
"Yes; you, and no one else."
"How?"
"You refused to give me a hint. You threw me down hard, on my own resources. I saw all those hundreds of people demanding that Gridley win," retorted Dave. "What could I do? I had to make the fellows do something like what they"ve been doing under d.i.c.k Prescott, or confess myself a dub. I couldn"t lean on a word from you, d.i.c.k. So you fairly drove me into planning something that would either carry off the game or make us look like chromos of football players. You wouldn"t say a word, Prescott, that would take any of the blame on yourself! So didn"t you force me to win!"
"That"s ingenious, but not convincing," retorted d.i.c.k, as the two chums stepped into dressing quarters. "To tell you the truth, Dave, I think a good many people now believe that you ought to be the regular captain."
But Darrin only grinned. He knew better.
Some of the fellows tried to praise Fenton to his face.
"Quit! You can"t get away with that," chuckled the fast little left end. "Some one had to take that ball and drop it behind Hallam"s goal line. I was the one who was ordered to do it.
If I hadn"t, what would you fellows have said about me?"
By the time that the Hallam Heights young men were dressed several of them came to the Gridley quarters, Forsythe at their head.
"We want to shake hands," laughed Forsythe, "and to make sure that you have no hard feelings for what we tried to do to you."
d.i.c.k and Darrin took this in laughing goodfellowship.
"If you call this your dub team to-day," continued Forsythe, a bit more gloomily, "we shudder to think what would have happened to us had you put in your regular line-up."
"There isn"t any dub team in Gridley," spoke d.i.c.k quickly. "All of our fellows are trained in the same way, by the same coach, and we stake all our chances on any line-up that"s picked for the day. It was hard on you, gentlemen, that my knee put me out for the day. Darrin is twice as crafty as I am."
"Oh, Darrin is crafty, all right," agreed Forsythe cheerfully.
"But, somehow, I like him for it."
On some of the side streets Gridley boys were allowed to light bonfires that evening, and there was general rejoicing of a lively nature. From the news that had come over concerning the Hallam Heights team there had been a good deal of fear that Gridley would, on this day, receive a set-back to its rule of always winning.
CHAPTER X
Leading the Town to Athletics
"Mr. Morton, we want a little word with you."
"All right---anything to please you," laughed the submaster, looking at d.i.c.k and Dave as they came up to him in the yard at recess.
"We"ve been thinking over a plan," d.i.c.k continued.
"It has something to do with athletics, then!" guessed the submaster.
"Yes, sir," nodded Dave.
"High School athletics, at that," continued Mr. Morton.
"There you"re wrong, sir, for once," smiled Prescott. "Mr. Morton, we"ve been thinking of the High School gym. It"s a big place.
Pretty nearly three hundred gymnasts could be drilled there at once."