ll
get a rouser in the way of handsome treatment."

The two had stepped down just off the street into the alleyway.

"Does everyone seem to believe that the job was put up at the
Business Men's Club?" Dick asked.

"Sure thing," nodded Len Spencer. "And no member of the Club
will deny it, either, for the thing has struck the popular side
of the town. Why, by tonight, there'll be at least a dozen of
the members, each confidentially telling his friends that _he_
conceived the whole trick."

"That'll make it all the stronger," nodded Dick. "Good thing."

"Glee!" chuckled Len. "Wouldn't the whole town---including the
Board members---wake up, if they only knew that the whole thing
was planned out by a fourteen-year-old freshie, by name Dick Prescott!"

"You won't let it out, Len, that I had any hand in it?" asked
Dick, quickly.

"Oh, not I," promised Len, quickly. "I gave you my word on that,
son, didn't I?"

"Now, see here," Dick went on, "why can't you push this thing
along one day further? Why don't you interview a lot of the prominent
business men on the absolute necessity of football for keeping
up the H.S. spirit and traditions?"

"Good idea as far as it goes," assented Len, dubiously. "But
a lot of the business men might prove to be fossilized, and be
against the grand old game."

"Leave that sort out," hinted Dick, sagely, "and go after the
right kind."

"How'll I know the right kind?" asked reporter Spencer, thoughtfully.

"Why, use your head a bit. There's Beck. He's a millionaire,
and one of the big men of the town, isn't he?"

"Yes; but he may not believe in football."

"Shucks! Of course Beck believes in football," retorted Dick.
"Doesn't his lumber yard furnish all the wooden goods that are
needed for fences, seats, and all that sort of thing up at the
athletic grounds? Doesn't Beck know that, if he said a word against
football, he never get another order for lumber from the H.S.
Alumni association. Then there's Carleson. He's one of the directors
of the railroad, therefore a big enough man to interview."

"Where does Carleson come in on hot interest in football?"

"Use your head," jibed Dick. "Doesn't his railroad have lots
of jobs transporting the football teams to other games, and bringing
other teams here? Don't mobs of fans follow the teams and pay
fare? Why, H.S. football is a dividend-payer to Carleson. Your
own editor, Pollock, will come out for us. Besides the new