the toss, and took the kickoff.

That, of course, sent the ball into Fordham ranks. In an instant
the solid Fordham line emitted a murmur that sounded like a bear's
growl, then came thundering down upon the smaller Gridley youngsters.

There was a fierce collision, but Gridley held on like a herd
of bulls. The ball was soon down.

For five minutes or so there was savage playing. Fordham played
a "slugging" game of the worst kind. Several foul tackles were
quickly made by home players, yet so quickly released that the
referee could not be sure and could not inflict a penalty. Sly
blows were struck when the lines came together.

The average football captain would have claimed penalties, and
fought the matter out.

But Dick Prescott let matters run by. He was waiting his opportunity.

So hard was the "slugging," so overbearing and ruthlessly unfair
was the Fordham charge that, at the end of five minutes, Gridley
was forced to make a safety, losing two points at the outset.

"Yah!" sneered an exultant voice from the ranks of the military
school. "That's the fine Captain Prescott we've heard about!"

Tom Reade, in togs, was standing among the Gridley subs at the
side line.

Tom recognized, as did all the Gridley boys, the voice of Phin
Drayne.

"Yes!" bellowed Tom, facing the gray-clad group. "And that last
speaker was a fellow who was expelled from Gridley High School
for selling out his team!"

It was a swift shot and a bull's-eye. The Fordham Institute boys
had no answer ready for that. Half of them turned to stare at
Phin Drayne, whose guilty face, with color coming and going in
flashes seemed to admit the truth of Reade's taunt.

"Dick," growled Darrin, as they moved forward, after the safety,
to Gridley's twenty-five yard line, "these Fordham fellows are
simply ruffians. They're fouling us every second, and they'll
smash half our fellows into the hospital."

"We'll see about that!"

Dick Prescott's voice was as quiet and cool as ever, but there
was an ominous flash in his eyes.

CHAPTER XV

"We'll Play the Gentleman's Game."

At the next down Dan Dalzell held up his hand, making a dash for
the referee.

"I claim a foul!" he called.

"Captain, this is for you," announced the referee, turning to
Dick. "Be quick, if you've any complaint to make."

"Come here, Dalzell," called Prescott. "What was the foul?"

The Fordham players crowded about, muttering in an ugly way---all