the ball.

Gridley took the ball, now. In the next two plays, the smaller
fellows advanced the ball some twelve yards. But in the next
three plays following, they lost on downs, and Fordham again carried
the pigskin.

"The Fordham fellows are passing a lot of whispers every chance
they get," reported alert Dave.

"I don't care how much they whisper," was Dick's rejoinder. "But
watch out for crooked tricks."

Minute after minute went by. Gridley got the ball down to the
enemy's fifteen-yard line, then saw it slowly forced back into
their own territory.

Now Fordham began to "slug" again; yet so cleverly was it done
that the officials could not put their fingers on a definite instance
that could be penalized.

Bravely fighting, Gridley was none the less driven back. From
the ten-yard line Fordham suddenly made a right end play on which
the whole weight and force of the team was concentrated. In the
mad crush, three or four Gridley boys were "slugged" in the slyest
manner conceivable. Fordham broke through the line, carrying
the pigskin over the goal line with a rush.

Fordham boosters set up a roar that seemed to make the ground
shake, but the two hundred boys from the military school took
little or no part in the demonstration. Tom Reade's reply to
Phin Drayne had silenced them.

Swaggering like swashbucklers Fordham followed the ball back for
the kick for goal. It was made, securing six points, which were
added to the two received from Gridley being forced to make that
safety earlier in the game.

"Of all the miserable gangs of rowdies!" uttered Dave Darrin,
as the teams rested in quarters between the halves.

"I have two black-and-blue spots to show, I know I have," muttered
Hudson.

"We'll have some of our men on stretchers, if this thing keeps
up," growled Greg Holmes.

"What are you going to do about this business, Captain?" demanded
two or three of the fellows, in one breath.

"As long as we play," replied Dick Prescott, "we'll play the same
gentleman's game, no matter what the other fellows do. We may
quit, but we won't slug. We won't sully Gridley's good name for
honest play. And we won't quit, either, until Mr. Morton orders
us from the field."

"You have it right, Prescott," nodded the coach. "And I shan't
interfere, either, unless things get a good deal worse than they
have been. But the Fordham work has been shameful, and I don't
blame any of you for feeling that you'd rath