gh School the June before, and who was now serving his apprenticeship
as reporter on one of the two local daily papers, the morning "Blade."

"Oh, see here, Len!" called Dick joyously. "You're just the right fellow
for us. You know the football rules?"

"I have a speaking acquaintance with 'em," laughed Len.

Dick rapidly outlined what was being planned, adding:

"You can put that in the 'Blade' to-morrow morning, Len, and state our
challenge to North and South Grammars. Won't you?"

"Surely."

"But we want to practise this afternoon," Dick continued earnestly, "and
we haven't any referee. Len, can't you spare us a little time? Won't you
boss the first practice for us?"

"All right," agreed Len, after a little thought. "I'll tackle it for a
while. Have you got your teams picked?"

"Teams all picked, and the ball ready. We'll have to place stones for
goal posts, though."

"Hustle and do it, then," commanded Len. "I can't stay here forever."

Five minutes later the field was as ready as it could be made.

"Captains will now attend the toss-up," ordered Len Spencer, producing a
coin from one of his pockets. "Heads for Craig, tails for Prescott."

It fell head up, and Craig chose his goal, and also the first kick-off.

Dick had been busily engaged in making up his line and backfield. There
was some delay while Tom Craig accomplished this same thing.

"Now, one thing that all you youngsters want to remember," declared Len,
"is that no player can play off-side. All ready?"

Both young football captains called out that they were. Len had provided
himself with a pocket whistle loaned by one of the fifth-grade boys.

Trill-ll! Tom Craig kicked the ball himself, but it was a poor kick. The
pigskin soon struck the ground.

"I'll try that over again," announced Tom.

But Dick and his own fighting line had already started. Dick, at center,
with Dave on his right hand and Greg Holmes on his left, snatched up the
ball and started with it for the Rustlers' goal.

A bunch of Rustlers opposed and tackled Prescott. Dick succeeded, by the
help of Dave and Greg, in breaking through the line, but the Rustlers
turned and were after him. Down went Dick, but he had the pigskin under
him.

"Take it away from him, fellows!" panted Craig. But Len blew his
whistle, following up the signal by some sharp commands that brought the
struggle to a close.

"Prescott's side have the ball," declared Len, "and will now play off a
sna