In
this disguise Drayne sat where he could see what would happen.
At the outset it was Gridley's kick off, and for the next ten
minutes Tottenville had the ball, fighting stubbornly with it.
But at last, when forced half way down the field between center
and its own goal line, Gridley blocked so well in the three following
plays that the pigskin came to the home eleven.
Dick bent over, holding the ball for the snapback, while his battle
front formed on each side of him.
Dave Darrin, quarter-back, raced back a few steps, then halted,
looking keenly, swiftly over the field.
Phin Drayne drew his breath sharply. Then his heart almost stopped
beating as he listened.
"Thirty-eight---nine---eleven---four!" sounded Darrin's voice,
sharp and clear.
"That's the run around the left end!" throbbed Phin Drayne.
But it wasn't. A fake kick, followed by a cyclonic impact at
the right followed.
"They've changed the signals!" gulped the guilty masquerader behind
the black veil. "Then they've found out."
With this came the next disheartening thought:
"That's the reason, then, why the coach ordered me out of the field
Thursday afternoon. Morton is wise. I wonder if he has told it
all around?"
Gridley High School was doing some of its brilliant, old-style
play now. Prescott was proving himself an ideal captain, quick-witted,
full of strategy, force, push and dash, yet all the while displaying
the best of cool judgment in sizing up the chances of the hard
battle.
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