"I hope you're going to win, Prescott," said Mr. Macey,
meeting Dick on the street one afternoon not long before Thanksgiving.
"Have you any doubts, sir?" smiled the captain of the Gridley
team.
"Well, you see, Fordham was my native town. I run down there
often, and I know a good deal of what's going on there. Fordham's
second coach has attended the last two games you played, and he
has been stealing all your points that he could get."
"He has, eh?" muttered Prescott. "That's news to me. Oh, well,
it's legitimate to learn all you can about another team's play."
"From the reports Fordham has of your play the young men over
in that town are certain that they're enough better to be able
to bring your scalps into camp."
"Perhaps they'll do it," laughed Dick pleasantly. "We'll admit
that we're about due for a walloping whenever the crowd comes
along that can do it."
"I am only telling you what I hear from Fordham," continued Mr.
Macey.
"And I'm glad you did, sir. We'll try to turn the laugh on Fordham."
"Then you think you can beat 'em?"
"No, sir. We never think we can. We always know that we can!
That's the Gridley way---the Gridley spirit. We always win our
battles before we go into them, Mr. Macey. We make up our minds
that we can't and won't be beaten. It isn't just brag, though.
We base all our positiveness on the way that we stick to our
training and coaching, and on our discipline.
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