"
Just before the Gridley youngsters were ready to go out for preliminary
practice the big Fordham fellows came off the field.
"Hullo!" piped Dave, as the Gridley boys strolled out to the gridiron.
"You ought to feel happy, Dick. There's a big section of West
Point over on the grand stand."
Nearly two hundred young men in black and gray cadet uniforms
of the United States Military Academy pattern sat in a solid block
at one point on the grand stand.
"No, they're not West Pointers," sighed Dick. "See here, those
fellows, of course, are students at the Fordham Military institute.
They wear the West Point uniform. And that's the military school
that Phin Drayne went to."
"The sneak!" grunted Dave. "I wonder if he's over in that bunch,
now."
"I'm not even enough interested to wonder," returned Prescott.
"He's where he can't do us any harm, anyway."
"But, if the Fordham boys put anything over us, I'll bet Drayne
has things timed so that the military boys will do a big and
noisy lot of boasting."
"They will, anyway, if we allow them a chance," answered Dick.
"Now, spread out, fellows," he called, raising his voice.
In the next moment the ball was in lively play.
The first time that a fumble was made a jeering chorus sounded
among the military school boys.
"I expected it," growled Darrin.
"We don't care, anyway," smiled Dick. "Let 'em hoot! I don't
draw the line until they throw things.
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