Phin Drayne's "brass" had deserted him. He knew, anyway, that
these comrades could dig up his past record at Gridley very quickly.
Drayne knew that his days at Fordham were over.
"It was all my confounded tongue, too," muttered Phin dejectedly.
"If I had kept my tongue behind my teeth I don't believe any
of the Gridley fellows would have noticed me, or said anything.
Oh, dear! I wonder where I can go next!"
In the meantime the Gridley High School team and substitutes,
escorted with so much pomp, attracted a great deal of notice in
the streets of Fordham.
People turned out to cheer them, and to wave handkerchiefs and
ribbons. For Fordham wasn't all bad or rough; not even the High
School. The roughest element in the school had captured football---that
was all. Some of these boys belonged to the wealthier families,
and had been brought up to believe they could do as they pleased.
This was the High School in which Phin Drayne naturally belonged.
Down at the railway station the Gridley crowd and the Gridley
Band awaited the coming of the team. The fine sight made by the
gray military escort brought a hurricane of cheers from the Gridleyites.
Just at the nick of time the leader of the band bethought himself,
and signaled his musicians. As the stages drew up the band played,
and the Fordham Military Institute's battalion moved into line
of battalion front.
Dick feelingly thanked young Major Ransom.
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