Dick Prescott glanced out over Gridley High School's broad athletic
field.

A group of the middle men of the line, and their substitutes,
had gathered around Coach Morton.

On another part of the field Dave Darrin was handling a squad
of new football men, teaching how to rush in and tackle the swinging
lay figure.

Still others, under Greg Holmes, were practicing punt kicks.

Drayne's face was flushed, and, though he strove to hide the fact,
there was an anxious look there.

"I didn't quite understand, Drayne," continued the young captain
of the team, "that you were to take a very important part this
year."

"Pshaw! I'd like to know why I'm not," returned the other boy
hotly.

"I think that is regarded as being the general understanding,"
continued Dick. He didn't like this classmate, yet he hated to
give offense or to hurt the other's feelings in any way.

"The general understanding?" repeated Drayne hotly. "Then I can
tell the man who started that understanding."

"I think I can, too," Prescott answered, smiling patiently.