"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.

But that which Phin Drayne noted most of all was that every signal
used had a different meaning from that employed in the code he
had mailed to the captains of the other school teams.

"It was all found out, and Gridley wasn't hurt," thought Phin,
gnashing his teeth. "Good luck always seems to follow that fellow
Prescott! Can't he be beaten? We shall see! Prescott, my fine
bully, I'm not through with you yet."

The first half ended without either side scoring. Impartial onlookers
thought that perhaps formidable Tottenville had had rather the
better of it, but no one could tell with certainty which was the
better team.