"We'll Play the Gentleman's Game."
At the next down Dan Dalzell held up his hand, making a dash for
the referee.
"I claim a foul!" he called.
"Captain, this is for you," announced the referee, turning to
Dick. "Be quick, if you've any complaint to make."
"Come here, Dalzell," called Prescott. "What was the foul?"
The Fordham players crowded about, muttering in an ugly way---all
except one man, who skulked at the rear.
"There's the hoodlum," continued Dan excitedly, one hand over
his left breast. He pointed to the Fordham player skulking at
the rear. "That fellow deliberately gave me the elbow over the
heart when we came together."
"What have you to say, Captain Barnes?" demanded the referee,
turning to the Fordham leader.
"It's not true," retorted Barnes hotly. "Daniels, come here."
The matter was argued quickly and hotly, Gridley accusing, Fordham
hotly denying.
"Can't you Gridley fellows play with anything but your mouths?"
snarled Captain Barnes.
"We play a straight game," retorted Dick coldly. "We play like
gentlemen."
"Do you mean that we're not?" demanded Barnes swaggeringly.
"So far you've played like a lot of sluggers."
"See here! I've a good mind to thrash you, Prescott!" quivered
Barnes.
"It's always the truth that stings," retorted Dick, with a cool
smile.
"My fist would hurt, too."
"That's what we're asking you to do---to save all your slugging
and bruising tactics until after a straight and gentlemanly game
has been played," retorted Dick, with spirit.
Barnes clenched his fists, but the referee stepped squarely in
between the rival captains.
"Cut it!" directed that official tersely. "I'll do all the talking
myself. Captain Barnes, return to your men and tell them that
slugging and tricky work will be watched for more carefully, and
penalized as heavily as the rules allow. If it goes too far I'll
declare the game forfeited to the visiting team."
"This is a shame!" fumed Barnes. "And the whole charge is a mass
of lies."
"I'll watch out and see," promised---or threatened---the referee.
"Back to your positions. Captain Barnes, I'll give you thirty
seconds to pass the word around among your men."
"That black-haired prize-fighter with the mole on his chin tries
to give me his knee every time we meet in a scrimmage," growled
Hudson to Dick. "If he carries it any further, I think I know
a kick that will put his ankle out of business!"
"Then don't you dare use it," warned Dick sternly. "No matter
what the other fellows do, our team is playing a square, honest
game every minute of both halves!"
The referee had signaled them to positions. The Gridley boys
leaped into place.
Play was resumed. In the next three plays Fordham, under the
now more keenly watchful eyes of the officials, failed to make
the required distance, and lost the ball.
Gridley took the ball, now. In the next two plays, the smaller
fellows advanced the ball some twelve yards. But in the next
three plays following, they lost on downs, and Fordham again carried
the pigskin.
"The Fordham fellows are passing a lot of whispers every chance
they get," reported alert Dave.
"I don't care how much they whisper," was Dick's rejoinder. "But
watch out for crooked tricks."
Minute after minute went by. Gridley got the ball down to the
enemy's fifteen-yard line, then saw it slowly forced back into
their own territory.
Now Fordham began to "slug" again; yet so cleverly was it done
that the officials could not put their fingers on a definite instance
that could be penalized.
Bravely fighting, Gridley was none the less driven back. From
the ten-yard line Fordham suddenly made a right end play on which
the whole weight and force of the team was concentrated. In the
mad crush, three or four Gridley boys were "slugged" in the slyest
manner conceivable. Fordham broke through the line, carrying
the pigskin over the goal line with a rush.
Fordham boosters set up a roar that seemed to make the ground
shake, but the two hundred boys from the military school took
little or no part in the demonstration. Tom Reade's reply to
Phin Drayne had silenced them.
Swaggering like swashbucklers Fordham followed the ball back for
the kick for goal. It was made, securing six points, which were
added to the two received from Gridley being forced to make that
safety earlier in the game.
"Of all the miserable gangs of rowdies!" uttered Dave Darrin,
as the teams rested in quarters between the halves.
"I have two black-and-blue spots to show, I know I have," muttered
Hudson.
"We'll have some of our men on stretchers, if this thing keeps
up," growled Greg Holmes.
"What are you going to do about this business, Captain?" demanded
two or three of the fellows, in one breath.
"As long as we play," replied Dick Prescott, "we'll play the same
gentleman's game, no matter what the other fellows do. We may
quit, but we won't slug. We won't sully Gridley's good name for
honest play. And we won't quit, either, until Mr. Morton orders
us from the field."
"You have it right, Prescott," nodded the coach. "And I shan't
interfere, either, unless things get a good deal worse than they
have been. But the Fordham work has been shameful, and I don't
blame any of you for feeling that you'd rather forfeit the game
and walk off the field."
Besides being coach, Mr. Morton was also manager. At his call
the team would have left the field instantly, despite any other
orders from the referee. It always makes a bad showing, however,
for a team to leave the field on a claim of foul playing.
"All out for the second half!" sounded a voice in the doorway.
The Gridley boys went, fire in their hearts, flame in their eyes.