Classic Audiobook Collection - The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barbour ~ Full Audiobook [family]

Episode Date: February 8, 2024

The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barbour audiobook. Genre: family At Clearfield High, football season arrives with a crisis: the coach is suddenly gone, the schedule is unforgiving, and the town is sure the team is headed for humiliation. Seventeen-year-old Dick Lovering loves the game as fiercely as any player, but a physical disability keeps him on the sidelines - and makes him an unlikely choice to lead anyone. When Dick and his quick-witted friend Fudge Shaw realize no savior is coming, Dick steps into the chaos to steady the boys, win the trust of captain Lanny White and the rest of the squad, and prove that brains and backbone can matter as much as brawn. Practices become a test of patience and pride as critics circle, rival schools loom, and small mistakes threaten to splinter the locker room. But Dick has an idea: a carefully designed, closely guarded trick of strategy - a secret play that could change how Clearfield attacks, conceals its intentions, and protects its backfield. Keeping that plan hidden, keeping the team united, and getting them ready for the season's defining showdown becomes Dick's toughest contest yet. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:25:10) Chapter 02 (00:40:35) Chapter 03 (00:58:15) Chapter 04 (01:27:38) Chapter 05 (01:43:00) Chapter 06 (02:00:32) Chapter 07 (02:29:24) Chapter 08 (02:39:21) Chapter 09 (03:05:06) Chapter 10 (03:21:40) Chapter 11 (03:50:14) Chapter 12 (04:10:58) Chapter 13 (04:28:09) Chapter 14 (04:48:04) Chapter 15 (05:04:31) Chapter 16 (05:21:58) Chapter 17 (05:38:44) Chapter 18 (06:04:31) Chapter 19 (06:23:54) Chapter 20 (06:48:36) Chapter 21 (07:10:41) Chapter 22 (07:25:56) Chapter 23 (07:40:00) Chapter 24 (08:04:25) Chapter 25 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. Chapter 1 The Coachless Wonders A blue runabout chugged blithely along Troutman Street in the town of Clearfield one afternoon in mid-September. Hanking horse warnings at the intersections of other thoroughfares and rustling the yellow and russet leaves, which, because of an unprecedentedly early, frost two nights before, had already sprinkled the pavement.

In the car, clutching the wheel with an assumption of ease, somewhat belied by the frequent frowns of anxiety which appeared on his face, said the proud owner, Richard, or, as some of us already know him, Dick Lovering. Dick was seventeen years of age, tall, nice looking, with dark eyes and hair and lean face a trifle more pallid than one would expect on the driver of an automobile. But Dick having had that run about very long, only about a fortnight, in fact, which accounted for his anxiety at street crossings and corners

and possibly for the lack of healthy color in his face. The car was painted a deep and brilliant blue, and appropriately enough had been depped by its owner, Eli Yale, answering, however, quite as readily to Eli. Its varnish was yet unmarred by scratch or blotch, and its brass shone resplendedly. To make no secret of it, the car had been presented to Dick by the members of the Clearfield Baseball Club at the completion of a successful season which had netted the club much money. Dick had been the manager

and had conducted affairs so capably that the gift was well deserved. The car had been bought at a bargain, having been used but a few days by its previous owner, and was proving a wonderful blessing to Dick, who was very far from being wealthy enough to purchase such a luxury himself. Dick, you see, was not as well able to get about as other boys,

for he had been a cripple all his life. You'd never have suspected it to see him guiding Eli around the corner of B Street, for, to all appearances, he was quite a normal and healthy lad. But had you looked on the running board at the left of the coffee, you'd have seen a pair of crutches secured there. Crutches without which Dick was quite unable to get around, or had been until the blue automobile had appeared on the scene. Morris Brent, who had owned the car first and whose reckless driving of it had resulted in an upset and a broken leg, had initiated Dick into the science of running it, and had found him a close. clever pupil, but the latter had not yet gained complete confidence and skill, and so when,

just as he was passing the first house on his right after leaving Trotman Street, his name was called loudly and unexpectedly. Dick, glancing startily about and intentionally opened the throttle and Eli fairly bounded forward, and was a quarter of the way down the black before dick could bring him to step. When the brake was set and the driver, sighing with relief, looked back along the tree bordered street, he saw a short and somewhat stabbed, yowth-waving and pursuing. Faj Shah. His real name was William, but everyone outside his family had forgotten the fact, arrived panting

and laughing. That was a bully step, he gasped. Fudge had an entertaining habit of stuttering in moments of excitement. Going out to the field, Dick? Yes, climb in. Fudge, attired in football talks, seated himself with a grunt beside the other, slammed the door and beamed about him. Fudge had very blue and very round eyes, so round that he constantly wore an expression of people. pleasant and somewhat excited surprise. He also had a good deal of sandy red hair. He was ambitious to make the high school football team, Vaz Vaj, and since Spring had refused all entreaties to have his hair cut. Viewing that map of hair, one would have doubted the necessity of the head

guard, which he dangled in one hand. Dick started up again. and traveled cautiously yet briskly through B Street. But not until he had everything adjusted to his liking, and one hand on the bulf of the horn did he indulge in conversation, although fudge, unperplexed by problems of gears and levers, chattered busily. Gordon promised to stop for me, he confided. But he didn't, and I didn't know it was so long.

late. I was writing. Fudge's paused as though inviting curiosity. Eli said, Me, meh, hoarsely before he checked across Main Street, and Dick asked, another story, Fudge? Fudge nodded carelessly. Yes, and it's going to be a pitch. It's a detective story, Dick. I meant it to be just a short one, but it's turning a. out to be quite long. I guess it'll be a regular novel before I get through with it. Detective stories are lots of fun to write. Maybe I'll read some of this to you some time, Dick. Thanks, replied the other gravely. What's it about, Fudge? Oh, about a murder and a pitch of a detective chap named Young Slough. You see, this old Cajor, Millerton was found murdered in his

library, surrounded by uddles of money. There was only one window in the room, and that was all barred over with steel bars. And there was only one door that was lacked on the inside, and they had to break it open. How's that for a situation? You see, having his money all scattered around, showed that he wasn't killed for dead. Don't it? And the barred window, and the door lacked on the inside, get that dick? On the inside, mind you, thickens the plot a bit, huh? Rather, a great dick, anxiously viewing a baggie half a block ahead. How did the murderer get in, Fudge? Why, you see, well, I haven't worked that out yet, he confessed. I've just got to where the old millionaire's beautiful daughter sent for young sleuth to unravel the mystery.

and bring her father's murderer to justice. It's going to be a pitch of a story. All right. Sound so, returned Dick, signed with relief as the buggy turned to the right into Common Street. You must read it to me when you get it finished. It wouldn't be a bad idea to get young sleuth to work for us here, Fudge, and find a football coach.

That's right, isn't it the limit for Farrell to live a like this? I hope they turn him down good, and hard when he comes back in the spring and wants to coach the nine again. I guess he couldn't do anything else, Fudge. Farrell's

all right. You or I do the same thing probably if we got word that our mother was very ill in Ireland and wanted to see us. If we do it just as Joe did, pack up and go back there. Maybe.

agreed Fudge. But it leaves us in an awful hole, doesn't it? Lanny White says he doesn't know where to look for a new coach, and it's pretty late too. Mr. Grayson told him he guessed he would better try to do without a coach this fall, just as if we could. I suppose it would be hard, said Dick. Gordon said that Lanny had heard of a man in Bridgeport.

He didn't pan out. replied Fudge. He was a man, Beth Cable knew, but he hadn't ever coached a football team. Now Lannis after a chap in Westport. He coached Tarlstone High a couple of years ago. It's a bum outlook. Say what you want. Lannis going to make a dandy captain, but he can't coach two. No one could. There's the first team and the scrap team and the third squad. Maybe if Lanny didn't do any playing himself, he'd be by all right. But what's the good of a captain who doesn't play? Besides, he's too good a halfback to lose.

It's too bad. Observed Dick sympathetically as having turned into Common Street. He now drew the runabout to the side of the road, where a gate appeared in the high board fence surrounding the athletic field. By the way, where are you going to play, Fudge? Me? Flatch grinned. Oh, I'm out for a guard position, but I'll play anything that let me.

I'm versatile. I am, Dick. Say, honest, do you suppose Lennel give me a show? If you show him, laughed Dick. Seems though you might be a bit inexperienced for the first Fudge. I don't expect to get on the first this year. I want to make the scrap team. They say you get a lot of fun on the scrap experience too. They can't say I'm too light anyway. Now, you're not that, agreed Dick as having stepped the engine, he secured his crutches,

placed the tips on the ground and swung himself from the car in the wake of fudge. Hope you have luck. anyway. Once passed the gate, Fudge, with a startled, They've begun, Dick! Scurred off, leaving Dick to make his way toward where a small group of fellows were standing along the sideline, watching the first practice of the season. Returning greetings, Dick paused and looked around him. The gridiron had been freshly marked out and the creamy white lines showed. brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight against the green turf.

Down near the West goal, the first squad was jogging about in signal practice in charge of Chester Kutrell. Last year's quarter, Dick noted that as composed this afternoon, it was made up entirely of last year's first and second string prayers. Grover, Horstford, Cable, Haley, Kent, Wayland, Toll, McCoy, Hansard, Coutrell and Falker. Two of the Rugglers were absent from the squad. Lonnie White himself, whom Dick soon espied working with the green candidates, and Morris Brett, who last year had played fullback in one or two of the principal games, and was this fall the logical candidate for the place.

doubtless though, Dick reflected, Lanny was keeping Morris out of the game on account of his injured leg. Morris folks had strongly objected to the boys taking part in football this season and had appealed to the doctor to support them. The latter, however, to everyone's surprise, especially Morris's, had declared that he didn't believe kicking a football around would hurt that leg. it was evident though that lany wasn't going to take chances for dick saw morris sweater hands in packets speedily following in the wake of the third squad with lany

the scraps were having practised by themselves at the east end of the gridiron and dick wondered who was in charge with the idea of finding out he made his way leisurely along the sideline and, after traversing a few yards, was overtaken by George Kattner. The manager has squarely built and stuck youth of 18 with an alert countenance. Hello, Dick, greeted Kutner. Come out to see the orphans play? Is that what you call them? asked Dick. That or the coachless wonders? Was the smiling response.

Isn't it the Dickens about Farrell? Mean trick to play on us, I say. Oh, I guess he didn't mean to play any trick. Guess he'd much rather have stayed here in Clearfield and coached the team than have been called home to see his sick mother. Kattner shrugged his shoulders. If he was called home, he said,

Well, wasn't he? That's what I heard. What do you mean? I mean that Joe wasn't getting much money here, as you probably know, Dick, and he's a pretty good coach. His contract expired this fall, and it hadn't been renewed. The athletic committee was ready to renew it, but Joe didn't show up. Then came that letter saying his mother was ill in Ireland, and he was going home to visit her. It just occurred to me that maybe his mother was another school somewhere

and that he was after more money. Oh, I don't think of that, Joe? Answered Dick, shaking his head. Joe was always terribly lawyer to Clearfield, George. Besides, he could easily have told the committee if he thought he wasn't getting enough salary. Yes, the committee would have told him that he was getting all the school could afford to pay him.

Well, I don't know anything about it, more than I've been told. But that idea occurred to me. Lannis worried Steve about it. He's had three different men on the string, and not one of them has been landed. Two wouldn't think of the jab of the salary, and the third had never done any football coaching. That was Bert Cable's man, a fellow over in Bridgeport named Mooney. I guess we'd be in Mooney if we'd taken him. It's tough on Lanny Doe.

He's trying to look after through squads at once and doesn't really know what to do with any of them. And now Grayson is making a talk about getting along with any coach at all. And some of the grats on the committee are more than half agreed with him. They say we haven't much money. And what we have we ought to use in fixing the field up and building a new grand stand. Wouldn't that dare you? Fancy trying to turn out a winning 11 without a coach,

and this is our year to beat Springdale, if we're ever going to do it again. George Katner scowled across the gridiron a moment and then continued with his grievance. We've got pretty fair materials this year too, Dick, and we ought to calm out on tap, especially if Morris Brent comes around in good shape and turns out the drop kicker and punter he threatened to be last year.

But we ought to have a good coach to look after him. Lanny is afraid to let him practice for fear something will happen to his bum leg again, and afraid to keep him out of practice for fear he won't get in shape for spring day. Even if Lanny could coach the first team, there ought to be someone to look after the others. There's the scrap down there running around like chickens with their heads off, going through signals when they ought to be handling the ball and learning the ABCs. Harry Partridge is trying to captain them, but he doesn't know anything about it. He's a good guard, but he's never had any responsibility, and he's just a very important.

unhappy right now. Besides, hung it all, we ought to be mapping out a campaign, but when I tell Lani that he looks wild and runs his hands through his hair and says he has all he can attend to without

bothering with plants. Why, if we had... But Manager Katner's speech was rudely interrupted by a football, which, wandering erratically off the field, collided violently with the small of his back.

By the time he had chased it and returned it at a round-arm throw to Pete Robey, he had lost the threat of his discourse. The scrap team treaded past that moment, and Dick answered the waving hand of Gordon Merrick, who was playing right half on that eleven. "'Want to see you after practice?' called Gordon. Don't go away, important. Me too, shouted Will's cat.

I want a ride home just as much as he does, Dick. Dick laughed and turned again to George Cotner, who was ruffling the leaves of the red-covered memorandum book he carried. It seems to me, he said, that someone of the graduates ought to come out and coach. Sure, but there aren't any. Any who know football well enough to teach it. I mean, and that isn't all either.

A coach has got to know how to get the workout of the fellows, and he's got to be able to plan like a regular planner, and scheme like a regular schemer. Take Joe Farrell now, Joe isn't exactly a brainy fellow, and he isn't what you'd call well-educated, but by Jove, Joe used to have the whole season all mapped out long before practice began. When he started, he knew just what he was going to work for, and he worked for it, and got it, usually. Oh, he was all right, Jake agreed.

Wish he was coming back, I suppose, though if he does come, it'll be too late for this season. Do you mean, George, that there isn't a high-house? school graduate in Clearfield, able to coach the team. It doesn't sound possible. Well, name one. Name one and I'll go and fetch him out here. All the good players have gone away, I guess. Lennie and I get a catalogue the other day and went through the alumni and couldn't find a football man in the lot. No one we knew anything about anyway. Of course, we might get some of the fellows who are in college to come back for a few days at a time and help. But that wouldn't get much eyes.

No, sir, you've got to have someone in charge, someone at the head. Even if he doesn't know an awful lot of football, he's there, if you see what I mean. I understand, said Nick, wish I could think of someone. So do I. wish I could, just to show how things get by when there's no one around to take charge. Look at the dummy. I don't see it, responded Dick. His gaze traveling across the world the two uprights and cross bar stood empty. That's just it. If Farrell had been here, the dummy would have been up and ready

for use. I never thought of it. Neither did Lanny. He told the first squad to go over and tackle. and when they got there, there was nothing to tackle. It stowed away in the gym. Life is indeed filled with woe, George, laughed Dick. Well, it is, grumbled the other, smiling a little nevertheless. Lonnie jumped on me because the old thing wasn't high. Well, as manager of the football team, began Dick slightly. Oh, I know, I ought to have seen it, but there you are, I never had seen to it and didn't think of it.

Everything's the same way. We haven't got balls enough. We're short of blankets and, and everything. I'm going to resign if we don't get a coach inside of a week. I dare say you will have one, said Dick soothingly. Someone will turn up, you'll see. Where from? Granted George.

Maybe you'd like the job, Dick. Why, I don't know, replied the other thoughtfully. Perhaps. Perhaps I should, George, I might think it over. Kattner laughed, and then seeing Dick's sober countenance,

said hurriedly. Well, I dare say you could do it by Jove. The fellows tell me you managed that baseball club to the King's taste, Dick. Still, you don't suppose you know much football.

No more football than baseball, George, and I've never played either. No, of course not. George shut a puzzled, glanced at him. Well, you knew enough baseball, it seems. As far as I'm concerned,

I'd be mighty willing to see you try, Dick. Thanks. Maybe if no one else turned up, I'll apply for the position. Dick ended smilingly and George Kattner wondered how seriously the other meant what he had said.

After all, he said Doughtfoy, and apparently with a desire to be pleasant. A coach doesn't need to have been any great shucks himself as a player. It's its brains and leadership that do the business, I guess.

They help, I fancy, replied Dick gravely. I think Lenny is yelling for you, George. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 2. Dick receives an invitation. Clearfield is a fairly typical New England mill. town, lying some two miles in from the coast.

Doubtless, the early settlers had been attracted by a wider power to be derived from the river, which flows around the town on the north. Certainly, they could not have been influenced by aesthetic or sanitary considerations. For the town occupies, what must have been in their time a more or less level meadow, a few feet above the river, and a very few more above the sea, and aside from the possibility of good drainage, which probably never occurred to them. Those first residents of the future clear field

found new natural advantages and little of the picturesque. To be sure, northward and westward the country breaks into low hills and is attractive enough. But a distant view of those hills could scarcely have made up for mosquitoes and malaria, for Nidem's meal, as the first settlement was called, was surrounded by marsh. However, the clear field of today is no longer Nidam's meal.

The marshes have disappeared, although it is still no and common thing to strike a peat bed when excavating for a cellar. and there is a small-sized city of some 17,000 inhabitants. With broad, well-shaded streets, some fine buildings and many manufacturers. Clearfield is famous for its knitting meals, but has divers in other industries as well. The railroad crosses Mill River from the north, and the train stepped at a new and commodious station. postcard pictures of which you can purchase at Watworth Bookstore and at Castle's Pharmacy.

It is no longer quite correct to say that the river flows around the town, for within the past 10 or 15 years the town has crossed the river and the larger mills and the boat yards are built along the stream in what is known as the north side, and which is reached by two well-built bridges. Clearfield is served by a trolley system, and if one wants to reach the shore, he may step into big yellow-sided car at town square

and be whisked to rudder's point. World's summer hotel and the caddages face the ocean in a very few minutes. The common square of turf bisected by paths, and set with benches and a bandstand, occupying a block in the older part of town, is the center of the business section, facing the Common, our Clearfield's best and newest business blocks on the Town Hall and the post office, and it was toward the Common, that Dick Lovering conducted Eli and Gordon Merrick at the conclusion of football practice.

Gordon was 15 years old, a very live-looking boy with clean cat features, dark hair and eyes as a well-built athletic figure. He and Dick were very good friends, and on the way in from the field, they had found so much of strictly personal interest to discuss that after Dick had drawn up before the post office, he remembered, while Gordon had gone inside for some stamps, that the latter had quite neglected to mention the important matter he had alluded to at the field.

Tom Haley, a big, powerful-looking boy of 16, who played center on the school team, stepped to talk a moment. Tom was pessimistic today. Lanny had us doing signal work most, of the afternoon. He said. He's putting the cart before the horse, Dick, for half of us can't handle the ball yet without dropping it. When are we going to get someone to coach? Heard anything about it? I heard today that Lonnie was trying to get a man in Westport, who has been coaching Tolston High School. That's all I know, Tom. I suppose it'll be hard to find anyone slayed in

season is this? Well, I guess it's no affair of mine. Glad it isn't. How's ill ironic? Like a clock? replied Dick warmly. He's a fine little car. I take you home, town, but I've got Gordon with me. He went in the post office. Thanks. That's all right. I'd like a ride some time, though, Dick. I'd never been in one of those things. Well, I never had until a couple of weeks ago. Left, Dick. I'll get you tomorrow and take you out to the field if you like Tom. Will you? You bet I'd like it. Much obliged.

It'll be out for your way, Dole. You know I live over by the railroad? I know, but Eli doesn't mind the cars. Tom smiled as he nodded and went on, and garden her. hurried out of the post office. Sorry to keep you waiting. He said as he jumped back into the car. There was a map at the stamp window, though? What was it you wanted to see me about?

Asked Dick as he turned the car cautiously about and narrowly escaped a corner of a cold wagon. About Mr. Grayson, replied Gordon, relaxing his clutch on the street. side of the car as the danger was averted. What has he been doing, Gordy? It's what he's going to do. He's going to have a birthday next month.

Think of that, marveled Dick. I didn't suppose high school principals ever paid attention to anything so, so frivolous as birthdays. I don't know what he does, laughed the other, but some of the girls are, hasn't Louise Brandt said anything to you about it? No, I haven't seen her for a couple of days. You haven't, what's the matter, haven't quarreled, I hope.

Gordon's tone was vastly concerned. No, but I've been busy. Stop your kidding and tell me what you're trying to get at. Well, the girls, quite a lot of them, mostly seniors, I think, want to give Mr. Grayson a present of some sort on his birthday. You know he's pretty popular with the ladies, Dick. What's it going to be? A sofa pillow?

No, you idiot. What the girls want to do is get up a purse, collect a lot of money, you know, and refurnish his office for him. Dick whistled. That would be a lot of money. He certainly needs any furniture, though, but the question is whether Mr. Grayson is popular enough with the fellows, Gordy. Oh, he's not a bad old scat, Dick? Of course, he's always been rather down on athletics.

Hold on now, let's be fair. He hasn't been down on athletics, Gordy. He merely thinks that we fellows pay too much attention to it. He's not, not awfully. sympathetic, but it isn't fair to say that he's against it. Now go on and pardon the slight digression. All right, he's not what I said. Anyhow, I think most fellows like Grayson pretty well. They ought to. He's awfully fair and, and decent, even when he give you fits about something. I trust he has never had occasion to give you fits, said Dick Grave.

Gordon grinned. Well, we've had one or two slight misunderstandings, he replied cheerfully. But I don't hold it against him. That's sweet of you, I hope you've told him so. Oh, dry up and listen, and don't wobble the car about so. It gives me hard failure. That's what Morris did the day we went through the fence.

Your conversation is so absorbing that it quite takes my mind from the car, replied Dick. Perhaps you'd bear wait until I get you home. All right, seeing that I'm most dare if nothing happens. There's fudge on the porch. Gordon waved and fudged shouted something unintelligible, and Eli checked around the corner of Trutton Street and drew up at the Merrick's gate. Come on in a minute, said Gordon.

No, you sit right here and unfold your tail. I'll put the brakes on heart so Eli won't run away. There. Now, what's the scheme and what must I do about it? Well, they wanted me to talk to you about it first. The girls, I mean, they seem to think you had a certain amount of sense. I don't know why they thought so bad. Never mind the compliments, Cordy.

You tell them that I am with them heart and soul and think it's a fine idea. Now, what is it? Well, they want to do the thing quietly, you see, keep it a secret. I don't just see how they can, Dick objected. If they mean to raise money by subscription. Keep it a secret from Mr. Grayson. I mean, you idiot, they want to get the things and then smuggled them into the office when he said. They'll have trouble keeping it dark, I'm afraid, said Dick seriously. Someone's almost certain to let it out. Gordon nodded.

That's what I said, but your sister. Is she one of the conspirators? asked Dick. yes he said she was certain none of the girls would tell and so it would be apt to the fellows and of course i had to stand up for my sex dick and tell her that none of us would let it out i don't see why i haven't heard something about all this mused dick you have now the girls were keeping it quiet until this morning nell sauren called me up on the telephone after breakfast and told me and said it was to speak to you about it and make you calm tonight. Calm word tonight? Your talk is wonderfully lucid, Gordy. To Louise's house, laughed Gordon. There's to be a sort of meeting of the... The... Criminals? Prompted Dick. Ways and means committee are something. Just a few of the girls

and you and Morris naturally, and Lenny and me. Will you come? Yes, of course. Hold on, though. Tonight? I don't believe I can. Tonight, Gordy. You see school opens tomorrow,

and I haven't really done a thing yet. That's all right. No one has. Anyhow, it won't take long, and you can go home afterwards and study as much as you like. They especially want you dirt, Dick. in fact i don't dare to show up without you well if that's so i'll go laughed dick joking aside though i like the scheme mr grason is a fine man gordon even if he does happen to be a principal and it will be a mighty nice thing to show him we think so i don't believe the school has ever done anything like this for him since he came here if it has i've never heard of it

Nor I, how long has he been here, I wonder. Must be fourteen or fifteen years. He came as assistant to old Mr. Flagg, whose superintendent of education now. I suppose Mr. Grayson can be much over fifty, Gordy, but I'm so used to thinking him an old man that it seems as if he was somewhere about seventy. I suppose he really isn't so dreadfully old.

said the other. I dare say most of the fellows will be glad to chip in and get him a present. How much money will it take? asked Dick. I don't know. I suppose the idea is to get as much as we can and buy accordingly. If every student gave a dollar, some of them when give a quarter, replied Dick. Lots of them can't afford too. well if only half of them gave a dollar apiece don't count your chickens before they're hutched gorty and pile out now i've got to get home to supper what time does this conference take place do i have to dall up for it Of course, Nat, they didn't say what time, about half past seven, I suppose, ask Grace.

I might do that, agreed Dick, as Gordon vacated his seat. See you later then. Get up, Eli. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public. domain. Chapter 3. A Discouraged Captain The Brent lived in a fine, large house two blocks beyond Gordon. Mr. John Brent was Clarefield's richest and most influential citizen, and Brentwood, as his estate was called, was quite the most luxurious in town. The house stood back from the store. The house stood back from

the street in a full black of land. And tonight, as Dick and his sister Grace, a pretty dark-haired girl of thirteen, approached it from the gate, light shone from many windows and it looked most imposing. As the evening was mild, Louise Brent, hostess for the occasion, assembled her guests on the big-screened porch at the side of the side of the evening. the house, which was much more like a room than a veranda. There were gaily colored rags on the floor, many comfortable weaker chairs, a table that held a broad-shaded electric lamp and plants in tubes and boxes. When all had gathered, the chairs were filled, and Morris Brent, Louise's brother,

removed a plant from Willow's stool and took its place, trying, as Gordon said, to look like a begonia. Morris was a handsome, finely built boy of sixteen. He was sometimes accused of snubbishness, but injustice to him, it should be said that his snubbishness was more apparent than real. being the only son of Jan Brent had always made it a little difficult for Morris to win acceptance amongst the fellows on his own merits. Louise resembled Morris but little, while like him she was tall,

and like him, she had a very fair skin, hair that was more nearly yellow than brown and blue eyes. Her prettiness was due more to her expression of sweetness and animation than to her futures. She was a year younger than Morris. The other girls of the party were grace-lovering. Nell soured and May Burnham. Nell was 16, a round good-natured girl whom everybody liked.

And May Burnham was 14. slim, dark and quiet. She was a cousin of Louises. Lansing White completed the quartet of boys. Lanny was 16, having reached that major age within the past four night, a lean, capable-looking youth, with fluxing hair and eyes so darkly brown, that at first glance they seemed black, an illusion probably due to the contrast with the very light hair.

He was perhaps the most popular boy in high school, and his popularity was not entirely due to his athletic prowess. He had defined faculty of making friends instantly and keeping them afterwards. There wasn't a kinder-hearted or more thoughtful fellow in town than Lanny White. And if he had an enemy, no one knew it. Lani was captain of the 11, cocked on the nine, and was a sprinter of no mean ability. It was May Burnham who explained the project, since it was she who had originated it, and afterwards they all discussed it. Mr. Grayson's birthday fell on the 25th of October, and as Morris pointed out,

they had only some five weeks in which to prepare for it. Louise read from a list the articles necessary to a thorough refurnishing of the principal's office at the high school. There must be a new rug, a flat-tapped desk, a swivel chair, an easy chair, a straight-backed chair, a revolving bookcase, and a filing cabinet. Although, as Louise explained, the latter wasn't so important since the one now in use was in good condition. Only, she said, we thought the other furniture ought to be mahogany, and the filing cabinet there are now is oak, and it would look sort of funny, I suppose, with the other things. How much would all that cost? asked Lanny anxiously.

We don't know exactly. We can get the furniture from a New York store where Papa buys things and they will give it to us at a discount. How much of a discount? asked Dick. 30% replied Morris. That would make quite a difference. Read the prices we figured, Louise. Ragged, 16 dollars, announced his sister, referring again to the paper. Desk 45, revolving bookcase 12, shrivel chair 12, easy chair 20, straight chair 5, filing cabinet 18, total

128. There was a moment's silence. Then Gordon whistled expressively. Dick shook his head. That's a lot of money to have to get in four weeks, he said.

Five, said Morris. Well, five, if you like, Morris. But we'd probably have to pay for the things before we got them, and it would take a week. to get them here, I guess. There are nearly 300 students in school,

said Grace Lovering. And if each only gave 50 cents, we'd have 150. I know, but some would give anything, a few won't, that is, and some will give nearer a quarter than a half. And a lot will give a dollar,

protested Nell-Sourin. I'm going to give two dollars, and so is me. And Louise says she will give five. Let's start at least now, said Louise. Get some paper, Morris, and a pen, won't you? I think either Dick or Lanny ought to hate it. I'm afraid I can't give more than a dollar, said Dick. So perhaps someone else had better started.

You'd do it, Louise? suggested Gordon. Five dollars will look pretty good at the top of it. I thought of that, said Louise, but we were afraid it would look as if we expected everyone to give us much, and of course we don't want anyone to give more than he feels he can afford. It's up to Lanny then, said Morris, returning with paper and pen. Who's going to write this?

what do you want to say? You'd do it, replied his sister. Just right, the undersigned agreed to subscribe the amount set against their names for the purpose, the purpose, for the 25th of October font, suggested Dick. Better not put it down on paper, and I'd add that the subscriber hereby promises to keep still about it. Good idea, commented Morris, writing under the lamp. How's this then? Subscription list.

The undersigned Gritch subscribed to the fund known as the 25th of October Fund. The sums set down against their names, and hereby promised not to divulge the purpose of said font. A good many funds in it, objected Lent. Let's hope so, replied May with laugh. Don't be critical. I think it's lovely, Morris. All right, here's the pen, Lanny.

Put your Jan Hancock on the first line. Your slang paints me, Morris, murmured Lanny. It's only going to be two dollars, folks. Only two dollars? Said Gordon. Gee, that's a lot. Who's next? You are, Dick.

Dick signed on the least one to Louise and then to Morris, the latter duplicating his sister's subscription. Seems to me, said Morris, as he handed the pen to May Burnham. May should have hated it, she started the trouble. Of course, agreed Louise. Perhaps there's room above Lanny's name, is there? Yes, but I'd rather not, replied. Clyde May, are right here, and she looked around almost defiantly. I believe I'll say three instead of two. Then I will, exclaimed Nell.

We don't have to pay for four weeks, do we? We'd ought to pay when we sign, I think, said Dick. But I can't, and so I don't insist. Neither can I, said Lanny. Who's next? as Gordon signed, be a sport, Gordy, and put down a hundred. I'm doing it, answered Gordon, only I'm putting a debt where it will do the most good. When the list was finally returned to Louise, that young lady exclaimed delightedly.

Why, we've got twenty-one dollars already, isn't that fine? Enough to get the easy chair, said Nell. Why, at this rate, it won't take us any time to get it all. Maybe the others won't be enthusiastic, though, replied Gordon. By the way, were those prices you gave, the prices will have to pay for the things, Louise? Why not? We forget that. We won't have to pay nearly so much, will we? 30% of 128 is 3740, said Morris,

$38.40, corrected May. Then we will have to pay only about, about $90, that's lovely. Say a hundred to be on the safe side, advised Dick. I guess we can manage that. The question is now, how are we going at it? Wouldn't it be well to have several lists and... How for, said Lanny. You take one and Gordon will take one.

Thank you, muttered Gordon. And Louise and Nell can have the other two. And so it was arranged in spite of Gordon's lack of enthusiasm and that necessitated the making of four new lists with two signatures on it. I want to see you destroy that first subscription of mine, announced Lanny. If I had to pay two dollars twice, I'd be broke all the fall. Observe then, replied Morris, across and across. There, now let's have those it, sees,

while they devoured the sandwiches and cake and lemonade that Louise brought in a minute later. They elected that young lady treasurer of the fund, appointed her and Maurice and May a committee of purchase, and finally broke up, Dick declaring that since school began in the morning, he believed it would be a good idea to glance at one or two books. After saying good night to the others, he and Grace took their departure, followed a few minutes later by Lanny, Gordon, May and Nell, having escorted the girls to their homes. Larnie and Gorton walked back together to B Street. Quite naturally, their conversation had to do with football affairs, and Lernie confessed that he was getting pretty discouraged. Mr. Grayson says we ought to get along without a coach and use what money would pay one to repair the grandstand and the fans.

There isn't a bit of good spending money on that grandstand, Gordon. We need a new one, and I just wish Grayson had my job a while. He'd find out what a lot of fun is to turn out a football team without a coach. I put my name down for two dollars for a present to him, but I think I'd a hip rather kick him in the shins sometimes. Lonnie's laugh, however, threw doubt on his assertion. We play Highland Hall Saturday, don't we? asked Gordon. Yes, Highland doesn't trouble me any, though. We could beat her with the scraps.

But Locust Bali comes the Saturday after, and those fellows have a mighty good team as a usual thing. I don't suppose it would hurt us to get beaten. Might be a good thing. Still, if you're a captain, you sort of like to have a clean slate, if you can. Have you heard from the man at Westport? Cotner said you were after someone there. Not yet. I don't even know that he's still there.

I don't suppose he will want to calm anyhow. We can't pay enough to make it worth his while. It's a shame we can have a graduate coaching system, as Springdale has. She doesn't seem to have much trouble getting coaches. That chap Newman, who has been coaching her for three or four years, is a dandy. I'll bet she'll beat us again this year, maybe worse than she did last. Don't you believe it, Lennie? tear up and hear the bird is saying.

Things will turn out all right in a few days. You see if they don't. Hope so, I am sure. I'm willing to do my level best. But I can't be captain and coach and everything else. We've got a poor lot of new men this fall, too. And then there's more his leg to worry about. The doctor says he can play,

and Morris says his legs all right. But if we go to work and build up the team around his kicking, and then he has another injury to it, or his father says he can play, we'll be in a nice fix. We've got to develop a couple of punters hum-how, but I'm sure I don't know where to look for them. Wayland isn't so poor, but he doesn't seem to get the hang of it. Well, good night, Gordon. sorry I've bothered you. That's all right, laughed the other.

It will do you good to get it off your chest. You'll find, though, that the fellows will all work harder, Lanny, if they've got it to do, and, and I'll tell you what I'll do. Spring it. I'll bet you the sodas at Castles that we have a coach within a week. Take you, I'd buy Castle's whole soda fountain, if I could get a coach that way. Good night. End of Chapter 3.

Chapter 4 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 4. Louise has an idea. Clearfield played Highland Hall Military Academy for days later, and it's safe to say that practically the entire Juvenile population of the town, turned out to see the first football game of the season. Perhaps the weather had something to do with the size of the audience, that filled the grand stand and overflowed on the field, for there was a zest and a snap to the air that hinted overcoats,

and the sun played hide-and-sick behind the scudding grey clouds. Brentfield, as the high school athletic grounds are called, is only a scanned block and a half from the river, and when the wind is from the northwest, as it was this afternoon, the few scattered buildings between field and river afford but little protection. Highland Hall had brought along most of its fourth-year class. The Academy regulations forbade members of other, classes accompanying the teams away from school, and the forty-odd boys looked very fine and

monly in their cadet blue capecoats, below which tan gaitered legs twinkled. They assembled at one end of the stand and gave their team a lusty welcome when it trotted on the gridiron, waving their blue and blue banners proudly. The dark blue and light blue of the flag, was repeated in the costumes of the players, and their sweaters held the letters H-H-M-A, cunningly arranged, the first age taking the form of a football goal and the other letters appearing in the space under the crossbar.

But in spite of the neat attire of players and supporters, Highland Hall was no dangerous adversary. The fellows, as Fudge explained to Gordon, were allowed only two hours a day for recreation and were coached by the commandant, a grave martinet of a man who knew more of military tactics than football. Fudge and Gorton were seated on the bench. After a ten-minute workout and Fetch, who had more flush than he needed, was still breathing hard for his exertions.

"'That's the coach over there,' he said, knathing across the gridiron. He's a terror, they say. You have a cousin at Highland, haven't you? asked Gordon. Is he here today? No, he's only in the second-year class, and they don't let any but the fourth-year fellows

to go away from school. They're strict as anything, I'm glad they didn't send me there. Dad wanted to, but Ma and I were dead against it. Fudge grinned reminiscently. I told Ma, I couldn't think I was strong enough for it. Fudge, you're of a care, said Gordon cheerfully. Fudge was starting to deny this indignantly

when Lanny White, returning from the center of the field, where he had won the toss-up, summoned the players. All right, fellows, said Lanny. They kick off, and we take the West Goals. Get into it now, and let's get the drop on them. Now, let's see who's who, murmured Gordon, as the team trotted out and spread over the west end of the field. Haley's Center, Cable and Kent guards, Harts for and, Hello, Will Skatz playing the right tackle?

What's the matter with Wayland? Sick has tonsillitis or something. Who's that going to play left end, Gordon? Jim Grover and Toll his right end Ketrell Quarter Lanny and Rapp Hansard Havs and Falkar fullback I guess that's about the way we'll line up in the

Springdale game Barring accidents only of course way we'll get in and Morris Brett Gordon leaned forward and spoke along the band Aren't you going to play Morris Morris struck the shoulders under the purple sweater he wore.

I don't know, he answered, maybe in the last quarter. Gordon nodded. Hope so, he said, and then to fetch. Lonnie's not taking any chances with Morris, is he? There's the whistle. Lonnie got the kick-off and, unated by interference, raised buck nearly 20 yards before he was stabbed. Clearfield set to work with the few plays she had ready,

simple attacks from a tandem formation in which the runner relied more on speed and force than deception. Two first downs were gained, and then a fumble necessitated a punt, and Falker, who was called on, booted the bowl almost straight into the air, and Clearfield not only lost possession of the pig skin, but some eight yards besides. Highland started in with a wheel. She used a wide-open formation and, on the first play, attempted a double pass which, had it succeeded,

would have netted much territory. But perhaps more by good luck than good management. Jack Toll nailed the runner near the sideline for a scint. two-yard gain. A second attempt, a forward pass straight over the middle of the line, went better, and Highland made her distance easily. An involved play in which quarter faked a kick, and then passed to a halfback for a run around the short side, only resulted in the ball being taken in about where it had gone into play. A plunge at tackle on the left gained three yards and with six to go on third down, Highland punted.

The ball was well handled and well kicked, and Cottrell got it behind his goal and touched it back. On her 20 yards, Clearfield started her advance once more and carried almost to midfield before she was again forced to punt. This time Falkler did better, although the ball covered, but scanned 20, yards. Highland, failing to gain at center, returned the kick, and the ball was clear fields on her 45 yards. Rap Hansard got away around right end for a first down, and on the next play, repeated the performance for four more. Lani made the distance off left tackle. The blue and

Blue was proving weak at her wings, and Lanny wisely continued the assault at those positions. Both he and Hansard got around with much difficulty, until the ball was on the opponent's 20-yard line. Then Lanny was nailed for a five-yard loss, and Cotrell, faking a forward pass, tossed the ball to Falker and that youth banked his way straight through the middle of the enemy's line for 12 yards. From there, in three plays, Clearfield took the ball over, Hansard securing the touchdown. Cable missed the triad goal. The first quarter ended after the kick-off, the score 6 to 0. The second period saw one more score for the home team.

Highland fumbled on her 40 yards, and Ketrel picked up the ball and tore off 15 yards before he was stepped. A fake forward pass with the ball going to Lanny failed to gain, but Falker smashed through for four, and Hansard barely gained first down by sliding off right tackle. Falker fumbled, but Lanny recovered for a two-yard loss and then skirted the, the opponents left for a touchdown in the corner of the field. The punt-out placed the ball directly in front of goal and just back of the 15-yard line, and this time Bert Cable had no difficulty in negotiating the extra point

for the rest of the period. Clearfield played on the defensive and kicked frequently, and the half-ended with the bowing Highlands Hall's procession on her own 40, yards. Dick watched the game from the grand stand in company with Louise Brett, who, like most of the high school girls, was an ardent football lover. Between the halves, however, Louise abandoned the game long enough to announce the progress of the fund. It was $43.60 this noon, Dick, she said, this isn't bad. But I thought, I thought. I thought we'd have lots more by this time.

The girls have done hips better than the boys. They've given almost two-thirds of the total. Do you think the boys really dislike Mr. Grayson? Many of them, I mean. No, but most of the younger fellows don't have much spending money, Louise. And I suppose they think they need sodas and candy, and such things more than Mr. Grayson needs a new desk. Dick smiled at his companion's expression of disapproval.

They'll fall into the line in the end, though, I guess. Gordon told me last night that most of the fellows he has been after have only given 25 or 50 cents. Well, you've done beautifully, said Louise. I've bullied the chaps, laughed Dick. Anyway, it's easier to get money from the seniors. They've got more in the first place, and then they're more willing to give it up. Some of the younger boys have it in for Mr. Grayson for one reason or another.

I suppose. We'll get the full amount finally, I think. It would be a lot easier if we didn't have to be so secret about it. We could call a meeting some day at recess and pretty nearly get the whole amount. I'll bet. But it would surely get around. if we did that and Mr. Grayson would hear of it. Yes, and half the phone will be in surprising him, said Louise.

We're going to take Miss Turner into the secret, and she will let us into Mr. Grayson's office the night before his birthday. Won't it be exciting? Terribly, agreed Dick. Imagine us tip-tinting in dirt in the dark. You're carrying the desk and made the revolve. bookcase and now the armchair.

Now, don't let her take the armchair, begged Louise. She'll be sure to set it down and go to sleep in it. What are you going to carry? I thought I'd take the small chair. Replied Dick gravely. I'm very unselfish. You see, I leave the larger honors to the rest of you. Yes, larger

and heavier, laughed the girl. There, they come again. Do you know, a sort of half-wished Highland Hall would score, Dick? They're such nice-looking boys, and their uniforms are so staining. They've certainly got us beaten on appearance, said Dick. Hello, Lange is sending the same fellows back. Shouldn't he? There's no law against it.

Only, with a lid of thirteen points, It seems to me it would be a good chance to let some of the saps smell gunpowler. I guess he knows what he's doing, though. I do hope he has a successful season, said Louise. I like Lanny, and he always works so hard at everything that he deserves to win. He's pretty well handicapped just now. The team really does need a coach, and the athletic committee didn't make any kind of a popular hit with the school

when it decided against paying for one for another night. The fellows blame Mr. Grayson for that, by the way, and I suppose that's one reason why they don't subscribe more liberally to the fund. There's a ratch kick-off for you. Did Bert Cable do that dick? I thought he usually kicked splendidly. he does the best he can considering that he doesn't think it worth while to cack the ball any replied dick dryly bert evidently thinks that pile of sand out there is to look at if he teed the ball up properly and good work clearfield kent the purple-legged right guard had broken through and smeared highlands play behind her line and an appropriate

grooving cheer arose from the stand. Hyland tried an end run and made four yards and then attempted a forward pass which failed. With almost ten yards to go, she got a fine long punt away and her ends raised up the field under it and, undisturbed by the wretched attempt at interference, put up by the clear field backs,

nailed Ketrell in his tracks. For six of the ten minutes constituted, shooting the third period, Highland, playing desperately, held her opponent away from her goal line. Then a fumble by Lanny worked to Clearfield's advantage. For Chester Cottrell recovered the ball as it trickled back, dutched a planning Highland forward, put an end out with a straight arm, and suddenly found himself clear. That run began on Clearfield's 37 yards. and would certainly have resulted in a touchdown had Nat Ketrel invading a tackle by the opposing quarter,

slipped one foot across the sideline. Although Ketrel kept on and landed the ball under the crossbar, and although Clearfield expressed its delight with much shouting, the referee called the ball back and put it in play on Highlands 23 yards. The Blue and Blue won the eye. admiration of friend and foe alike then, for she disputed every inch of the ground, and Clearfield won her first down only after the hardest work, and by a margin so slim, that the lineman had to trot in with the chain and measure the distance.

Lenny's attempt on the next play to circle the opponent's left wing, failed, and falcar could make only three yards through the line. With seven to go on the third down, Lanny and Kutrell put their heads together, and Lanny called in Morris Brent. The ball was then almost opposite the center of the goal, and on the 10-yard line, Morris dropped back to kicking position. Swung one sturdy leg experimentally and held up his hands. Highland shouting,

Blackhead, blackhead! Poised, ready to break. Then back shot the ball. Morris barely cocked as he tried to pass over his head. Before he could get back into position, the blue and blue wasn't him. Wisely, he made no effort to kick, for the ball would surely have been blacked, but instead ran back and desperately attempted a forward pass to Grover. The ball, however, grounded, and there was a minute of time.

during which Highland tried to persuade the referee that the pass was illegal, that Morris had purposely grounded the ball to save a loss of territory. But the official decided that the play had been fair, and the teams lined up on the 21 yards and again, Morris walked back. The chance of scoring by drop kick was pretty slim now, for the kicker was near the 30-yard line, and Highland had just demonstrated her ability to break through. But Morris did it.

The pass was straight and breasts high, and the ball left his toe quickly and surmounted the upstretched hands of the leaping enemy. There was an instant of doubt as the pig's skin seemed to hesitate at the bar, but it went over, although by inches only. And Clearfield's thirteen points became successful. As the teams lined up again for the kick-off, Morris retired once more, receiving an ovation as he walked to the bench. Nelson Bitten took his place for a few seconds remaining. Then the whistle blew and the third period was at an end. When the teams faced each other again on Clearfield's 30-yard substitutes were much in evidence.

Jones was in place of Grover, Arthur Bidden for Haley, Tapper for Hansard, and Kirk for Cottrell, and Folker was back at full. Highland Hall Chew had ran new man on. Clearfield started rushing again and was soon past the center of the field. Kirk, the substitute quarter, got his signals mixed then, and there was a 10-yard loss, and Clearfield kicked. Highland cocked the ball on her 25-yard line and came back 12,

the purple's ends showing up poorly. In the next scrimmage, bitten Clearfield substitute center, received a blow on the head and retired in favor of Pete Roby. Pitt had been trying for guard position and the duties of Senator Rush were none too familiar to him.

and, in spite of Lanny's coaching, he was very weak on defense. Twice Highland made big gains through him before the secondary defense came to his assistance. Near the middle of the field, Highland was forced to pant and Topper fumbled on his 12 yards, recovered, tried to advance by a run across the field, and was finally stepped for no gain. A fake kick play with Felker, taking the ball for a try around left end, resulted in a loss, and Felker kicked on second down. Highland signaled fair catch and held the ball on Clearfield's 37 yards. A forward pass went diagonally to the right end, and that youth plunged through half the Clearfield team before he was forced out near the 20-yard line. The blue-coated adherents of the visiting team

cheered lastly and implored a touch-down. A wide-end ran gained scant three yards and took the ball well over to the clear-field side of the gridiron. Another forward pass was tried but was incomplete and, with seven to go on third down, the Highland right tackle fell out of the line and walked back to about the 30 yards, while the quarterback knelt in front of him and patted the turf.

I hope he makes a goal, declared Louise Brent, in the grand stand. He won this time, answered Dick, as Highland arranged her man to protect the kicker. Louise looked a question. Highland has two downs yet, he continued. and that angle is almost impassable for anyone but a brickly. They've made our fellows spread out and opened their line, and they'll either snap the ball to that fellow,

who pretends he's going to place kick, and he will try a forward, or the ball will go to one of those backs for a run straight through the middle. At least, that's the way I sized it up. We'll see now. As Dick ended, the ball shot back from center into the hands of the second back from the line, and that youth put down his head and sprang straight ahead, and went through for all of five yards before the secondary defense stabbed him.

Once more, Highland Hall cheered loudly, and, almost before the day had ceased, the Blue and Blue had added another three yards by an attack, on right tackle and had gained her first down and shifted the ball a good 12 feet near the center of the field. The play was just inside the Holmes team's 10-yard line now, and Clearfield supporters were hostily commanding the defenders of the East goal to hold them. The timekeeper trotted on to announce two minutes left as the Highland quarterback piped his signals again. A half was sent hurtling against the left of Clearfield's line for scant yard,

and a plunge at center, with quarterback carrying the ball, netted by two more. Again, the tackle stepped back, this time apparently for a drop kick, since the quarter did not accompany him, and again the defenders spread their line. The angle to the goal was by no means, impassible now, and the watchers held their breaths as the teams crouched. "'Black this!' implored Lanny. "'Black this kick! What for a fake?' Counciled Kirk shrilly from between his goalposts.

Then came the signals. A half-back moved slightly forward. The ball shut back to the outstretched hands of the waiting tackle, and the team sprang together. The tackle's long legs swung, and a few of the opponents who were cut off from side of the ball leaped into the air, but there was no thought of ball against shoe, for the tackle stepped nimbly to the right, poised the pig's skin, and herald its straight and hard across the battling lines, to where an undetected back had stolen around and behind the goal line. Though frenzied hands strove to intercept the ball, it settled into the catcher's hands and stayed there while he was hurled to the ground two yards back of goal.

Perhaps the blue flags were unwaved then as the cape-coated squad sprang to their feet and hurled joyous shrieks to the sky. And perhaps that crafty back wasn't thumped and hacked when he was at last pulled to the feet. his feet. For Highland had done what she had never done before in ten years of Clearfield's contests. She had crossed the purple's goal line. Disgustedly, Clearfield lined up under her goal as the ball was taken out for the try, and still more disgustedly she saw it pass a minute later, straight over the bar, while Highland Hall shouted and waved riotously. Over at the scoreboard, the small sophomore who officiated there smeared out the figure six after Highland Hall and protest in every movement choked up a big white seven. Clearfield tried to take revenge in the remaining sixty-eight seconds and forked desperately, but the time was too short and the last whistle blew with the ball in Highland's possession,

near her 30 yards. I'm glad they scored, said Louise a trifle defiantly, as Dick put his crutches under his arms, preparatory to descending the stand. They deserved two, didn't they? Yes, Dick agreed doubtfully. Then he repeated the word ungrudgingly.

Yes, they did deserve too, Louise, any team deserves to win who is smart enough to take advantage of his opponent's mistakes and that is what Highland Hall did. That responded Louise as they waited for the aisle to clear. Sounds as if you thought the others didn't really earn that score, Dick.

I didn't mean it too. Highland earned her touchdown. All right. Profiting by the other fellow's mistakes is more than half the game. But I thought our boys played a very good game, objected Luis loyally. Far bid for me to dispute you,

replied Dick with a smile. But didn't they? She insisted. Of course, Dick, I don't know very much about said things, but I want to learn. Didn't they play well? Clearfield, answered Dick, was at least 24 points better than Highland Hall, Louise.

She won by the score of 16 to 7, as Mr. Grayson says, I invite your considerations. Oh, said Louise, what was the matter, Dick? Well, replied the other as he stamped cautiously down the steps. It's the general who watches the battle through a pair of field glasses who sees best what's going on. Clearfield needed a general. It was a good fight on Clearfield's part,

but there was an unnecessary loss of lives. Oh, you mean we needed a coach? Badly, said Dick. Then, why don't you do it? exclaimed Louise. Dick, why don't you? Oh, you mustn't think that just because I can criticize I could have managed that game any bad.

better. laughed Dick. Almost anyone can be a critic, but football coaches are a scarce article, Louise. Just the same, I believe you could Dick, and I think it's funny Lanny hasn't thought of it. I don't, Dick replied. I'd think it's funny if he did, considering that I've never played it and have to tattle around on a pair of sticks. That has nothing to do with it. replied Louise, convincedly, I shall speak to him about it right away. Isn't it perfectly fine that I thought of it? End of Chapter 4.

Chapter 5 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 5. Dick Consents Something very much in the nature of an indignation. meeting was held on the high school steps on Monday at recess. There were no prepared addresses, nor did parliamentary rules govern the meeting, but free speech was in order and liberally indulged in. Lanny was not present, but the football element was well represented,

and it was Morris Brent for once holding views coincident with power, sentiment, who most heartily condemned the athletic committee for their decision regarding the employment of a cellaried football coach. Morris, munching an apple on the top step, proclaimed indignantly that the athletic committee of the Clearfield High School didn't care a bone button whether the team got beaten or not. What kind of a gym do they think we can turn out without a coach? He demanded, addressing the throne in general, but frowningly regarding Tabby Sears, senior class president.

Who's going to look after the physical condition of the fellas? Why, along about the middle of the season, will have a hospital list as long as my arm? The trouble with that committee is that there are a lot of all. grannies. Sears shrugged his shoulders and replied a bit resentfully. Well, you needed blame me for it. I'm not on the committee. Tell it to Weyland or Scott and those who are.

You can't blame them for it either, said Pete Farrar. They were outvoted. Will Skat told me so. Wayland couldn't go to the meeting because he was sick. And anyhow, with only three. undergraduates against four grads and faculties. What can you do? That's so, said someone else. We ought to be better represented. It would be fairer to have as many undergrads as grads. Don't see as it makes much difference anyhow, observed Sears.

Lanny White told me Saturday that some man he was after had turned us down and that he didn't know where to look next. So, even if the committee haven't decided against a coach, it wouldn't have made any difference. There isn't anyone to get. Well, we've got to have someone, insisted Morris, aiming his apple core at the rubbish barrel and missing it badly. Even if he's not much of a coach, Lanny can run the first team and the scrub and look after the new fellow. too. No one could, besides, whoever heard of a football team without a coach. It seems to me, said Pete Robey, that there ought to be some grad who could do it. That's what I say, agreed Sears. There must be too, if we'd look for him. Of course,

he might not know a lot of football, but he'd be better than nothing, I dare say. It's Grayson's fault, said Bingham, a toll-be-spectacled sophomore, and Bingham, as an unpopular a boy as there was in school, for once found support. I'll bet it is, muttered another, between mouthfuls of sandwich, he's always been down on football, and everything else we've ever tried to do, supplemented Bingham with a vindictive glare through his thick lenses. And here we are asked to subscribe. Shut up, growled Pete Robey.

Can you keep your silly mouth shut when you're told you? Bingham subsided, muttering peevishly, and George Katner arrived at the foot of the steps, just as Morris began again. I say, what we ought to do is stand up for our rights, he declared with dignity. If we just told the committee that we had to have a football coach and meant to have one, they'd come off their high horse.

After all, whose money is it they're so careful of? Isn't it as much ours as theirs? Of course it is, said Pete Ferrar. We earned it. How much did you earn? Asked Manager Katner sarcastically as he approached the storm center. Well, that doesn't matter, replied Farrar. I mean that we fellows earned the money at baseball and football and things, and I dare say,

I earned as much of it as you did, Cotner. Which is none at all, answered George Camley. You fellows are making a heap of noise about nothing, if you only knew it. How is that? asked Sears. We found a coach, replied the manager coolly. Exclamations of surprise and curiosity came from the gallery. Who is he? Where'd we get him? Who said so?

Bet you're fooling, George? Not at liberty to tell you just yet, replied Cotner, enjoying the sensation. In fact, the matter is not absolutely settled. Thought so, knew you were. were lying. But it will be this afternoon. Then you'll hear all about it. Where's he come from? demanded Morris. George hesitated and then, right here, he answered. Clearfield, do we know him? Yes. Is he a graduate? No. Then it's Mr. Caccaran of the YMCA. Get out, said Morris.

He wouldn't leave a job like the one he's got to coach us. He could do it without giving up his job, couldn't he? Isn't it Cochran, George? It's not. Then who? I told you I couldn't tell you, didn't I? So don't ask. You'll know this afternoon or tomorrow.

I'll bet his frost, whoever he is. Maurice Brand grumbled. Who found him, Lanny? Er, no, not exactly. George Kattner smiled. I don't know who found him exactly, although I think I was the first one to suggest him. Oh, you'll be surprised, all right, fellows?

He chuckled at the bewildered expressions on the faces of the others. I'll tell you one thing, though. Just to keep you interested, he's never played a game of football in his life. A howl of the region went up. Now we know you're lying, George, declared tears. Maybe it's Mr. Grayson, sneered Bingham, and love went up at that, and the gathering broke up in better humor as the gun summoned them back to work. As a matter of fact, the school at large did not learn the identity of the new coach that afternoon,

for at nine o'clock that evening, the candidate for the honor was still holding off. He sat in the little parlor of his home on East Street, a pair of crutches beside him, and listened doubtfully to the insistence of Lanny White, George Kettner, and Gordon Merrick. There's no use in your saying, you can't do it, Dick, declared Lanny. Because you can. We understand that. you don't know football as well as Joe Farrell does. And of course, you've never played it.

But you do know a lot about it theoretically, and you've followed the game for years. What we want is someone in authority, even if he doesn't know everything and can't get into tax himself. And you're just the fellow, Dick? Every chap on the team would be tickled to death to take orders from you. Look at the way you had us crawling around on our town. last summer, when you managed the nine.

Hang it, Dick. You've just got to do it. There's no one else, I tell you. Lanny's right, said George earnestly. What we need is a fellow who can't sort of sit up loft, as it were, and see how things are going and tell us when we're making mistakes. And we need to get up a plan of battle too, work out a campaign. why, as it is now, we're just going along from game to game and trusting to luck.

Lanny can play football and coach too. Be a good fellow, Dick, urged Gordon. I won't deny, replied Dick, that I'd like to try it, as you say, I've never played the game, but I have watched it, and I do know the rules, and I have got theories, and maybe I could get the fellows to do it. what I say, but, well, look here now. Suppose I did take hold on my ideas of coaching a team proved all wrong, and we came an awful crapper at the end of the season. After all, I've never done it, and it would be a risky sort of an experiment, Lenny. My football may not

be the sort that succeeds, you see. We'll risk it, Dick, and will promise that weather will lick springdale or get beaten will never make a whimper. But what about the other fellows? asked Dick with a smile. The other fellows? Yes, they'd want to map me. Nonsense. Why, look here. Even Farrell can turn out a winning team for us every year, Dick. I'm not saying you're the finest football coach in the country, but by George, you're the only chap I know of today. be satisfied to work under. Now, what do you say, Dick?

And look here, Dickams, said Gordon. You want to remember that we can't hire a coach if we can't find one. It's up to you. Where would I find time to study or do any work? asked Dick irresolutely. If I went into this, I'd want to go in with both feet. Of course you would, responded George encouragingly. But a couple of hours in the afternoon from now to the 18th of November wouldn't matter. Do you think two hours a day was all Joe Farrell gave to football? asked Dick grimly. Well, say Lanny, who put this into your head. Lanny grinned sheepishly. Louise Brent, he answered, but she said she was surprised. I haven't thought of it. myself, and by Jove, Dick, so I am.

I thought of it a week ago, didn't I, Dick? Asked George eagerly. Remember that first afternoon of practice? I asked you, Dan. No post-mortems, George, said Lanny. That's settled Dan, huh, Dick? Dick smiled ruefully and gazed a moment at his crutches. How would I look, he asked,

driving a team on those things. You look fine, declared Lanny, and you could do it. Perhaps, laughed Gordon, you could follow the team in Eli. Dick smiled and then asked, There's no money in this, is there? I'm afraid not, replied Lanny. The committee? That's the way I'd wanted.

I wouldn't dare take any money for doing it, fellows. If I made a mess of it, I'd feel bad enough if I was doing it for nothing. But if I was getting paid for it, I'd feel as if I cheated you. Now, one more thing, Lanny, if I do our coach, it's got to be understood that I am coach. You mean that? That I'm in authority. That what I say goes. It may sound cheeky, considering that I'm a green horn.

but it's the only way for me to have any show at making good. That's all right, Dick. You say the word and you're it from this moment. And if the way I play doesn't suit you, you can put me on the bench tomorrow. Is it a bargain? Fellows, I'm an awful fool, I suppose, but... He paused again.

Say it, Dick, exclaimed George, with a grin. I want you to know that. that I appreciate your confidence in me. Went on Dick, and I'll do the best I know how. Good boy, cried Lanny, seizing Dick's hand and pumping it enthusiastically. Now I feel as if I could play some football. Honest, Dick, I've been too worried to even try. Do I, do I begin my duties now?

Asked Dick soberly. Of course, I suppose the committee will have to prove. but they'll do that, all right? Then, said Dick, I'll issue my first order. Should, laughed Lanny. Very well, the first squad is disbanded. Huh? gasped Lanny. What? exclaimed George.

Also, the sub-team and the third squad. Continued Dick calmly. Tomorrow, at three o'clock, all candidates will report to me on the field dressed to play. What, what's the idea? asked Gordon. We're going to start over, returned Dick quietly, and any fellow who wants a place on the team has got to work for it.

End of Chapter 5. Chapter 6 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 6. The new coach takes hold. Dick Lovering's selection to mold the destinies of the Clearfield High School Football Team did not meet with universal approbation. It would have been strange if it had. Dick, handicapped as he was with his physical disability,

and far too busy a youth to mix in many of the school interests, had, after all, but a... limited circle of personal acquaintances, and those who knew him only by sight and reputation were inclined to be dissatisfied. There was no animosity toward Dick, but it was felt that to put a boy who had never played a game and had had no practical experience at the head of football affairs was, to say the least, a hazardous experiment. Some fellows went farther. and declared that it was idiotic. Dick lovering's all right, they said.

But he's a cripple, and even if he knew how to coach the team, he couldn't do it on crutches. Wait till you hear Springdale laugh at us when they hear it. Those who really knew Dick, on the other hand, hailed his choice with satisfaction. Perhaps Tom Haley voiced the general sentiment of this faction,

as well as anyone. I don't care a bit, he said, whether Dick knows a football from a baked potato. If Dick undertakes the coach, the team he'll do it and do it well. I never saw the thing yet that kid couldn't do when he made up his mind to it, and there isn't a fellow in school

that can make what he says go as Dick can. We may not beat Springdale this year, but if we don't, it won't be Dick's fault. But whether the school in general approved or disapproved. The matter was already beyond them, by the time they heard of it officially, which was the noon following George Cutner's announcement on the steps. For Lanny had begged speedy action by the athletic committee

and a hurried meeting had been held in Mr. Grayson's office at 11 o'clock. Curtis Whelan, who at Lanny's solicitation, had risked the doctor's displeasure and attended as one of the three undergraduate members, informed Lanny afterwards that there had not been a descending voice and that Mr. Grayson had been highly pleased. The selection of one of your own kind, an undergraduate, a fellow, with no trend of professionalism. He declared, He's right in line with my theory that schoolboy sports and athletics should be conducted by schoolboys and not by hired mentors. I approve heartily, and I congratulate White and the others on the good sense they have displayed, and I wish Richard Loverick and the team all success.

The news was received with incredulous surprise, and at first the authenticity of the fact. was doubted by those not in the secret. Succeeding surprise came amusement, approvation, or disapproval according to the conviction of the person. At all events, the murder created an excited interest that drove practically the whole student body to the field that Tuesday afternoon. Those who went to scoff, however, found little opportunity. They saw Dick's blue out of the field.

standing at the end of the grand stand near the big gate and discovered Dick himself, wearing his honors very modestly, swinging about on his crutches in a quiet and business-like way, for all the world as if he had been coaching football teams all his short life. But there was plenty of matter for surprise, however, instead of the usual spectacle of three squads practicing independently, of each other. They found all the candidates, new and old, experienced and inexperienced, democratically jumbled together and performing the most elementary tasks. Clearfield on the sidelines was amused, to save a list. At the spectacle fellows like Haley,

Cotrell, Cable and even Lanny White himself. Fellows who had played for one, two, and even three years on the first team as regulars or substitutes, passing the ball to each other, falling on it, and practicing starts and performing similar kindergarten fits. Had it not been for this humorous aspect, the spectators would have found practice that afternoon distinctly and interesting. There was no punting, no line work, not even dummy practice, for a solid hour and a half Clearfield's football heroes proved and insipient

went through the various drudgery and, on the hall, did it cheerfully. Those of the audience who most disapproved of the new coach had to acknowledge gradually that, at least, Lovering had the courage of his convictions, and many marveled that the regulars accepted the afternoon's duties so uncomplicated,

but those who marvelled had not, of course, being present in the dressing room, when Dick had made his short speech to the assembled players. His appearance had been greeted with a welcome that must have pleased him, although if it did he failed to show it. He was very quiet, very business-like, very terse. First of all, fellows, he announced with preliminary, rhetoric. It must be understood that you and I are here for just one thing. That's to get together a team that will beat Springdale. If we can win other battles, well and good. If we can't,

well and good. In order to beat Springdale, we've got to play regular football fellows, and in order to do that, we've got to learn how. Some of you know more football than others. but I'm not going to take your word for it. Today you are all on the same level and we are going to start all over, just as if this was the first day of practice and you haven't already played one contest. There's no first squad, no scrap team, no third squad yet. Every fellow has got to show me what he can do, and for the next two or three days you will all have to go back to a Lumomero.

work. Those of you who aren't willing to do that, had better tell me now and empty your lacquers. There's going to be plenty of hard work for some time, perhaps all the season. Drudging work that isn't exciting or spectacular, but that you've got to go through with it if you expect to face Springdale. I'd like everyone of you who goes on the field presently to do it with your mind made up to do what you're told, without question, and to do it cheerfully. That's the only way you and I can work together to any sort of success. Dick nodded to Lanny and swung himself toward the door, but paused there for Lanny was talking. That's good straight talk, fellows, Lanny was saying earnestly, and I second it, but coached

Lovering mustn't think he can frighten us by talking hard work to us, for he can't. We expect to work hard and we want to work hard. We want to get back at Springdale this year and wipe out what happened last, fellows, and we aren't going to mind anything that happened so long as we can face Springdale in November, with an even chance to win. The applause greeting that sentiment, was spontaneous and hearty. There's just one other thing, fellows.

Lani continued. You all know the fellow who just spoken to you, and those of you who know him as well as I do, or have as well, know that he will do the very best he knows how for us. But it's new staff for Dick, and it's not going to be any sense for him. So let's help him all we can.

remembering that by helping him, we're helping ourselves on the school. Let's put our confidence in him, fellows. Let's do what he tells us cheerfully, and let's make up our minds that, no matter what, what discouragements or failures may come. In the end, we're going to be right there with the goods. Lovering isn't doing this for money, as most of you know. For the committee has seen to that.

He's doing it because, well, because some of us pastored the life out of him until he consented, and because he's patriotic enough to take over a mighty difficult and thankless job when he can really afford the time it will take. Now, fellows, let's have a cheer for coach-lovering and make it good. And it was good, and Dick, who had waited at the door for Lanny to conclude, slipped out, and, with the whole-hearted acclaim, from some for the lusty throats following him,

gazed thoughtfully across the fading green of the field, and silently resolved to make good in this new and strange role he had assumed. That evening, after supper, Dick, Lanny, George, Kutner and Chester Kuttrell met at Lanny's house. Kattner had prepared a list of candidates arranged alphabetically at Dick's request. When he received the list, Dick asked but one question. Are all those fellows eligible to play, George? Yes, as far as I know, I have to take the rewards for it, of course.

We won't do that. I'll hand this list to Mr. Murray tomorrow and ask him to check it up. Some of them may not have passed the examination, and we don't want to waste time on any fellow who may be taken away from us later on. Lanny looked doubtful. We haven't paid much attention to physical examinations lately, Dick.

He said, I guess I could name half a dozen fellows who haven't been near Mr. Murray this fall. The rule is still in force, isn't it? Asked Dick in surprise. Yes, I suppose so, but it's a sort of dead letter now. It shouldn't be, Lanny?

We don't want fellows who are not sound and fit. We don't want accidents, and we don't want fellows petering out in mid-season. So I guess we'll have all those who haven't taken their exams do it tomorrow. Suppose we write a notice to that effect, George, and post it on the bulletin board. And write a call for candidates too, please. Say we want 20 more fellows, must have them right away, and don't care what you. they've played football before or not. You'll get a lot of daps if you say dad,

volunteered Kutrell dabbously. I won't want daps, smiled Dick. But I do want to get hold of fellows who have strong bodies and good lungs and plenty of brains. I'd rather make a team out of eleven chaps with intelligence who never saw a football than out of that many football players without intelligence, Chester. Even if we find only one out of the trendy

who makes good, it'll be worth the trouble. Right, oh, said George. Shave me some of that pad over here, Lanny. Now, said Dick, tell me what you know of Springdale this year, fellows. I know what she did to ask last fall and how she did it, But I want to know what they are planning for this year, and what sort of material they have. Anybody know?

Lanny and Kutrell each shook his head. George Kutner's and interrupted scratching with his pan, signified an equal ignorance. About all I know, said Lanny finally, is that they've got six of last year's team back and a number of good subs. Have they got the same backfield? Pretty near, they lost Morgan. Morgan was left half, wasn't he? Right half. And the chap who outpunted us about ten yards every time.

Well, have they got another punter inside? Have they got anyone who is clever at field goals? Search me, responded Lanny. We can't find out, I suppose. We must, Lanny. We've got to know pretty nearer what their line of attack is to be in order to work up our defense. If they are going to form their team around a clever drop kicker,

we want to know it. If they're going to depend on the rushing game entirely, we want to know that. If they're going strong for passing, we want to know that. I suppose, said Kutrell. The best thing to do is to send a scout to see them play next Saturday. Dick agreed. But, he added, we won't learn much from such an early game.

I think we'd better subscribe to the Springdale papers and follow what we see there, until we can get a fair idea of what Springdale's line of attack is going to be. We can't do much about our own defense. But there's plenty of time for that, fellows. I want to put in a good three weeks of the old-fashioned football. We don't want to lose the game by a record. fetched fumble or through lack of ordinary football sense, and that's about the way we lost last fall.

That's so, I guess, agreed Cotrell. You all know I did all I could to lose that game. You made mistakes, Chester, said Dick. And so did most of the others. I'm not trying to place the blame anywhere except on the team as a whole. That's where it belongs. But I don't want to see the same mistake. mistakes repeated this year. And that's why I won the fellows to learn football from the ground up,

and there are plenty of them who began at the second story. He added dryly. Lanny laughed. That's true, Dick. I felt myself last fall that Farrell wasn't paying enough attention to essentials, and we all know that he paid so little heed to the steps that when he wanted them, we didn't have second or third-stringed players who could do anything at all. I'm not trying to put the loss of the game in Farrell, of course, but, well, he did mistakes. I suppose we all do. Of course we do, responded Dick cheerfully. Only let's try and make as few as possible, and by all means let's make fear than the other fellow.

Will you look after posting these notices, George? The first thing in the morning? So we'll do, answered the manager. Want you see him? Dick read them over and approved. Then, that's all for this time, I guess, he said, reaching for his crutches. I'll be going on. Want to lift, Chester?

No, thanks. I'll stay a while longer. Good night, Dick. Here's hoping. Dick smiled in the doorway. Here's trying. he corrected. End of Chapter 6.

Chapter 7 of the Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 7. Clearfield meets defeat. Low Coast Valley High School descended on Clearfield the following Saturday. As Chester Coutrell phrased it, loaded for bar.

She came with some two dozen capable-looking red-stacking youths, a head coach who had red hair. Dick said that was a dangerous sign, and a manager who brought joy to the Clearfield supporters by sporting a green alpine hat of the fuzzy variety. Clearfield cheered delightedly when she first laid eyes on that hat, and cheered at intervals throughout the afternoon, whatever the wearer of the hat showed activity. Locust Valley found clear-filled unprepared. The lineup that started the first period for the purple

amazed most of the fellows and displeased those who pretended to be football authorities. Why, in the name of all that was sensible, should Egbert Payton be playing right tackle? Equally incongruous to them was the presence of George Tapper at right half, of Pete Robey at left guard, and of Ambrose Smith at right end.

It's a wonder. Some critics scrambled. He's let Lanny White play. Defeat for Clearfield was a four-gang conclusion after the first five minutes of play. Clearfield got her signals mixed. Aarly failed to follow the ball closely, was fooled on the simplest plays and on the hall,

put up as wretched an exhibition of football as one can imagine. Locust Valley was well advanced for so early in the season. Her warriors had a diversified attack that was hard to meet and her coach was a tactician of merit. At the end of the first period, Locust Valley had scored a touchdown by a mixture of old-fashioned, line plunging a new-fashioned cross-passing, and had kicked a goal.

Clearfield had not succeeded in even threatening the opponent's citadel. Dick, imperturbably, put Harry Bryant, in at left end, and thought Brimmer at center, and the game went on. Clearfield showed occasional flashes of real football, as when halfway through the second period, Lanny, with Coutrel interfering, ran some 30 yards straight through the opponents, and placed the pig skin on locust valleys 23 yards. But after that, the purple's offense was too weak to much. make much impression on the enemy, and the ball was soon being punted back up the field.

Clearfield showed almost no team play. It was every man for himself. And some of the individual efforts were extremely crude. The team's supporters hoped against hope well into that second period, and then began to grumble. Some of the things that were set about, the team and about the coach were uncomplimentary in the extreme. The kindest thing that was martyr of Dick by these mock contents was that he didn't know enough football to coach a girl's school. The first half ended with the score 11 to 0, Locust Valley having failed to kick a goal from a difficult angle. To make a long story short, the enemy, deported later in the afternoon with the ball and at 26 to 3 victory.

That three points Clearfield managed to secure in the last five minutes of the battle by the timely introduction of Morris Brent. Coach Lovering used practically 3-11s that day, and, considering the sort of game put up by some of the players, it was a wonder that Locust Valley didn't double her score. Clearfield retired from the field in a mutinous mood. There was even talk of a mass meeting to protest against the further retention of Dick

as coach. Clearfield, they said bitterly, had never been beaten as badly as that in the memory of any student, and only once before had she failed to win from Locust Valley. It was all very well to make the Springdale game the goal of the season's work, but there was no sense in being licked by every little weeper-snapper of an opponent, meanwhile. Why haven't Lovering used the team that had beaten Highland Hall last Saturday, instead of experimenting with every kid who had the price of a pair of canvas trousers? Dick had his defenders, of course, but they were in the minority.

As for Dick himself, he showed no concern over the outcome of that contest. George Kattner, whose confidence in Dick had been somewhat shaken that afternoon, ventured to offer condolences after the game. Too bad, Dick, he said. Still, we did score on him, I suppose, considering a lot. everything we couldn't have expected to win. Probably not, replied Dick calmly. Let me have your memorandum, please.

I want to go over it tonight. By the way, can you find a fellow to help with the dummy on Monday? Yes, I'll get one of the kids. We'll have to buy some more balls in a day or two, Dick. We lost one today, you know? Yes, and we may lose my kids. more. You'd better order a half-dozen on Monday. George confided that evening to Coutrel that Dick didn't seem much worried by the day's

fiasco. Why should he? asked Chester loyally, observing the manager with a disapproving scowl. Who cares what Locust Valley does if we can get a team that will beat Springdale? I know. George hastened to say. But seems to me it's a bad idea to let any team walk over us the way Locust Valley did. It sort of destroys confidence. Besides, just between you and me, Chester, the fellows don't like it much.

I've heard talk of a meeting to protest. Chester shrugged his square shoulders and grinned. Let them. He said shortly. Much good it'll do him. Dick Lovering's coach, and he's going to be coach. We all agreed to give him a free reign, and he's going to have it. It seems to me the best thing you can do is stand up for him, George.

I am, declared the other, scandalized by the insinuation. I do. I've been telling fellows all the afternoon that Dick knows what he's doing. and that if he wants she lose every game but the Springdale game, he has a perfect right to do it. All right, then don't talk as if you thought he didn't have any sense. And Chester turned away with a scowl that, because of a strip of dirty white plaster on his cheekbone,

made him look quite ferocious. Dick's request for twenty more candidates resulted in the appearance of some eight, or ten youths, mostly of tender years and all without football experience. Katner and Lanny viewed the volunteers pessimistically, but Dick failed to exhibit any disappointment at the result of his summons. He added the new fellows to the rest, and went diligently on. On Monday there was a full hour of dummy tackling, and fellows who had prided themselves, on their ability in that line, had much of the conceit taken out of them.

Dick's knowledge of tackling surprised even Lanny and Gordon, and others who believed the most firmly in his ability to lead Clearfield to victory. For a fellow who had never handled a pig skin, he certainly had a whole lot of knowledge stowed away in that head of his. He fell foul of Tom Haley, early in the pretext. sittings and the fact that Tom was a very good friend of his made no difference in his speech. How long have you been playing, Tom? asked Dick coldly as the last year's center picked himself up from the dirt. Three or four years, answered Tom in some surprise, pausing in the act of

rubbing the soil from his face. Then you ought to be ashamed to touch. like that, said Dick severely. Try it again, please, and remember that the idea is to step the man and not tickle him under the knees. Tom flushed, choked down a retort that his companions in the line surmised was none too patient and poised himself again while the swaying dummy once more crossed the pit. Now get into it. urged Dick, step him, put it back. Perhaps Shagrin was responsible for what ensued.

Tom made a hard dive and wiped his arms out of the canvas body. But in some way the dummy eluded him and Tom rolled over sprawling on his back, while the staffed figure, with its faded sea, went dancing crazily on its way. Tom picked himself up, angrily aware of the amused expressions on the faces of the others, and, brushing his hands absorbedly, took up his position again at the end of the line. Dick said nothing. Another candidate hurled himself at the dummy, with a rattle and bank of chain and pulley, and then another and another. Dick awarded each one a word of critical, criticism, approving or disparaging.

Better way. All right, Jack. Rottenbert. Get in front and not behind. Brimmer, you act as if you were afraid of it. Try it again. Ultimately, it was once more Tam Hill's turn, and Tom had a little disc of white on each cheek as he watched Manager Cutner pull the dummy back

and lay hold of the other rope. An expectant silence fell. Dick knotted, and the future started across the pit on its iron trolley. Tom, hands clenched, ran forward a few steps, and launched himself. His arms enrapped the dummy's thighs. There was a mighty grant from Tom and the sound of ripping canvas, and Tuckler and Dami reposed in the dirt, while the chain and ring sped jangling around the block toward the further end.

A burst of hilarity greeted the performance. Dick smiled. That's the way to do it, Tom. He approved heartily as Tom tossed the dummy from his prostrate form and arose. And I like to see every one of you tear it off the ring every time. Get a new strap made for that by tomorrow. George, please? That's all for today, fellows, on the trot now,

till laps around the field before you go in. The mass meeting didn't materialize. No one had really expected it, too. What had seemed a catastrophe on Saturday had become merely an unfortunate incident by Monday. No one, you may be sure, had mentioned the murderer to Dick, but he was not in ignorance of the sentiment of the school in general.

But if it bothered him, he made no sign. He went on his way smiling. Even when on the next Wednesday, it became known that Will Horsford had been forbidden further participation in football by reason of a weak heart, discovered in the course of a physical examination by Mr. Murray, and the fellows learned that Dick had insisted on a revival of a regulation that had become virtually a dead letter and criticism was rampant. Dick appeared to be quite unaware of it. Hortford was a good player, a lineman who had performed credibly at guard and tackle for two seasons,

and there was no contradicting the assertion so loudly made that the team had to be a team had. lost one of its best man. Dick's course in insisting on physical examinations for the candidates was labeled absurd. What's the good? Fellows asked. Of reviving that rat. If faculty is satisfied, why do we need to complain? And look what the result is, one of the best players we had lost to us. Nor was the explanation of Dick's friends, that it was good palisle. to take no chances with fellows physically weak and so liable to injury accepted as sufficient. Labyrinths too much of a granny for this job was the answer.

He ought to be coaching the grammar school team. On Thursday, Dick began the formation of a first squad. Squad A, he called it, and to eat he gathered an even two dozen. the balance he formed into Squad B. There were some surprises in that partitioner. Page Kent, right guard in the Highland Hall game, was relegated to Squad B, as was Jack Tall, right-and.

Guy Falker, who had always played half or fullback, was tried out as aunt, and Fudge Shaw was made unintelligible for days by being placed on squad A amongst the candidate for deposition of guard. Harry Patrick, who had started the season

as captain of the Scrab, found himself elevated to the upper squad. And it was Tom Nostrand who fell heir to his honor. That alone was sufficient to excite comment, for Nostrand had ever

shown any particular ability as a player. He had had had, had, however, a full set of brains, as Dick pointed out to Lanny, when the latter showed surprise at the selection. Nastrant won't make a first-class player in a hundred years, said Dick with conviction. But, unless I'm away of my track, he's just the fellow to run the scraps. He's smart, things like Lik, can't handle fellows and knows the way things ought to be done

even if he can do them, I expect him to work out a mighty good team of what he's got to work on. Vick's prediction proved correct, although the fact didn't appear just yet. On Saturday, the 11 journeyed to Norrisville and played the Norrisville Academy team. The 40 of 50 supporters who made the trip with the team scarcely looked for a victory for the purple. for rumour credited by the Academy, with being unusually strong this fall. While it wasn't apparent to the Clearfield rudders that Dick's aggregation was one whit better than a week before. But their expressions of resigned gloom were speedily turned to looks of surprised the light,

for Clearfield said about things in a hearty, not to be the knight-moner, that amazed Norrisville, as much as it did the clear-field supporters. The purple started with Brian, left-hand, Patridge, left tackle, cable, left guard, Haley's center, A-bitten, right-guard, scat, right-tackle, Falker, right-hand, Kuttrell quarter, white-left-half, tapper right-half, and end-bitten, full-back. There was much more coherence apparent,

than there had been a week ago, although real team play was yet to be discovered. Kutrell ran the 11 in excellent shape and chose his plays better than he ever had. The attack, well restricted to only a half-dozen plays, had power and the defense really deserved the name. Nelson beaten at full was the man of the day, for he showed a quite unsuspected ability to game through the line, and his plunges were hard to step until he was well into the secondary defense. At end, Falker showed promise, but was still too an accustomed to the duties of the position to be entirely satisfactory. Scat was weak at right tackle. Patridge did well at left tackle, and Brian, on the wing at that end, was almost spectacular. Just to pretextual, just to

that they knew something besides hitting the line. Kutrell got three forward passes away for good gains in the first half. Thereafter, the purple stack to old-style football, playing on the defensive for most of the time, four, with 17 points to their credit against the opponent's six. Why worry, as Jester Kutrell put it? Norrisville earned her one touchdown, which came to her in the second period,

by taking advantage of a fumble by tapper, of a punt which nearly went over his head. Norrisville fell on the rolling ball on Clearfield's 22 yards, and using a shift, which completely fooled her opponent, smashed straight through Skat for a score. Of Clearfield's two touchdowns, Lanny made one and Nelson bitten the other, and in each case a goal was secured. The remaining three points were secured by an easy drop kick from the 23 yards,

which went neatly across the bar. That was Morris Brent's usual contribution and he was taken out again soon after. Perhaps the most encouraging future of that game was the showing of Patridge at left tackle, to immediately discover a player capable of third. stepping into the shoes of the disburt-Horsford was a fine piece of lack and did much toward reconciling the fellows to the loss of the former tackle and exonerating dick of the blame. It was generally considered after the Norrisville High game

that Coach Lovering had really done very well with the team in the scant state days he had been at the helm. And doubtless he had, although, it must be taken into consideration that Norrisville had not presented a very strong team. Dick took 18 players with him that afternoon and gave each of them a chance at some time during the game. Gordon Merrick, whom he had placed on Squad A, went in for the whole fourth period. Gordon was Dick's closest friend, and it may be that he had allowed his friendship to somewhat sway his judgment, for Dick was only human.

In any case, the result had been disappointing, and Dick intimated as much that evening when the two boys were walking downtown to the auditorium to see the moving pictures. "'I think,' said Dick, "'you can play a better game than you did today, Gordy. What was the trouble?' "'I don't know,' answered Gordon ruefully.

I guess I was pretty poor, though. I don't believe there's much use wasting time on me, Dick. I'd never play half as well as George Tapper. I'd like to have you on the team, said Dick thoughtfully. I'd like to make it too, but, well, I guess I'm no born football player, Dickens. There isn't such a thing as a born football player, Gordy. You see what you can do this week, will you? You know, I want to give you every chance, but I can't afford to play any favorites.

You understand, don't you? Of course, I wouldn't want you, too, Dickums. I'll do my level best. And if I don't make a hip bearer showing you, drop me. Don't think I'm going to be peevish about it. I know perfectly well I haven't any business on the first. So do you. Dick laughed.

Well, we'll see. To be frank, Gordy. you haven't shown up as well as taper or Hansard, and I can't very well keep more than two substitute halves. In fact, to stay with Squad A, you'll have to beat out either Hansard or McCoy, unless Dick hesitated, and it was not until they had crossed Main Street that he continued. Then, I wonder how you'd shape up at end, Gordy. Try me, said Gordon.

I've never played ant, but say, you've got all kinds of good ants, Dick. Brian was a wonder today, and then there's Falker and Toll and Grover. Still, I'd like to try. I'm a pretty rotten halfback, that's certain. All right, I'll try you tomorrow. We must be late. Look at the map at the door. There's Fudge and Harry.

I'll ask them to get our tickets. and Gordon, whose turn it was to treat, slipped his two dimes into Fudge's hand. Just as that youth reached the window where set the resplendent ticket seller. Hello, Gordon, Che? Sure, four of your best tickets, please. The latter remarked was addressed to the ticket seller and elicited only a hoagy stare and four little blue tickets torn from a similar. Endless Trip. But Fudge tackled at his own joke, quite unaffected by the man's hotel,

and the four boys crowded through the door and sought seats together in the darkened house. The auditorium prided itself on being very high class, and Fudge was soon grumbling about the sort of photo plays being presented. Gee, he confided to Dick. These pictures make me tired. They never have anything exciting anymore. Say, know what I'm going to do?

Well, I'm going to make that story I'm writing into a movie play. How's that? Great, said Dick. How are you getting on with it? Pretty well, answered the other with a sudden lapse of enthusiasm. The trouble is I don't seem able to work it out. You see, the fellow who murdered the old. old cadger, Middleton, had to get into that room somehow, didn't he?

I suppose he did, a great dick. Well, but how could he? There were bars at the window, and the door was locked inside. I guess he committed suicide, Fudge. Couldn't have, responded Fudge decidedly. The wound was on the back of his head. You could change that, couldn't you? Yes, but that wouldn't do.

He had to be murdered, so that Young Slough could unravel the mystery. Don't you see? I thought maybe I'd have it that the murderer was hidden somewhere in the room and escaped afterwards. But Young Slough looked everywhere. There's six pages about his examination of the room and he's finding a clue. What sort of a clue did he find? asked Dick, trying to seem interested in Fudge's conversation, and at the same time follow

the story being thrown on the screen. Fingerprints, confided Fudge, and a piece of torn paper with three words on it. Fine, what were the words? I don't know yet, I haven't got to that. Young Slood found the paper and didn't let on he had it. Detective's stories are awful hard to write. but it would make a dandy movie. By that time the patience of those sitting in the neighborhood was exhausted

and thought was requested to stop talking. He subsided with a grin, but close observer would have seen that he was not paying much heed to the polite adventures of the beautiful heroin of the photo play. Instead of looking toward the state, he fixed his gaze on the bold, head of the man in front of him, and surreptitiously munched chestnuts. When finally the play ended with a moonlight scene in which virtue was brilliantly triumphant,

Fudge granted his disapproval, and once more turned to Dick. I've got it, he whispered hoarsely. Got what? asked Dick. The solution. Old Middleton was attacked outside the room, and went in there and lacked the door himself. How's that? That might do, considered Dick. But how about the clues? Fudge's face fell.

That's so. I guess I could change that about the clues, though. What's this fellow going to do? Play a banjo? Gee, this is a bum show. End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of the Secret Played Play. by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 8.

The Committee in Session $62.65 announced Louise Brent disconsolately. I don't believe we'll ever get enough. I wonder who gave the five cents, murmured Lanny. The 25th of October phone. committee was assembled on the side porch at Brentwood facing a problem. We need about $28 more, don't we?

Asked Gordon, Louise nodded. Unless we left off the filing cabinet, she said. How much less would that make it? We figured the cabinet at $18, maybe it would be less, though. 18, reminded Morris. was before we took off thirty per cent so it would only make it about twelve dollars yes and i so hoped we could get the cabinet too said louise well we've tackled about everyone in school said gordon i can give another dollar i guess but that doesn't help much the trouble is said morris that most of the fellows are down on mr grayson about about the coaching business.

Don't see why they should be, said Lanny. After Saturday's game, seems to me that ought to prove that we can win without paying money for a professional coach. Of course, agreed Morris hurriedly, darting an anxious glance at Dick, fearing he had said something to hurt him.

Maybe they think differently about it now. How would it do to ask fellows again. Gordon groaned. I absolutely refuse, he asserted. If we have got to do that, someone will have to take my list. How many are there who haven't been asked? inquired May Burnham. Only about tranny, replied Louise, and most of them are the younger boys. And they don't give much anyway, said Gordon. We may be able. We may be able. to make up another five dollars, but I guess that's about all.

There's only two weeks more about. Well, supposing we get $70 all together, asked Dick. Is there anything we could do without? So as to bring the whole bill to 70. Louise referred to her list. The easy chair would be about 14. She replied, But we simply couldn't do without that, dick?

No, the easy-chair seems rather necessary. By the way, how much of the 62 is actually paid? $37 and $25. I don't suppose we'll get it all, either by the time we need it. I'll borrow the difference from father, said Morris. He will let us have it, I guess, I dare say I could. afford to contribute another dollar or two? There's no reason why you should, declared Nell Sowan.

I think it's a shame that we can't make up a small amount like that. The girls have given almost half again, as much as the boys. They ought to be ashamed of themselves. This was quite severe for Nell, who was normally incapable of censure, and Lanny was moved to a defense of his sex. We have more things to spend our money on than you girls. He said, besides, there are more girls than boys in school, Ned. Only about ten, said Louise severely,

topping her teeth with the tip of her brother's fountain pen. We've just got to get some more money. Let's have a fare, suggested. May and Grace Lovering, who had not contributed to the discussion, clapped her hands. Let's, she said, we could easily make twenty dollars, Louise. Fares are no earthly use, was the reply. Nat, when you really want to make anything, it always costs nearly as much as you'd taken to get ready. We'd have to make things or get folks to give us things to sell, and there's

isn't time. We might have an entertainment, though. There isn't time for that either, said Morris. Besides, no one would calm. At that moment, Lanny, who had been thoughtfully silent for a minute,

said, I think I've got it, folks, but you'll have to give me a day or two to mull it over. No questions, please. Oh, Lanny, have you really? demanded Nell eagerly. What is it? A show?

No questions. I said, laughed Lanny. I'll tell you on. Let me see. This is Monday on Wednesday evening. We'll have another meeting then. If you like, meanwhile, you folks get busy with those who haven't been asked yet and see what can be done. I'd like to know how much we have to make before I spring my skin. on you.

I'm so glad someone thought of something, declared Louise with a sigh of relief. We'll meet again Wednesday, Dan. Did anyone say he wanted to subscribe some more? And Louise held her list out invitingly. Lanny took it and added his name for another dollar. Dick shook his head with a smile. I'd like you, but I'm afraid I can't, Louise.

never mind Gordon you said you would didn't you? Yes I believe I did sighed Gordon accepting the paper and taking the pen from Lenny and just to prove that Amerik is as good as his

word and a little better I'll put my name down here for a dollar and let me see if one ice cream soda costs 10 cents two ice cream sodas would cost twenty cents. Wouldn't they, Lenny?

What on earth are you talking about? asked Louise. There, one dollar and twenty cents, said Gordon, writing. I'll take cash for those sodas, Lenny. What sodas? Somebody feel his head, please. Don't you worry about my head, old chap? All you have to do is fork over twenty cents. What's it for? Do I owe you, 20 cents?

You owe me to Sotas, Lanny, or, to be exact, you owe me one soda and yourself one soda. Being a philanthropist, I donate the price of the sodas to this worthy cause. Do you mean that I bet the sodas with you? Exactly.

You bet me we wouldn't have a football coach within a week, and I bet you we would, and we did. 20 cents, please. Thunder, so I did. Laughed Lanny, fumbling in his packet. But hold on. Are you sure we get him within the week? Positive, declared Gordon with conviction.

We made the wager the night of the last meeting of this committee, which was Tuesday. We secured our present capable coach at about 9.45 the following Monday evening. "'Anything more to say. "'Now, here's your old twenty cents. "'Only it's a quarter. "'Got a nickel?' "'I may have,' replied Gordon unravelledly.

"'But I don't intend to look. "'I'll just change the twenty cents to twenty-five, "'and so save trouble. "'There we are. "'And here's the cash, Louise. "'Put your little cross opposite my name, please.' "'After that, Maurice, insisted on giving another dollar a nil fifty cents.

I haven't the slightest idea where I'll get it, declared later tragically. I'll just have to do something and make some money, perhaps I'll sell matches on the street corner, or have a lemonade stand in the front yard. If you do, please, see that the lemonade is hot, said Lani. Cold lemonade in this weather wouldn't go very much. fast. Then, said Louise, writing, I suppose you don't want any, Lenny? Never mind. I dare say the rest of us can drink it. Oh, well, replied Lenny carelessly. If you have it all made,

rather than seem unappreciative, you know. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 9. Laning explains. Dick was a very busy person those days. He had not deceived himself into thinking that coaching the high school football team would entail but little time and effort.

His mistake had been in underestimating the amount of labor and time involved. Actual outdoor work took up a good two hours and a half every day save Sunday. Then at last five evenings a week, Lanny and George

Kattner, and often one or other of the players besides, met at his house and discussed progress, made plans, corrected mistakes, worked out formations and plays, and

conducted a sort of general football conference. This lasted anywhere from one to two hours. And after the others had gone, Dick had to settle down at his books. Fortunately, the senior year at high school was, in comparison with the years gone before, fairly easy. And Dick usually managed to do a good part of his preparation during the day. between classes. If he had not, he would have been forced to yield either his position as football coach or his attendance at the high school. But even the period in the afternoon and the

one or two hours in the evening did not comprise all the time given to football. For Dick found that it was impossible to clear his mind of gridiron affairs. at other moments. They uptruded when he tried to study, even when he was at his meals, and often kept him awake at night, when he should have been asleep. He was forever pulling out the little black notebook

he carried in a vest packet and jetting down a memorandum in it. And he got so, he even went off into thought trances, when folks were talking to him. As when one evening at supper, his sister Grace consulted him with regard to some problem

connected with the new hitting system which he was having installed in the cottage. Dick listened with apparent attention, his eyes on his plate, until Grace had finished. Then he surprised that young lady by looking up and remarking thoughtfully. That end-round play won't go unless we can keep the ball out of sight

until the runner reaches the line. Grace declared that he was losing his mind. One of Dick's duties was to follow the progress of the Springdale High School team as reflected in the columns of the Springdale Morning Recorder. The accounts of the team's practice sessions were not very voluminous, but they appeared to be reported by a high school boy and were doubtless as far as they went authentic. Dick usually clipped the articles from the paper

and they were discussed at the meetings. It was on the Tuesday evening following the Norrisville game that Lanny again broached the subject of sending someone to see Springdale play. We can tell much by these news, newspaper stuff, he said. We found out who they'll probably use against us. But we don't know what sort of a game they're planning.

I think we ought to see them play Benton next Saturday and get a line on them. Could you go over, Dick? Why don't you go? Asked Dick. Why? I suppose I could. Replied Lanny doubtfully. Only, well, we play Logan, and Logan has a pretty fair team, I guess.

What of it, McCoy will do well enough, I'd go along, but I guess one of us had better stay here. You take Chester with you, Lanny. He's good at sizing things up. Besides, that would give you a chance to watch the backfield and let him watch the lineman. Kirk can play quarter for us Saturday. But I'd hate to have Logan beat us. Lanny objected. Suppose you and Chester go, Dick. Dick smiled and George Cutner chuckled audibly.

Lani flushed. Oh, I don't think that we're going to lose the game just because I'm not here, he said. Only, oh, I don't know. I'll do just as you say, Dick. Then you'll go. you and Chester, replied Dick. Later on I'll see them in action myself, but I'd rather wait until about a week before we play them.

Let me see. Who do they meet the Saturday before they play us? Dick turned the pages of a scrapbook and found the Springdale schedule. Western Academy, huh? Where's that? Upstate, replied George. Small school. Springdale's evidently looking for an easy game that day. Then she won't show much, mused Dick. Still, I could get away that afternoon very nicely, for we play the grads.

I don't believe they'll ever get together to play us, said George. Fos Dick told me Saturday that he was having a hard time getting the fellows to promise. If they don't, we'll be in a hole. I told Means last winter that he couldn't depend on the gruts for a game. Well, we won't cross that bridge until we come to it, said Dick. Maybe if the gruts don't turn up, we can find another team to play us. If we can't, we can have a pretty good afternoon of practice, and I dare say that will be quite as much good.

to us. Then you think Chester and I had better go to Springdale Saturday? asked Lanny, not over-enthusiastically, Dick nodded. Yes, I do, Lanny. See what Dale look like and how their backfield shapes up, and above all watch their formations. If they show anything new, don't miss it. Better jet it down at the time. And find out of all, you know, and find out of if you can whether they've got a man who can kick goals from the field. A good deal will depend on that. Bring back everything you can, Lanny. Every little bit helps.

All right, you won't take any chances with that Logan game, though, William, Dick? He pleaded. You know they tied us last year. Bother your old Logan game, laughed Dick. If you say much more about it, I'll forfeit it to them. Seriously, though, Lanny, that game doesn't mean much to us, and if I can scrape through without being absolutely bitten, I'll be satisfied. Just keep your eyes on the 18th of November, Lanny, and forget about what goes on before.

I suppose so, Lanny agreed. Only when you're a captain, you sort of like to do the best you can. can. Make a good showing for the season, you know? A good showing isn't possible unless we beat Springdale, replied Dick emphatically. And that's what we're working for. I don't much care if we lose every game from now till then. If we win that one, now let's get at those plays. This number three won't work out, I guess. We're taking too much men from the right of the line. and we're giving the play away from the start.

There's one thing we've got to keep in mind, fellows, and that is that the simpler our plays are, the better they'll work. If we decide on that formation, we've talked of our plays, have got to be simple. I don't mind trying this number six out in practice if you like, but I don't cheer much for it. Just the same if it did fool them. suggested George.

It would fool them badly and would make yards on it. But I don't think it would fool them, said Dick. Not more than once, anyhow. And there's no use learning a play that can be used no more than once in a game.

Frankly, fellows, I don't set much score on fancy formations and funny shifts and trick plays. They don't pan out well, of course. If your opponent is weak, you can make anything go. But we're planning for Springdale, and Springdale isn't weak. She knows a lot of football.

Why, that number six would be smeared to the hilt the second time we tried it, if not the first. With all due regard to you, Lanny, I'm going to forget that play. And Dick rolled the sheet of paper up and tossed it into the waste basket. it. Alas, poor child of my brain, murmured George. Was that yours? asked Dick. I thought Lanny did that. No, mine was that quarterback ran play. Oh, well, I'm sorry, George. If you want me too, I'll try it out. No, don't bother. I'll dare say you're quite right about it. It is a bit involved. All right, try again, George, only keep them simple.

Plays that use only two men are a hip better than those requiring half a dozen to mess around and get in each other's way. Now, here's this number eight. I like that, Lanny. Was that yours? Lanny shook his head regretfully. No, that's one that Corwin sprung on ass last fall. I changed it a bit. That's all. They pulled it off from a forward-pass formation, but that seems to me to limit it a good deal.

I thought it would be a good play to work from regular formation. I think it would, and if we can get that formation of ours to working right, it would be a good play to add to that four-and-five sequence. We'll lay it aside for now, though. what we want for the next fortnight is about three more plays outside of tackle. Now, let's get busy. The 25th of October fund committee met as arranged on Wednesday night. All members present save Grace Lovering, whose regrets were formally expressed by Dick.

She isn't sick, is she? asked Louise concernedly. Not at all, replied. Dick gravely. She is in most robust health. To relieve your kind anxiety, Louise, I'll state that tonight is bread-making night at our house. Oh, laughed Louise. That's it.

Can Grace really make bread, Dick? None better. When last seen, she was up to her elbows in dough. I think that's awfully clever of her, said Nell Sauer. I wish I could do it, don't you, May? May Burnham, who had received Dick's announcement with surprise, agreed somewhat doubtfully. May had always considered household duties rather below the dignity of one who had so closely related to the wealthy and influential brands,

but observing that Louise seemed to think Grace Lovering's accomplishment, something to be proud of, instead of ashamed of, she added, with more enthusiasm. I think it must be very nice to be able to do things like that, and secretly wondered whether her own views were mistaken. Certainly, she reflected, none of the others seemed at all shocked by Dick's confession. Presently, they got down to business and Louise's treasurer, announced the fund now totaled $68.80. And, she added, I think that's all we can get from the students.

We've seen all the girls except one, who is ill, and Dick and Gordon have seen most of the boys. All but three, replied Dick, and Dave won't subscribe more than a quarter apiece, I guess. All right, said Langdon. that leaves us about twenty-one dollars behind them. Today is the 11th, isn't it? And Mr. Grayson's birthday is the 25th.

And that's just two weeks from today. When are you planning to buy the things? I suppose we ought to do it a week ahead, said Morris. It may take three or four days for them to get here by freight. Maybe longer, said Dick. I wouldn't leave it much after the 15th. The 15th is Sunday, Morris reminded. We might go to New York the next day, though.

Who's going? asked Gordon. Louise and May and I, unless some of you fellows want to go along. I guess none of us could get away, responded Dick. You'll have to get recitations, won't. you, Dahl? Only one. We'll take the 212 train, and that'll give us nearly three hours before the stores close. We can get back by eight. If we can get everything at Mars dance, it won't take more than an hour or so. Father agreed last night to advance what money we need, and were to pay him back as fast as we collect from the students. We have almost $50 paid.

in now, said Louise, so we won't have to borrow more than 40 from father. How about the expenses of your trip? Lani asked. Will each pay our own? replied Louise. It's only fair, because it's going to be a rather fan. I wish we might all go. It will be all right if I can't practice that day, won't it? asked Morris. Dick nutted. For that matter, he said, Lanny and Gordon may go as far as practice is concerned.

There won't be much hard work on Monday anyway. Couldn't you go, Dick? Louise asked. I'm afraid not. I'd have to cut two classes. Besides, I'm not much good at getting around in the crowd. I don't think I'll go either. said Lanny.

Same here, said Gordon. You three will be enough. The more dur are the harder it will be to agree on things. Now, please tell us about your plan, Lanny, said Nell eagerly. I don't know whether my plan is good for as much as $21, responded Lanny dubiously. I think we may be able to get, say, 15, though. The reason I wouldn't say what it was the other night was that I had to consult others

about it first, our head coach for one. Cut out the prolog, Lenny, advised Gordon. What's the scheme? Well, they've got a sort of football team across the river called the Northside Athletics. The fellows are meal operatives and that chap, Danny Shore. who played ball with us last summer the time Jack Chapman was suspended, his captain. I met him a week or so ago at the post office, and he told me about it, said they'd like to play us some time. I told him I was sorry, but that our dates were all filled. But it occurred to me the other night that the fellows over there would pay ten or fifteen cents willingly to see their team play the high school.

And there are a lot of them, you know? So I thought it would be a good scheme to arrange a game with them a week from Saturday. We go away that day to play Corwin, you know? Saturday is the only day they have to play. I saw Danny Shores yesterday and he's tickled to death about it. I had to tell him why we wanted to charge admission. but he promised not to say anything about it. They're so crazy to play that they don't want any part of the gate receipts.

And Danny says we can get three or four hundred people. What do you think of it? Morris and Gordon looked puzzled and the lawyer asked. But how did Dickens can we play Danny's team here if we're going away to play Corwin the same afternoon? Oh, I meant it to explain that we'd play the scraps against them. Call them the high school second team, you know? I think it will be perfectly dandy, exclaimed Louise.

I shall go and see it, declared Nell firmly. Don't see, said Morris. Why, you can't get a pretty good crowd to it. Not many of the fellows will go with. with the team to Corwin, I guess, and they'll be glad of a chance to see a game. How much are you going to charge, Lanny? Dick and I thought 10 cents apiece would be enough. If we got 200, we'd make $20, but I don't believe we'd get more than $150.

Still, that would mean $15, and maybe we'll find a way of making up the other five. said Gorton. There'll be easy two hundred there, and I think they'll pay fifteen cents as quick as ten. They might, said Dick. But it's best not to take chances. Two hundred at ten cents will be better than a hundred at fifteen, gory? But you the north-siders will leak us,

chuckled Gordon. The scraps haven't found themselves yet. They will have by a week. from Saturday, replied Lanny. We're beginning scrimaging tomorrow with them. I shall begin to save up my money, said Nell gravely. I've just got to see it. Will anyone contribute a penny, please? All the boys donated and Nell jingling four pennies in her hands, pretended to be overcome with delight.

There's a fellow named Tanner, said Lanny, who was a printing press and does pretty good work with it. I'll see him and ask him to do some notices for us that we can put around in the store windows. I guess he will be willing to do them for nothing under the circumstances. I know him, said Gordon. He's a particular crony of fudge. Take fudge along with you. Then I don't say but that we're all right. said Louise, and we needn't meet again until after we've been to New York. I do hope you will like what we pick out. We're sure, too, replied Dick. The main thing, though, is for Mr. Grayson to like them. That reminds me, announced Morris, that there will be a church for

carting the step from the freight house to the school. I dare say Stuart will do it for a dollar and a half. You don't want to forget, reminded now, that you may get the things cheaper than we estimated them. I dare say we'll have quite all the money we need.

Wouldn't it be splendid if we did and I haven't to pay my three dollars and a half after all? The others howled at that and Dick demanded his penny back. Gordon asked where the furniture was to be kept

until they could smuggle it into the office. And Morris explained that they were going to have it taken to the school late in the afternoon, after Mr. Grayson had gone, and stored in a room in the basement. He had arranged with the janitor for dead. And then, the night before, Louise is going to get the key to Mr. Grayson's room, and we're going to move the old furniture out into the hall, and put the new things in. I shall be very busy at home that evening,

murmured Gordon. Louise regarded him indignantly. Indeed, you'll not, Gordon Merrick? Everyone has got to help. Some of the things will be frightfully heavy. The janitor is going to help us, said Morris. As nearest I can make out, remarked Dick with a smile.

almost everyone in town has been taken into the secret except mr grason if he doesn't know of it already it's a miracle we had to tell the janitor said morris and miss turner she's going to borrow his key for us oh i'm not objecting replied dick but you'll have to acknowledge that the chances of keeping it from mr grason until the twenty-fifth are mighty slim. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he hasn't heard anything yet, said Louise. And, and I don't believe he will, it would be

too frightfully mean if anyone told him. Isn't it, isn't it getting rather late? asked Lanny bluntly. He's hinting for refreshments, said Louise scornfully. I believe he only comes to the meetings for

dead. Anyway, he won't like the lemonade because it isn't hot. The weather has moderated so much since I made that unlucky remark that called lemonade is quite satisfactory. Answered Lanny, and I do hope you have some more of that cake with the underdanned frosting. It lasted me all the way home Monday night, Louise. I even found some of my shoes in the morning. You're horribly insulting. His hostess laughed. I made that cake myself, Lanny, and you ought to have raved about it.

I did when I found it on my shoes, drolled Lanny. End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 10 Football Problems

The next day Dick appointed three assistant coaches. Bert Cable was to coach the lineman, Lanny, the Becks, and Morris the kickers. Dick took the ants under his immediate charge. There were now five candidates for the end positions. Harry Brian, Guy Falker, Jack Toll, Jim Grover and Gordon Merrick. Dick had very distinct ideas on the subject of End Play and was fortunately able to convey them understandingly to the candidates.

Gordon did not at once take kindly to the new position, nor show any great aptitude for the duties involved, except that he was quick and fast on his feet, was physically well-built for an end and had a lot of sound sense. He was doubtless no more promising than half a dozen others whom Dick might have selected for the training.

But Dick's theory that it was easier to make an intelligent fellow into a football player than to make a football player intelligent continued to guide his plans and already he was succeeding in vindicating that theory. Among the boys who had responded to the latter call for candidates was a 15-year-old sophomore named Perry Hull.

Perry had never tried for the team before and knew about as little football as it was possible to know and live in a community where it was played every fall. But he was a boy. bright-looking, quick-acting chap, with steady dark eyes and a firm mouth and chin, and he wasn't afraid of either hard knocks or hard work. When he reported, he expressed complete indifference as to where he played, therein being much unlike the general run of candidates,

most of whom demanded to be made into backs or ants. They told a story on Faj Shah, which may not have been quite truthful, but in any case illustrates the point. Fudge, so the story went, reported for football in his sophomore year, and on being asked by Coach Farrell what position he was after, replied, oh, captain or quarterback, I guess. Dick liked Perry Hall's looks at once. and watched him carefully for a week. His lack of size was against him, as a lineman and, in fact, left few positions open to him. He might have developed into a satisfactory substitute and,

had not Dick been quietly looking for a quarterback, with more powers or initiative, than Orson Kirk showed. Kirk was a good handler of the ball, was rather clever at gaining in a broken field and could follow directions implicitly. But left to himself, he never knew what to do and was liable to make the most stupid blunders in the matter of choosing plays. He had been third-string quarter the year before and had been used only when both Putnam, the regular quarter and Coutrel, the first substitute, were unable to play. Dick didn't fancy Kirk as the sole proxy in the Springdale game and seized on Perry Hall eagerly as soon as he had sized up that youth.

Hall was placed in the hands of Chester Cotrell for development and inside of a few days had proved Dick's acumen. Already on the eve of the Logan Cantest, Ho was the logical candidate for first substitute quarterback, and Arson Kirk, who had theretofore looked on himself a certain incumbent of that position, was ruefully doing his best to outpace the usurper. Just now Kirk might be said to be still a full lap behind. Dick's ability to connect player and position was in a way remarkable.

His light-of-hand trick in making Guy Falkler, who had been playing fullback for two years, into a competent end, was still marveled at, and his elevation of Patridge from the scrub to the first squad had been equally successful, and now the school was watching with almost breathless interest. his experiment of molding a finished quarterback from the raw material. In fact, the school found a good deal to wonder at that fall with regard to Dick. The Norrisville game had proved pretty conclusively. Fellows considered that they had made no mistake in their choice of a coach.

Those who had openly scoffed were now either silent, or frankly admiring, while those who had hailed Dick's advent from the first were now noisily triumphant. The question one heard on every hand was, how Lovering knows so much football when he has never played it and never had anything to do with it?

Dick could have told them had he chosen to. All his life he had been forced to sit back, and watch other boys do things, play baseball and football and tennis, run races, lip hurdles, skate and enjoy all the other sports from which he was debarred by reason of a weak spine. But Dick had not been content to merely look on and envy. He had studied while he watched often for his own amusement, imagining himself in the place of some more fortunate youth and telling himself just what he would do in such a case. To that end, Dick read up on all the sports until, theoretically, at least.

He knew more about them by half than most of the fellows who participated. No one followed the baseball and football and tracked teams more closely than Dick. He seldom missed a contest. And while others were content to observe results, Dick had to know the reasons for them. Many were your football problems he had worked out at home, with a checker board and checkers, or with matches on a table tap,

and many of the imaginary games he had captained. Dick, in short, was a self-talked athlete, a book-learning one, but that book-learning and self-instruction may produce results had already been proved in the summer when he had piloted the baseball nine to many victories and was now in a far way to being proved again. Dick didn't know it all, however.

No fellow who has never actually played as well as stated, can possess an all-around knowledge of the game. Dick was an ignorant, for instance, for certain niceties of line play, tricks that are second nature to a seasoned guard, or tackle or sender. But, realizing his ignorance, he didn't pretend knowledge.

Quite frankly, he asked information, solicited advice, even from the boys he was coaching. When he made a mistake, he acknowledged the fact. One day when he was watching Squad A practice against Squad B, and Chester Coutrell had sent split tandem play at the opposing line for a loss of several yards, Dick found fault. You were wrong, Tapper, he said. You should have put out your man and led Captain White clear updo.

hole. Try that again, Kuttrell. Kuttrell on the impulse started to answer sharply. No, he shouldn't, coach? That play? Then he stepped as quickly, clapped his hands and cried. Affirmation, signals! The others returning to their places were silent. Lanny casting a doubtful look at Dick as he fell in behind George Tapper again. Dick, however, had read the signs. One moment, he said. Am I wrong, Captain White? I think you are, replied Lanny frankly.

That play sends fullback against tackle with the ball. Tapper's play is to engage the center and fake an attack on that position. If he goes in too hard and puts his man out too quick, he doesn't give bitten time to get through tackle. Some way with me, coach. I'm supposed to draw guard in away from the play. If I smash in too hard and fast. You're right, agreed Dick.

That was my mistake. We'll try that again later when they're not looking for it and see why it doesn't go. All right, Cotrell. One or two of the linemen started to grin, but almost instantly changed their minds. A coach who could make a mistake and own up to eat as frankly as dead wasn't a subject for ridicule. Farrell wouldn't have done it, they reflected.

When Farrell made an error and he sometimes did for all his experience, he bullied them into a sort of half belief that he had been right. On Thursday, Squad B became officially the scrap team and lined up against the first, or varsity, as the fellows like to call it, for the first real scrimmage. Tam Nostrand was captain, and the roster consisted of Jones, left end, mander left tackle, gates left guard, Shaw Center, Nostrand, right guard,

Peyton, right tackle, Smith, right end, Ferrar, quarterback, Burns, left halfback, Sawhin, right halfback, and Brimmer, fullback. Six other youths were retained as substitutes and the balance of the candidates,

eight in number, were dropped. Fudge Shaw had not shown enough promised to warrant his retention on the varsity, and had been released to Nostrand and tried as a center, in which position he was doing very well. For his part, Fudge was quite satisfied, for his ambition had never really gone beyond a place on the scrap team. It is doubtful, though, if Gage and Bremmer, both of whom had played with the first team prior to Dick's advent, were as well pleased. However, it was well understood that changes were still likely to occur,

and that any fellow who proved his right to a place on the varsity would get it, a knowledge which served to cause the scrap team players to do their best. Tam Nostrand's warriors showed up remarkably well that afternoon and gave the varsity a first-class argument. The best the latter could do was make a touchdown in each half of twenty minutes and hold the enemy scoreless. The Scrabs trotted from the field not a little proud of themselves, and with Dick's commendation, good work Scrap ringing in their ears.

Tam Nostrand had already announced to them the day were to play the north side team on the 21st. and they were more than pleased. On Friday, the varsity, contrary to custom, was put through as hard, if not harder, practice than usual, and full hour was spent in going over the few plays to be used against Logan the next day. Also, there was an extremely strenuous session with the dummy,

and after scrimmage was over, the backs and centers were kept until it was too dark to see, the senders passing to punters and the other backs running down under kicks. Maurice Brett practiced goals from the field and managed to score about six out of ten, which, as some of the angles were extreme, was a creditable performance. Morris was something of a problem

to Dick and Lanny, in spite of the doctor's permission. Dick had a feeling that Morris, if allowed to play as much as he wanted to, was likely to peg out before the big game. Lani too shared disbelief, and while neither of them could have given satisfactory reasons for it, they were agreed that the wise course was to nurse Morris along, giving him only enough work to keep him in condition and bank all on his ability to reach the Springdale contest in top form. Meanwhile, Lanny himself was doing most of the punting.

Chester Coutrell supplying short kicks from regular formation. So far, Morris Brett had been brought into the game whenever a goal from field was necessary, but Dick was anxious to find another player who could also be relied on to add an occasional three points in that matter. So far, though, no one had shown much promise. Tapper and Nelson Bitten were doing their best under Morris tuition, but they didn't seem to get on very fast.

Dick hardly wished that he knew more about drop-kicking himself. or, better still, that there was somebody he could call on to calm out and coach in that department of the game. And in the meantime came the game with Logan, which, since it must be played without Lenny and Kutrell, presented another problem. End of Chapter 10. Chapter 11 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 11. Spy

Springdale lies nestled amongst the hills six miles inland from Clearfield, and one may take the journey speedily enough by either steam, railroad or trolley line. Lanny and Chester chose the latter route, and after an early dinner on Saturday, climbed into a front seat of one of the big, lambsome cars, and settled themselves for the 40-minute trip. Chester, he was a sturdily built chap of 17, with a pleasant countenance and a singularity attractive voice, was supplementing his hasty meal with peanuts. Lani declined the delicacy and intimated that the quarterback, would be a whole lot better off if he didn't eat such track between meals.

Lanny was inclined to be irritable today, recognising which fact. Chester diplomatically confide his entire attention to the contents of his paper bag, while the car rumbled over the B Street Bridge, after slowly and noisily, trundling its way through most, of the business portion of the town. By the time it had left the meals behind and had plunged into the country. It sped across fields and through woods

with no heed to the highways. Lanny was ready to talk. Perhaps the crisp October breeze had blown his irritability away. At all events, after that, they chatted pleasantly. enough and watched the long line of shining rails rushed toward them at breathtaking speed. Every few minutes the car slowed down at a tiny station and folks got off or on. And the two boys, now being in excellent spirits, viewed and discussed them and

wincically invented histories and careers for them. The big car pulled. into central square in Springdale right on time, and the visitors had nearly an hour in which to see the town and walk out to the high school athletic field. Springdale is less city-fied than Clearfield, even though it has a slightly larger population,

perhaps the fact that it is on the main line of the railroad and so nearer this city in point of time account for its popularity as a residence town. The State Agricultural Experiment Station lies just outside, and Chester, who was an enthusiastic chicken fancier, was all for going out there to see the poultry farm. But there was hardly time for an excursion, and so they contended themselves with wondering about the streets of the business section for half an hour, quenching their thirst at a soda fountain, standing for several minutes in front of the gaudy placards outside a moving picture theatre,

and all the time pretending amused contempt for Springdale's village aspect. Then it behoved them to reach the field and they tore themselves away from the interesting display, in a picture dealer's window, and moved out Maple Boulevard, their feet rustling through the fallen leaves that almost hid the sidewalk. They were soon part of a struggling procession of boys and girls and older folks all headed toward the athletic field. A number of merry-faced youths in striped brown and white uniforms rode past, and the throngs on the sidewalks waved their blue pennants with the white asses, and shouted laughing comments after the visitors. Lanny and Chester yielded their quarters,

and, being early, found places near the center of the field in the comfortable and comovial. new grand stand. This, said Lenny enviously, is what we ought to have. We will someday, replied Chester. It's a pitch of a stand, isn't it? Yes, how many do you suppose it holds? Five hundred?

Five hundred, exclaimed Chester. Near a thousand, I'll bet. It's all very fine being presented with an athletic field. said Lanny. But it's going to keep us poorer. There's taxes to pay on it. And they're big too.

That's the trouble with having your field right in town like ours is. Then we need a few fans all around and a new stand. We ought to have two stands, one back of the plate for baseball and one beyond first base for football. The committee said the reason they didn't want to pay a coach this fall, was so they could fix the field up, but I haven't seen them doing anything yet. There's Weston coming on. What sort of a team have they got, Chester? I guess it's not much. They look pretty spry, though. Say, that was some punt, wasn't it? The stand was beginning to feel,

and they had to edge along to make room for a party of boys whose conversation, overheard by the visitors, indicated that they were Springdale high school students. Once Lenny intercepted an inquiring look aimed at him by one of the group and for the first time experienced an uncomfortable realization of his role. After all, when he came to him, consider it, there was something sort of underhand about what he and Chester were doing,

or at any rate, it seemed so to him at that moment. He glanced at his companion and found Chester staring frowningly at the squad of brown and white players who were trotting past in signal practice, perhaps feeling Lenny's eyes on him, he turned. I'm not crazy about this business, he growled. It's bitchy sneaky. Nonsense, replied Lanny in low tones, as anxious to persuade himself as tester. We've got a perfect right to come here and see these chaps play if we want to,

same as anyone else has. Just the same, responded the others stubbornly. I don't like it. time Dick may send someone else. I don't like being a spy. You're not, returned Lanny half-heartedly. You're a scout. Same thing, Chester growled. And for goodness sake, don't say anything to let on, Lanny. Those fellows next to you have been staring and whispering at a great rate. Bet you they suspect.

Let them, said Lennie. Annie. We're not doing anything, I tell you. They do the same thing themselves. Didn't they send scouts over to watch us last year when we played Corwin or Benton? I dare say they did just the same. If you say that again, I'll chuck you off the stand, exploded Lanny in sudden irritation. If you're so touchy, you'd better go home and let me do this. If I was half as touch as you are, I'd jump in the river, retorted Chester peevishly. If you think I'm going to make notes with those fellows watching, you're mistaken. Bet you every one of them knows who we are. Oh, get out. Why should they?

Why shouldn't they you mean? They've seen you play, haven't they? They've seen you play, haven't they? they, and me too. Even if they don't recognize me, you needn't think you can get by with that white thatch of yours. Well, what's the difference? You don't expect me to dye my hair and were false whiskers, do you, you idiot? Now I don't, but stop whispering, for goodness sake, and don't act like a conspirator. We're giving the snap away as fast as we can talk. out loud. And, suiting action toward, Tester began to discuss the weather with startling enthusiasm and vociferation, and kept it up until Lanny dug an elbow into his grips and begged him to,

"'Cut it out, for the love of mud!' And that minute the Springdale team trotted on the field, and the boy at the foot of the stand led a weak tear. Evidently, Springdale was too sure of the game to display much enthusiasm. Lennie and Chester gave their attention to the blue stack-hint players, who had been taken possession of the further end of the field, and, divided into two squads, were going through signals and practicing pants and field goals.

Recognize any of them? asked Lanny. Chester shook his head doubtfully. Some of them look familiar, but I don't remember their names. That's the same quarter they had last year. I think his name is Kelly. Yes, I remember him, and the tall end of the further squad. He was on last year's 11. That's a good punt, Lanny.

Forty-five yards, easy. I wonder who that chap is. The little fellow hasn't made but one goal so far, said Lanny. He's had about five tries. There goes another from the 30. They ought to be pretty evenly matched at Pontick. What was the name of that center they had, Heal? That's he coming this way.

The fellow over there with the new trousers. It wasn't Heal, though. It was Heath, wasn't it? That's it. Hif, I'd like to know how many of last year's fellows they've really got. The paper said six, didn't it? Yes, but some of these were saps last year. Get on to the referee with the swelled sweater, lavender and yellow.

That's a pitch of a combination. What? The players trotted off and, after the usual preliminaries, the teams faced each other and the game. began. From the first Western, which was a much lighter team, played a wide-open game and strove to outspeed her opponent. The first quarter proved unexpectedly exciting, for Springdale was by no means prepared for the sort of place Western introduced, and she was cocked, napping time and again, But Weston always lacked the final punch necessary to score, and the teams changed places with the honors belonging to the visitors.

In the second quarter, the Blue met the adversary's attacks better, and securing the ball, began a march down the field that ultimately took the peak skin to the 10-yard line. There, however, an attack on center was stepped, and, and the skin-tackled play fared no better. And Kelly, the Springdale Quarter, tossed a forward pass to the tall end whom Chester had recognized. But that youth, having made a perfect catch, fumbled the instant he was tackled,

and one of the brown-stackent visters fell on the ball. Along and high pond sent the pig-skin to midfield. After two downs had failed to advance it. And Springdale in 14 plays, craftily mixing line plunges with wide and runs and three forward passes, all of which were completed. Soon pushed her left half over for a touchdown. No goal resulted, and with the score six to zero, the half ended soon after. Lanny looked questioningly at Chester as the blanketed warriors left the field.

A dandhi attack and no defense worth speaking off was Chester's verdict. Lanny nodded. It's early for a perfect defense. He replied. They've got team play, though, all right. There are two or three weeks ahead of us on that. If we were to meet them next week, Vittlick has said. about 20 to nothing.

Easy, agreed Chester. But we aren't, and I'll trust Dick to bring us around in plenty of time. You really think he's doing pretty well, do you? Asked Lanny anxiously. Dick, I certainly do, don't you? Yes, only sometimes it seems to me that he's a little too, too cautious or something. We're getting along awfully sorry.

slowly, Chester? Slow and sure, replied the quarterback untroubledly. These steps will be in top shape long after our game. If they don't watch out, what do you think of that forward pass formation of theirs? I don't know, it worked well enough, but it doesn't seem to me that standing three or four men down the field that way to protect the cutter is a good scheme. It shows where the pass is going in the first place and gives the other fellow a chance to get there.

Seems to me Western scheme, which is about like ours, has it bit. I mean sending three or four men to different parts of the field, and so keeping the other chaps guessing. It worked pretty well, though, mused Chester. Against a lighter team, yes, we could be. break it up without much trouble. I'll bet. It stands to reason that if you see a bunch of fellows getting together...

Suppose, though, Springdale sent another man to another place and threw to him instead. Hmm, well, that might go once. It would depend altogether on what sort of a defense the other team put up. Of course, if you're going to let a man go down the field and cover... there's bound to be trouble. Did you notice the lateral pass Weston get off in the first quarter? It would have been a dandy if the runner had get away with the ball. Yes, but he didn't.

I don't believe those laterals are going to be what they're cracked up to be, Chester. They give the other team a lot of time to seize up the situation and meet it. If you could pull them off quick, before the other fellows could guess them, they'd be fine. Dick has the right idea, I guess, when he claims that's the only way to work them. Not so loud, Caution's Chester. Those chaps next to you are trying to listen. Just then, one of the chaps in question left his seat and sauntered down the aisle.

Chester watched him suspiciously until he was left. lost in the gathering that filled the space between grandstand and field. So far, I don't think we've learned a great deal, said Lanny thoughtfully. That fullback of theirs is a good one, and in fact, their whole backfield works together finally and has a good deal of punch, and Kelly looks to me like a pretty nifty little quarter, but their line hasn't shown much. The left side is weak. Look at the way Weston got through tackle there half a dozen times.

They certainly haven't shown anything startling new, unless it's that forward-pass dodge of theirs. They used the same five men-in-line formation on defense they used last year. I noticed, though, that they passed direct to the runner a good deal. There's nothing new in that, said Lanny. Here they come again. I'd like to see Weston get one over on them. I wonder if they get a man who can kick field goals.

If they have, they ought to have used him last time, replied the other. They had a fine chance when they were in Springdale's 10 and couldn't get through. Perhaps they wanted a touchdown, Maybe, but Farrell used to say, hit first, and it's a good scheme, Lanny. If Weston had got three points, then you don't know what the effect on Springdale would have been. She'd have played harder, said Lanny. Yes, but playing harder doesn't always mean playing better, replied Chester with a wise shake of his head. I tell you, Lanny.

there's a whole lot in getting first blood. I've seen it win lots and lots of times. Look down there, whispered Lanny suddenly. See those two fellows looking up? Isn't the smaller chap the one who went down a while ago? Yes, answered Chester softly. And he's told the other fellow about us and he's recognized us. See them talking it over?

Well, let them talk, granted Lanny. They've got nothing on us. No, but I don't like my job just the same. There they go. Do you suppose they're going to look for a cap? I dare say maybe they're going to send for the ambulance, replied Lanny with a grin. Which way did they go?

I lost them. No, there they are, and say, isn't that Newman, the coach they're talking to? Where? Yes, by Jove, it is. He's looking up here now. Put your head down. Don't let him see that white thatch of yours, Lanny.

I will not, declared Lanny defiantly. I'm not doing anything I'm ashamed of. I suppose not, muttered Chester. Only just the same. I sort of feel as if I find. were. Back up, chuckled Lanny. Here comes the smart aleck, who went down to tell. Now, what's the excitement when the glad news gets out? The boy in question pushed his way back to his sit, and his companions leaned eagerly toward him. But although Lanny and Chester frankly

listened, they could hear only low whispering and finally chuckles. Lanny frowned. what are they choking about he asked they evidently think they've got a great joke on us probably think we don't know they're on to us there goes the kick off lany however was stealing a look toward his neighbors and was puzzled to find them all observing him with amusement the boy next to him but one knotted impudently as he met lany's gaze How's everything in Clearfield? He inquired politely. Fine, thanks, replied Lanny gravely. Chester turned an anxious countenance. Came over to see a real football team, I suppose.

Continued the Springdale youth with a grin. Lanny nodded. Yes, and I'm still looking for it, he answered. Keep right on looking. Another boy tackled. You won't see much today, old tap. I haven't so far. You fellows are playing your scraps, I see.

Shut up, Lanny, whispered Chester. Yes, we are, was the reply from the adversary. We're giving them little work so as to get them in shape for Clearfield. No use using the regulars in that game, you know? That's right, returned Lanny tearfully. Put your strongest team in the field. You'll need it. We can beat you with the girl's basketball team. Was the scathing retort.

But Lanny, her kenning to Chester's entreaties, turned away without response, and the neighbors contended themselves for the rest of the game with talking at instead of to them. It was soon made clear to the two scouts why the boys at the other end of the seat were amused. For the rest of that half, Springdale used only the most ordinary old-fashioned football. It was quite plain that the Springdale coach, either because he feared the two visitors might really learn something of use to them, or because he wanted to have a joke on them, had instructed the team to show nothing. Lanny and Chester exchanged

amused glances when, on Weston's 20-yard line, with four to go on fourth down, Springdale chose to lose possession of the ball by a hopeless plunge at guard, rather than make her distance by a trick play or even try for a field goal. In the last quarter, Springdale was hard-pressed to keep her goal line from being crossed. For Weston, using every playing her program, get as far as the six yards and might have gone over if, in her eagerness to score, she had not fumbled on the threshold. The game ended soon, after that, the figures on the board unchanged. And Weston, passively puzzled by her adversary's strange choice.

of place in the last half, but evidently well pleased at the outcome, tried it off with the heirs of a victor, while a small group of supporters at the far end of the stand waved brown and white banners and cheered proudly. When Lanny and Chester arose to leave, they found that their neighbors in the row were waiting for them to pass out ahead. With a slight frown, Lanny led the way, crowding past the youths, and Chester followed silently. As they passed, the enemy indulged in pointed remarks at each other. Seen any spies about today, Hull? I thought I saw a couple of the things. Guess they didn't learn much, eh? No, it's a poor day for spies. Too bad to come all that way for nothing. Yes, isn't it? Poor chaps.

sorry for them. Lanny only smiled untroubledly, and Chester, trying to look quite as if he heard nothing, gazed intently at the back of Lanny's head. But when he was squeezing his way past the last boy in the row, a foot went out and Chester, stumbling, had to catch Lanny's shoulder to keep from falling. Instantly he turned and confronted the grinning face beside him. Don't do that, he said quietly, or you'll get hurt. There was something in Chester's countenance that silenced their retort on the Springdale Yow's lips. And it was not until Lanny and Chester were in the aisle and on their way down that the fellow's courage returned. Then, raising his voice, he called.

You wouldn't hurt anyone, you clearfield spy? A year from the others accompanied the taunt. But Chester kept straight ahead. He was thoroughly angry inside, but he knew that it would never do to accept that challenge. Chester was no coward, but he realized that it would look rather disgraceful for a member of the Clearfield team

to visit Springdale as a scout and then get into a fracas. All the way down, the stand, and indeed until they were well back into the town, they were uncomfortably conscious of the curious, amused, often and friendly regard of the Springdale fellows, and more than once the word spy reached them as, striving to converse unconcernly. They followed the returning throng toward the town. But eventually they found themselves alone, and Lanny heaved a sigh of relief. I wouldn't do that again for a thousand dollars, he said emphatically, and I wouldn't do it

for ten thousand, replied Chester. The next time Dick wants any dirty work like that then he may do it himself. The worst of it was we couldn't fight. which, replied Lanny dryly as they boarded a car. Was lucky for us. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 12.

The Board of Strategy Home again from a foreign chore, murmured Lanny as they climbed down. from the car in the square. I wonder how the game came out. Bet you we got leaked, Chesser? I don't believe so. We'll ask somebody.

He looked about him but caught sight of no one he knew. There'll be some of the fellows in castles, I mean. Come on in, went a soda? No, thanks. I must be getting home. I'll call up Gordon on the phone. and find out. Will you be around Dix after supper?

Yes. Wait a minute, Lanny. There's Fudge Shah in there. He'll know about the game. Lanny, who had started toward the crossing on his way home, rejoined Chester and together they pushed through the crowd at the doorway of the popular drugstore, in a corner which held a cushioned ct

and two or three small wire-legged tables sat fudge, an emmanciated rubber plant hung its sleeves above his head. A tall glass of ice cream soda was in one hand, and a dripping spoon in the other, and his eyes were fixed ecstatically on the big glass jar, which suspended in the nearer window glowed with carmine and purple. It's a shame to watch. Wake him, chuckled Chester as they warmed their way through the throng.

What an awful-looking mess he's eating. How did the game come out, Fudge? Demanded Lanny anxiously. Fudge's rapt gaze, fell slowly away from the hypnotic brilliancy. Eh, he murmured. Lani impatiently repeated the question, while Fudge blinked and brought his thoughts back with an evident effort.

Hello, fellows, game. Oh, they beat us, 13 to 7. What do you know about that? demanded Lanny disgustedly. Isn't that the dickens? How did they do it, Fudge? Asked Chester. Made to touch downs to R1,

replied Fudge, dipping his spoon in the harlequin concoction and conveying a liberal portion of fit to his mouth. Oh, cut out the comedy, said Lanny. What was the matter with our team? Search me, replied Fudge in an injured tone. We just couldn't get started, it seemed.

Logan scored in the first period and the second, and we didn't do anything until about five minutes before the end of the game. Then that fellow, Hull, shed a forward, off to Gordon, and Gordy got away with it for about 30 yards. After that, they couldn't stop us, and Nelson Bitten went over for the touchdown. What sort of game did Logan play? asked Lanny, plainly disconsolate. Fine, they had a grand time running around our ants, or they did until Dick put Gordon Merrick in for Falkler. Falker was rotten today on the Defense, G. But Gordy played a great little game after he got in, and say, Lanny, that fellow hole is of wonder.

You ought to have seen the way he fooled those fellows on quarterback rams. It was fine. It must have been if we got licked like that, said Lanny. Was McCoy good? I guess so. Pretty fair. We didn't seem able to step them outside of tackles, though. That right half of theirs made a 70-yard run one time. That was when they got their first touchdown. They fooled us and a fake quick play and sent a back-around Felker's End from our 15 yards. I knew we'd get licked, muttered Lanny.

We must have played a solid ivory sort of game, Chester. You ought to hear the fellows roasting the team afterwards, chuckled fudge. struggling with another spoonful of ice cream dick too they say they didn't more than half tried to win he put in six steps in the last half what sort of a way is that i take it you didn't get in said chester sarcastically i'm on the scrub replied fudge and troubledly bet you i could have done as well as thought brimmer did though how was the Springdale game, Lanny? Pretty good. Lanny replied absently.

Six to nothing, Springdale. Well, I must be getting on. See you later, Chester. Chester nodded and Lanny went out. He feels pretty bad about it, I guess, said Chester. He'd have felt worse if he'd been here and seen it, replied Fudge philosophically. It was a P-U-N-K, punk.

Say, for goodness sakes, what sort of a mess is that you're eating? Asked Chester. His curiosity at last, demanding satisfaction. This? asked Fudge, staring his pawn about in the glass, and watching the resultant blending of colors with admiring eyes. This is what I call an opalescent dream. Looks more like a nightmare, what's in it? Strawberry and chocolate and lemon ice cream and blood orange syrup.

You take a third of each and... But Chester with a gesture eloquent of repugnance had flown. Fudge smiled calmly and stirred again with still more interesting results. Some folks don't know what's good. He murmured blissfully. The Board of Strategy, as George Katner chose to call it, met in Dick's parlour that evening at half-past seven. Dick, Lanny, Coutrell and Katner present. Dick disposed of the afternoon's contest with Logan in few words.

They outplayed us, he said frankly. Our line was fully of good as theirs, I think, but their backs were better. Besides, they had more plays and used them well. We were handicapped by a lack of place, and those we had didn't fool them. They made practically all of their gains around our tackles, and couldn't make much impression on the line. Dave got the first touchdown as the result of a fine run by Cho Alder, the right half which put the ball on our 13 yards. From there they took it over in one play, around our right end.

Falker was neatly boxed and they had no trouble. Their next score was after they had worked our ants and thrown a forward pass for games that took them from the middle of the field to our 12 yards. They finally got through whale ant for the last half yard. They made 12 first first first. downs to our seven, I believe. We out-punted them by about five yards on average. Ho, who took your place, Chester, ran the team very well and was very clever at carrying the ball. He promises remarkably well and ought to make a first-class quarter by next four.

We used six substitutes in the third and third quarter. Merrick at right end showed up well and made a clever catch of a forward pass and a 30-yard run that made passable our touchdown. On the hall, the substitutes did good work. I'm sorry we couldn't have won, Lanny, but the game showed us our weaknesses, and that's something.

Now, what did your fellows learn at Springdale? Mighty Little, answered Lanny. They got on to us and stalled all through the last half? What about the first half? asked Dick. Weston played all around them in the first quarter, used a lot of queer stands from open formation, like double passes back of the line, with an end breaking through or a half running wide. The plays weren't much, but Springdale didn't get on to them for a while. In the second period, she opened her line out.

and dropped an extra man behind it. That worked better. She made her score by pretty clever work. Get off three dandy forward passes and mixed her place up well. What formation did she use an attack? asked Dick. Same as last years. For kicking, she played her ends way out. It wasn't a fair test, though, for Weston is a light team

and couldn't do much with the Springdale line. If she'd used that kicking formation against us, we could smear her every time, I guess. Dick continued his questions, making notes of the information he received. And at last, said, with a smile, On the whole, I think you chaps managed to find out a good deal. Still, it's pretty evident that

Springdale didn't show anything new. She wouldn't, I suppose, so early in the season. We'll see what the Springdale paper says money about the game. Look here, Dick, said Tester. What's the ethics of that sort of thing? What sort of thing, Tester? Why, scouting as we call it, spying on the other fellow? I don't know, replied Dick slow. I don't think I've ever considered it. Why do you ask? Because I felt like an awful sneak over there this afternoon, was the answer. So did Lanny, only he wouldn't own up to it.

Everyone does it, observed George Kattner. That doesn't make it right, though, said Chester doggedly. I don't believe it is right either. If it were, I wouldn't have to. felt so like a fox. I'm sorry, said Dick. I wouldn't have asked you to do it if I'd known you were going to feel that way about it. He jabbed a pencil thoughtfully into the tablecloth.

Then, honestly, fellows, I don't know what to say about it, as George says, everyone does it. Colleges and schools everywhere. I suppose that if we'll look on football, as a sort of athletic warfare, to coin a term, we have every right to spy on the enemy in order to learn, as in real warfare, what his condition is and what his plans may be. Surest thing you know, agreed George. On the other hand, if we'll look at football as merely a gentleman's past time,

the spying part is hard to defend. It's rather a difficult question. to answer, Chester? A football campaign, declared George convincedly. It's exactly like real war. We form our army.

We train it. We map out a campaign. We plan strategies. If the enemy has weak pets in its battle line, we want to know it, so we can throw the brunt of our attack there.

As long as the other fellow doesn't hide behind fences and hold secret practice, we've got a perfect right to go and watch him and learn what we can. It's done all the time. All the big colleges do it, and I've never heard any objections made before. Why, bless you, fellows, Springdale will be over here scouting in a couple of weeks. Just the same, returned Chester, using his favorite express. when bringing smile to Lenny's face. No more of it for me, if you please. Is that how you feel, Lanny?

Dick inquired. I guess it is, Dick. I don't say I wouldn't do it again if you say it's all fair and right, but I didn't like it today very much. For my part, I can't see why it should be necessary. If all the teams agreed not to do it, I suppose we'd get on just as well. After all, it doesn't do much good, I guess.

A team doesn't show its real stuff until its big game. I think we could get on without it. I am perfectly willing to try, said Dick. Somehow, now that you mention it, it doesn't seem quite, well, gentlemanly. But that raises the question, Lanny, of how far, We can go and act like gentlemen. Is it fair, for instance, to read about the other team's progress in the newspapers?

Quite, I'd say, replied Lanny. Seems to me that's different. If information gets into the papers, that's their lookout. And anyone has a right to read it. If scouts get into their grandstand, that's their business too, said George. What's the difference? The difference is, answered Chester, that they are willing the newspaper staff should be published,

but they aren't willing that we should see them play, and they can't keep us out if we have the money to buy tickets. You can talk your head off, George, but I know there's a difference. I can't see it. It's there, just the same, muttered Chester. well let's agree that it is wrong fellows or at last bad form a little underhand a little ungentlemanly let's make a rule not to do it we'll play it safe in other words this from dick that's all right if you can get the other fellow to cut it out too the murd george but if he doesn't he's get a big advantage over us i call dad pretty crazy business.

Oh, let's be crazy Dan, exclaimed Lanny. Fair sport is fair sport, but spying isn't. It's sneaky stuff. Let's call it off. Right, too, agreed Chester. And I there say

when Springdale learns that we've stabbed it, she'll stab it too. She's not likely to believe we have stabbed it, observed George dryly. after seeing YouTube fellows over there this afternoon. No, but he'll believe it after a while, said Dick cheerfully.

So we'll call that settled. Now, then, let's see what we've learned today. He picked his memorandum book from the table and began to turn the leaves. Personally, I'm pretty well pleased with this Logan game. It shone up a whole lot of weak places. follows, and you can't make repairs until you learn where the brakes are. If we can get through the core wing game with no worse results, we'll be doing pretty well. Great scat, groaned Lanny. Don't tell me we've got to take another leaking next week.

I hope not, but if we're licked and we get through with no injuries as we did today, and we find out our mistakes as well as we did today, I'll be satisfied. The school won't, replied Lanny, glumly. Three defeats out of five games would be going it pretty strong, Dick. Fairly, returned the coach untroubledly. So would being beaten by Springdale, Lanny? Of course, but, oh, well, you know best, I dare say. Lanny sighed.

If it wasn't that I happened to be captain, Dick. There's a good deal of growling about today's defeat, observed George Cotner. Of course, fellows always do kick when the team loses and tear like Matt when it wins. Still, I'm inclined to think it might be a good plan to, well, to make a little extra effort and win next week's game, Dick. just for the or the look of the thing, you know? Bless the look of the thing, said Dick placidly. We'll win. We can do it without disturbing the plan of development we've settled on.

If we lose, the fellows will just have to howl. What we've got to do is keep our eyes on the 18th of November. You bet, said Chester. Who cares whether Corwin is beaten or not, or Benton or Leicesterville? We want to lick Springdale. That's what we're here for, isn't it? I dare say, agreed George. But isn't there always the danger of losing so many games that the team will think it can't win?

You mean it can develop the habit of defeat? Left, Dick. That's a new idea, George. I didn't know you were such a psycho. I'm not, I'm a Methodist, retorted the manager. There may be something in your theory, though. Dick continued, and so I guess it will be best to let them win once in a while. Dick's eyes twinkled as he turned to Lanny's somewhat disconsolate continents.

Which game on the rest of the schedule would you rather win, Lanny? What? exclaimed the captain. Do you mean that? Then he cocked the gleam of laughter in Dick's eyes and grinned relievedly. We'll beat the grads, he said. How will that do?

Finally, so let's get busy and see where we stand. Dick stood up his memorandum again. Move up here, George, and let me have those notes of yours. That's the ticket. Now then. Starting with the plays we used. End of Chapter 12. Chapter 13 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber.

This Libri Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 13. A trip to the city. On Monday, Morris and his sister and May Burnham made the journey to New York. Mr. Brent, had advanced to them the difference between what had been paid in by subscribers to the fund, on the $90 at which they had figured the purchases. They set off in fine spirits, for the day was what Morris called a perfect corker,

and all were flushed with the spirit of adventure. They had luncheon on the train, Morris acting the port of host, and reached the Grand Central Terminal a few minutes after they had finished. Visits to New York were infrequent enough to make them feel quite breathlessly excited as they followed Morris to the street. Morris was all for getting to the furniture store by subway, but the girls wanted to see the sights, they declared, and refused to be beguiled underground.

I always feel like a human mole down there, said Louise, and I'm frightened half to death besides. And we want to see the streets and the shops and the people, added May, it's a perfect waste of opportunity to come to New York and spend half your time in subways, Morris. So Morris gave in with fairly good grace, grumbling a little at the foolishness of girls, and boarded a surface car. He made the mistake of turning eastward instead of toward the west, when they alighted at 18th Street and had to stand for some joking from his companions

when the error was discovered. Marsh dance proved to be a huge establishment occupying a building of its own, with floor after floor of wonderful things. For over an hour, they tried it around. in and out of elevators up and down endless aisles, at the heels of a most imposing gentleman in a frock coat and immaculate grey trousers. Morris declared afterwards that he didn't have much chance to see the furniture. He was all the time admiring the crisis in those trousers

and wondering whether they were starched. May, on the other hand, confessed, that she had been quite hypnotized by the salesman's lovely whiskers. So, if we believe them, Louise was the only member of the purchasing committee able to give her entire attention

to the matter at hand. And Louise did, occasionally, reprimand the others for their levity, or begging them to please help her decide. It was, in fact, really Louise, who made the purchase

for when the others were not exchanging whispered jokes. They were usually wandering around far from the article in discussion. It was no easy task to decide, either for Mars dance showed so many styles and values that Louise was quite at sea. But at last everything on the list was accounted for, and to their delight, the total, after deducting the discount was well under the $90. Even the filing cabinet,

which Morris had predicted they would have to look elsewhere for, was obtainable at Marsden's. At the last, because they still had several dollars left and expended, Louise ordered a handsome waste basket of Japanese woven wear,

the color of which almost exactly much. the mahogany of the other things, on her own authority. They gave Mr. Brent's address, obtained the salesman's promise to have the goods shipped by freight, not later than the next afternoon, paid the bill and emerged triumphant. I think we did beautifully, exalted May as they joined the throng on the sidewalk outside,

and we have nearly four dollars left. "'Yes,' agreed Morris with a grin. "'I think we did pretty well myself. "'I don't want to seem to be taking too much credit. "'But I must say that without my assistance in there—' "'Your assistance?' interrupted Louise almost crossly. "'You were both about as much use as—' "'As nothing at all.

"'I think you acted horribly. "'I know that man thought you were crazy. He's got nothing on me then, laughed Morris. I'm mighty sure I thought he was. Say, if the salesman dressed the way he does sis, what do you suppose Marsden himself wears? Bet you, he's covered with purple velvet and gold laced. Gee, I'd like to see him.

For another hour or more, the two garrows shapped. Maurice dangling along and complaining at every doorway. They didn't buy much, but they had the finest sort of a good time, and or so Maurice averred, were in such a condition of amazed and delighted all, that their eyes were nearly pepped from their heads. And then of a sudden, Morris, who had been standing on first one foot and then the other, and who had been buffeted and pushed and squeezed and jammed, and who was more tired than if he had put in a hard two hours of football practice,

discovered to his joy and relief that they had just time to reach the station to get the train home and literally dragged the girls from the store they were in. But before they could reach the car line, the brilliant windows of a famous confectioner sprung into view, and May squealed with the light, and refused to go home until she had had an ice-cream soda. After that it was a close shave, but they eventually reached the train before it pulled out, and thoroughly breathless and tired, sunk into their seats and viewed each other in triumph. I've had the loveliest time, announced Louise exultantly, and I'm simply tired to death.

Tired? Grumbled Morris. Don't talk to me about being tired. I'm one big ache from head to toes, and my feet feel as if they've been pounded by a spile driver. I don't mind buying things, but when it comes to shopping, excuse me. I'm the ad-part part of the odd part of, Part of it was that Morris' tiredness stayed with him all the next day, and when at practice he tried to kick some goals in the course of his half-hour instruction of the candidates under his charge. He made awful misses. The scraps played the varsity to a stand heel that afternoon, and all the driving of which Dick and Lanny were capable, and all the entreaties of Chester Coutrell and of Perry Hall. who took his place finally, failed to bring about score. The scraps were as proud as turkey cucks and remained so until the next day. When, smarting under the ignominy of those fourth scoreless minutes,

the varsity came back and literally tore the other team wide open and scored three touchdowns, to which Morris converted into goals. The best that the scrap team could do was to force safety on the varsity when Tapper misjudged a punt. That was on Wednesday. Thursday passed without scrimmage since Dick was not satisfied with the tackling and handling of the ball. Several of the varsity had been showing the weakest sort of work at tackling and fumbles had been far too frequent. And so on Thursday there was a hard drill at the dummy and a lot of work in essentials. Cable took the linemen off to a corner of the field and gave them a long session in black egg and breaking through. And Morris kept his pupils busy in front of a goal.

It must be confessed that Morris was not a huge success as an instructor. He knew how to kick goals from placement and from drapes. and he was a good punter, but when it came to imparting his knowledge, to George Tapper and Nelson Bitten, he was far less skillful. The explanation was that he didn't really know how he obtained his results,

and if one doesn't know how he does a thing, is well-nigh impossible to teach another. Morris took infinite trouble, for he was fully as enthusiastic as dick about developing the kickers. And he worked as hard as he knew how, but his method of correcting a pupil was to say, No, you don't get it, George.

Now watch me. See, one hand on each side. Get your lacings right. Sight your goal. Drop it. Swing. There you are. See what I mean?

And tapper or bitten would descend doubtfully, and, perhaps, do no, better the next time. Still, George Tapper had made progress. That couldn't be denied, and Dick hoped for the best and silently wished he knew more about the gentle art of drab and placement, kicking himself. On Friday, the team showed some improvement as a result of the previous day's practice, and in the short and not very hard scrimmage with the scraps managed to get by without fumbling, But a spell of unseasonably warm weather had had its effect on the players of both teams, and there were distinct signs of sluggishness visible.

Dick read the signs and called an early halt. He had been expecting a slump for several days, and now, he told himself, it had arrived. He was relieved rather than troubled, however, for it there must be a slamp. and there usually is at some time during a football season. It was better to have it now than two weeks, or even a week later. He hoped for a change of weather on the morrow, but scarcely dared expect it. And it didn't calm, if anything, Saturday was warmer and more enterviting than Friday had been.

And many of the 17 players whom Dick took to Corwin at noon looked draft. and tired. Not a few more were plainly irritable, always a bad sign, and Dick secretly feared that Lanny was not destined to be much pleased with the outcome of the afternoon's game. But if the varsity was not in the best of condition, little fault could be found with the scraps that afternoon. Perhaps the prospect of having a real game with an outside team buoyed them up and caused them to forget the fact that they had been listless the day before. At all events, they trotted on to the field for a contest with the north side team looking much alive. Will Skat, who had not been taken along to Corwin with the varsity,

had been given the management of the scraps for the occasion, which meant that he had his hands pretty full. not that the players demanded any attention from him, but he had to look after the contest itself, find boys to take money at two gates. See that Danny Shore's players were looked after on arrival, arranged for a referee, an empire and a head linesman,

find a youth to take one end of the ten-yard chain and perform a number of other duties, since he had never performed them before, caused him a condition of mind and body closely approaching collapse. The public turned out generously for that much heralded game. A large portion of the audience was composed of workers in the factories, who were plainly dur for two things, to have a good time, and having a good time with them entailed making a certain amount of noise, and to see their champions win, when the last spectator had entered, and Will's

cat hurriedly counted the proceeds, he discovered that something over three hundred and twenty persons had paid their dimes at the gates, which everything considered was a good showing. The scraps were playing today under the title of the high school second team, a title which carried more dignity and seemed better calculated to attract an audience. Two of the varsity substitutes who were not taken to Corwin lend their strength to Captain Nostrand's team. There were Grover, who took Jones's place at left end, and McCoy, who ousted Burns at left half.

Fudge Shaw was at center, a position which Fudge had been filling most credibility. So far's enthusiasm went. That game was notable. The North Siders rooted loudly and continuously, while the high school adherents, encouraged by the enemy to expressions of loyalty, greeted the second with a hearty cheer when it appeared, and indulged in further encouragement of similar nature as the game progressed.

The North Siders were older than their opponents and averaged, elemental and appeared to be built around two very clever backs. Whiteson and Leroux, the first of this, was a raw-born Welshman of about 20, and the second a black-haired little French Canadian who seemed to be built of steel and went into the enemy like a human bullet and was just about as hard to step. Danny Shores, red-headed and shrill-voiced, played quarterback, and made up by grim determination for what he lacked in experience and science. It was a very good game, in spite of its ruggedness.

Fambles were plentiful on both sides, and the north-side backs continually missed the signals. The seconds showed an over-earness that lost them more than it gained, and Peter Ferrar, who played quarter, had his hands more than full in trying to steady them down. The high school players got the jump on the adversary in the first few minutes of the game, and so bewildered them by open plays that, almost before anyone realized what was happening, they were down on their opponent's ten-yard line with every indication of scoring. but an unlucky fumble spoiled their chance of a touchdown,

a fumble which red-headed Danny Shores recovered by plunging between Fudge's sturdy legs. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 14 An unwilling hero Northside used Whiteson and Lorry continuously, hurling them against the line from tackle to tackle, and managing to work the ball from under the goal well into the middle of the field.

There, however, the second, surmising that attacks outside the tackles were not included in the enemy's present plans, concentrated its secondary defense behind the center of its line and stepped the advance, north side being forced to kick. The pant was poor and rolled out near the adversary's 40 yards, and from there the second begun another advance. But a fumble again lost ground and the punt went over the goal line. On a third try from their 20 yards,

The north-siders managed to get Whiteson clear for a 12-yard run. A minute later, Laroux also squirmed free, and with the factory workers yelling their lungs out in the stand and along the sidelines, north side passed the middle of the field, and for the first time had the pig skin in high school territory. They played a hard and desperate game, game, carrying nothing for necks and bruises, in fact, showing of willingness to stand any sort of punishment so long as they gained ground. Concentrating their attack on Gates at left guard,

they wore that youth down, so that finally, on the second's 32 yards, that player was withdrawn to recover his breath and nurse his injuries, and Janssen took him. his place. Johnson was a big senior who knew little football, but who looked so imposing and mighty that the north side transferred its attentions to the other guard. But Captain Nostrand was not so easy a proposition as Gage had proved, and the enemy's advance was stepped. A desperate attempt to get a forward pass across the goal line from the 30-yard failed, and the 12-minute period came to an end. High School punted on second down when play was resumed, and Grover recovered the ball

after a fumble by quarterback shores on the North Siders' 30-yard line, from there in 11 plays, mixing forward passes with fake kicks and end runs. High School scored, sending McCoy through right tackle for two yards. and the touch down. Bremmer, who essayed to kick the goal, failed by a narrow margin. There was no more scoring in that half, although the North Siders were threatening

high school's goal when the whistle blew, and dismayed, the audience from across the river consumed peanuts and popcorn and enjoyed themselves noisily. Nastrian returned Gage to the line, when play began again and put burns in for sewing at right half, getting the pig skin on the kick-off north side with one or two substitutes in her line, returned to her line-backing tactics, evidently resolved to tire out and wear down the high school defense.

Watson was the marvel of that contest, how he could perform the work that was given to him and keep on his fit, no one understood. He was always good for a short gain, and seldom failed to get clear of the first defense. Only the fine work of McCoy and Burns, the latter returned to the back field on account of his defensive ability, saved the day,

time after time. For once free, the big Welshman, could never have been stabbed. Pete Ferrar, with his one, 140-odd pounds, would have been tasked aside like a chip had he ever been called on to get between Weytson and the goal line. Now and then, but infrequently during the first three periods, Leroux was called on, but for the most part it was the Welshman who took the ball and banked himself, head down, against the opposing line, much as an enraged bull might have assaulted a stone wall.

High school was fortunate in being able to know beforehand pretty well where the attack was coming. Since Danny Shores had but a few plays, and those were not difficult to guess, and so was able to put her backfield defenses where it would do the most good. But for all of that, their line was showing war and tear before that third quarter was over. Northside did not deliberately mix it up,

and only when penalty was meted out to her because of unnecessary roughness. But her savage and desperate attacks were bound to tell. Fudge was wearing a bloody nose, which gave him a most disreputable appearance, and several other linemen showed marks of battle when the third quarter ended. By that time,

the north side supporters had become impatient and were howling for a touchdown, calling on the players individually to distinguish themselves. Get into them, Billy. What are you scared of? Eat them up, Pat.

Show us what you know. Give us a touchdown now. Are you going to let him leak you? Where's your fight, Terry? Kill him, boy, kill him. Give us a score. Danny, let's do him up, now. As if in obedience to such promptings,

Northside began again harder, more desperately than ever. A penalty for holding put high school back to her 23 yards. An end ran gained but a yard, and Broomer punted almost straight into air. When the ball stepped rolling, it was North Sides on high school's 32 yards. Yields of the light and encouragement came from the stand, and Danny hurled Whiteson at the line again. Two yards resulted, McCoy stopping the runner.

Laroux made four on left tackle and was pulled down by Brimmer. Whiteson again at Fudge's position and three yards more were gained. Whiteson at right guard and first down made. Twenty to go now. Danny Shores himself took the ball but made no gain. Then Whiteson made three on the fullback two. And, with five to gain on fourth down, Danny faked a place kick and sent Whiteson straight into the line,

plunging, dodging, straining, and made the distance by a bare two inches, as the tape showed. Pandemonium reigned in the North Siders camp. Entreaties commands, Threats of personal violence were herald at the players. High school gathered herself compactly, concentrating her whole strength behind the center of her line, for Northside had tried no end of place

and seemed not to have included them in her education. But Danny Shores was red-headed, and so is a fox. A try at the center yielded scant two feet and took the ball to the nine yards. Then the pig skin was shut back to Laru, and that swarthy-faced little connect shed around Grover's end like a whistle, and planted the ball just behind the left goalpost. The north side supporters were all for rushing onto the field and carrying the heroic Laru around on their shoulders, and it was all that Will's cat and the officials aided by most of the visiting team could do to persuade them to postpone that ceremony.

When order had been restored and the delighted and noisily appreciative supporters had been cajoled back on the sideline again, Danny essayed to kick the goal, but no side's chance to win the game there and then was lost, for the ball went well under the crossbar, and high school shouted its relief. There were still six minutes of playing time remaining, and Captain Nastrian called on his team to make the most of it. High school kicked off, and Northside cocked and ran back to her 15 yards. Laroux now took the brunt of the work,

but his forte was broken field running, and his attempts at the line were less successful than Whiteson. Nevertheless, Northside made first down twice and took the ball to her 40 yards before she was forced to punt. Ferrar cocked on high school's 33, and behind good interference ran back to midfield. There a fumble lost a down, a forward pass failed, and Brimmer punched to the opponent's 20.

Dan Shores made the catch, but was downed without games, and Laroux tried to win through the left of the line without success. A fumble by Larroo cost north side half a dozen yards, and the ball sailed through the air to midfield again. Once more, Ferrar cocked and ran back, reeling off 10 or 12 yards before he was stabbed. A forward pass, Ferrarcia Smith, gained seven, and McCoy made it first down off-left tackle.

From the 30-yard line high school advanced to the six, mixing her plays bafflingly and fighting with desperation. And then, once more on the threshold of a score, luck deserted her. Ferrer, attempting a forward path to Grover, found that end out of position for the catch, and so tried, in forlorn hope, to gain around the other side,

but he was cocked well back on, of the line, and on third down, the ball went into play on the 12 yards. A double pass to Brimmer for a plunge at the left of the line failed miserably. And, as a last resort, a field goal was attempted. But Brimmer never had a chance to get the ball away, for the whole right side of high school's line crumpled before the savage attack of the enemy. And the fullback was downed with the pig skin. in his hands. Then Fortune appeared to desert the home team utterly. Larue got cleared through,

eluding the secondary defense as though he was greased, and put 40 yards behind him before Farr, running desperately, brought him down from behind. From midfield to high school's 15-yard line plunged the triumphant North Siders. High School was weakened in. every minute now. Nastrian put in two fresh linemen and replaced burns with Sowan, but the advance went on, Laroux finding all sorts of holes to squirm through, and the redoubtable Whiteson, rested in chafing under inactivity, returned to the attack with redoubled fury, hurling himself at the faltering high school line for good gains. with two minutes left and the ball just inside the third white line.

High school fought for time, hopeless now of victory and only seeking to stave off defeat. Twice the whistle shrilled while some real or imaginary injury was looked too. And each time north side raged like so many tigers who had tasted blood. One minute and 56 seconds. proclaimed the timer. All right now, fellows, piped Danny. Over with it.

Here's where we score again. Hold them, scrub, shouted Nostrand hoarsely, and, throw him back, yelled Farrar. Get down, Durshaw, play low, fellows. Get under him, and throw him back. Then, well, no one ever had a very clear idea of what immediately ensued. All that is known is that,

somewhere between the north side Sender and Whiteson. The ball went astray, and that for the longest four seconds in record it bobbed and trickled about under the feet of fully half the contending players. But after that, what happened was just this. Fad Shah, who perhaps owed his presence at Sender more to his ability to keep his eyes on the ball than to any other future of his plank, was one of the first to cry, Boll, ball! Also, he was one of the first to break through.

Unfortunately, he came through on his hands and knees, and his first effort to capture this erratic pigskin, only sent it further afield. But fetched, by a miracle of spontaneity that must have shocked his system dreadfully, rolled to his feet, seized the babbing ball from under the outstretched hands of a north side player and staggered off with it. Having done that much, Fudge was willing to call a halt,

and he proved it by stepping stack still and looking back, inviting someone to lay him low. But as it happened, he was for a moment unchallenged, and instead of a tackle, he received the exultant, imperious, entreating cries of his teammates to Ranshaw! Go it Fudge! He heard those cries plainly, in spite of the countered cries from the momentarily befuddled enemy, and although they chimed in, not at all with his inclinations, he obeyed them and started somewhat irresolutely toward the far-distant goal.

Fudge was not built for speed. There was not no unnecessary foot on his somewhat rotent body, but his legs were short and stucky, and his strides lengthened them as he might, covered scant territory, but despairingly he ran, with the enemy momentarily drawing nearer and nearer, a grim flaming-haired Danny, with danger written all over him in the lead, to say that Fudge disappeared because the enemy promised to step his flight would be white of the truth. Fudge despaired because they didn't hurry up and do it. Fudge had not the slightest desire in all the white, white world to race at break-neck speed down that interminable field and become a hero. The price was too large. If someone would only

take the ball from him, it would be fine. And as if an answer to Fudge's wish, Danish Shores gained until he was close behind, and Fudge, half-closing his eyes, avoided the shack of that tackle. But it didn't come. Feet spurned the turf behind him. A purple stockinged figure raised up. Danny Shores went reeling to earth, and Fudge was again out of danger, free to carry that ball in triumph over some 80 yards.

The player who had cleared Danny from his course was the fleet-footed Grover, and, with a world of entreating his eyes and voice, Fudge half-turned, held the pig skin out, and faltered laboredly. Take it! But Grover had shut his bolt. He fell behind, only his voice followed Fudge. Ranchaw! You've got it! So poor Fudge! His short legs, twinkling so. fast that they became a mere purplish yellow blur ran, and behind him came friend and foe.

Midfield now, and still and captured, only fifty yards more, only. The stand was shouting wildly. From the sidelines were raised tricking partisans of the visitors, came cries of rage, of encouragement, of despair. One by one the high school interference hastily formed bad effect. performed their duty and fell behind. And now only one of the enemy pursued, and only one of the high school players followed.

At the 40 yards Fudge was gasping painfully for breath. At the 30, he was ready, more than ready to give up. If only thought Fudge, someone would pull him down. He resented the fact that he was allowed to run his legs off, and held it in for weeks against him. against Danny Shore's team that they had so easily allowed themselves to be put out of the running. At the 20-yard line Fudge saw the goalposts distinctly for the first time, and the hope that perhaps, after all, he might reach them without dying,

first came to him and encouraged him. He never once looked back. He only hoped each moment that Hans would seize him and pull him to earth. but Fudge's hope was idle. Forre, near the 15-yard line, Farrar made a final despairing effort, flung himself in the path of the pursuing North Sider, and together they subsided,

too weak to move for many moments, and then with the shots of the spectators beating on his ears, like the sound of distant surf, Fudge, an willing hero of the contest, fall across the last white line, and sank into a peaceful coma. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber.

This Libre Box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 15. Corwin wins. While Fudge, completely exhausted, was being restored to usefulness. Captain Nastrent converted the six points to seven. by an easy goal. And before Fudge, assisted by admiring teammates, had reached the bench, the game was over.

High school had won, 13 to 6. The North Siders were dejectedly leaving the field, and Fudge had leaped into fame. A full 85 yards, they called that run, which allowing for slight exaggeration born of enthusiasm, it was. But Fudge, with becoming modesty, insisted that it having been a foot over 83, back in the dressing room, having recovered breath and presence of mind. Fudge rendered his version of the fit to a respectfully attentive audience.

I saw the fumble and tried to get through, but their center blocked me off and I had to crawl under him. I could almost reach the ball, but not quite. I touched it, I think. Then I dived across for it, knocking a couple of north-siders out of my way, and picked it up right under the nose of that fellow Whiteson. My, but he was mad. Then I started down the field, and, what did you stop for? asked someone puzzledly. Vodge's modesty again asserted itself. Well, he answered frankly, I'm no sprinter.

Not built for it. I can run a long time, but I'm not fast, if you see what I mean. So I thought that if I could pass the ball to one of you fellows who was a better sprinter, I'd do it. You see, it didn't matter

who made the run so long as we got detached then. Feint murmurs of admiration greeted disnoble sentiment. Pete Ferrar's countenance expressed slight amazement. It didn't sound quite like Fudge. Still, that youth's expression was so guileless that Pete concluded that perhaps, after all, fat was as unselfish as he pictured himself. There was no one to take it, though, continued the hero.

warming to the narrative. And so I saw that I have to make the score myself. Shores was right after me, and a lot of the others too, once Shores almost had me, but I swung aside. It was Grover who put Shores out, said Sowing. I know it was good work too, declared Fudge heartily. But he wouldn't have caught me because I got my second wind at a time, and the rest was easy.

With the start, I had none of them could have caught me. Hmm, said Captain Nastrian. You short of hate yourself, don't you fudge? But the consensus of opinion was that Nostrand's sarcasm was in poor taste, although perhaps excusable to some extent, since envy is a common failing. Nor was spake McCoy's remark, though any better of it. McCoy tackled and observed,

I thought once or twice Fudge, you were going to lie down and go to sleep. The trouble with you is that you're geared too high. Fudge smiled patiently, sweetly, as if to say, "'Trust ever does, success is always a target for the shafts of envy.' At that moment, as if fate sought to secure an even balance between joy and sorrow, Jim Grover, who had gone to the telephone a minute before,

hang up the receiver and faced the others with gloomy countenance. Would that make you sick, he demanded, Corwin won. There was an instant of silence. Then, who says so? demanded McCoy incredulously. I called up Castle. They've got it by telephone from Corwin. Twelve to ten. What do you know about that?

Grover kicked disgustedly at a bench. A chorus of dismay arose. Twelve to ten? How'd we make ten? Touchdown. Goal and field goal, of course. Isn't that the limit? Say, they ought to let us play instead of the varsity.

We haven't won a game since Methuselah. was in rampers. Wait till you hear them roast Loverick. Wow, I wouldn't be in his shoes for anything. Did they say anything about it, Jim? No, they just heard the score. That's all. Gee, I wish Lovering would quit his kindergarten staff

and let us bring some plays. We never will win a game with the sort of things he gives us. Well, that comes of putting a fellow who doesn't know football in as a coach, declared Burns. It's up to Lonnie White, or right. What's the good of knocking every time we get leaked? Demanded Nostrand. It doesn't do any good.

Wait till you hear that the trouble was before you begin criticizing. Everyone knows what the trouble is, responded McCoy gloomily. Lovering doesn't care whether we win or lose. all he cares about is Springdale. Maybe he's right, replied Grover, reflectively and more tearfully. After all, if we win that game, if we do, said Thad Brimmer, but how are we going to if we can't beat these smaller teams? Bet you anything you like, that the varsity would fall dead if it won a game.

That's all right, Fad spoke up, but you'll all be talking out of the other side of your mouth pretty soon. Dick knows just what he's doing, and don't you forget it? And Fudge, looking unusually belligerent by reason of his inflamed nose, face them indignantly. What if we do get bitten by Corwin and Logan and all those little fellows? What we're after is to smear Springdale and we'll do it too. If we'll leave Dick Lovering alone and not kick him in the shins every time we get a chance. You make me worry, you gang of grouches. Fudge was a hero just now, and his words were Hirkin too with respect.

An uncertain murmur of approval followed, and some laughter, and Grover said, I guess that's so, fellows, let's leave Lovering alone. Anyway, I'm going home. Who's calming along? And so although the scrap triumphed that day, the varsity trailed home with a third defeat pinned to it, and the school was at first incredulous, then disgusted and finally resentful. Explanations and excuses didn't satisfy. A few fellows who had journeyed to Corwin and witnessed the game declared that hard luck

and not poor work had been to blame for the defeat, that unmarried clear field should have conquered by at least one score. The school at large listened but was unconvinced. "'Bitten again,' it said. "'Three games lost out of five played. "'What sort of a team have we got anyway? "'What's dick-lovering thing he's doing? "'Playing giveaway?'

There had been extenuating circumstances, however, whether the fellows were willing to believe it or not. Clearfield had distinctly outplayed her opponent in three of the four periods, had gained more ground by rushing, had pointed further and had shown better generalship. In short, she had fairly deserved to win. but there is no denying that success is what counts, and she had not succeeded. She had fought her way half the length of the field for a clean, well-earned touchdown in the second period, and had kicked the goal. She had again rushed nearly six yards in the third quarter, and, being held for three downs, had sent a field goal over for three more points.

She had secured the ball two minutes later near the Corwin goal, and almost scored again, a fumbled ball which every fellow on the 11 declared had been recovered by Topper, being awarded to Corwin on the latter four yards, and in the final period, when with the score 12 to 10 against her, she had twice attempted goals from the field, either of which would have have given her victory. Morris Brent had failed dismally to make good. Not once declared Lanny resentfully.

Had luck broken for Clearfield. All during the contest, fortune had glaringly befriended the adversary. Even Corwin's first touchdown could not be justly said to have been deserved. For the ball had been clear fields on her 12 yards, succeeding a punt by the opponent, and after off-side penalties had twice been imposed on Clearfield, when Corwin had equally offended. A blacked kick had been downed by Corwin behind high school's line. But all these failed to impress the supporters of the team, and by Monday failing against Dick,

or perhaps against what the school termed his system, was running high. One heard criticism everywhere, sometimes mildly sarcastic, more often angry and bitter. Some wagg evolved a conundrum that circled through school. What's the matter with the football team? Too many bitons. Unfortunately for the perfect success of the conundrum, the question elicited so many explanations and theories that the answer when it arrived, fell rather flat. Just who started the agitation for a mass meeting to protest against the conduct of football

affairs never transpired. But the project met with instant acclaim and a notice suddenly appeared on the bulletin board in the school corridor Monday noon. The meeting was to be held at 8 o'clock Tuesday evening, announced the notice. in the Assembly Hall and all students were requested to attend. The signature Committee of 12

produced much speculation but no one could or would throw light on the identity of the 12th. Dick attracted to the bulletin board by the group in front of it read the announcement on his way out of the building in the afternoon. The group

faded away as he pushed forward. although several of its component parts halted at a distance to observe the effect on the coach. They had their labor for their pants, for Dick showed neither by attitude nor expression that the notice conveyed anything to him. He passed out with his usual half-smiling gravity, nothing to those he passed,

and it was not until he was climbing into his blue runabout, that the half-smile faded from his face, and his expression became thoroughly serious. At the field, Lanny broached the subject laughingly. Heard about the indignation meeting, Dick? He asked at the dressing-room door. Dick nodded. A lot of sore heads, Lanny grumbled.

I've got a good mind to take a bunch of the fellows and bust up the meeting. Better let them alone. "'Cancel Dick. "'I don't much blame them for getting peeved, still, if you're going, "'and there's no reason why you shouldn't. "'I'll run around and get you about half-past seven.' "'You mean that? That you're going?' asked Lanny in surprise. "'Yes, didn't you notice that the committee wanted everyone to come?'

"'asked Dick, with a twinkle in his eyes. "'Yes, I shall go, and—' If they'll let me, I'll have a few words to say. I wouldn't trouble to talk to them, expostulated Lenny. Just let them spout and get it off their chests, Dick. It'll do them good. All they want, said Chester Crutroll, who has joined them. It's a chance to make some speeches and roast someone.

Then they'll forget all about it, Dick. Maybe, but their desire. satisfied with the way I'm running things, Chester? And I don't wonder antagonism toward me to spread to the team. There's nothing worse for school to go back on the team. Every player feels it, and it takes the heart out of him. I don't say that they will do that, but they might, and if I can put things before them so they'll see.

At least, that it isn't the team's fault that we're getting licked. so often, I think I'd better. They're at liberty to roast me as much as they please. I guess any football coach expects a certain amount of that sort of thing, and he can't afford to be sensitive. Besides, I hope to show them in the end that I'm not as bad as they think. All right, Dick, agreed Lanny doubtfully. Go ahead and give them fits. We'll go and back you up. But don't go there in a bench and sit together and try to, well, intimidate them. Smile, Dick. Free speech for all, Lanny, let them say what they want to. After Dave said it, I'll try to satisfy them that there's nothing wrong with the team, no matter how punk the coach

may be. And I'll tell them by George that the coach is all right and knows what his do a hip better than they do. The silly glutes, exclaimed Lanny indignantly. You sit tight and say nothing, replied Dick. Let me do the explaining. All right, now, get your man out. We're ten minutes late.

End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Box Recording is in the public domain. Chapter 16. Lanny visits the office. Practice was light that Monday afternoon, for many of the boys had suffered slight bruises or muscle strains in the Corwin game, and all were more or less languid as a result of the

continued warm weather. While, to make easy work more advisable, the light drizzle which had been falling since early morning had made the field slippery. Several of the varsity players were excused all together. Among them, Tom Haley, who had stood a good deal of punishment, and Lenny White, who showed unmistakable signs of a disposition to go fine.

Everyone moved slowly, sluggishly today, and the jump that Chester Coutrell usually managed, to put into the team was noticeably lacking. Morris Brent tried few field goals and did so well that it was difficult to believe that he had twice failed on Saturday. After practice was over and it ended long before dusk today, Morris waited for Dick and Gordon, who emerged together from the dressing room under the stand and walked with them across toward the blue ran about,

its tap glistening with rain, stood in the lee of the fence. That's staff's calm, he announced. The fellow at the freight office called me up after school. I was afraid it wasn't going to get here in time. Are you going to move it tonight? asked Dick. That's what I wanted to ask you about. Mr. Grayson's birthday is Wednesday.

and we've got to get the things in his office tomorrow evening. So it doesn't seem to me much use to move it twice. What do you think? Why not have Stuart loaded on a team tomorrow afternoon before the freight shed closes and pull it to his table and then bring it around to the school later? Say about nine? The dickens of it is that we'll have to wait

until that old meeting is over. I suppose. We don't want the whole school messing around while we're moving it in and getting the wrappings off. I wish they'd selected some other evening for their silly meeting. Yes, but you can wait

until the fellows go home. I don't see any reason for moving it twice either, Morris. Your scheme looks all right. Don't you think so, Gory? Yes, you won't help to get the stage, staff unpacked, I suppose. I don't believe so. Louise and Nell are coming around,

and Owen the janitor will be there to help. I can manage all right, unless, he added. You want to have a hand in it? I wouldn't be much use, I guess, replied Dick. I won't come unless I'm needed. By the way, I've got some money for you at home. I've collected all but about three daughters.

Me too, said Gordon. Only I've got more than three to get yet. Some of the younger fellows hate like anything to give up their money. Get in, Dick, and I'll turn her over. Coming along, Morris? asked Dick, climbing in and laying his crutches in the improvised rack on the running board.

You can't sit on the floor if you don't mind. Get in the seat, said Gordon. I'll squat, all set. All set, answered Dick. Gordon trellled the starting crack, and Eli began to wear merrily. Gordon closed the gate behind the car and seated himself on the floor, and Eli checked off down A Street toward Brentwood. By the way, announced Morris,

the girls are going around to the meeting tomorrow night, Dick. Louise is sputtering with indignation and declares that if it comes to a vote, they'll see that you come out all right. Votes for woman, laughed Dick. That's very nice of them. But I'm afraid the fellows won't appreciate their presence. So I told her, said Morris,

but she says that all the street. students are asked to attend and that the girls are just as much students as the boys are. Anyway, she's going, and she's made about 30 others promised to go too. I guess it's going to be quite an affair. It looks so, replied Dick dryly. Wow, Eli, good night, Morris. Let me know if I can do anything to help with the furniture, please. As they started off again, Gordon began to chuckle, and Dick viewed him inquiringly.

Tell me about it, he said, Oh, it's nothing, Dick, I was just thinking. Does it always affect you like that? Not always, only when it's funny, you see, I was thinking about Louise going to the meeting. It's fine to have the ladies on your side, Dick. Huh, granted Dick. I suppose it's because you're such a handsome beast. Still, you've got away with you, too.

If it was anyone else now, Louise, do you want to land in the gutter? Asked Dick carelessly. No, not especially, thanks. Then cut out the comedy. All right, but I can keep on thinking, can't I? Yes, if you don't do it so I can hear you. Here's where you get out anyway. Bid it.

Thank you and good night, you old heartbreaker. The next morning when Lanny reached school, he found the summons from the principal avoiding him and sought the office with trepidation. He wasn't aware of having transgressed any rules and his class standing was no worse than it had been at the fall. In fact, for the last four night, he thought he had been doing considerably better. The office was on the main floor of the building.

At the end of the long corridor, Mr. Grayson greeted the visitor pleasantly, and asked him to be seated. Just a moment, white, if you please. He added as he returned to some writing he was doing. Mr. Grayson was short and square. with a head that seemed just a little too large for his body. His thick, wiry hair was sprinkled with grey, as was his short beard and closely cropped moustache.

From behind his glasses a pair of mild, thoughtful brown eyes looked gravely on the world from under heavy, grizzled brows. Mr. Grayson impressed one as being strong physically and mentally, and not only strong but capable, his countenance in spite of its accustomed gravity, and the principal was seldom seen to smile, was, on the whole, pleasant and kindly. While Mr. Grayson continued his writing,

Lanny looked about the office with a new interest. It did, he told himself, certainly need new furnishings. The carpet always choose, small for the big room, was threadbare in places, and so faded that it was difficult to guess its original color. The flat tap oak desk was stained and battered, and when presently the principal leaned back in his swiveled chair, it squeaked most excruciatingly. Mr. Grayson removed his glasses, and, being near-sighted, squinted a little, as he turned to Lanny.

Well, wait, how are football affairs getting on? He asked. Lanny was so greatly relieved to find that he was not in for a caution regarding his class standing, that for an instant he found it hard to focus his thoughts on the question. Finally, however, Why, Freddy well, sir, he answered vaguely. Hmm. Mr. Grayson thoughtfully polished lenses of his glasses with a silk handkerchief, which he carried for the purpose.

Mr. Carter talked to me over the phone last evening. He seemed to think that there was some dissatisfaction on the part of the school. He said his son had told him the boys were quite excited and were talking of appealing to the athletic committee to do something. I don't know just what. Mr. Carter was one of the graduate members of the committee and had a son in high school. Yes, sir, there is some talk, acknowledged Lanny. There's to be a meeting tonight. The fellows don't like it that the team has been beaten so often,

but I don't see what good it is going to do to stir up a lot of talk and trouble, Mr. Grayson. I see. Mr. Carter rather inferred that the boys held the coach to blame. Is that the way it is? Yes, I think so. They seem to have it in for the team and for Lovering too. We haven't made a very good showing so far, sir, and that's a fact. But Loverings aiming at the Springdale game and doesn't care so much about the others. As far as I'm concerned, I'd like to win them all,

But Dick seems to think we can't do that, and I'm willing to stand back of Dick, Mr. Grayson. Do you think he, well, knows his business, white? Yes, sir, I do, replied Lanny decidedly. He may be a little, a little too cautious, but I think if the fellows will let him alone, he will bring the team around in good shape for the big game. I see, and the other members. of the team, what? They think as you do about lowering? Yes, sir, as far as I know, we'd like to have won more games than we have,

but it isn't fair to put the blame on Dick, Mr. Grayson. Anyway, not all of it. The team isn't as far advanced as it was a year ago at this time, but not having any coach at the beginning of the season made a difference. Hmm, last year's. Springdale won, I believe. Yes, sir, that's just it. We won all our early games,

but won, and then got beaten badly by Springdale. I see. Well, that's all I wanted to know, White. I thought that it might be well to understand the sentiment of the team itself in case. Well, in case the matter came before the committee, I hope Lovering's method will succeed. that's all then. Thanks, White.

Not very good weather for football. I take it. No, sir, not very. Good morning, sir. Lanny retired from the interview, well satisfied. If, as was not improbable, the meeting voted to appeal to the athletic committee. Mr. Grayson would.

Lanny felt use his influence against any interference with the coach's conduct of affairs, that there would be any demand for a change of coach was not at all likely, for even the most dissatisfied, would surely recognise the folly of, so to say, swapping horses in midstream. But the meeting might ask,

and the committee might have consented to some policy of interference, that would have worried Dick and seriously handicapped, kept him. But with Mr. Grayson on their side, Lanny reflected, it was very unlikely that anything of the sort would occur. They may talk their silly heads off now, he said to himself, and much good it will do him. It stepped raining at noon, and the field, though, by no means in perfect condition, was better than the day before, and practice went very well. bruises and strains were forgotten, and a little cold breeze that made itself felt in the afternoon,

and sent the heavy clouds scurring southward, put more spirit into the fellows. The varsity had little difficulty in scoring ones on each of the three periods of the game against the scraps, and the fellows showed possibilities of attack that were distinctly encouraging. The handful of spectators who braved the weather and watched practice were, in many cases and willingly, impressed with the work of the varsity. The mass meeting had been called for 8 o'clock, and long before that hour the assembly hall on the upper floor of the school building was well filled. The advent of some 30-odd girls occasioned amusement and surprise, even, I regret to say, some ridicule. But Louise Brent and her following paid no heed to the expressions of the latter.

The girls found seats together at one side of the hall and calmly awaited events. Most of the football players were there, although following Dick's instructions, actions. They were careful not to group themselves. Dick arrived just before the meeting was called to order, and his appearance created something of a sensation. He found an empty seat halfway from the front, on a side aisle and lowered himself into it, quite unembarrassedly. Someone started to clap, but the demonstration was quickly hushed. After that the whole was very quiet for several minutes. The clock over the platform announced 8.3.

At last, Sears, the president of the senior class arose from his place near the front and faced the middick. I have been asked, announced Sears. In the absence of, of anyone as obliging to explain the purpose of this medic, First off, though, I want to say that I take no sights in this business. I'm neutral. Some laughter and applause greeted this. As I understand it, he went on.

We are here to talk over the football situation and possibly take steps to improve it. Just now, the first thing to do is, I presume, to appoint chairman. Nominations are in order. I nominate Tavis Sears, said someone. Second it, called another voice. You've heard the motion, fellows. Those in favor will say A, opposed, no. The A's have it. It is a boat.

Sears left his place on the floor and ascended the platform, taking his seat behind the small table in the center. Now, gentlemen, what is your pleasure? End of Chapter 16. Chapter 17 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 17 The Indignation Meeting For a minute no one accepted the invitation and chuckles of amusement came from the rear of the hall, where the younger fellows were four gathered. Finally, go to it, Carter?

Called one of the irrepressibles, and Ned Carter, a serious visage junior, arose slowly to his feet. Carter? said Sears in recognition. Mr. Chairman on fellows, began Carter. A lot of as fellows aren't at all satisfied with the way things are going. I mean about football. Our team has played five.

game so far, and it's been leaked three times. We want to know what the reason is. Aplaus was instantaneous, and the speaker encouraged, thrust his hands in his trousers packets, and went on with more assurance. We started out all right, as you know. We didn't have any trouble beating Highland Hall. Then we get a coach, and things having gone so well. I haven't got anything against the coach personally. None of us have. We know him and we think he's a fine fellow. But it stands to reason that a fellow who has never played football

and never coached a team before isn't the best sort of a fellow to coach for us. I'm not saying it's his fault that we've made such a purr showing so far. But I do think it's somebody's fault. A lot of us fellows, You said that before, called Fudge in a voice audible to most of the gathering, and a ripple of amusement started and was met by hisses and cries of, Shut up, and, put him out.

Carter proceeded doggedly. A lot of us fellows want to know whose fault it is. That's why this meeting was called. And what I say is, let's talk it over and find out what's best to be done, and, and do it. Carter subsided amidst applause, some of it ironic, and the tall and lanky Bingham sought recognition. Bingham had a smirk on his face, and those who knew him best expected something particularly disagreeable from him. nor were they disappointed. Carter began Bingham.

Says, some bodies to blame for the way things have been going, and that we ought to find out who it is. Seems to me it isn't very hard to find out. We've got as good a lot of players as we've ever had, I guess. You all saw what they did to Highland Hall, the first of the season, before there was. any interference. The team was all right then. Then they went and got a coach, and what happened?

Bingham paused impressively. Tell us, little one, what did happen? Pleaded a falsetto voice from the far side of the hall. Bingham frowned at the unseemly mirth which ensued at his witticism and hastened to forestall further interruptions. Since we had our coach, and his emphasis on the world was unpleasantly sarcastic. We've played five games against weak teams and being bitten in three of them. I guess we ought to be thankful we haven't got two coaches. If we had, we might have been bitten in all of them. The effort at humor aroused a few uncertain chuckles.

I'd say it isn't hard to place the blame for the punk condition, of our team, and it isn't either. The fellows are all right. They do as they are told. The trouble is the fellow who tells them what to do, doesn't know his business. He's had no experience. He never played a game of football in his life.

He couldn't because... Shame! cried the girls, and some of the audience hissed. Sears rubbed his knuckles smartly on the table. table. The meeting will come to order, he said severely, and I must warn the speaker that personalities must be kept out of this discussion. Mr. Chairman, I am speaking of the football coach. If we can discuss the coach, what's the good of this meeting? Besides, I see that he's here in person to answer for himself. I suppose he thought that if he came with Wendenderg

criticize him. If he thought dead, he is dead wrong. We have a right to protest against his haphazard, ridiculous system of coaching, and to demand that he either show results or yield his position to someone else, someone who at least knows the difference between a touchdown and a head guard. Naminate Bingham for coached, shouted a small youth in the back of the hall, and this time the laughter was spontaneous and prolonged. So prolonged, in spite of the chairman's stern demands for order, that Bingham, who evidently intended to say more, hesitated and finally sat down. Several other speakers followed.

One senior named Lewis spoke well and rationally. I regret that previous speakers have seen fit to late the bluntly. for the state of affairs on Dick Lovering, our coach. He doesn't deserve it. Things don't seem to be going very well, and that's a fact. But I don't think there's anyone to blame for it. The trouble began when we lost Farrell. The team went on for some two weeks, I believe, without anyone in charge,

and Captain White had everything to attend to, assisted, of course by the manager. We all know that White tried his best to find a man to take Farrell's place, and that he couldn't do it. Then the Athletic Committee decided not to pay a salary this year, and that settled all chance of getting anyone with experience. As a last resort, Captain White and some of the players went to dig Lovering and asked him to coach the team. Lovering didn't ask for the place and didn't want to. He refused at first, I am told, and finally consented because White and the others wouldn't take no. Lovering has made no claims to be an experienced football coach. The fellows didn't think he was, but they had to have someone, and Lovering was the only fellow

in sight. If things haven't gone as well as they might have, you can't lay any blame to Lovering. He may be partly accountable, but he isn't to blame. He's done the best he's known how. I'm certain of that. Perhaps he has made mistakes. I confess I don't know, for I'm no football authority. But I'm sure he has done his level best and worked hard. Now, the whole thing amounts to this.

You're not satisfied with the progress the team has made. probably the team itself isn't. Perhaps if methods of instruction or coaching or whatever you have a mind to call it, were altered, things would go better. Lovering himself is here this evening. Before we go any further, why not hear from him? Perhaps he can satisfy us that things aren't as bought as they see him, that they're going to be a lot better,

and that when we ran against Springdale next month, we're going to lick her. If we do that, we'll have done what we want most to do, and we'll forget all about what went before. I'd like to hear from Coach Lovering. There followed much applause as Dick put his crutches under his arms, arose and faced the meeting. Then the hand clapping subsided, and an expectant silence ensued.

Dick looked sober, but quite untroubled. He began to speak in a quiet voice, plainly heard all over the hall, and in a crisp, business-like tones. Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, began Dick. I thank the last speaker for his expressions of goodwill, and I am very glad of this opportunity to say a few words. but if you expect me to make a defense of my methods, you will be disappointed.

Lewis outlined better than I could the events of this present football season. I was chosen, as he has told you, not because I had ever coached a team, not because I claimed that I could coach a team, but because there seemed no one else to fill the position. And I did hold off for a while, not because I didn't want to do it, for I did, and not because I thought I couldn't do it, for I had a strong impression that I could. Lewis says that I must not be held to blame. I say that if there is any blame, it's mine, I'm ready to accept it, and Dick's friends and not a few of the opposition applauded warmly. And I want to accept it. But especially I want you to believe that the team is not at fault.

We've got a good team, a fine lot of players, willy, hardworking, cheerful. It's not the best team we've ever had. None of you will claim that. But it's more than an average good one. It's good enough to beat Springdale. I say that's assuredly. If it doesn't beat Springdale, the fault will be mine and not the players. But I don't think it's going to be necessary to find fault with anyone,

for I firmly believe we're going to win. More applause than, harder and less restricted to the element supporting the speaker. But with it came a challenge from across the hall. Talks cheap, Lovering. Show us something. That's right, cried Carter. Win a game and we'll believe it. My only reason for speaking this evening, continue Dick calmly, is to tell you plainly, to thoroughly convince you

that if we have lost three games out of five, it is not the fault of the players. I don't say that we could have won all five games, but I am pretty sure that we could have won three of them. That we didn't was because I thought it unwise to push the team, as it would have had to be pushed, to a condition where it could have won. This, please understand, is not an apology, but merely an explanation. Not only did I think that the team should not have been pushed then, but I still think it should not be pushed, and I shall not be in the least surprised if we are again defeated next Saturday.

A howl of protest greeted that announcement. Sears wrapped hard for order. Dick smiled slightly and waited. When comparative silence fell once more, Hugh went on. When I accepted the honor of the position, I hold. And it is an honor, and I appreciate it. It was with a distinct understanding that I was to have a free hand. So far I have had it, and I intend to have it.

With all respect to you, as long as I am in charge, I am doing my best to turn out a team that will win from Springdale High School. And I tell you frankly that I don't care a button how many lickings we get meanwhile. Springdale has a strong team this year. It looks now as if she would be stronger than last year, when she had no trouble beating us. Some fellows might win all or nearly all of the early games, and then win from Springdale with the material we have this fall.

But I tell you candidly that I am afraid to risk it. I am working for just one result, and to obtain that result, I'm going about it in the manner I think best. And I firmly believe that my work should be judged by whether or not I obtain the result I am after. I have no wish to antagonize a single fellow, a single person in this hall tonight. But I tell you quite frankly, that I shall continue to go my own way as long as I am coach, that I shall not resign and that I shall resist to the utmost any attempt to oust me.

I thank you for listening so patiently. There was a moment of silence. Then applause broke out deaflingly, hand clapping, shouts, stamping made a pandemonium of the meeting. Sears helplessly banked on the table. Half a dozen fellows claimed recognition. But it was long before Sears could make himself heard. When he at last succeeded, it was in recognition of Sprague McCoy. Mr. Chairman?

shouted McCoy, trying to be heard the length of the Assembly Hall above the dean. Mr. Chairman, I move you that a vote of confidence be given coach-lovering, doggone it. Laughter, shouts of approval. Cries of disapprovation followed. Carter, Bingham, and a half a dozen others sought for recognition. But Sears was strangely blind. Several fellows seconded the motion, and Sears rapped and rapped for order. Are you ready for the question?

All right. Yes, let her go. Shoot, officer? All in favor say I. Contrary? It is a boat. Is there? Further business.

Meaning? Sears' voice was only heard at intervals. If not, adjourn in order. Move, we adjourn, shouted Guy Falkler. Seconded. Moved and seconded that the meeting now adjourned, mumbled Sears. All those.

What followed was lost in the scrapping of cities, and the jumble of talk and laughter. The indignation meeting was at an end. End of Chapter 17. Chapter 18 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 18. Mr. Grayson is surprised.

Dick's retirement from the hall took on the nature of an ovation. Many of the fellows pushed their way across to shake hands with him. To tell him, it was hot staff, Dick, to form a laughing, excited escort for him on the door. Louise Brett met him on the way out. It was splendid, she declared warmly. I'm so glad, Dick, Tabby Sears too, reached him before he had left the hall. and slapped him on the shoulder.

That was a good plain talk, Dick, and we needed it. He said. Dick went off in the runabout with George Kattner, while Gordon and Morris, waiting on the steps for the crowd to leave, reviewed events with much chuckling. He did just the right thing, said Gordon. If he had been apologetic and tried to explain things, and made promises they'd have roasted him and probably voted to take the matter to the committee.

Surest thing, you know, agreed Morris. He just took the right line with them. You bet he did. He just, just edified them. And now his goddamn eating out of his hand. It was a regular stampede. I'll bet Carter and Bingham, and some of those others,

are as mad as hornets, chackled Morris. It won't do them any good, though. Not a bit. Dix got a big majority with him now. Bet you we could lose every other game except Springdale and not hear a yep out of any of them. Dick's a wonder, Morris. He always seemed to know what to do, doesn't he?

He certainly does. He's what you call a born leader, Dick is. I wish his bunch would hurry up and go. It's almost a quarter past nine, and I told Stuart to get here at half-past. I hope he doesn't show up before the crowd gets away. Oh, they'll be gone in a minute. Where is Louise?

She and Nell have gone over to Miss Turner's to get the key to the office. They'll be back at half-past. I sort of wish they'd preys. put that electric light out on the corner, if Mr. Grayson happened to go by and saw us unloading staff. He's not likely to, I guess. He lives at the other end of town. Hello, Jim.

Oh, we're just communing with nature. It sure was some meeting. Good night. The last of the audience left the building and presently quite fell, broken finally by the sound of the janitor's steps on the stairs. "'That you, Owen?' called Morris. "'The load's coming in about fifteen minutes. We'd better unpack the things inside, hadn't we?

Can you leave a light here at the doorway?' "'Yes,' was the reply. "'I'll leave this one going, and the one around the corner.' The janitor, sturdy young Irishman, came to the door and peered out. Who's that with you, Mr. Brent? He asked. Gordon Merrick, my sister and Miss Owen are coming in a few minutes.

I guess it will take all of us to move the desk in, huh? A couple of us can manage it, sir. I've got my broom and dustpan here to clear up afterwards. There's someone coming now, ain't that? Those are the girls, said God. Gordon, what time is it? Nearly half-panced, answered Morris, holding the face of his watch to the dim light from the hall.

He may be a few minutes late, I suppose. I think I hear a wagon now, said Gordon as the girls joined them, but it proved to be a milkman's cart when it came into sight. Did you get it? asked Morris. Yes. In proof, Louise held up the key. I feel just like a conspirator. She added, don't you? Have they all gone? Yes, and it's a good thing we didn't tell that we were going to put the things in here tonight.

If we had, we'd have had half the school messing around. Most of them have forgotten about it, I guess, said Gordon. Here he comes. Five minutes later, the wagon with its mysteriously hidden load was backed to the steps, and the driver and Owen, assisted by the two boys, were carrying the load inside. They worked quickly and silently, and in a very few minutes the wagon was empty, and they were removing the wrappings from the articles. At this task all took a hand, and the hallway was soon lured with the same.

with burlaps and excelsior and paper. Then tiptoeing like the conspirators they felt themselves to be, they descended on the office. One of the lights was lighted and turned low. The shades were drawn and they began to move the old furniture out into the hole. From where later, when the principal had rescued his papers and books, it was to be taken to the basement. When the carpet was up, Owen applied the broom diligently.

Then the refurnishing began. The new carpet, a deep-toned brown with a brown and blue border, made to feed the floor exactly from measurements taken by Miss Turner, was put in place and the big desk was set in the middle. As each piece was brought in, Louise and Nell attacked it energetic, with dust clothes. The swivel chair was put in front of the desk. The leather easy chair,

well, if it wasn't exactly real leather, it looked just like it. And the distinguished salesman had given his solemn word of honor that it would wear even better than leather, was set by the windows. The filing cabinet was set against the wall. The straight-backed chair went by the door and the new waste basket.

For fear, it would not be seen, was put beside the desk rather than under it. Then books, writing pad, ink well, and such things were put in place, and finally, for just a minute, the light was turned on full, that they might all see the transformation at its best. Doesn't everything look lovely? Breathed Nell rapturously. You'd never know it was the same room, said Louise. Isn't the desk beautiful garden? Pitchy, everything is.

I'm crazy about the rag. It will be a real privilege now to get called in by Mr. Grayson. The fine things they are, declared Owen admirably, as he wiped off a speck of dust with the. sleeve of his coat. And it's proud he'll be in the morning. And there ain't a scratch of anyone often, said the driver of the wagon. I think to that, boys. Er, yes, murmured Morris, directing an inquiring look at Louise. Louise nodded vehemently, and a half-dollar changed hands. Thank you, kindly, sir, said the driver. Is that all I can do for you?

That's all, thanks, replied Louise. Please, tell Mr. Stewart we're very much obliged to him for doing everything so nicely. The man took his departure, and the others, although loathed to do so, took a final look at the new splinter. Turned out the light, locked the door and departed. Owen was presented with a crisp dollar bill before they left. however and proceeded with his task of clearing up most cheerfully. Still, elatedly discussing the success of the conspiracy, they made their way to Miss Turner's nearby, left the key and started homeward along Truteman Street.

But at G Street, Morris called a halt. It's only a quarter to eleven, he said, and castles still open. What do you say if we walk over there and celebrate? It's awfully late, murmured Louise doubtfully, and I don't believe Mama would like it. But Nell saw and declared that she didn't care whether folks liked it or not. She was going. This is an occasion, she said,

and it simply demands a celebration. I'll go whether the rest do or not, Morris. We'll all go. "'said Gorton. "'Come along, Louise. "'There won't be anyone there at this time of night.' "'So Louise consented, "'and they struck across town toward the square.

"'Look here,' said Morris presently. "'We ought to arrange some sort of a presentation. "'Oven we?' "'How's Mr. Grayshan going to know "'where the things came from or who gave them? "'I wish we had thought to ask Dick, or Sears or someone to be on hand and make a sort of speech. Couldn't you do it, Morris? asked Nell.

Me? Great scat, no. Then Gordon. Nothing doing. Thank you just the same, Nell. I know, said Louise. We'll write on a card that the gift is made by the students and will get Miss Turner to let us in there early in the morning and put it on the desk or somewhere where he will see it. Won't that do?

Yes, agreed Morris. What time does he usually show up? About a quarter of an hour before the bell, said Gordon. There'll be plenty of time. You're right it tonight, Louise, so you won't forget it. Very well to Mr. Grayson from the students of the Clearfield High School, wishing him many happier returns of the day. Would that do?

Slic, said Morris, as they entered the drugstore. Now, then, what are you all going to have? There was a commendable promptness evident on the part of a large portion of students the next morning. By 8 o'clock the corridor was well filled. The girls were somewhat in the majority. for as Gordon had surmised, many of the boys had quite forgotten that the gift to which they subscribed was to be presented today. Miss Turner arrived soon after eight and smilingly fitted the key to the office door. Louise slipped in and placed the card she had written on the front of the desk, propping it up with a stamp box.

while the others who had arrived early to enjoy Mr. Grayson's surprise, crowded about the doorway, and exclaimed at what they saw. All were not only delighted, but quite astonished at the beauty of the furnishings. I've never supposed they'd be so lovely, exclaimed one girl as she tiptoed to see over the shoulders of those in front of her. aren't they just beautiful Miss Turner? And Miss Turner standing guard at the door, smilingly agreed. It's too bad, said Morris, that we couldn't have got the old things out of the way.

He will see them and know right off that something's up. But he won't know what, responded Tappy's ears. Besides, if this mob stays here, he won't be able to see the old furne. It's about time he came, isn't it? It was, and to prove it, a small fresh man who had been detailed to watch for the principal's approach from the entrance, came scuttling in with the news. He's coming, he shouted, he's coming! Miss Turner quickly closed and lacked the door and walked toward the entrance, whilst the

other scuttled away from the office, but Lingley. in the corridor. The girls doing a good deal of excited giggling, and the boys trying their best to appear and concerned. Then Mr. Grayson turned the corner and the sudden silence reigned. Since by that time nearly the entire student body was assembled. The silence was distinctly strange and uncanny, and Mr. Grayson evidently thought it so as making his way through. through the crowd. He gravely bowed and returned the murmured greetings of the boys and girls. A puzzled look appeared on his face, and he bent frowning glances right on left. Miss Turner intercepted him halfway along the corridor.

Oh, Mr. Grayson, she said casually. Here's your key. Thank you, thank you. Uh, is there anything wrong, Miss Turner? wrong asked the teacher in surprised tones why no sir oh i see i thought he viewed the expectant faces about him rather bewilderedly thank you mr hum he went on the students crowding along the corridor behind him and fitted the key to the luck the throng hit the old furniture pushed against the wall beyond the door, and he cocked no glimpse of it. In fact, he scarcely looked that way, for he was utterly embarrassed and wanted nothing

but to put his portal between him and the sea of strangely staring faces. He turned the key and the nab, and quickly pushed the door open, and quickly stepped inside. and then as though he had collided with an invisible wall, he suddenly stood stacked steel. There was an expectant hush, broken at length by a nervous giggle from someone of the girls. Those near the office door saw the principal's head move as his eyes swept the room.

Then his hand still on the nab, he turned plainly bewildered, as though he suspected him. of being out of his mind, and gazed helplessly and troubledly into the eager and excited faces of the watchers. I—I don't understand, he faltered, but realization came to him the next instant, for the students no longer able to stand the suspense, broke into applause, a wave of sound swept the corridor, the clapping of hands, shouts. laughter mingled in a confused bubble, through which came the piping cry of a small freshman.

Happy birthday, sir! Mr. Grayson retreated before the outbreak, amazement, relief, embarrassment, struggling for mastery, and certainly he laid his head and gloves on the desk, and in the act, cocked side of the card. He picked it up and read the inscription. It seemed to take him a long time. Perhaps he couldn't see very well, for he removed his glasses, drew the silk handkerchief from a packet, and began to wrap the lenses furiously.

Then, pausing in that, he took up the cart once more and walked to the door and threw it to the corridor. The throng giving way before him, and the tumult increasing as those at the fore-end, of the courier caught sight of him, but gradually the nose ceased, and Mr. Grayson, clearing his throat nervously, began to speak. Young ladies and gentlemen, he said haltingly, I, this, he stepped helplessly to shook his head. I'm too surprised to, to save what I'd

like to. I never guessed that. He paused again, but when it was he had never guessed they all understood. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, not only for the wonderful gifts, but for the kindness, the dearness, if I may say it, of your action. It has affected me. That's why you must pardon me if I don't express myself better. I can't find the words just now. I'm in a daze.

I think, later, after I have had time to, to look at all the beautiful things in there and to properly appreciate what you have done, I will try to thank you as I should. All I can say now is that a smile saffened the grave lines of his face. Well, that you've made this the happiest birthday I've ever had. He bowed, tried to put his glasses in place again, failed, and literally fled into the office,

and then the applause burst forth again, long, loud and continued, and Tabby's ears called for a regular cheer for Mr. Grayson fellows, and make it good. And it was good, and in the very middle of it, the big gun clanked on the landing, and laughing and happy, the throng dispersed to the various rooms, more than one pair of eyes a little bit moist. Louise, frankly tearful, declared that she didn't care. It had been perfectly beautiful. Later in the day, in Assembly Hall, Mr. Grayson thanked them again in a very nice speech, and even made them laugh a little when he described the odd condition in which he found himself amongst his marvellous new possessions. But his first expression of things down there in the crowded corridor had told them far more eloquently of his feelings.

At recess those who had not viewed the new furnishings visited the office and Mr. Grayson held a sort of resurgence. The teachers, not to be entirely outdone, had brought gifts as well. There was a new dictionary, something very up-to-date, and comprehensive and extraordinarily bulky, with a stand to hold it, and a big bunch of chrysanthemums on the desk. And Mr. Grayson, grave but plainly proud and delighted, exhibited each article of furniture to his colors, and dwelt on the finish and the grain of the wood and called attention to the coloring and texture of the carpet, and was quite boyishly excited. Principal and pupils drew much closer together that 25th of October than they ever had been before. The girls declared

that he was a perfect dear, and the boys less willing to express the real film. The girls, acknowledged one to another that he wasn't a bad sort, old Grayson. The mass meeting at the birthday celebration seemed to clear the atmosphere wonderfully, and an era of solidarity and good feeling began at Clearfield High School, that endured a long time. Simultaneously, fortune smiled, and two very satisfying events occurred. one was the decision of the athletic committee to devote the funds in hand to the immediate reproof of the athletic field. No one ever knew for certain, but it was generally believed that Mr. Grayson brought this about.

It was no secret that a meeting of the committee was held on Thursday at his desire, and that he himself made the motion and in the discussion which followed, supported it strongly, much to the surprise of the student members. At all events, work on the fence began Monday morning, and it was announced that a portion of the old stand would be demolished and replaced by a new steel trust structure in time for the Springdale game, which was this year played in Clearfield. Later, when more money was available, another section

would be erected. If this was Mr. Grayson's way of proving his gratitude, it was well appreciated by the whole school. The other event, which brought satisfaction, was the victory on Saturday of the varsity football

team over Benton's school, as though to vindicate themselves on their coach. Their team scored 19 points against Benton and held that adversary helpless. still using a mere handful of plays, none of them either novel or puzzling, clear field by

working together with a precision that promised fine things for the future, ripped the Benton line almost at will, and presented a defence that anywhere inside the 25-yard line was invulnerable. Morris Brett played through a full quarter, and although no field goals were necessary, demonstrated his value to the backfield by excellent punting and good rushing. Clearfield won quite wild over that victory, for Benton had a big, well-trained and hard-fighting team, and had, only the week before, played Springdale to stand still, neither side being able to score.

Even the news that Springdale had overwhelmingly beaten Nickerson, that afternoon failed to disturb clear-filled satisfaction, although it did give Dick subject for thought. Nickerson was believed to be fairly strong and Springdale had, by reason of injuries to several of her best players, gone into the fray with a line-up largely substitute. Dick waited impatiently for the Monday morning Springdale paper, and when it came could find but slight encouragement in the account of the game it contained.

There was no denying that this year's Springdale team was one to be respected. The conference that Monday evening lasted long. End of Chapter 18. Chapter 19 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. The slippery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 19. Attack and Defense You see, said Fudge, taking another bite of his banana and talking from the side of his mouth.

This fellow, young sleuth, finds that when the old chap, Middleton, I mean, the millionaire that was found murdered. I remember, replied Dick, opening a sandwich to examine its contents. Well, young slough discovers that when Middleton was a young man. Before he made all his money, he was a member of a band of nihilists. Nialists? Query Dick doubtfully. Well, socialists, I guess.

Anyway, they used to meet in a cellar and plot, and it turns out that Middleton was stank with the Jap to kill a man. They'd draw lots, you know, and one time he drew the piece of paper that had the black dagger on it, and that meant that he was the goat. I don't see the connection between a black dagger and a goat. The moored Dick Gravely. Sure, the one who drew the paper with the black dagger on it, had to do the deed, see?

And Middleton drew it. The man he was to kill was a governor of a state, you see. He'd been doing things this socialist didn't like, so they decided to kill him. Quite simple, observed Dick. Did what his name do it? No, that's the point. He started to, and once he almost did it.

But something happened. Then he fell in love with the governor's daughter and they got married and went to Europe to live because the socialists were mad at him for not killing the governor and put a prize in his head. How much? asked Dick interestingly. I don't know, replied Fudge. That's just a figure of speech. so he lived over in Europe for a long time, till he thought the socialists had forgotten their grouch, and then came back to this country and made his fortune. How'd he do it? inquired Dick.

Oh, I don't know, said the narrator a trifle impatiently. He was a magnate. Anyhow, the socialists hadn't forgotten him at all, and every now and then they try to kill him, do you see? Well, that's the clue. Young sleuth discovers, and so he tracks the socialists and goes to one of their meetings in these guys. And they find his spy, and he has a terrible time getting away from them with his life. I haven't got that far yet, though,

I'm where he has just discovered about the socialists. I've got a chapter's done. Fine, said Dick, folding his collapsible lunchbox. How about the movie play, though? Dan, anything with that yet? No, I thought I'd better finish the story first and then dramatize it afterwards. That's the way they generally do it. Maybe I won't make it into a play at all, though.

I read the other. day that they don't pay much for them. I guess I'll have it published in a book first anyway, wouldn't you? Yes, replied Dick a trifle absent mindedly. Look here, Fudge. You seem an inventive sort of chap. Why don't you get your brains to working for the T.M? How do you mean T.m? asked Fudge inelegantly. I mean to try your hunt at inventing a couple of good plays for us, Fudge. Ever try that sort of thing? Fudge shook his head.

No, you mean trick plays? Not exactly. Leave the tricks out of them. Just a good play that will put the man with the ball where he can game through the other fellow's line. Or around it, Fudge. Imagine you're the quarterback and want to score like anything. locate the opposing players and then scheme to get through them.

You know your rules, don't you? Yes, I guess so. Most of them, Dick. What kind of a play would you want? A play that'll gain ground. Any kind of a play that we can use, Fudge. I don't know that you'll have any lack, but it occurred to me that if you could apply some of the ingenuity you've

this play in writing these stories of yours, to the problem of devising a play to use against Springdale, you might hit on something. I don't mind trying it, said Fudge with growing interest. You have to have a checker board and checkers, don't you? I don't believe those things are absolutely necessary, answered the coach with a smile. Take a black of paper and the paper and the pencil. After you've doped something out, studied hard. See if it's against the rules and whether it's calculated to deceive the enemy. Remember that one big rule is to bunch your strength at the opponent's weakest point. No matter how you do it. That's the thing, Fetch. Start with that in mind and work from it. When you've got anything that looks good to you on paper, bring it along.

and I'll see what it looks like to me. If it seems promising, we'll try it out in practice. What do you say? Sure, I don't mind. I'll do some tonight. That story can wait a while, I guess. Anyhow, it's getting sort of hard to write. I dare say it will go easier if I rest off a bit.

The trouble with these detective stories is that they're complicated. Take this socialist business, Dick. A fellow has to study up a lot, you know? That one reason I've thought of having them nihilists instead. And nihilists... Why don't you call them anarchists, Fudge? Gee, that's it! Fudge smote his knee delightedly. That's what I had in mind all the time.

But I couldn't think of the word. Anarchists. That's what they were. You don't have to study about them either. Every fellow knows what they are. But socialists? The gun announcing the termination of recess broke in on Fudge's remarks,

and the two got up from the coping and hurried back to school. Tell you what you do, Fudge, said Dick with a smile. You make you make a little. believe that the other team are the anarchists, and that this Young Sloof is the quarterback on your 11, that will lend a certain romantic interest to the thing, and I guess you have to have that to bring out your best efforts. That's a good idea, commented Fudge interestingly.

I'll bet you if Young Slough had been a quarterback he'd have shown some slick work. It was the last day of October, and but two games remained on clear-field schedule before the final contest, that with Leicesterville four days hence, and one with Weston Academy a week later. The high school graduates had failed to get a team together, and George Kutner had fortunately secured Weston for the date. Weston, the team which Lanny and Chester Coutrell, had seen in action at Springdale, promised to give Clearfield just the sort of battle needed in its final stage of preparation, one which, while not too strenuous, would thoroughly test out its defensive strength against open plays. Western 2 had been left without a game on the 11th of November,

and was very glad to accept Kettner's offer of the date. Secret practice began the following day and Clearfield was set the task of learning a new formation and a number of plays from it. Dick now considered that the team was well enough versed in the fundamentals. Although more than once in the ensuing two weeks of practice, fellows were sent back to the dummy, or drilled in other rudimentary branches

when they showed signs of forgetting their A-B-Cs. Dick had not yet attempted to develop the attack beyond what might be required of it from week to week. He had spent the first six weeks of the season in grounding the players in elementary football in developing what he called the wits of the fellows, by which he meant the ability to think quickly in all sorts of situations and act accordingly, and in securing coherence.

There had been a period when every fellow played for himself, a later period when the line and the back field played as though they were in no way related, and now there had come a third stage of development in which the entire team of 11 man played together. Absolute perfection of team play was still lacking, and Dick was satisfied that it should be, for he was convinced that no football team ever reached the top notch of excellence and stayed there 24 hours. Dick believed that the team which attained the height of its seasons form today began to go back

tomorrow, and his biggest fear was that Clearfield High School would reach the Xenaf of development too early. His ambition, in short, was to trot the purple on to the field on the 18th of November, ready to play as it had not played all the fall, and as it could not play the day after. How nearly he would succeed in realizing that ambition, to be seen. While he had not yet paid much attention to offense, an offense had developed naturally on the groundwork he had prepared, an offense which found wanting in several contests, had come into its own in the Benton game. With the defense, however, Dick had started early, since when all is said, a good defense is harder to construct than a good attack.

Consequently, the team's offense was a full fortnight behind its defense, and offensively and defensively both, it was far more backward than Springdale. Dick Doe was not worrying about that. It was his theory that Springdale had been developed too early, and was like to reach its tap form at least a week before its principal game. The new attack formation, now known as Formation B, was introduced to the varsity on the Wednesday before the Leicesterville contest. It was designed to conceal the play until the last possible moment and required only slight shifts of the back field before the ball was snapped. A close line of seven players was used.

The left half back stood behind left guard and some two yards back. The right half in a corresponding position on the other side. The quarterback stood three yards directly behind center and the full back stood three yards farther back of quarter. From this formation plunges at any position and runs forward. passes, lateral passes and pants could be got off without enough shifting to appraise the opponent of the character or point of attack. The center usually passed direct to the runner. The future that was most important in Dick's eyes, however, was that it not only concealed a pant,

but protected the punter. Fullback had only to drop back another step or or two, and quarter need only jump to the right out of the path of the ball to convert a rushing to a kicking formation. To add to the deception, the slight shifts need not be followed by a pant. A fullback run around either end or a forward pass might follow, or de vall at the last moment might be snapped to either of the other three bags. The formation had promised well on paper, and by Thursday it had proved itself. Dick's campaign was built around Morris Brent to a large degree. Dick did not believe that his team was sufficiently powerful in rushing ability to gain with certainty through the Springdale line inside the latter's 20 yards.

nor while he looked for some success with forward and lateral passing, did he expect to be able to cross the opponent's goal line by that style of play? It was Morris's drop kicking, he was counting on inside the enemy's 20-yard line, and there appeared to be no good reason why that accomplished young gentleman should disappoint him. Morris was now taking his regular amount of work and had been making seven and eight goals out of ten in practice and in scrimmage with the scraps. What might happen, though, if Morris went stale before the game

or had an off day on the 18th, Dick hated to think. He did not flutter himself that his plan was a secret from the enemy, for Springdale well knew Morris kicking powers and knew that he was as good as ever in spite of his accident in the summer. The only deception Dick could hope to indulge Anne was that of concealing his place until the moment came to strike.

Once inside the Springdale 20-yard line, Clearfield would be expected to try for a failed goal unless, which was not at all likely, she found herself able to rush the ball over for score. Springdale had twice sent scouts to watch her opponent play, a proceeding which had visibly annoyed George Katner, who had never become reconciled to Dix and Lannis no scouting edict. However, it is doubtful if the Springdale spies discovered anything of

to their team. On one occasion they had seen clear field beaten by Corwin and on the other had watched the purple captured the Benton contest by the use of the most elemental place. Springdale herself had come through a successful season, meeting with but one defeat and one tie. She was due for a hard game next Saturday, but after that, like Clearfield, she was opposed to a team which was likely to afford her only a good stiff practice. One point there was on which Dick had finally satisfied himself. Springdale was without the services of a player who could be relied on to score by goals from the field. An excellent punter she did have, to, in fact, but a drop kicker was not included in her assets.

Springdale, in a word, was counting on a victory to be secured by all-around superiority of line and backfield, and not by the individual efforts of any one star. Dick often wished that he too was able to pin his faith on a powerful attack that would win through the opponent's line. The trouble with depending on a single individual to win a share at least of the points was that if anything happened to the individual either before or during the game, the fat was in the fire. Consequently, he watched after Morris like a mother hen protecting a long chick, and sometimes ruefully told himself that he was unwisely banking too much for success

on one boy's right leg, if anything happened to that leg. But Dick refused to dwell on that contingency. He couldn't afford two and keep his wits about him. On Saturday the varsity, 25 strong, journeyed to Leicerville in a special pumpkin-hued trolley car and engaged in the last hard game before the final test. End of Chapter 19 Chapter 20 of the Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber

This livery box recording is in the public domain Chapter 20 Morris calls in the doctor Nearly the entire school accompanied the team to Leicesterville The distance was short and the journey could be made inexpensively on the trolley line. Besides, football enthusiasm was by now rampant. The Benton victory had rekindled dampened patriotism, and the yellow-sided cars which sped across country in the wake of the

varsity special, were filled to the limit with excited and noisy partisans. Lesterville was a manufacturing town, and the Lesterville High School had an unfortunate, but not underserved reputation for roughness in its athletic cantists. Dick, who had conducted the baseball team there in the summer, recalled the unpleasantness that had occurred on that occasion and hoped that today's meeting would pass without similar incident. He looked for a victory in spite of the fact that they had agreed not to have recourse to either the new formation or to any of the place which had been designed for Springdale's special benefit.

If they could win with the old place and both Dick and Lanny believed they could, well and good, otherwise there would be another defeat, chocked up against Clearfield's record. When Lesterville kicked off at the start of the game, The purple presented Murrick at left end, Patrice at left tackle, cable at left guard, Haley at center, A-bitten at right guard, Wayland at right tackle, falcar at right end, control at quarre, white at left hand, Hansard at right half, and Anne bitten at full. With the exception of the right half-back position, the lineup was the best

best clear field could put into the field, unless having a mind Maurice Brent's kicking ability, we give him the call over Nelson Bitten at fullback. Bitten, however, hit the line harder than Morris and was more clever in a broken field, and it was probable that in the Springdale game he would be used throughout the first half, as long as Lanny and Coutrell made good with their punting, or unless a field goal became necessary. Lesterville lined up a big, powerful-looking lot of players, and it soon became evident to the visiting contingent that Clearfield would not find it an easy matter to game through the line. Her first attempts ended disastrously, and Chester Coutrell punted on third down. A big, rangy Lester Lester.

Ville back pulled the ball down and came charging back with it, eluding tacklers until he had raced over for white marks. Even then, it required the combined services of Lanny and Hanser to stab him. Lesterville started at once on a series of plays on tackle, that proved good for two and three-yard gains, the fullback standing two paces behind center. took the ball direct and slammed at Patridge or Wayland and seemed always to find a hole on one side or the other. Leicesterbill marched down into Clearfield territory before the latter solved that attack, simple as it was.

Then Coutrell closed his line and dropped his ends back and Leicesterbill found the going harder, finally transferring her attention to the center of the line. She was halted on the 28 yards and forced to kick. A short punt across the field was captured by Kutrell, and that youth punted on first down from his five-yard line, the ball going to midfield. Lesterville got off a short forward path

that just failed of giving her her distance and followed it with a fierce attack on the center. A penalty for off-side set her back, and, after another attempt at a forward pass, which grounded, she punted to Clearfield's 23. There Hansard caught, and, with good interference, ran back nearly to Meadfield. With Anne Bitten and Lanny Alderick,

Clearfield secured first down on plunges between God, A fake kick play fooling the opponent badly. Lesterville was set back five yards for holding. Kutrel on a quarterback run squirmed outside of tackle for four yards. Biddon plunged at right guard for two more

and Lanny made the distance on a run outside left tackle. A second attempt at the same wing netted two. A plunge at center was thrown back and Kutrell passed forward to Merrick for seven. Bitten gained two through left guard. With the ball near her 30 yards, Lesterville tightened, and after two attempts, which gained but half the distance,

Clearfield punted across the line. Merrick was offside on the next scrimmage, and Clearfield was set back. Leicterville worked a double pass and gained six around Merrick's end. On the fourth down, with half a yard to go, the Leicterville quarter fumbled and the ball went to the purple. Lanny got away around left end for seven.

Bitten made two through right guard, and Lanny shut around right end for four. He was roughly tackled and clear field called for time, while he got his breath back. The pig skin was now on Leicesterville's 14 yards, and the clear-filled partisans were demanding a touchdown. A forward pass, beaten to Falker, from kick formation, gained five yards, Falker being tackled on the sideline and thrown out. Time was again called.

The right end, having had most of his breath knocked out of him, From the nine-yard line, Lanny dashed around left end for scant yard and placed the pig skin in front of goal. Morris Brett replaced bitten at fullback. A fake kick, Hansard carrying the ball, gained two yards of left tackle, and on fourth down, with two to go, Haley snapped to Morris, who lifted the ball over the cross bar from the 20-yard. line. Clearfield 3, Leicesterville 0. The quarter ended after the kick off. The ball down on

Clearfield's 18 yards. Dick took Morris Brand out and put Nelson bitten back. Several of the clearfield players showed signs of wear. But there were no serious injuries. The second period was all Leicesterville's four Clearfield, lost the ball on a fumble, by Hansard, soon after the quarter started, and the adversary recovered it on the purple's 15-yard line. Lesterville in the stand and around the field shouted delightedly, as the big full-back plunged straight through a haley for half the distance to go. A second attempt at the center, however, gained less than a yard, and the Lesterville left half fell back as if to try a drop kick. Clearfield, though, was not to be fooled, and the quick plunge by right half

at the left end of the line was stepped for no gain. This time on the fourth down, the ball really went back to the kicker, but the pass was low and the ball failed to go over the bar. Clearfield failed to gain, with Lanny carrying the ball around her left end and Coutrell punted. The ball went high and was caught on clear fields 34 yards. From there, by means of a forward pass, which gained 12 yards straight across the middle of the line, and attacks between guards, Lesterville worked back to the purple's 12 yards. A penalty for holdings set her back 15. A forward pass failed and a double pass behind the line netted four yards. Then Skin Tackled Play got through for four more,

and a massed attack at Sender gave the enemy first down on Clearfield's 11 yards. Again, however, Clearfield dug her toes and repelled three attempts for a total loss of five yards. And once more Lesterville attempted a goal from the field, and once more a poor pass upset her calculations. This time the wall bounded back from a charging Clearfield lineman, and the Leicesterville quarter fell on it on the purpose 23 yards. A fake kick followed by a run around the left of her line, brought Leicesterville to the 15. A forward pass was tried, but Clearfield spoiled it. A plunge at Haley gained a yard, and Leicesterville sent her left half into kicking position.

The pass was again too low, and the line failed to hold, and the left half hurled the ball across the field to an end. Gordon Merrick put the end out, however, and the pig's skin groaned and went to clear field. The latter's attempts to circle the ends gained little, as did a plunge at the center, and Kutrell punted to the enemy's 45-yard line. The Leicterville quarter was downed for no gain. Lesterville plucked the line again, and the half ended with the bowing hair possession on the purple's 32 yards. Haley, Cable and Hansard, had been pretty roughly used, the latter having sustained a strained ankle. Dick substituted Brimmer at center, Roby at left guard, and McCoy at left half.

Tapper was recovering from an injured knee sustained in practice, and Dick was loath to risk him. The third quarter began well for the visiting team, for a fumble on her 24 yards, lost Lesterville possession of the ball. Control sent Lanny at left guard and gained three yards and then hurled the ball across to Merrick, who had got free. But the throw was too short and lost a down. A delayed pass to McCoy opened a hall at Centre, and McCoy get through for four. Bitten went back as if to punt, and Coutrell dashed straight ahead for the remaining distance. Bitten, however, was hurt, a Leicesterville player having charged into him, rather more roughly than the occasion demanded and had to retire. Lanny drew the empire's attention to the offense, but that official claimed not to have witnessed it.

Maurice Brent took Bitten's place. With the ball on the home team's 13 yards, Morris went back to kicking position, and Coutrell skirted the left end for two yards, being downed near the side line. A criss-cross with the ball going to McCoy, lost three, and again Morris went back. But once more the play was a fake, and Lanny got five yards past right tackle. On fourth down there was still four to go,

and Morris stationed himself on the 20-yard line. Brimmer, however, passed miserably, and the ball struck the ground a yard in front of the full back. Morris got it on the bound, but it was then too late to kick. alluding one of the opposing ends, who had almost reached him. Morrish dashed away toward the left of his line. Lanny ran with him and put out one of the enemy, but Morris found no chance to turn in

and was finally brought down to the ten-yard line by a terrific tackle that left him half-stand. Time was called, and Lanny again appealed to the officials. But neither empire nor referee would allow that the tackle had been unfair. Maurice groaning with pain, pointed to his leg, and Dick's heart sunk. Quickly he was lifted up and carried off the field and Abbey, a third-string substitute, was put in his place. Leicesterville got her backs working finely and forced her opponent back into her own territory

before the tight turned. Then a penalty for off-side and a signal that went wrong necessitated a punt, and the ball again changed hands. But there was no further threatening of either goal and the quarter ended. In the fourth period, Young Hall went in for Coutrel. Brian took Merrick's place. Falker gave way to Toll and a-bitten to Kent. with eight substitutes in the line-up, things looked bright for Leicesterbill,

but Leicesterville too had been forced to make some changes, and the teams which battled through the final 15 minutes proved, after all very evenly matched. The new linemen gave good accounts of themselves, and Perry Hall ran the eleven brilliantly. The plague, which had slowed down in the third quarter, was speeded up again, and it was soon seen that Clearfield was getting the jump on her opponent. Hall mixed his plays well, and at the end of five minutes,

Clearfield was once more knocking at the enemy's portal. But although she managed to get the pig skin to the eight yards, there was no one to try a field goal, and Hall's attempt at a forward pass over the line failed. Leicesterville worked back to midfield, was held there and tried a forward pass which McCoy captured. Another slow but certain advance toward the Leicesterville goal reached the 20-yard line. There a fumble lost the purple possession of the ball and Leicesterville punted on second down. Hall caught and warmed his way past the enemy for 15 yards.

A forward pass gained 12 yards on first down. McCoy buttered his way through 4-8, and Lanny gained the rest. The ball was back on the opponent's 18 yards again, and Clearfield cheered mudly and shouted, Touchdown! at the top of her lungs. But the purple was playing against time now, and there was bat scanned two minutes left. Lanny struck the left of the line for a slight gain

and got so roughly treated that time was cold while he was taken out, remonstrating and Tapper put in. Another attempt at the right of the line by McCoy gained three, and then Tapper was given a chance to show what Morris's teaching had done for him. But although Brimmer managed to pass fairly well and the purple line held like a wall, tapers' drop kick went two yards wide of the goal,

and Lesterville fell on it for a touch-back. Then, after one scrimmage, the whistle shrilled and the game was over. Clearfield the victor by one goal from the field. Clearfield at large was well enough satisfied with that result, in spite of the fact that several of the players were suffering minor injuries, which would keep them out of practice for several days. For it was realized that not only had coach Lovering used many substitutes,

but that he had succeeded in winning without divulging a single new play, which, since rumour headed that Springdale Scouts had been seen there that afternoon, was considered a fine bit of fortune, but Dick himself was far from satisfied with the way, things had turned out, although he kept that dissatisfaction to himself. He and Morris Brent were both pretty and communicative on the trip back. They sat together with George Kutner on Morris's other side, and although Morris summoned a smile when fellows asked how he felt, an attentive study of his countenance might have revealed the fact that his cheerfulness was assumed

and that all the way back to Clearfield, he was suffering pain. And although, when they changed cars at Town Square, Morris managed to walk without much winsing, it was seen that Dick and George Cutner helped him in and out of the cars. At the corner of E and Sawyer streets, they alighted. Now, since the other fellows were no longer present, attempting no disguise of the effort it caused the in, injured boy to get from the car to the sidewalk. Dick hurried around up East Street to his house

and was soon back with Eli, into the runabout Morris was assisted. George Kattner drew back, and Eli jugged slowly and carefully out Sawyer Street toward Brent Wood. For a block or two, the occupants of the car were silent. Then it was Morris who spoke. Of all the rotten lack, He declared bitterly. Dick nodded. It's tough, he agreed grimly. I am awfully sorry, Morris. The silly doctor told me it was just as good as the other one, too.

A fat lad he knows about it. What do you suppose I've done to it, Dick? Dick shook his head helplessly. I don't know, Morris. I couldn't find anything like a break. Maybe it's just a wrench, after all. "'Gee, I hope so,' muttered the other. "'I don't see how it happened anyway, do you?'

"'He tackled me all right, didn't he?' "'He tackled below your knees,' answered Dick grimly. "'I could see that, even if the empire couldn't. "'I suppose when you went down, you twisted the leg somehow. "'Well, it's done now. "'I'm sorry for you, Morris, and I'm sorry for the team. It leaves us in a hole, all right? We've been counting on you all fall, you see,

and we've built our game around you. I don't suppose Tapper. He's not much good, Morris growled. He doesn't seem to get any swing at the ball. Hang it all, Dick. I've got to play. That's all there is about it. If that fool doctor says I can't, I...

I'll tell him to forget it. I'm afraid your folk. won't forget it, though, replied Dick drily. There's just one thing to do, Morris. What's that? asked Morris, groaning as the car went over at jams. Keep it quiet, answered Dick. None of the fellows know that you're badly hurt, if you are, of course, and it mustn't get around. Springdale must think we've still got you to kick field goals.

We can fake along somehow. Morris? The doctor will let you calm out in talks and sit on the bench anyway. I guess, and maybe you can trot about a bit. Don't see what good that'll do if I can't play, objected the other dejectedly. It'll do some good, Morris. We'll have to change our plans for the Springdale game, but we needn't let Springdale know we've changed them, see? Oh, muttered Morris thoughtfully. Now, when you get home, your telephone for the doctor at once and get his verdict. But swear to secrecy, Morris, and swear everyone of your folks to secrecy too.

Then, call me up and tell me what he says. No, don't say anything over the phone but yes or no. If you say no, I'll know you can't play. But don't let us say. all hear about it. If you can hobble out on Monday, I'll come for you in the car. I want the paper to report you at practice. I want Springdale to keep right on thinking that we're banking on you for field goals, Morris. I'm not going to lie about it, but I'm certainly not going to put anyone wise. See what I mean? Yes, I see what you mean, all right? But,

but hang it, Dick, it doesn't do me any good. It'll do you a lot of good if you see us win from Springdale instead of lose to her two weeks from today. Replied Dick, It's the one way, I guess, in which you can help us to win now, Morris. Remember that. All right, Dick. Anyway, maybe it won't be as bad as we think.

Maybe if I keep out of it a few days, I'll be right. "'We'll see,' said the other. "'Now I'll give you an arm into the house. "'Stay where you are till I get out.' Dick looked cautiously about and was relieved to find the street deserted. "'All right now. Put your arm over my shoulders. That's the ticket. "'Hard much? Not, not much,' answered Morris from between clenched teeth. "'Three quarters of an hour later, Dick looked.

left the supper table to answer the telephone. That you, Dick, asked a voice at the other end of the wire. Yes, answered Dick. This is Morris. Yes. He says, never mind that. Careful, Morris. Is it yes or no?

There was a fateful pause. Then, no, growled the voice. End of chapter 20. Chapter 21 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This library box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 21. The new plays are tried. The Football Council or Board of Strategy, as George Katner liked to call it, met at Dick's House Sunday night. Gordon, who had dropped a round to call, was included.

Lanny, Chester Coutrell, and. and Katner were the other members. Nan save Dick, knew of Morris's injury, until Dick made it known. The consternation indeed did rain. Do you mean? Demanded Lanny. That he won't be able to play at all against Springdale?

The doctor forbids it. The leg isn't broken anywhere, but it's had a bad wrench. And Morris says he simply laughed at him when he asked if it would be well enough by the 18th for him to play. He is on his back today and must stay there until Tuesday at least. I went around there this afternoon. Morris isn't Dick smiled slightly.

Isn't awfully cheerful company just now. But that puts us in a beast of a hole, exclaimed Lanny. Can Tapper kick a goal if he has a chance? The best Tapper has done is something like four out of ten tries from around the 20-yard line and at almost no angle. I think by next year

George will be a fairly good drop kicker but there isn't much hope for this year. Of course we'll keep him at it and make him do the best he can but there's no use counting on him much in the Springdale game fellows. Lanny laughed mirthlessly. Pleasant news, isn't it? he asked of the assemblage. It might save us trouble to forfeit the game.

We're not beaten yet, responded Dick. Besides you, chaps, and me and the doctor, no one knows of this, excepting Morris's folks, of course, and they, as well as the doctor, have been sworn to secrecy. Now I want you fellows to agree not to breathe a word of fit to anyone, not to even talk of it amongst yourselves. They each nodded, looking however rather mystified. There's just one thing left to do, continue Dick.

We've got to change the campaign. We've planned around Morris's drop-kicking, and plays kicking. We've got to plan now on a rushing game, but Springdale knows that we've got Morris Brent to put the ball over for us from anywhere inside the 20 yards, and Springdale doesn't look for us to try to rush it over if the going staff. Once inside her 20, she will expect a try at goal. Our one hope lies in allowing her to continue thinking that, That's why this has got to be kept quiet fellows. If she gets news of it, she'll know too much.

Just as soon as Morris is able to get out, he will put talks on and report every afternoon. Since practice is secret, no one will know that he isn't playing. I shall tell every member of both teams tomorrow that anyone giving out a particle of news will be dropped at once. once. In the Western game, I'll have Morris show himself on the field. The same any time we hold open practice. No one need no of this, except ourselves. But if we don't use him in the Springdale game, when they guess, asked Gordon. They'll worry, replied Dick calmly.

I wouldn't be surprised if Morris sitting in plain side of the bench was as much used to us as though he played. For that matter, if the right conditions arrive, I mean to put him in. In spite of the doctor, gasped Chester. Now I'll get the doctor's permission for Morris to go in if he doesn't play. If he doesn't play, then what? Lanny pausing, viewed Dick with dawning comprehension. Then he granted, I see there might be something in that at a pinch. And I'm afraid the pinch is going to come,

said Dick grimly. I don't see, begun Katner. I'm not ready to explain just yet, Dick interrupted. I'll have to work it out. Later, I'll have something to suggest. Morris is still an asset, even if he can't play, and we've got to find a way to use him. Now, then, let's see if we can play out a game that will win without any field goals.

My conviction is that near Springdale's goal, we won't be able to smash that line of theirs much. So, we've got to find a way of getting around it, or a way of opening it up. Here are some plays I've been working on. I want you see what you think of them. Dick took up a half dozen sheets of paper. These are all from B formation. I think we will stick to that formation and attack right through, fellows. I don't believe that anything is to be gained by using the other at times.

Formation A won't allow any play that B won't. and the fewer things we have to remember the better. Now, here's a forward pass from kick formation. Bitten falls back to punting distance. You hold your place, Lanny. Chester jumps to the right out of the way of the path, and Tapper holds his place too. You and Tapper and Chester are in position to protect the kicker,

and so far there's nothing to give it away. The ends go down as if under the pant, right end willing toward the center after getting by and left keeping out toward the side line. The ball is passed to beaten and he fakes a kick and then runs, not too fast, to the right about ten paces and throws to right end, if he is uncovered. If not, then to chopper, who, after blocking and letting his man buy on the side, run straight out to the right. You, Chester, protect the throw from here, just in front of Benton.

We've got to get the time right in this play. About ten counts should see everyone set for the throw, perhaps eight. We'll have to work that out in practice. The same play can be used on the weak side. In that case, Bitten would run to the left. You're following him, Chester. and Lanny running out to the side to take the throw in case left end isn't uncovered. I'm going to number these eight on the right and nine on the left.

What do you think of it? There were some criticisms. Lanny pointing out that there might be danger from the enemy's right wing coming through. This was discussed and finally the play was set aside for trial. Dick next presented a delayed pass from kick formation with left end calming around and taking the ball from quarter. This promised a good variation of an old play and Chester was enthusiastic over it. Three other plays followed, a delayed pass with fullback taking the ball for a plunge at center, a rather complicated lateral pass in which the entire backfield participated.

and a simple tackle-around-play with an end participating. All were decided to be worth trying out against the scrubs. Finally, Saturday's game came up for discussion and criticism. And after that had been thoroughly threshed out, the subject of injuries was brought up. Only Nelson Bitten had suffered more than superficially. He was pretty well bruised. Lanny reported.

It was decided to excuse all the players who had gone through three periods on Saturday from tomorrow's practice. It was almost 11 o'clock when the conference broke up, and after the others had gone, Dick remained until nearly midnight at the parlor table. Once he took up a blue book, 14 of whose 32 pages were decorated with one. weird plans from the brain of Fudge Shah and examined the contents attentively. But in the end, he laid it down with a sigh.

Fudge's plays were all old, true and tried. He had utterly failed to show any of that ingenuity which he lavished on his stories. Dick reflected. After that, he took up his own place and studied them frowningly, seeking to discover the weak points in it. Later still, he put his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and gazed tiredly and discouragedly at the green-shaded lamp.

In spite of his hopeful attitude before the others, he was in reality pretty low in spirits tonight. It was, he told himself ruefully. All very well to talk glibly of changing the plans, of battle at the 11th hour, but would any new plan work out? As martyr stood now, Springdale possessed a stronger and much heavier line, an equally fast and slightly heavier blackfield, and an equally good punting department. She was trained by an experienced coach, who had been with the team for several years,

and, who had previously shown himself remarkably clever at devising new plays for his man. On the whole, Clearfield's outlook was rather depressing tonight, and Clearfield's coach, when finally, he put out the lamp, lacked up the house and went to bed, was far from hopeful. But morning always brings new courage, and Monday morning made no exception Dick's sketched. The sun shone radiantly.

There was a pleasant crispness in the breeze, which blew through his window and things looked a heap better to him. Although, actually, conditions had not changed a bit since midnight. At breakfast he neglected his eggs while he searched anxiously through the Springdale paper

for its account on the Clearfield and Lesterville game. And when he had read it, his side with satisfaction. Not a word was said about Morris's injury. That incident had gone and noticed, or so it appeared. Leicesterbill, November 4th, he read, Clearfield High School won an interesting and closely contested game from the home team here this afternoon,

3 to 0. The visitors showed more team play and were better able to gain outside of tackles. Neither team had enough punch to put the ball over the line, clear field making the only score by a field goal in the first period. Brent kicking from the 20-yard line. Nothing new in place was shown by either team. For Leicesterville, Norris, fullback, played a fine game and Purdy, at quarter, run the team well. Lesterville's line was low and the opponent owed many of her gains to the fact. For Clearfield, Captain White played his usually brilliant game and was well assisted by Hansard and N. Bitten, and later by Brent,

who went in for beaten. Many substitutes were used on both sides. The local paper, which gave nearly a half column to the event, mentioned the injury to Morris, but gave no hint of its seriousness. Dick was well satisfied and returned to his breakfast with a good appetite. Morris's absence from school that day went unnoticed. On Tuesday he appeared a little gloomy, but showing no sign of anything wrong save a slight limp went off his guard. All that week he reported at practice and no one outside of the field guessed that he spent the timed sitting disconsolately on the bench, wrapped in a blanket, or in coaching Tapper and Nelson Bitten at kicking goals.

On Friday the public was admitted to the enclosure, but there was no scrimmage by the varsity and the fact that Morris didn't even participate in signal work or give an exhibition of his booting ability caused no comment. since it had been understood all the fall, that Morris was being taken care of and given only enough work to keep him in condition. On Saturday, when Weston faced Clearfield, there was no good reason for kicking field goals

since the purple found no trouble in doing pretty much as she pleased with her opponent. And so again Morris's absence, occasion no surprised. He was much in evidence along the sidelines, dressed for play. And if he wasn't used, it was plainly because coach Lovering chose to score by rushing, rather than by the aerial route. Kattner assured himself that no Springdale Scouts had gained admission to the field that day

and passed the news to Dick. Consequently, in the third and fourth period, the team tried out some of the new plays on Weston, and so with much satisfaction that they puzzled the adversary and gained ground. Although a light team, Weston was quick to size up plays, and that the new one succeeded against her argued particularly well for them. Dick put in what was practically an entirely substitute lineup in the fourth quarter, and the subs gave an excellent account of themselves.

When the final whistle blew, the score was Clearfield 26, was tuned zero. There still remained much to be accomplished in the remaining four days of practice before the Springdale contest. But on the whole, Dick was satisfied with the work of his charges. The attack was not yet as smooth as he wanted it, But on the defense, the team had shown up finally, and against a team which, if not powerful, was more than ordinarily versatile and resourceful. Dick's defense against forward passes worked well, and Gordon Merrick at left end and fell her at right covered themselves with glory.

Clearfield's own attempts at forward pathing were not very successful, but Weston had been coached to guard against such plays, and was consequently hard to deceive. The number eight play did, however, catch her napping on two occasions. The school at large went away highly pleased with the showing of their team, and predicting route and disaster for Springdale the fall. Saturday. Springdale too overwhelmed a weak opponent that afternoon, as Dick learned by stepping at the square on his way home with Gorton in Eli. In fact, Springdale had

scored seven more points than had Clearfield, but since it was a question whether Springdale's adversary was not an even weaker team than Weston, Dick refused to be traveled. On Sunday, Fudge called for his blue book and was at first plainly disappointed at Dick's verdict. When, however, Dick had explained that what the team wanted was a play that was deceptive rather than merely involved Fudge took heart again. Fudge was a born optimist anyway, and it took more than one disappointment to discourage him. I get you now, Dick, he said, packing his blank book.

You'll leave it to me. I thought of a dandy play this morning in church, but I've got to work it out. I'll show it to you tomorrow. Talk about deceptiveness. Gee, this is a corker. That's fine, said Dick, with a smile for Fudge's confidence.

What's it like? But Fats refused to the bulge and information regarding it, taking himself off with renewed requests for Dick to leave it to him, which Dick, having lost faith in Fudge's ability as a football tactician, was perfectly willing to do. Tuesday morning the clear-filled paper made a startling assertion. In practice yesterday, it said, Morris Brent, high school's phenomenal goal-kicker, made what is probably a record hereabouts.

Brent put over 17 goals from 20 tries, most of them from difficult angles. If more than half of Clearfield's total against Springdale is not made by these players clever right foot, we lose our guess.

Now, we're in the name of common sense gasped Dick. Did they get the tale? Lanny, when Dick repeated the question to him, left. That's some of Chester's nonsense, he said, Billings. He does the high school news of the paper, you know, met Chester after practice yesterday and tried to work him for news. Chester told him he wasn't allowed to say anything of what went on at practice. But, says

Chester, you're a fellow who's seen a lot of football, Billings, and I want to ask you one thing. Did you ever know of any drop-kicker putting over 17 out of 20? And from hard angles? Of course Billings said he hadn't, and wanted to know all about it, but Chester wouldn't talk. Begged Billings not to use what he had told him, or if he must use it, not to tell where he'd got it,

and then bid it. So that's how that happened. Dick smiled and frowned, finally he left. Well, that's what I'd call a near lie, Lanny. Still, it is funny. And it won't do us any harm either. I hope the Springdale paper caps it.

It did the next morning. It not only cappied it, but it enlarged on it and declared that five of the successful attempts had been made from the 40-yard line. Chester was vastly amused over the of what he termed his diplomacy, but Morris, oddly enough, was as mad as a hatter about it. It makes me look like a fool, he declared.

Anyone knows you couldn't drop five goals over from the 40 in 20 tries. Who started that yarn? He wasn't told, however, as Lanny said, they'd need Chester's services next Saturday, and he would be a far more use whole than in pieces. End of Chapter 21. Chapter 22 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This livery box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 22.

Tears, songs and speeches. The Tuesday afternoon practice was the hardest of the season. For four 12-minute periods, The scrubs, driven to desperation by Dick's reiterated assertion that this was the last chance to show what they could really do. Eternally prided by Captain Nostrand and taunted until they were fighting mad by quarterback Ferrar, drove at the varsity as if their future salvation depended on the other demolition of the adversary. Nostrand thumped them on the backs. even kicked them none too gently when they crouched too high on the fence,

shouted threats and pleased until his voice cracked. Pete Ferrar shrily called them names, boneheads, queers, babies, peps, and they're dumb to show one tiny scrap of intelligence of fight and dick, hobbling from one side to the other, sculling, instructing, praising some times, egged the opponents on. Even George Kettner

and Pyrieve took a hand in, or rather lent a voice to the vocal confusion. But the varsity stood firm on the fence and was irresistible on attack, and the scraps, yielding gradually, were forced back and back toward their goal time and again.

But how they did fight that day? one would have thought that the two teams were the bitterest enemies to have watched them mixed it up. Fudge played himself out by the end of the third period and had to yield it to a substitute, as did others before time was finally called. The varsity scored twice in the second quarter, once in the third and again in the fourth, when a fumble gave them the ball on the opponent's 12 yards, and Lanny, in three tries, shot a cross for another six points. Twice the scrub got to the varsity's five-yard line,

and twice she failed to score. Field goals were barred to both teams, and it was rushed, pass or nothing, and the scraps piled themselves up against a defense that was like a concrete foundation. Later, just before the game ended, the varsity by two well-managed forward passes, took the pig skin to the Scraps 12 yards.

Less than a minute of time remained, and, after an ineffectual attack at right guard by Nelson Bitten, who had taken Chester Coutrell's place, called, 39, 69! 408. Buck sped the ball to the fullback. The lines heaved and swayed.

Off dutch the ends, right and left. Bitten trotted to the right, poised the ball. Right half hurled himself against an obtrusive tackle. Recovered and sped toward the sideline. Then the line broke. The scraps came piling through, leaping, pawning, arms upstretched. Hall went down under the onset, but beaten his gaze on an up-thrust hand near the goal line, douched a scrub forward, and hurled the ball straight and threw above the melee.

Too late the scrub bags saw the trick. The pig's skin flew into right Anse's arms, and that youth ramped across the last white mark and sunk to his knees between the posts. Number eight had worked once more. Dick led Fudge aside later in the dressing room. I got that play, Fudge. He said, Sorry, I wasn't in when you came. What do you think of it? demanded Fudge exultantly. Isn't it a pitch, Dick? Dick smiled. I think so, he replied. I'll try it out tomorrow. it isn't a play that we could use more than once in a game, Fudge,

for its merit lies in its power to surprise the other chap, and he wouldn't fall for it more than once, I guess. I don't see why, Fudge objected. Think a minute, answered Dick gently. The corner kneels to hold the ball and then runs with it. The opponent might think once that it was a bona fide placement, kick, Fudge. But the next time he would be on the lookout, instead of getting sucked in, he'd watch the quarter and his backs would go through outside of tackle and smear the pass.

But never mind that, it looks promising for one-time play, and, I believe, it's going to be just what we will want on Saturday. I only wish you'd thought of it before, Fudge. So do I, but, say, I've got another one. Save it for next season, laughed Dick. There's no time to teach more plays now. What's the matter with your ear? Some idiot kicked it, I guess. Fatt felt of it cautiously and winced.

Better bathe it. It's pretty well swollen. Well, thanks for the play, Fudge. There was a mass meeting in Assembly Hall that is. evening, and the fellows sung and cheered enthusiastically, until at nine, Lennie and Dick appeared and mounted the platform. Lanny spoke first. He had the simple, direct way of talking that pleased his hearers, and, tonight, although he said nothing very new, he managed to work the meeting into a fine frenzy. Chairs followed, repeated over and over, and then,

and Dick arose and faced a new tumult. He couldn't help but contrast this greeting with that which had met him at that former meeting, and the thought brought a smile to his face. When the cheers had subsided, he spoke. Fellows, there isn't much anyone can say on the eve of a big game, and anyhow, Captain White has got ahead of me. I do want to thank you personally, though, just as white thank you on behalf of the team

for the splendid support you have given us all season. A few chuckles were heard, I want to thank you too for your, for the good feeling you've shown me, I appreciate it, and I want to tell you that it has made a difference, helped more than you can possibly realize. I don't want to seem to be asking for credit for whatever share I've had in the development of the team. But I do want to say to you that when I undertook this job, I didn't appreciate what it meant. It's been, well, it's been hard work, fellows, harder work than I expected, and there have been lots of discouraging moments.

And that's what I say that you've helped me. just as you've helped us all, by letting me know, as you have let me know, that you had confidence in me in spite of my, my limitations. Now, fellows, your part, your share in this isn't done yet. It won't be done until the final horn squacks Saturday afternoon. You can do a lot from now on, quite as much as you've done already. I want you not only to believe thoroughly that we're going to win, but I want you to make the team understand that you believe it. I want you.

I ask you particularly to make Springdale know that you believe it. There's a lot of talk nowadays about psychology, whatever that is, and some of it's probably puppy cuck. But I firmly believe that there's such a thing associated. impressing the adversary with your confidence, that he will be affected by it. It isn't just a theory, either. I've seen it work out more than once. I suppose you'd like me to tell you what I really think about our chances to win on Saturday.

Well, I'm going to tell you even at the risk of making the team overconfident, which is something it can't afford to be. I think we're going to win and win the team. decisively. Dick had to wait for the applause to subside then. I don't mean by that that we'll pile up a big score, for I think the teams will be too evenly matched to score many times. But I do mean that when the battle is over, there won't be any doubt as to which is the better team. I'm not belittling the enemy. Springdale has a fine team, a team, at least 25% better than she had last year.

You have only to study the results of the games she has played this season to realize that. But on the other hand, we've got a fine team too. Along more cheering Dan, wild and continued. Along in the middle of the season, I told you that our team was no more than an averagely good one. I think it wasn't. Now it is. It's as good a team as ever represented the school, and that's saying not a little when you recall some of the teams, which although not very lately, have defeated Springdale by overwhelming scores. But good as it is, it's got to play hard, play for all its worth, play like, like Thunder. The Springdale line is a strong one. Few teams have made much.

impression on it this fall. The Springdale Bucks are a fast and clever lot and half-scoring power. The team has been finely coached and knows a lot of football. They have good ponters over there too, no better than ours, I think, but not to be despised. There's one thing they haven't got fellows, and that's a man to kick field goals. Cheers and shouts of Brandt! Brent! A, A. Brent! Broke into the discourse, and Morris, sitting in the front row,

studied his scarred hands attentively and hit the look in his eyes. I want to prophesy, fellows, continue Dick, that if we get the ball inside the Springdale 15-yard line, we'll score. I'm not saying how we'll score. He added with a smile when he could, go on, but we'll score. Tears and

laughter mingled, and someone increased the latter by shouting Every little three-spat counts, old man. I guess that's all I have to say, ended dick. You've got the team. All you've got to do is to be back of it every minute, and let the other

fellow see that you're back of it. Don't get the glooms if they score first. Keep on cheering. The game isn't over till it's won. The meeting gave itself over to riot for several minutes. Then the singing began again, and finally, hoarse, dubilant, excited. The fellows made their way out of the hall

and down the stairs to form in a procession outside the building, and march, cheering and singing through the quiet streets of Clearfield, accounting the sleeping inhabitants with the fact that the team was all right, that Captain White was all right, that coach lovering was equally all right, and that so play as you may, you can't play better than he with a CITS on his swearer. On Thursday there was no scrimmage, but instead hard two hours of drill.

Fudge's play was tried, but since all proceedings were behind, closed gates. We are not presumed to know how that child of his fertile brain turned out. Still, merely judging by fudge's pleased and important expression during the next day or two, it is allowable to suppose that the play proved satisfactory. On Friday, the school marched in a body to the field with banners flying and purple megaphones beating time to the strains of Clearfield's Day, performed by dull silver cornet band, 11 strong, and sung by some 150 voices. There was no scrimmage, but the two varsity squads trotted up and down in signal work and kicked a few goals,

or tried to. For some reason, Maurice Brent wasn't given an opportunity to prove his ability, and the spectators stood up in the stand and cheered and sang at the behest of a boy with a yard-long megaphone, and enthusiasm was rampant. And at the end of 20 minutes or so, the scrap team, who had finally deft their uniforms the day before, gathered together in front of the stand, and cheered the varsity, and the varsity squads joined forces nearby and heartily cheered the scraps, and all preliminaries were at last over and the stage was set for the performance. End of Chapter 22. Chapter 23 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain.

Chapter 23. Cable kicks off. There was a final gathering of the council at Dix that evening. What time the school was in a school was in. conducting its last football mass meeting in Assembly Hall. Lanny, Huitrell, Kattner and Tapper attended, and Dick, of course. Tapper had been asked to come since Dick wanted to go over carefully the plays that were to be used in the Morrose game, and it had been decided that in in case Lanny was forced to leave the team, George Tapper should act as captain.

They were all rather serious tonight. Lanny especially showed the strain. Dick felt it, but did not show it. On the five, Chester Coutrell alone seemed fairly in his usual condition of might. Together, they went through the game from start to finish, providing as well as they might for every contingency. Plays were prescribed for this situation and debt, and Chester was put through an examination in the choice of them that would have staggered a less confident youth. One or two doubtful plays, which had been placed in their repertory, were now stricken out, for somehow this evening their judgment seemed to have found a new clarity.

Some time I think I've got to many plays. served Dick doubtfully. But we don't have to use them, I suppose. The only objection to having a lot is that the fellows are liable to get them mixed, said Lanny. Still, if we drop three and eleven, that leaves us only eight freaks.

I don't like that word freak, said Dick, with a smile. I hope they won't prove freaks. Don't you worry, Dick? replied Chester heartily. The plays we've got are all right, and you'll find that they'll keep Springdale guessing too. The only one I'm scared of is that number ten, the one Fudge calls his secret play.

How did Dickens, did he happen to think that up? Asked Tapper. I don't know how he thought of it, replied Chester. But I don't believe it will work, fellows. It isn't expected to work more than once, answered Dick. And then, as you understand, Chester, only under certain conditions that may not happen. I've molded over a lot, and I realize that it's risky. But if we pull it off or try to, will be where it's going to be necessary to take a risk.

And, after all, fellows, more games are lost by avoiding risks than by taking risks. them. If it comes to that, said Lanny, we won't have anything to lose by that play if it goes wrong. It's to be used on third down, you know? Sure, but wouldn't another play be more certain? asked Chester. A forward path? inquired Lanny. Not necessarily that direct pants to full back for an end run. For instance, that's a hard play to size up, because it's hidden until the runner gets started. I like that play, and I think it's going to work any number of times. But this secret play, as you call it...

I don't call it Dad. I call it number ten. Remonstrated Dick. Well, whatever you call it. I don't see what's to keep Springdale from tearing through on it and smothering it way behind our line. Well, you saw how it won yesterday. said Lanny.

I didn't see it tried out before an opponent, answered Chester dryly. There was a silence for a moment. Then, well, if you fellows think it isn't going to make good, cut it, said Dick. I may be all wrong about it, and, as Chester says,

we didn't have a chance to try it in a scrimmage. Mind you, said Chester, I haven't got cold feet on it. That is, I'll try it. All right, and make it go if it can be done. All thing I say is that I don't see how it's going to fool the other fellow. As Dick says, observed Lanny, it's a risk, but we've got to take risks tomorrow. I say, use it.

All right, that's good enough for me, agreed Chester cheerfully. If it does go, it'll go hard, I'll say that for. it. After the others had gone, beating him good night, rather soberly on the porch, Dick took himself to bed, but sleep didn't come readily to-night. There was too much to think of. He wandered over and over if he had done wisely here or well there, wondered for the hundredth time if his plans, his methods, his strategies were to be crowned with success. He wondered whether the team was really as good as it had seemed to him yesterday, even this afternoon. There were moments as tossing back and forth on his pillow.

He heard 11 and 12 o'clock strike, when it seemed to him that nothing but certain defeat impended, that there was not the smallest chance in the world for a clear-filled victory. That wasn't a pleasant visual that Dick kept up there. under the roof that night. Some time after twelve he fell asleep, but only to turn and mutter for a long while after his tired mind evolved dream after dream, in all of which misfortune pursued him relentlessly.

When he awoke, the world was grey and cold, with a foretaste of snow in the air, and he found nothing in the outlook to inspir'd him. But a cold bath set sluggish blood to tingling again, and a cup of steaming hot coffee brought back courage and determination. While he was looking through the papers, the telephone bell rang, and he found manager Katner on the line, irritated of boys. Springdale had just telephoned over for 35 more seats, and they didn't have that many unless they could get the workmen outdoor to put up some temporary ones. The matter was really outside Dick's jurisdiction, but George was so perplexed that Dick gave

his mind to the problem for a moment. There wouldn't be time before 2.15 to get seats up, George? He answered after an instant's reflection. Call up Mr. Grayson and see if he will let you have half a dozen rows of chairs from assembly hall. I think he will if you tell him you're fixed. You can put them along the front of the Springdale section. That was but the beginning of the telephone's activity. Chester called up next, and after him George Katner again.

George was now in a condition of sputtering wrath. The Springdale manager had just telephoned that Wanson, the man who was to have umpaired the game, couldn't officiate, owning to illness, and could Clearfield find someone to take his place. Springdale would be satisfied with anyone selected. Get right after Mr. Cacron, George. Try the YMCA first, if he's not dare run around to his house on D Street, the White House near the corner of Lafayette.

I think he will do it. How about the seats? They're all right. I'm trying to get hold of Stuart now. Sorry to bother you so much, Dick. Goodbye. After that until late afternoon, Dick had no chance to be gloomy. He was much too busy. The team and substitutes gathered at 12 o'clock in the mansion, the smaller and quieter of clear fields to hotels, and had their luncheon. Dick presided and did his best to keep the fellows steady. On the whole there was little indication of nervousness, and the meal passed off quite cheerly.

At one they adjourned to the upstairs parlour, were behind closed doors, Dick put them through a final examination in signals. By that time the town showed the presence of the invader. Blue bonners and arm bands and megaphones were in evidence on the streets, and the cars coming up Pine Street from the station were well filled. Manager Katner joined the team, breathless and tired, just before they were ready to start for the field. I've just had an awful experience. He gasped as he sunk into a chair. Mr. Grayson telephoned to me for an extra pair of tickets and wanted to pay for them.

What are we coming to? Did you let him? laughed Bert Cable. No. but the experience quite unnerved me. Cochrane's going to empire for us, fellows. The Springdale chaps got tonsillitis, or laryngitis, or bronchitis, or... or...

Called Fittitis, suggested Lanny. Cochran's all right, I guess. What's the time, Dick? Time to go. Are the cars pretty full, George? Jammed. Looks as if old Springdale was here. They're running extras through from the station, though, and I guess we can crowd on.

Already? Come on, then? Gee, but I wish this was over. By a quarter past two, when Springdale came on for practice, the stands were nearly filled. The blue had a section to herself, and it was a blossom with waving flags and small white-lettered megaphones. Dahl's silver-cornered band, augmented for the occasion to the grand total of fourteen pieces, disgursed sweet, well, discoursed music. Let us not be too particular as to the quality of it. Springdale was well represented, Clearfield was daring force.

Dick had given tickets to Louise Brent and Mrs. Brent as well, as to his sister and mother, and they were seated together in the front of the stand. Louise armed with a silken purple flag. Five minutes after the Blue team appeared, Clearfield's warriors emerged from the dressing room, and Lenny Liddick tried it out to warm up. Mr. Newman, the blues coach, crossed the gridiron and shook hands with Dick,

and the two talked for a minute. Then Mr. Caccarin appeared and presented, the referee, Mr. Lathrop, joined the group. At each end of the field, balls were arching over and under the cross bars. Nelson Bitten and George Tapper, trying their kicking fit for Clearfield, and Saddle and Norton for Springdale. Morris Brent, although he had treaded above for a minute with the first squad, had returned to the bench.

At two minutes before the half hour, the teams returned to. the sidelines, and Mr. Lathrop walked into the center of the gridiron with Lenny. While from across the field came Captain Turrey of Springdale. The two leaders shook hands with each other, and Terry with the referee. Then a silver coin gleamed for a moment in the sunlight, which, since noon, had been shining half-heartedly through the sullen clouds. Three heads went over as it fell. Terry's hand waved toward the east goal and the little group broke up. All right, fellows, called Lanny Tierfoy as he came back to the bench.

We kick off from the west goal, on the run now. Blankets and sweaters were dropped, and eleven purple-stacking youths raced out to spread themselves across the field. Springdale arranged herself for the kick. A last cheer came from the stand and silence fell. Already Captain Turrey called the referee. Already Captain White. The whistle sounded, Bert Cable, who had teed the ball to his liking. Steped forward and swung his foot and the game was on.

End of Chapter 23. Chapter 24 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libri Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 24 Between the Haves Clearfield Merrick left end

Patrice left tackle Cable left guard Haley Center A-bitten right guard Wayland right tackle Falkar right end Cutrell Quarterback

White left half back Tapper, right half back and bitten, fullback Springdale Cummings, right end Terry, right tackle, furnished, right guard Heath, center

canal, left guard, gray left tackle, Borden, left end, Kelly, quarterback, Sotel, right halfback Cook, left halfback, Norton, fullback. That was the way the teams lined up at the start, with no surprises on either side,

unless, possibly, the absence of Brent at fullback could be considered such. But it had been clear Fields' policy all the fall, to put Brent in only when a failed goal was called for, and the fact that he did not start the game aroused no suspicion. Morris, blanked, wrapped, sat beside Dick on the Clearfield bench, and watched moodily as Sertel cocked the kick-off some dozen yards in front of his goal, and sprung forward with the ball. Merrick tried for him and missed, and it was Wayland, who finally locked his arms about the runner, and downed him on the 20-yard line. Clearfield applauded the tackle and the teams faced each other. Springdale used a formation in which the ends dropped back a little,

and the backs made an oblique tandem behind right or left guard. A shift which placed a guard on both guard and tackle on the opposite side of the line, was generally used, and sometimes the backs formed behind the long side, and sometimes behind the short side, a future which caused not a little perplexity to Clearfield during the first of the game. A split attack, the first man in the tandem going to the right, the second man straight ahead, followed by the quarter carrying the ball, and the third man to the left, was a favorite play and fooled the opponent many times.

Springdale stuck to attacks between tackles, all during the first period, punting when unable to gain by rushing. Her line was heavy and fast, played low and hard and usually managed to open holes. The back started from close behind and stacked the line almost as soon as the ball was put in play. Springdale's policy was to get the jump on her adversary, and it must be acknowledged that she succeeded. The oblique tandem leaped into place just before the ball was snapped, and often the play came through while Clearfield was still moving to meet it. From the 20 yards to the 40, Springdale worked her way without pause,

the backs making short but consistent gains between Patridge and Wayland, and finding the right side of the Clearfield line the easier proposition. Arthur Bitten was put out of the play time and again, and Dick sent Kent in for him at the end of some five or six minutes. Springdale supporters were cheering incessantly as the blue plowed her way toward the middle of the field. Kent bore a message to Cottrell and cleared field, who had been playing six men in the line, now dropped her other end back. This allowed both half-backs to close in toward the middle, and the next two tries at the center failed.

Still, disdaining end runs, Springdale sent Norton back to kicking position, and knifed her left half between guard and tackle on the left. But the fake had not deceived the adversary, and Cook was stepped for a slight gain by Tapper. Springdale then punted from the 48-yard. and the ball went out at Clearfields 23. It was the purple's chance to applaud, and a hearty cheer went up as the ball was brought in and the teams lined up again.

Formation B evidently inspired the opponent with misgiving, for she dropped her backs into a deep basket formation, leaving five men in the line and spreading them well open. Kutrell tried out the other team's defense, with a straight plunge at center, which went through nicely and followed it by a run-off tackle on the left, that added three yards. With two to go, Lanny piled through right guard for first down. Springdale brought her backs further in, being convinced that clear-filled strange arrangement of her back field, did not necessarily foretell a forward pass, and two tries at the left netted the purple but four yards. Faking a plunge at the center,

Kutrell sent Tapper tearing off to the right. But the interference failed, and he was stepped near the sideline for no gain. Lanny punted to Springdale's 40, and Falker down the cutter in his tracks. Springdale, her quarter running off his plays like lightning, came steadily back. Kent was proving hardly stronger than Arthur Bitten,

and many plays went through his position to be stepped by the secondary defense. Lanny played a magnificent defensive game, sensing the point of attack and jumping to meet it. More than once, he was literally awaiting the runner when the ladder shut through. Springdale was showing a powerful offense, and her linemen were playing like veterans, which, with three exceptions, they were not. Buck passed the center of the field, the blue progressed, using old-fashioned football all the time, but using it so well that the brand of the defense was falling to the lot of the clear field backs.

Springdale got her plays off so quickly, and from so close to the line that it was difficult for Clearfield to foretell the point of attack. A penalty for Holdings set her back but failed to stop her. On Clearfield's 42, with four to go on third down, Kelly, the Blues Quarter, again tried a fake kick. And this time Clearfield failed to size up the play. Kelly himself plunged through cable

and Ludiot Lanny for 12 yards, and the blue floggs waved riotously in the stand. The pig skin was now almost on Clearfield's 30. The blue's full back hit the line for three yards, and tried again for no gain. A split attack went past Haley for three more, and on the 25-yard line. Kelly again sent Norton back. This time the play was a double pan. and Sotel got through between Kent and Wayland. The defense, having been badly fooled,

the tape was used and first down was declared. Before the ball could be put in play again, the quarter ended. The teams traversed the field and lined up again on the 20 yards. Clearfield now played her ends in and spread her backs. Kelly failed to gain at the right, and Sotel made three through the opposite side. Clearfield supporters were imploring the purple to hold. Springdale sent Norton back and rushed two backs and an end to a left as the ball was snapped.

Norton swung his leg, sidestepped and hurled across to the group. But the throw was short and Falker knocked it down. Again Norton went back, but the ball was passed to cook. and that youth went dodging and spinning through the center. But he was stepped on the 15 yards, and the ball went to the defenders. Two plunges gained four yards, and Lanny kicked from almost under the goal. The ball went low and rolled erratically. Finally, being dropped on by Kelly closed to the T in midfield.

Springdale accepted the challenge and punted on second down after a two-yard gain. Cutrell cocked in his 24 yards and dodged back seven before he was thrown. From kick formation, Lanny took the ball around Springdale's right end for five yards. A forward pass was then attempted, Cotrell to Merrick, but Springdale had guessed the play and Merrick failed to make the catch. Lanny punted to the Blues 27 and Cook brought it back five. Springdale now started at the ends and her first attempt sent Sotel around Merrick for 12. A fumble was recovered with a loss of four yards. Norton tried cable but was thrown back and Cook failed to get through Wailant.

Norton panted to the Purple's 26 and Lanny fumbled but recovered on the 20-yard line. Dick sent Hansard in for Tapper who was limping badly. Hansard bore instructions to Coutrell to get his plays off faster and an improvement in the speed of the team at once resulted. The teams were well over on the left of the gridiron, and Coutrell pulled off the number six play with success. This play brought Merrick running a black lay back from position before the ball went into play. Hansard going into the line between guard and tackle on the other side. to maintain the required number there. Bitten played back in kicking position.

The ball went to Cotrell, however, and he made a two-handed pass to Merrick as the latter swung by between him and Bitten, and, with Lenny interfering, raised in a wide arc around his own right wing. Springdale was cocked, knapping, and Gordon covered 18 yards before he was stepped. Enthusiasm took possession of the Clearfield supporters, and purple megaphones howled and shrieked.

Springdale was for a moment off her balance. It seemed for skin tackle play on the left, with Lanny hugging the pig skin, went for seven yards. Control speeded up to team, and in two plays the ball passed the middle of the field. With three to go on third down, Hansard, keeping his feet, wonderfully, fought straight through for six. Springdale tightened then, and Lanny was thrown for no gain when he tried left of the opponent's line. Bitten fell back to kicking position, and hurled the ball across the line to Falcar. The latter got it, but fumbled when tackled and the ball popped into the arms of Springdale back,

who was downed on his 34. The rest of the pierced of the pierced. was Springdale's, for she came back hard and for a time almost drove clear field off her feet. Wayland was hurt and gave way to Skat and Springdale replaced her right guard and her left tackle. But there was no time to score by the methods Springdale used. Only twice where runs outside of tackle resorted to, the blue apparently striving to wear down the purple's defense. by furious results. Once Cook nearly got away, but was pulled down from behind by Lanny, after he had made almost 15 yards through the right of the Clearfields line. On the Purples 28 Springdale

made a forward pass to the side of the field, and again for a breathtaking moment, it seemed that the blue was about to score, but Kutrell forced the runner over the line, at the 20 yards, and before Springdale could gain farther, the whistle blew, bringing the half to an end. The clear-field players trotted to the dressing room, and the visitors retired to a tent in a corner of the field. Chairs and songs started again. The band played its loudest, and some 1,200 spectators excitedly discussed what had happened and predicted what was going to happen. There was no gain saying the fact that the blue had shown the more consistent offense,

or that in the matter of punting she had fully equaled the home team. That Clearfield plainly possessed a more versatile attack was allowed, but whether she had plays capable of gaining inside the 20-yard line was a question, except that, as everyone knew, Brent could be depended on. to score from the field provided the line held. Doubtless clear field would do her utmost in the next half to reach a position where Brent's science could be used. As to defense, it seemed a toss-up between the purple and the blue.

Both teams had been well-trained in that department. If there was any difference, it lay in the fact that Springdale forwards were a bit quicker at charging. thus leaving less work to the backs. In the two periods played Springdale had made eight first downs to Clearfields three, not an encouraging showing for the home team. Perhaps Dick was considering that as he followed the team and substitutes into the dressing room, at least he looked sober enough in all truth.

Springdale was not showing the signs of overtraining that Dick had more or less counted on. Although there had been moments in the last few minutes of the second period, when he had thought he could detect a falling off in the power of the attack. The removal of two linemen also suggested that the blue was approaching its limit of endurance, for his own team Dick had no fears. They had stood the heart-smushing of the Springdale Bucks excellently. Not a player had weakened under the strain, and none of those taken out had sustained injuries sufficient to prevent his reinstatement. Dick expected the purple to play better in the next two periods. Expected it, in fact, to finish stronger than it had begun, for there was no denying that it had played a slower and more listless game than it had showed against Weston the week before.

While the fellows were being wrapped and having their brusses attended to, Dick conferred with Lanny and Chester Coutrell. Lanny was pretty well keyed up, Chester unusually grim and silent. We've got to have Tapper back, Dick, declared the captain. Hanser doesn't get into it. All right, Lanny. And look here, you've got to hump that line up on defense. Do you get me? They're getting the jump on ass every time.

What's the trouble? I don't know, replied Lanny rather wildly. They've been letting every blessed play through on ass. That's a mean attack of theirs, Dick? You can't size it up. I know, but you've got to watch the ball, Lanny. You can't tell where the play is coming by guessing. Another thing, fellows.

It won't do to spread your backs too much near goal. Better play your ends well out and force the runner in, and keep your backs behind center. They've haven't any running game that we need fear, I think. Of course, they'll try to spring something this half, and we'll have to be on the watch for it. But whatever you do, Lanny, and you, Chester, don't let them score on a line play. They can't if you charge quickly and watch the ball. And, Chester, you're not getting your plays all fast enough. I want you see things go twice as fast this half.

It's their kick-off this time. Let's see if we can take that ball straight down the field, fellows. I'll tell you frankly that you haven't been putting up half the game you did against Weston or Leicesterville. You've got to wake up and fight. That's what you've got to do. And well enough satisfied with what's happened so far. We've let them work themselves pretty tired, I guess, and we've held them off. But for the rest of the game, we've got to jump and smear them.

We've got to force the fighting, fellows. Line up quickly. Get your signals off quickly, and then... Dick smote a fist into the other hand. Smush into them. The others nodded, Lanny eagerly. Chester thoughtfully. And use your delayed place more, Chester.

Try that number eight, and if it goes, keep on using it. And once, near their goal hammer the left side of their line. That new tackle of theirs doesn't look much to me. Stick bitten through there a few times. Find the weak spot and hammer it flat. But above all, play fast. You've got to do it. Dick turned on his heel and sought a tapper.

How's that knee, George? He asked. All right, Dick. To prove it, Tapper arose eagerly from the bench and swung his leg. Dick smiled. All right, go in again, but take care of it. And George, we've got to play faster than we've been playing. See if you can't get more jump into it.

Merrick and Falcar, here, please. For several minutes Dick spoke earnestly and in low tones to the two ends. then manager Katner, who had been keeping track of the time, announced that only four minutes remained, and Dick swanked himself over to the window and faced the room. The noise died away. I'm not going to tell you fellows that you've played good football, because you haven't, began Dick earnestly. You've let Springdale get the jump on you all through the half. You haven't watched the ball as you should, and you've been fooled time after time for that reason alone. You're every bit as good as Springdale, but you don't let them know it.

You linemen have let play after play go through you, just because you've been watching your opponents instead of the ball. You'll never win that way, fellows. You're putting too much work on the backs. They can't do it all. You've got to keep your eyes on the ball and charge quick and hard. Some of you have been playing much too high, get down low, and when you charge, lift them up. Remember that you're facing men several pounds heavier than you are.

The only way to even that app is to play faster than they do. Don't meet them on your side of the line, meet them on theirs. The same thing is true of you backs. You've started slow almost every time, and you've let up when you hit the line. Don't do it. Get your speed before you strike the line and then keep on going. I ought not to have to tell you these things at this late day. You know them well enough, but you don't do them, or you haven't done them. You've got to for the rest of the game, though, if you want to win.

Someone's going to score this half. It might as well be us. But if it is to be us, we've got to play better football. We've got to watch the ball. ball, play like Lekning, and fight like bear cats. Springdale is going to tire before long, but she's got a lot of fighting her yet, and you've got to work hard to keep her from winning. I want you fellows to go back there now and start in and everlastingly play football. Wake up and show something. You've got it, fellows, so show it.

When you get the ball and the kick off, hang on to it and take it right down. the field and put it over. You can do it if you only think so. That's all. Play hard, Clearfield, and fast, fast, fast. And now then, Merrick, Patrick, Patridge, Cable, Haley, A-Bitten, Scat, Falkar, Cotrell, White, Tapperin, and Bidden. All right. On the run, fellows, cried Lanny. The door slammed open and out they trailed. The team to throw off their blankets and race into the field and the substitutes to handle again along the bench and watch and wait. Tears meet them and the band started, see the conquering hero calms. Much of the tune, perhaps, but enthusiastically enough to make up for lack of harmony.

Clearfield spread itself about the east end of the field, and Springdale lined up behind its 40 yards while heath, the center, built up the tea and cocked the bowed the bow. ball to his liking. The sand had gone behind the clouds again, and the little cold breeze was squartering the field from the northwest, causing spectators to pull racks around their knees and batten coats at the necks, and the players to tread about as they waited for a whistle. Ready, Captain Torrey. Ready, sir? Ready, Captain White. Already, sir? The whistle blew. He, strode forward and swung a long leg and the pig skin arched into air again. End of Chapter 24.

Chapter 25 of The Secret Play by Ralph Henry Barber. This Libri Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 25 The Secret Play Chapper caught near the side of the field and allowed himself to be forced over at the 20-yard line. The ball was taken in, and Chester Coutrell slapped his hands and barked out his signal. White back, 47, 68, 62! Lanny fell back to kicking position, Nelson Bitten, taking his place behind left guard,

and Chester jumped aside to the right. 47, 68, 62. Back shot the ball to Chester, off-darted tapper for the guard-tackle hall in the right. Bitten and Lanny swung wide to the left. For a moment the lines heaved and fought. Then the ball clutched to his stomach. Chester plunged straight ahead and went through where Haley and Arthur Bitten had opened a wide hole. The Springdale line had been pulled apart and the secondary defense had been.

been drawn out. Chester slipped away from a tackle and staggered on, dutched past the back, and was pulled down finally after ten yards had passed under his feet. The linesman pulled up the ruts and scampered past two white marks, and the clear-field section shouted wildly. Chester, breathless, was pulled to his feet and tried it back to position. Regular formation, he called. Line up, get down there, scat. Signals, 309, 2562. Lanny jumped to the right in front of Tester.

309.2562. It was Lainey's wall direct from center, and he sprung of the same hole as before, Tapper clearing it out for him, but only two yards resulted this time. second down, eight to go, announced the referee. Line up quickly, called Chester. Here we go now, regular formation, signals.

98, 99, 84, 98, 99. The ball went to Chester, was passed to Nelson Bitten, and that youth struck like a cannonball at the opposing left guard and tackle hall, and piled through for four yards. Clearfield was getting the jump on her opponent at last. Get up, get up, tricked Chester impatiently. Signals! The ball was on Springdale's 36 yards now.

It was third down and four to go. Lanny pulled Chester's head down and whispered. Signals! repeated the latter. 22, 53, 306! 22, 53! Tapper had slipped into the... line between right guard and tackle, and now Gordon Merrick was running back toward where Nelson Bitten crouched behind Chester. Then came the ball to the ladder, off-raised Lanny behind his line

toward the right. Chester passed to Gordon and that player, one hand outstretched toward off attack, and the ball in the crook of his right elbow followed Lanny. The spring-lail tackle was boxed and Thalker sent a half-back flying out of the path. Then the cry of, In, in! was heard and Gorton, passing behind his interference. Sped through an opening in the enemy's front, and was laid low for a seven-yard game. The middle of the field was inside now, and thus far every play had told. A plunge of the clear field right, beaten carrying the ball, game three.

Lanny shadowed sight of left end for four more, beaten made two at center, and Chester knifed himself through for first down on Springdale's 46 yards. The Clearfield supporters were cheering incessantly, and the bass drum was thump, thumping lovely. Springdale was fighting desperately, but the pace was beginning to tell on her. Time was called for an injury to a Springdale tackle, and when finally he was on his feet again, an eager-faced youth was reporting to the referee. Holman, sir, left tackle.

The injured player yielded his head guard and limped off on the new arrival gathered the team about him, and for a moment or two there was a whispered conference, interrupted by the referee. Then the punting players faced each other again, the back scrouched behind Cotrell and he piped his signals. Bitten slammed into the line at left guard and got through for nearly three yards, but Scat had been detected offside and Clearfield was set back five yards.

With 15 to gain, Lanny tried his own left hand, but failed to get past. Bitten hit the center for two on a delayed path. Lanny got three through left guard. guard. Bitten went back to kicking position, and Partridge crossed to the right of the line. Kuttrell and Tapper moved to protect the ponder. Then the ball was snapped to Bitten, who swung his foot, ran half a dozen paces to the right, and poised the ball. Kutrell and Tapper guarded his front for a moment, and then the latter swung wide to the right toward the side line, and Lanny cut through outside tackle and went down the field. Merrick and Falcar had also sought positions for the

pass, but Felker was guarded. Bitten waited until the last moment and then, just as the Springdale players leaped upon him, stepped back at pace, and Harold to Lanny, who was for the moment and guarded. The throw went over the center of the line, just escaped the upstretched hands of the blouse, and was cocked by Lanny nearly 20 yards away. Like a flush, he wheeled and set off down the field. But the Springdale quarter was not to be the night, and Lanny was pulled down by the blues 26 yards. Chairs and tricks of the light came from the stand. Dick knotted to Morris, and that youth arose and walked up and down the sideline. His gaze fixed anxiously on the the teams, but time had been called for Lanny, who had had his breath pretty well knacked out

of him in the tackle, and Dick turned tentatively to where McCoy set further along the bench, blanket wrapped, his eyes too bent intently on the field, but Lanny was soon up again, and, had you been sitting next to McCoy, you'd have heard a sigh of disappointment. Itester Cotrell Thamped the lineman on the back Horsley encouraging and threatening Lanny pulled his head guard on again and the whistle shrilled

The back sprung to their places And Cutroll gave the signal Tapper received the ball and herald himself at the right of the line But the blue held and there was no gain Cutrell scalded And raged A criss-cross sent Lennie three

yards through left guard, and it was third down with seven to go, the pig skin of the 23. On the sideline, Morris was strutting slowly up and down, casting eager, inquiring glances at Dick's inscrutable face. Signals, tricked Coutrel. Get into it now, Clearfield, make this go, signals, 81, 29, 61. Watch for a forward. called the Springdale quarter from under his goal. Come back, Holman, break this up, Springdale.

81, 29, 61. The ball went to Chester. Lanny and Tapper swept to the right and hurled themselves a tackle. Chester, his back to the enemy, hugged the ball. Confusion reigned. The left of the Springdale line broke. Then bitten sprung ahead, took the ball at a hand passed, and slid through the center,

was tackled, plunged on, fighting and squirming, went down with two Springdale backs on him, and finally granted, Down! The whistle blew,

and the referee sprung at the pile-up and healed up the spat. Fourth down, he called. Two to go! On the sideline, Morris tagged his sweater and cast an impatient look at Dick, but the latter shook his head,

and Morris walked back to the bench and sat down again. They've got two yards to go, Dick, he said doubtfully. Yes, and they can do it, Morris. Your time will come. Wait. And do it they did, Lanny himself squeezing through between center and left guard for just enough to secure first down. The ball was now on the 13 yards, and Clearfield was yelling like so many Comanche Indians. While steady tears for Springdale rolled across the field, Kutrell hurried the fellows back into place, called his signal, and Harold Bitten at left tackle.

Two yards resulted. Springdale was stiffening now under the shadow of her goal. Bitten was yanked to his feet and hobbled back to position. 98, 49, 32! The line said and the back scrouched. 98, 49, 32. Back came the ball. Lanny and Tapper plunged at the left of the line.

Bitten sprung forward and, Boll, bowl! cried Chester. Bitten had fumbled. Springdale lineman Harold himself passed with a mighty rasping of canvas and plunged forward. Chester was tossed aside. A muffled voice called, Down, and the whistle blew.

Springdale's ball, cried the referee. First down, ten to go. A groan of disappointment rose from the clear field stand, but the blue pennants waved mightily, and two hundred springdale voices burst into wild acclaim.

Bitten with miserable face, hung his head as the blues quarter took command, but Lanny shouted encouragement. Never mind that, fellows, let's get it back. Now, play, play! Springdale hurled her fullback through for a scan three, made to more around the left end, and then punted from under her goal. Her line held fast, and the ball went flying up the field to Cottrell,

who made a fair catch on the 38 yards. Then the journey back begun. Lanny got through the left for four yards, and bitten was stepped for no gain. Then the quarter came to an end. Dick sent Kent in for Arthur Bitten, Todd for Partridge, and tall for Falcar. A minute later, the teams lined up once more on the Blues 34 yards. On the next play, Springdale was cocked offside,

and Clearfield gained five yards. Lanny tried a wide run around left and, and made a scant three yards. With three to go on fourth down, Lanny punted. The ball went over the line and was brought back to the 20. Springdale made first down in three plays through cable. The latter was hurt and Roby went in for him. A forward pass, following an unsuccessful triad center, gained six and Sotel added two past scat.

Norton went back, but the ball was passed to left halfback, and that player got around Merrick for four. securing first down on his own 43 yards. Springdale pulled her line apart and scattered her backs to the right of center across the field. Clearfield shifted to meet deformation. The ball went to left half on a long path from center, and he raced around the short side of his line. But he only made three on the play. A fake kick resulted in a try at the forward.

but Merrick broke it up, and, with seven to go on fourth down, Springdale punted to the Purple's 24. Lanny caught and got back eight yards before he was stepped. Kutrell again tried a delayed pass, but the enemy got through and downed bitten for a loss of two yards. A Chris Cross made five through right tackle. On the next play, Kutrell took the ball for a try around right end, But was pulled down behind his line, and it was fourth down with nine to go. Coutrell was plainly used up, and Dick sent in Hall. Chester received a fine ovation as he came off.

Hall, after a conference with Lenny, sent bitten back and the ball went to Tapper, who squirmed through outside left tackle and evading tacklers, managed to make it first down near the sideline. Hall displayed a lot of ginger, and the plays began to go off faster. With Lanny back in kicking position, straight plunge by Bidden took the ball to the middle of the field. Lanny secured the needed two yards past left tackle. Hall failed at a run-around his own right wing, and on the next play, get off a fine lateral pass to Merrick,

who made eight yards before he was thrown. Bitten plugged the center for four and a first down. A fumble was recovered by Benton for a loss of six yards. But to offset that Springdale was detected holding in the line, and the ball went back again. A forward pass from delayed play, bitten to tapper, almost got the youth free for a touchdown. But the Springdale quarter stepped him on the Blues 27.

Three tries gained but four yards and beaten hurled to Merrick. But the throw was short and the Springdale end got the ball and run it back to the 36. Springdale failed to gain in two attempts and punted to Lanny. After rumping halfway across the field, he was pulled down for no gain. Lanny tried the left end and made two. Bitten failed to get through right guard, and Lanny punted to Springdale's 33 yards. Springdale put in three new linesmen in a substitute fullback. McCoy went in for Tapper. There was six minutes to play now.

Springdale was no longer able to game through the line and tried white formation attacks, with the runner handing a hole wherever he could find it. She gained on two such plays and made first down on a forward pass. She was showing the strain now, and her forwards were weakening. Another attempt at the forward pass from her 45-yard line failed, and she punted to the Purple's 30. Hall cocked and squirmed and dutched back through half the opposing team, being finally halted on his 48 yards. Time was now nearly up.

Dick sent in Brian for Merrick and Brimmer for Haley. Haley had been pretty badly used and was distinctly gruggy as he was led off. Brian brought instructions and the purple players gathered in a group and listened to them. The linesman announced four minutes to play as the teams faced each other once more. Hall sent McCoy at the center and gained four. sent the same player against the right of the line and made two. Then Lanny sped past left tackle and barely gained first down on the opponent's 42 yards. Bitten fought through center for three.

Then with bitten back, number eight was tried again, and tall cocked the pass for a 12-yard gain and almost get free for a run. Clearfield supporters were on their feet now, imploring a touchdown. and Springdale was cheering steadily, doggedly. Springdale put in a fresh center and a new left half, and Dick substituted Arthur bent for Kent. With the pig skin just back on the Blues 28 yards, near the right side line, Hall St. McCoy around the long field and, four scant gain of two yards, then beaten made four between left guard and center. At the left, passed with Lanny carrying, added three.

With Lanny back in kicking position, Hall himself took the pig skin past red tackle, and for two made it first down on Springdale's 17. On the bench, Dick nutted to Morris. Bitten tried the left of the Blues line and secured a scant yard. Springdale called time and administered to her right guard. Lanny attempted to get past left tackle, but was pushed back.

Springdale Gain asked for time, and as the whistle blew, a southern chair burst from the clear field section. On to the field raised two purple's tack-in'd warriors. One was Tester Coutrell and the other Morris Brent. Springdale, in imagination, saw the game slip from them then. It would be no trick for Brent to drop or play. kick from the 17 yards. All right, Perry,

called Chester. Sorry, let's have that head guard. The players clustered around Morris and thumped him ecstatically. Perry Hall trotted disconsolately off, and the whistle blew again. Clearfield sprang back to position, beaten following Hall from the field,

and dragging his feet weirdly as he went, effort jumbled in articulate prayer for victory. All right now, Clearfield! shouted Chester cheerily. Here's where we score, everyone into this heart. On the bench, Fawd, taking the place beside Dick left vacant by Morris, whispered nervously. Is he going to try it now, Dick? Dick, his hands clutching his crutches tensely.

His face rather white and strained, knotted without turning. Fudge gave bent to a huge sigh. Gee, he muttered fervently. I hope it goes. Then Coutrelle's voice came sharply across the field again. Brent back, left tackle over. Morris slowly retreated to kicking distance. Block this, shouted Springdale.

Black this kick, get through and block it. Chester followed Morris back and knelt in front of him. All right, he asked, looking up. Morris knotted, shuffling on his feet. Chester patted the ground with his hand. Morris looked for an instant at the crossbar and edged back another foot or so. A little more this way, he said.

Black this, Springdale! implored the blues quarter, dodging back and forth behind the line. All right, said Morris. Quiet fell over the field. The Clearfield lineman crouched. Lanny behind his own left guard, poised tensely. Across from him, Tapper stood ready to guard the kicker.

Tad was between bitten and Wayland on the right of the line. Chester facing the left. One knee on the ground held his hands toward the center. Signals! he shouted briskly. Forty-four, eighteen! 110. Morris gave a final look at the crossbar. The enemy, ponding, gaspring, swore drastically. 44, 18, 110. Blackhead, block it! tricked the defenders. Buck sped the ball to Chester's outstretched hands. The lines heaved.

Canvas rasped against canvas. Body strained. Christ and grunts from labored lungs made pandemonium for a moment. Morris stepped and swung his leg. Half a dozen blue-clad arms reached in air. The Springdale right end broke through, but met Lanny and went hurtling aside toward the line. And then, just as the Springdale forwards came charging through, Chester, the ball snagled in the crook of his left elbow, sprung up and darted straight ahead toward the left of the field.

ahead of him ran Lanny, but Lanny had little to do. Springdale was tricked. There had been not the slightest doubt in the mind of any of them, but that Brent's appearance at that moment meant a try for a goal. The line from end to end had been intent upon but one thing, and that was to break through at any cost and block the kick, strengthening the right of the clear-field line had grown an extra-reliad. Springdale back to that side, and now Chester was in a slight danger of being stepped. Lanny threw himself in front of the Springdale quarter and sent that frantic youth rolling head over heels, and Chester, striking in for the goal line, crossed it without a position. It was not until he was almost behind the nearer post that Hustle Arms dragged him to earth, and he was smoothered by angry blue stacking defenders. Tears thunder from the stand. The bass drum thumped a peon of victory,

caps and megaphone sailed into the air, and on the bench a round-faced youth sat silent in wandering and awed delight. The secret play had won. Two minutes later, Nelson bitten, racing back to the field, kicked the goal that added another point to that. glorious six, and forty seconds after that, the final whistle trilled and George Kattner, snatching the ball from the empire, raced into the throng with it, dodging the ecstatic youths who, flowing onto the field, were capturing the players and racing them shoulder high,

while the band played and heard, and a bubble of voices proclaimed Clearfield's victory. Ten minutes later, still, when Tabby's serious, was standing perilously on the railing of the grand stand leaving the cheers. A hoarse voice demanded, Lovering! We want coach Lovering! The demand was multiplied by 200 voices, and willing emissaries darted away in search of him. But they didn't find him.

Dick, a contended smile on his face, was blocks away, chugging home in Eli. End of the secret play by R. Ralph Henry Barber.