As soon as the members of the Board were alone Chairman Stone glanced about him, and remarked: 

“So, it appears, gentlemen, that, if we do not favor High School football, we shall be regarded as what are termed ’dead ones’!”

CHAPTER III

NOT SO MUCH OF A FRESHMAN

The next morning’s “Blade” contained a column and a half, written in Reporter Spencer’s most picturesque vein.  The headlines ran:  “School Board Hoaxed.  Gentle Jokers Convey a Needed Hint.  Football Not to Be Barred in High School.  ‘Blade’ Reporter a First-off Victim in the Service of Public Spirit.”

It was a fine article, from a High School boy’s point of view.  It was an article, too, which, in a city ruled by a lively public spirit, was likely to tie the hands of a Board of Education that did not care to fly in the face of public opinion.

Dick Prescott, before he went in to breakfast, read the article in secret, with many a chuckle.

“You seem much interested in the newspaper, Richard,” said his father, when the young freshman came to table, still holding ‘The Blade.’”

“Yes, sir.  You know I have set my heart on making the H.S. eleven just as soon as I strike a higher class.  I was afraid the School Board would abolish the game from our school.  Now, I know they won’t.”

“Hm!  Let me see ‘The Blade.’”

Mr. Prescott glanced through the article, a faint twinkle showing in his eyes.

“The School Board may stop High School football,” commented Mr. Prescott, laying aside the paper.  “They may, but it would take a good deal of courage, for that article will start Gridley on a furor of enthusiasm for the game.  I wonder who got up that hoax.”

“Why, Dad, ‘The Blade,’ hints at some one down at the Business Men’s Club.”

“Hm!  I wonder who wrote the article.”

“Perhaps Len Spencer,” replied Dick.  “You know, Dad, he’s a great fan for all our H.S. sports.”

“I can just see Jason Stone reading that article at his breakfast table this morning,” smiled Mr. Prescott.  “Stone is a great sail-trimmer, always afraid of the man who casts a vote.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Mrs. Prescott, coming in breezily from the kitchen.

Dick explained the news to his mother.

“Abolish football at the High School!” echoed Mrs. Prescott, indignantly.  “And I’ve been sharing your great wish Dick, to make the team when you’re old enough.  They shan’t do it, anyway, Dick, until you’ve had your chance on the eleven!”

“No, mother,” replied the boy, very quietly; “I don’t believe they will.”

With a sudden rush of recollection of other pranks in which she had known her son to be engaged in the grammar school days, Mrs. Prescott shot a sudden, wondering glance at him.  But Dick, looking utterly innocent, was chewing his food.