Frank Thompson, Ben Badger and Ted Butler, all seniors, and stars on the H.S. football team, had risen early that morning, every one of them feeling glum over the dread that the great sport might be “killed” for them.  They were the only members of the eleven who happened to see “The Blade” early.  In consequence, these three husky young Americans were on the street early.  Just as naturally they ran into each other.

“Whoop!” yelled Thompson, when he came in sight of his pals.

“Wow!” observed Ben.

“And some more!” glowed Butler.

“Will they stop football now?” demanded Thompson.

“Not while anyone is looking,” averred Butler.

“But say, it was great of the Business Men’s Club to make such a stroke for us,” went on Badger, enthusiastically.

“Yes,” admitted Frank Thompson, “if that was where it came from.  I guess it was, all right.”

Arm in arm the three went off down the street, feeling as though the world had turned right side up once more.

Dick met his partners on the way to the High School.  All were grinning quietly.

“You’re the genius, Dick,” admitted Dan Dalzell, cordially.  “My undertaker scheme would have been ghastly.  It would have taken all the edge off the joke—–­would have spoiled it, and the joke would have been a club that would have hit us over the head.  But, say!  I wonder if the Grannies’ Club will dare to touch our sacred football now!”

“Don’t waste any time wondering,” chuckled Tom Reade.  “They wont.”

It was a happy day in the famous old Gridley High School.  Actually, the recitations went off better than they had done on any day since term opening.

Dick Prescott was out on the street rather early that afternoon.  He wanted to run across Len Spencer, and chose Main Street as the most likely thoroughfare for the purpose.  He met the reporter at the head of a little alleyway.

“Well, Dick, how did you like it?” was the reporter’s greeting.

“Say, it was great!” Dick bubbled over.

“What do they think down at H.S.?”

“Think?” repeated young Prescott.  “Why, everybody is in ecstasies.  The gloom of yesterday has vanished like the mist from a cheap cigar.  You’re suspected of writing the article, too, Len.  If the High School students can find any proof that you did you’ll get a rouser in the way of handsome treatment.”

The two had stepped down just off the street into the alleyway.

“Does everyone seem to believe that the job was put up at the Business Men’s Club?” Dick asked.

“Sure thing,” nodded Len Spencer.  “And no member of the Club will deny it, either, for the thing has struck the popular side of the town.  Why, by tonight, there’ll be at least a dozen of the members, each confidentially telling his friends that he conceived the whole trick.”

“That’ll make it all the stronger,” nodded Dick.  “Good thing.”