“H.S. cheer!” exhorted Prescott, at once.

It came, with a more thundering volley.  Yet Gridley folks stirred uneasily.

“That’s what comes of putting a freshman, without judgment, on the calling job,” muttered Fred Ripley sarcastically.

The whistle blew.  Cobber got the ball, and kept it moving.  Once there was a brief setback when Gridley got the pigskin and sought to push it back.  After four yards, however, Cobber took it and moved down the field with it.

It seemed impossible to offer effective resistance to the heavy college men now.

Gridley hearts sank from sheer weight.  Gridley had met more than its match!

CHAPTER XVI

THE FAKE KICK, TWO WAYS

It was almost a touchdown for Cobber when Ben Badger rallied his men enough to fight the college men back some twenty-odd yards.  But then the tide turned once more, and Cobber began to fight its way back to the High School goal line.

The spectators had given up hope, all save those who sat in the Cobber seats.

This was to be the first defeat of the season, and the whipping was to come from worthy foemen.  Yet are home folks ever satisfied to see their own youngsters beaten?

Defeat was now conceded, however.  Even Coach Morton, though his face did not betray him, had given up all hope.

Dick, however, kept calling for the cheers and yells.  The student body did their best, but their spirits were low.

Once Morton turned and frowned, but Freshman Prescott did not see him.  The coach feared that this jubilant racket would get on the nerves of the Gridley battlers.

“How many minutes will it take Cobber to cross our line?” murmured Dave in Dick’s ear.

“They won’t do it before next year,” Prescott staunchly retorted.

Just then Cobber lost fifteen yards on penalty, and Gridley H.S. had the ball at the moment when it was sadly needed.

“Band, four bars of ‘Hot Time in the Old Town!’” yelled Prescott through the big megaphone.

The leader’s baton fell like a flash.  The band itself sharing in the excitement fairly ripped the air out in gallop time.

As Ben Badger heard he straightened up for a moment, shaking his long locks in the wind.  A smile crossed his face.  Then he bent over the ball for the pass.

“Nine—–­fourteen, eighteen—–­seven!” he called.

Evans darted quickly out on his end.  Quarter-back Winters moved his feet somewhat to left.  Trent, left half-back, shot swiftly away to an altered position.

Captain Halsey, of the college team, saw instantly that it looked like a long pass and a sprint around Gridley’s left end.  A football general must change front swiftly.  At the signal, Cobber disposed itself to bunch against the High School left.

The whistle blew.  Winters got the ball, and made the movements for a kick.  Cobber men, in the air on the jump, halted somewhat uncertainly, some of them.