“I—–­I—–­well, perhaps they’re not,” agreed Purcell.

“Are you?” insisted Dick.

“In the main, I do.”

“Oh,” observed Prescott, with mild sarcasm. “‘In the main’!  Now, see here, Purcell, we High School fellows are fortunate in having one of the very best coaches that ever a High School squad did have.  Mr. Morton knows what he’s doing.  He knows how to bring out condition, and how to teach the game.  He lays down the rules that furnish the sole means of success at football.  And you—–­one of our most valuable fellows—–­are following some of his instructions—–­when they don’t conflict with your comfort or with your own ideas about training.  Now, honestly, what do you know about training that is better than Coach Morton’s information on that very important subjects”

“Oh, come, now; you’re a little bit too hard, Prescott,” argued Purcell.  “I do about everything just as I’m told.”

“You admit Mr. Morton’s ability, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why don’t you stick to every single rule that’s laid down by a man who knows what he is doing?  It will be better for your condition, won’t it, Purcell?”

“Yes, without a doubt.”

“And what is better for you is better for the team and for the school, isn’t its”

“By Jove, Prescott, you’re a stickler for duty, aren’t you?” cried Purcell.

He spoke in a louder tone this time.  Two girls who were passing the street corner where the young men stood heard the query and glanced over with interest.

Neither young man perceived the girls at that moment.

“Why, yes,” Prescott answered slowly.  “Duty is the main thing there is about life, isn’t it?”

“Right again,” laughed Purcell.

One of the girls looked swiftly at the other.  They were Laura Bentley and Belle Meade, friends of Dick’s and Dave’s, and also members of the junior class.

“Well, I’m going to take a leaf out of your book,” pursued Purcell.  “I’m really as anxious to see Gridley High School always on top as you or any other fellow can be.”

“Of course you are,” nodded Dick.  “The way you put our baseball team through last season proves that.”

“I’m going to be a martinet for training, hereafter,” Purcell declared earnestly.  “I’m going to be a worse stickler than old coach himself.  And I’m going to exercise my right as a senior to watch the other fellows and hold their noses to the training grindstone.”

“Then I’m not worried about Gridley having a winning team this year,” Dick answered.

“By Jove, you had a lot to do with that, too, didn’t you, Prescott?” cried Purcell.  “You put it over the ‘soreheads’ so hard that we never heard from them again after we got started.”

“You helped there, also, Purcell.  If you and Ripley and a few others had gone over to the ‘soreheads’ it would have stiffened their backbone and nothing could have made it possible, this year, for Gridley High School to have an eleven that would represent all the best football that there is in the grand old school.”