“Won’t you take it, Prescott?” inquired the coach.

“I’ve no right to, sir.”

“Then tell the team why you think so.”

As soon as coach had secured silence Dick, with a short laugh, began: 

“Fellows, I don’t know whether you mean it all, or whether you’re
having a little fun with me.   But-----”

“No, no!  We mean it!  Prescott for captain!  No other fellow has done as much for Gridley High School football!”

“Then I’ll tell you some reasons, fellows, why I don’t fit the position,” Dick went on, speaking easily now as his self-confidence came to him.  “In the first place, I’m a junior, and this is my first year at football.  Now, a captain should be a whole wagon-load in the way of judgment.  That means a fellow who has played in a previous season.  For that reason, all other things being equal, the captain should be one of the seniors who played the gridiron game last year.”

“You’ll do for us, Prescott!” came the insistent call.

“For another thing,” Dick went on composedly, “the captain should be a man who plays center, or close to it.  Now, I’m not heavy enough for anything of that sort.  In fact, I understand I’m cast for left tackle or left end—–­probably the latter.  So, you see, I wouldn’t be in the right part of the field.  I don’t deny that I’d like to be captain, but I’d a thousand times rather see Gridley win.”

“Then who can lead us to victory” demanded Dave Darrin briskly.

Dick promptly.  “He’s believed to be our best man for center.  He played last year; he knows more fine points of the game than any of us juniors can.  And he has the judgment.  Besides, he’s a senior, and it’s his last chance to command the High School eleven.”

“If Wadleigh’ll take it, I’m for him,” spoke Dave Darrin promptly.

Henry Wadleigh, or “Hem,” as he was usually called, was turning all the colors of the rainbow.  Yet he looked pleased and anxious.

There was just one thing against Wadleigh, in the minds of Hudson and some of the others.  He was a boy of poor family.  He belonged to what the late but routed “soreheads” termed “the mockers.”  But he was an earnest, honest fellow, a hard player and loyal to the death to his school.

“Any other candidates?” asked Coach Morton.

There was a pause of indecision.  There were a few other fellows who wanted to captain the team.  Why didn’t some of their friends put them in nomination?

Dick & Co. formed a substantial element in the team.  They were for “Hen” Wadleigh, and now Tom Reade spoke: 

“I move that Wadleigh be considered our choice for captain.”

“Second the motion,” uttered Dan Dalzell, hastily.

Coach Morton put the proposition, which was carried.  Wadleigh was chosen captain, subject to the approval of the Athletics Committee of the alumni, which would talk it over in secret with Coach Morton.