The “trick” signal sounded from quarter-back’s lips.

“One—–­three—–­seven—–­eleven!”

There was instant, seemingly sly activity on the part of Gridley’s right wing.  Those from Gridley who stood on the grand stand thought that the coming play looked bad in advance.

“Why don’t they use Prescott again?” asked some one anxiously.  “He has been having a vacation.”

Then followed the snap-back.  Quarter-back started with the ball, and it looked as though he would dash for the right.

The quarter took one step, then wheeled like lightning, and rushed after Darrin, who already was in swift motion.

Gridley’s whole line switched for the left.

Tottenville found out the trick after the heaviest fellows in its line had started for Gridley’s right.

“Oh, Darrin—–­sprint!  Oh, you Prescott!”

Truly the boosters were howling themselves hoarse.

There was frenzy on in an instant.

To the knowing among the watchers there was no chance for Gridley to rush down on the enemy’s goal line, but every yard—–­every foot, now—–­carried the pigskin just so much further from Gridley’s goal line.

Gridley’s interference rushed in solidly about Dave Darrin, as though to boost him through.

Dick seemed bent on beating down some of the formation surging against the visitors.

Just as the bunch “clumped” Dave Darrin went down.  There was a surge over him, and then Dick Prescott was seen racing as though for life.

There was no opposition left—–­only Tottenville’s quarter-back and the fullback.

Tottenville’s quarter got after fleeting Dick too late, for the whole movement had been one of startling trickery.

One Tottenville halfback was too far away to make an obstructing dash in time.

In dodging the other halfback Dick dashed on as though not seeing the fellow.  This, however, was all trick.  Just in the nick of time Prescott, still holding the ball, ducked and dodged far to the left, getting around his man.

Tottenville’s fullback was now the sole hope of the home team.

Prescott, however, dodged that heavy fellow, also.

From the Gridley boosters on the grand stand went up a medley of yells that dinned in the young left end’s ears.  Panting, all but fainting, Dick was over the enemy’s goal line and he had the ball down.

When Dave had emerged from that fruitless clumping he had a broad grin on his face.  He saw that while Dick was not yet over the goal line, only the fullback was in the way and the fullback was no match for Dick in the matter of speed.

Then the yells told the rest.  Back came the ball.  Captain Wadleigh nodded to Dave to kick the goal.

Captain Grant looked utterly wild.  He had assured everyone in Tottenville who had asked him that the Gridley “come ons” would be eaten alive.  And here-----!