Then, like a flash, the trick dawned.

Dick Prescott had the oval, and was running with it like a whirlwind, with Darrin and Hudson as his interference, and with quarter dashing close behind them.

Dick sprinted around the first Filmore man, leaving his interference to sweep the fellows over.

At Filmore’s second attempt to tackle, Dick ducked low and escaped.  In the next instant the would-be tackler was bowled over by Darrin and Hudson, and Dick swept on with the ball.

By this time all the home boosters were on their feet, yelling like so many Comanches.

Filmore’s half and full contrived a trap that caught young Prescott, and carried him down with the ball—–­but this happened at Filmore’s forty-five-yard line!

In the next play, Dave had the ball, on a short pass, but with Dick dashing along close to his side, and Hudson on the other flank.  Before Darrin went down on the ball it had been carried to Filmore’s thirty-yard line.  Then it went beyond the twenty-five-yard line, and Gridley still carried the pigskin.

“Dick’s coming up, all right,” proudly muttered Darrin to Hudson, while the next snapback was forming.

“It’s putting nerve into all of us,” rejoined Hudson.

The pigskin was only fourteen yards from the Filmore goal line when Captain Wadleigh’s men had to see the ball go to Filmore.  Pike’s men, however, failed to make good on downs, so the oval came back into Wadleigh’s possession.

Now, the play was swift and brilliant.  Dick got the ball around the left end once, and afterwards assisted Dave to put it through the hostile line.  With the third play Dick carried the pigskin barely across Filmore’s goal line and scored a touchdown.  Darrin immediately after made a kick for goal.

The score now stood eight to six for Filmore but only ten minutes of playing time remained.

“Our fellows have saved a whitewash, and that’s all,” reflected Drayne.  “They’d have done better with me, and I guess Wadleigh knows it by this time.”

“Slug’s the word,” Pike passed around, swiftly.  “No fouling, but use your weight, dash and speed.  Slam these Gridley rubes.  Hammer em!”

“Come on, now Gridley!” rang the imploring request from the home boosters, who were now too restless to keep to their seats.

“Remember your record so far this season!”

“Forceful playing, but keep cool.  Use your Judgment to the last, and put a lot of speed and doggedness behind your science,” was Wadleigh’s adjuration.

Those who followed form most close, now had their eyes on young Prescott.

If he went to pieces that would leave Gridley weak at what had usually been its strongest point, especially in attack.

And Gridley had the ball again.  But what ailed Captain Wadleigh, the boosters wondered?  For he was now sending the ball to the right wing, as if admitting that Prescott must not be worked too hard.