“Great Scott!  It’s that farmer!” ejaculated Roy Bock, and he started to scramble out of the grandstand in a hurry, and after him went the others.

But they were not quite quick enough for Darius Baker, and at the foot of the stand the farmer caught Bock in one hand and Bat Sedley in the other.  Then he swung the two together until their heads cracked.

“Will steal my apples and pears?” he shrilled.  “Will talk sassy to my darter, eh?  I’ll teach you!” And then, letting go suddenly, he cuffed Roy Bock on the ear and thumped Bat Sedley in the jaw so hard that that student howled outright.

“Let up!”

“Please don’t hit me again!”

“It was all a mistake!”

“No mistake!” bawled Darius Baker.  “Git out o’ here before I call the constable an’ have ye locked up!” And then Roy Bock and his cronies lost no time in hurrying away, without so much as looking behind them.

“Guess you know ’em?” remarked Pepper, when the farmer came back into the stand and resumed his seat.

“Guess I do!” was the snorted-out reply.  “They came around to my place yesterday, and stole my apples and pears, and talked sassy to my darter an’ the hired man.  I saw ’em, but they ran, away before I could git my hands on ’em.  I vowed I take ’em down a peg when I met ’em, an’ I guess I done it,” added the old farmer, with evident satisfaction.

“You did, Mr. Baker,” answered Pepper.  “And you’ve done us a service in the bargain.”

“How’s thet?”

“Those fellows came here to make trouble for our eleven, the Putnam Hall team.”

“That so?  Well, then, I’m mighty glad I cleared ’em out.  I like to see a game now an’ then, but I want it clean—­no rowdy work.”

There was no time to say more, for everybody was interested in the game.  The Dauntless eleven had worked the pigskin up to within a few yards of the Putnam Hall goal line, and now over it came.

“A touchdown for Dauntless!”

“Great work!  Now make it a goal!”

The ball was brought out, and the Dauntless quarterback kicked a beautiful goal, amid a great cheering and tooting of horns.

“Eight minutes more to play,” said Dale.  “Boys, let us tie the score if nothing else.”

Again the battle was on, and now Dale made a beautiful run, being aided by some fine interference by Jack and Andy.  Then Hogan got the pigskin and worked it up to within five yards of the Dauntless goal line—­and then the whistle blew and the first half of the great game had to come to a close.

The Putnam Hall eleven were a sober lot when they filed into their dressing-room to be rubbed down and to talk it over.

“Well, they’ve only got a touchdown and goal to their credit,” said Jack, cheerfully.  “That’s not such a terrible lead to overcome.”

“We must have more snap and ginger!” cried Dale.  “Now, I want everybody on the job from the word go.”