This was the inspiring message flashed out by Captain Dick Prescott.

With all the zeal of race horses the Gridley High School boys flung themselves into their work.

After a minute and a half of play, Gridley had done so much that, just before the next snapback Barnes let his sulky eyes flash about him in a way that was understood.

Fordham must rush in, now, and hold the enemy back, no matter at what cost of roughness—–­if the roughness could be done slyly enough.

Then it came, a fierce, frenzied charge.  The ball was down again in an instant, and Hazelton, a Gridley man, lay on the field, unable to rise.

Physicians hurried out from the side lines.

“Broken leg,” said one of them, and a stretcher was brought.

“Have we got to stand this sort of thing?” demanded Hudson, in a hoarse whisper.  “Say the word, and I’ll send two of their men after Hazelton.”

“Don’t you do it!” snapped Dick sharply.  “It would disgrace our school colors and our school honor.  Don’t let knaves make a knave of you.”

Tom Reade came out on a swift run from the side lines to take Hazelton’s place.

“We ought to be allowed to carry guns, when we play a team like this one,” blurted Tom indignantly.

“We’ll pay them back in the score,” retorted Dick soberly, though his eyes were flashing.

Dave, in the meantime, was swiftly passing some orders Dick had whispered to him.  These orders, however, related to plays to come, and did not call for retaliation on Hazelton’s account.

Play was called sharply.  “Pay in the score,” became the battle cry raging in every Gridley boy’s heart.

Four successive plays carried the ball so close to the Fordham goal line that Barnes and his followers were in despair.

They still used whatever rough tricks they thought they could sneak in under the eyes of the game’s officials, and some of these made the Gridley boys ache.

Then came a signal beginning with “three” which stood for reverse signal.  The numerals that came after the three called for the same trick that Fenton had put through so splendidly.

Again the ball started toward the right wing.  This time the Fordham players were sure they understood—–­and like a flash massed their defense against Gridley’s left.

But on that reverse signal the ball continued to move at the right.  Before Barnes and his followers could comprehend, another touchdown had been scored by the visitors.

And then came the kick for goal, and it was a splendid success.  The kick came just at the end of the second half.  That kick won the game for Dick’s sorely pressed team.

Gridley’s score, won by a cleanly played game against bruisers, stood at twelve to eight!

Now, indeed, did the Gridley boosters turn themselves loose, the band leading.

Barnes and his ruffians skulked back to dressing quarters, there to abuse the referee, the “Gridley kickers” and everyone and everything else but themselves.