The High School Freshmen Part 5

"Thank you, and goodnight, gentlemen. I offer you my apology and 'The Blade's' for having intruded on you in this fas.h.i.+on."

As soon as the members of the Board were alone Chairman Stone glanced about him, and remarked:

"So, it appears, gentlemen, that, if we do not favor High School football, we shall be regarded as what are termed 'dead ones'!"

CHAPTER III

NOT SO MUCH OF A FRESHMAN

The next morning's "Blade" contained a column and a half, written in Reporter Spencer's most picturesque vein. The headlines ran: "School Board Hoaxed. Gentle Jokers Convey a Needed Hint. Football Not to Be Barred in High School. 'Blade' Reporter a First-off Victim in the Service of Public Spirit."

It was a fine article, from a High School boy's point of view.

It was an article, too, which, in a city ruled by a lively public spirit, was likely to tie the hands of a Board of Education that did not care to fly in the face of public opinion.

d.i.c.k Prescott, before he went in to breakfast, read the article in secret, with many a chuckle.

"You seem much interested in the newspaper, Richard," said his father, when the young freshman came to table, still holding 'The Blade.'"

"Yes, sir. You know I have set my heart on making the H.S. eleven just as soon as I strike a higher cla.s.s. I was afraid the School Board would abolish the game from our school. Now, I know they won't."

"Hm! Let me see 'The Blade.'"

Mr. Prescott glanced through the article, a faint twinkle showing in his eyes.

"The School Board may stop High School football," commented Mr.

Prescott, laying aside the paper. "They _may_, but it would take a good deal of courage, for that article will start Gridley on a furor of enthusiasm for the game. I wonder who got up that hoax."

"Why, Dad, 'The Blade,' hints at some one down at the Business Men's Club."

"Hm! I wonder who wrote the article."

"Perhaps Len Spencer," replied d.i.c.k. "You know, Dad, he's a great fan for all our H.S. sports."

"I can just see Jason Stone reading that article at _his_ breakfast table this morning," smiled Mr. Prescott. "Stone is a great sail-trimmer, always afraid of the man who casts a vote."

"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Prescott, coming in breezily from the kitchen.

d.i.c.k explained the news to his mother.

"Abolish football at the High School!" echoed Mrs. Prescott, indignantly.

"And I've been sharing your great wish d.i.c.k, to make the team when you're old enough. They shan't do it, anyway, d.i.c.k, until you've had your chance on the eleven!"

"No, mother," replied the boy, very quietly; "I don't believe they will."

With a sudden rush of recollection of other pranks in which she had known her son to be engaged in the grammar school days, Mrs.

Prescott shot a sudden, wondering glance at him. But d.i.c.k, looking utterly innocent, was chewing his food.

Frank Thompson, Ben Badger and Ted Butler, all seniors, and stars on the H.S. football team, had risen early that morning, every one of them feeling glum over the dread that the great sport might be "killed" for them. They were the only members of the eleven who happened to see "The Blade" early. In consequence, these three husky young Americans were on the street early. Just as naturally they ran into each other.

"Whoop!" yelled Thompson, when he came in sight of his pals.

"Wow!" observed Ben.

"And some more!" glowed Butler.

"Will they stop football _now_?" demanded Thompson.

"Not while anyone is looking," averred Butler.

"But say, it was great of the Business Men's Club to make such a stroke for us," went on Badger, enthusiastically.

"Yes," admitted Frank Thompson, "if that was where it came from.

I guess it was, all right."

Arm in arm the three went off down the street, feeling as though the world had turned right side up once more.

d.i.c.k met his partners on the way to the High School. All were grinning quietly.

"You're the genius, d.i.c.k," admitted Dan Dalzell, cordially. "My undertaker scheme would have been ghastly. It would have taken all the edge off the joke---would have spoiled it, and the joke would have been a club that would have hit us over the head.

But, say! I wonder if the Grannies' Club will dare to touch our sacred football now!"

"Don't waste any time wondering," chuckled Tom Reade. "They wont."

It was a happy day in the famous old Gridley High School. Actually, the recitations went off better than they had done on any day since term opening.

d.i.c.k Prescott was out on the street rather early that afternoon.

He wanted to run across Len Spencer, and chose Main Street as the most likely thoroughfare for the purpose. He met the reporter at the head of a little alleyway.

"Well, d.i.c.k, how did you like it?" was the reporter's greeting.

"Say, it was great!" d.i.c.k bubbled over.

"What do they think down at H.S.?"

"Think?" repeated young Prescott. "Why, everybody is in ecstasies.

The gloom of yesterday has vanished like the mist from a cheap cigar. You're suspected of writing the article, too, Len. If the High School students can find any proof that you did you'll get a rouser in the way of handsome treatment."

The two had stepped down just off the street into the alleyway.

"Does everyone seem to believe that the job was put up at the Business Men's Club?" d.i.c.k asked.

"Sure thing," nodded Len Spencer. "And no member of the Club will deny it, either, for the thing has struck the popular side of the town. Why, by tonight, there'll be at least a dozen of the members, each confidentially telling his friends that _he_ conceived the whole trick."

"That'll make it all the stronger," nodded d.i.c.k. "Good thing."