"Matches--who's got any? Pa.s.s 'em around, fellows!" called Buster.

Immediately there was quite an illumination around that part of the road, half a dozen tiny torches burning at once, as eager eyes scanned the ground. Twice cries of satisfaction announced that a find had rewarded the search, but the supply of matches gave out, and, besides, it seemed that there were no more hats or caps to be gathered in.

"Three times, and out, boys! Now we'll be able to learn who some of the crowd must have been. I think I ought to nail this gay old cap. n.o.body but Bill Klemm ever dared wear such a screamer as that," announced Lanky, holding the object of his derision aloft.

"And this looks like the hat I turned over to Jay Tweedle the time I accidentally knocked his off in the river, and it sank. I know it is, fellows!" exclaimed Frank, who had been one of the lucky discoverers.

"Well, we're getting a line on the bunch, all right," laughed Jack.

"If only Ralph marked both Tony and Asa, and we've got the hats of three more, it looks good to me," chirped Lanky.

"Fall in, fellows!" called Bones Shadduck, a.s.suming the air of a drum major, as he waved an imaginary baton in the air.

With considerable talking and laughter, the squad gathered around Ralph.

"Here, what's all this mean?" laughed Ralph. "Want to make me a high muckamuck, a grand sachem surrounded by his valiant bodyguard? I object. I'm only a common worm, like the rest of you, and not fit for these great honors. Take Frank there, and put him in the center of the bunch; he's the captain of the crew!"

"Worms! Hear him rant, fellows, will you? Compares us to the lowly angleworm of commerce. And this is the reward we get for sacrificing our sleep to rescue the perishing! I call it base ingrat.i.tude, that's what!" cried one.

"But just now you're the guest of honor, Ralph; the one bright particular star that has attracted the attention of all the meaner ones. Just hold your row, and let us run this funeral, will you?"

declared Buster.

"Oh, well, have it your own way, fellows. You're a good lot, anyhow, to pull my chestnuts out of the fire for me," concluded the one upon whom all these attentions were being showered.

And so they marched through the streets singing one of their school songs. The good people of Columbia were quite accustomed to such "stunts" on the part of the students, especially when there was a day of sport close by. At such times the thriving town on the bank of the Harrapin was wont to a.s.sume all the airs of a college center, and enthusiasm run rampant.

So, while many heads were thrust from doorways or windows as the procession trailed along, no adverse comments arose. Many of those same men were old graduates themselves, and such patriotic songs only served to awaken the spirit that never could be wholly eradicated from their systems.

In such fashion was Ralph West conducted to his humble boarding place. And hearty were the "good nights" that accompanied the scattering of the band of defenders.

Frank and Lanky walked home together.

"That job's done, anyhow," remarked Frank, with evident satisfaction.

"And well done, too. Only one more night to consider, and the glee club has its regular meeting then. We must keep a close watch on Ralph. Those chumps mean to get him yet if they can. I only hope I have just one more whack at some of that bunch. I never hit a follow with more vim in my life than to-night, when I came up against that chap with the handkerchief across his face."

"I heard him grunt," observed Frank, with a chuckle, "and really I felt sorry for him. I think you struck him with both fists together in the excitement. But it's a shame that Columbia fellows are fighting among themselves just now, when we ought to be united, and showing a common front against the enemy."

"Oh, these represent only a tail-end fragment. Don't count them as much. Outside of possibly a dozen students, I firmly believe the school _is_ united, and that you posses the confidence of the whole town. This is our lucky year. I tell you we just _can't_ lose," and Lanky emphasized his words with a smack of one hand in the palm of the other.

"I feel the same way," said Frank, "but, all the same, I'll be better satisfied when the game has been played. There's many a slip, you know. An accident might mar the finest play the gridiron ever knew. And then the treachery of these fellows always annoys me. An open foe I can meet boldly, but deliver me from the snake in the gra.s.s that steals up in the rear to upset your calculations."

"Never mind, it'll be all right, Frank; but here we are at your gate, so good night," and Lanky hurried on.

CHAPTER V

THE SIGNAL PRACTICE

The next day was Friday.

And with that battle of the gridiron gladiators looming up just ahead, it can be readily understood that Mr. Amos Wellington, not to mention Mr. Oswald, and the women teachers in Columbia High School, found it a most difficult task to get any satisfaction out of the many cla.s.ses before them that day.

Football was in the air! The very tang of the frosty morning seemed to suggest ideal weather conditions for the coming struggle. Wherever boys congregated, on the campus before the morning session, or down in the lunch room during intermission, when they sampled the various types of sandwiches and pies supplied by Mrs. Louden, nothing was talked of but the chances of Columbia against the seasoned players of Clifford.

"They're heavier than our men," one would lament.

"But the day of weight in football is gone," cried another, quickly.

"Yes, for the game as played to-day calls for agility and pertinacity more than heft. And we've got the boys who can do stunts, believe me, fellows!" remarked a third deeply-interested student.

"They practice for the last time this afternoon, don't they?"

"Yes, but mostly on signals, I understand. Now the team has been selected, they want to work in harmony," remarked the fellow who seemed to know, because he had a big brother on the eleven, and that was a great honor for the entire family.

"There's one weak spot," grumbled another prophet of evil.

"Name it, Sandy."

"Yes, tell us where it is. I've gone over the whole bunch ever so many times, and with the new men I think it couldn't possibly be improved."

"That's just it; you've put your finger on the sore the first thing. Now, don't all jump on me at once, and say I'm knocking, for I'm not. I think a heap both of Ralph West's playing and that of Bones Shadduck. They're cracker jacks, and far superior to the fellows they displaced."

"Then what are you kicking about, Sandy?" demanded Molly Manners, the dudish student, who, while no athlete himself, always felt a decided interest in the accomplishments of his more muscular comrades.

"Lack of practice in common will bankrupt us. That's what worries me. You see, Bones and Ralph haven't worked with the rest, to any extent, at least. How can they fill their parts in the machine?

I'm dubious, that's all, even while hoping for the best," went on the croaker.

"Well, now, don't let that keep you awake tonight. Coach Willoughby has been training the scrub just as he did the regular team. They know the same plays, and once the signals are decided on the whole thing will move along like a well greased machine.

He's done wonders with the raw material. And if Columbia wins this year, much of the credit belongs to the trainer, our old Princeton grad."

"Hear! hear! Three cheers for Coach Willoughby!"

And they were given with a will.

Frank and Ralph came together at intermission. While they munched a bit of lunch, they naturally fell into conversation, and, of course, their talk must be in connection with the stirring events of the preceding night.

"Have you met Tony?" asked Frank, with a chuckle of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"No. You see, he's a junior and I'm only a soph, so we run in different grooves. What about him, Frank?" asked the other, eagerly.

"I was sent into Miss Condit's room with a message from Mr.

Wellington, and, of course, I felt a little curious to know how Tony looked. While I waited for an answer to the note I carried, I glanced over to where he sat. Would you believe it, he had turned deliberately around in his seat, so that his back was toward me."

"Then perhaps I did put my mark on him?" suggested Ralph, eagerly.