Dick Hamilton's Football Team Or A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Part 40

"Oh, I can give him a check to bind the bargain, and dad can settle with him later. I haven't as much in the bank as I had, for I let dad invest it in the electric line."

"Then you stand to lose too, if you don't get Duncaster's stock."

"Yes, but what of it? If we win this game, and Kentfield is the champion of the league, I'd be willing to lose almost all I had. I fancy dad left an offer with Mr. Duncaster, better than his first one, of an advance of ten per cent., and instructed the crabbed old chap to let him know when he was ready to accept it. Instead, he sends me word, and I--well, I'm not going--that's all. That is not until after the game. It's what dad would want me to do--he'll understand," said d.i.c.k softly.

"Well, you've got nerve--that's all I've got to say," complimented Paul admiringly.

d.i.c.k wrote his telegram, and he took the precaution to give Toots the money to prepay it.

"Duncaster might refuse it, if it went collect," he remarked with a grim smile. "I can't take any chances. Then, Toots, arrange to have a speedy taxicab waiting for me at the end of the game. I'll make a bee-line for Hardvale as soon as the last whistle blows," he explained to Paul. "Want to come along?"

"Sure."

It was almost time to go out on the gridiron now. d.i.c.k gave one brief and half-regretful thought to the opportunity he might be missing. Then he murmured:

"Well, the game--from now on!"

He had no idea of wiring his father the news, but he felt that after all it would be better to explain it personally.

"If dad was only where he could make a jump to Hardvale he could clinch the deal," he mused, "but it's impossible."

"Hark! What's that?" cried Paul as they were about to leave their room.

It was the sound of a swelling, boisterous cry--a joyful shout--a challenge.

"The Blue team has arrived!" exclaimed d.i.c.k. "Come on! Now for the battle!"

Already there was quite a crowd in the grandstands, and more people were arriving every minute. The ticket takers had their hands full, and the ushers were as busy as bees. For rumors of the fierce game that was likely to be played had prevailed for the last two weeks, and there was every indication of a record-breaking crowd.

"Our treasury will be filled!" cried the manager of Kentfield with exultation. "This is a great day for us--even if we don't win."

"We're going to!" declared d.i.c.k with conviction.

As d.i.c.k turned around he saw a tall, well-formed young man approaching him. Something about the face seemed familiar, and, as the newcomer smiled, d.i.c.k remembered.

"h.e.l.lo, Larry Dexter!" he exclaimed. "Where in the world did you blow from? Sent to report the game?"

"No, but I wish I was. I'm up here on a mystery case and, as I had a little time to spare I thought I'd see you fellows win. I heard about the game. Go in and beat!"

"Thanks! We're going to try. Say, but I am glad to see you, Larry. Come on over here and I'll see that you get a good seat. Or would you rather be on the side lines?"

"On the side lines I think." And d.i.c.k soon arranged so that his reporter friend would have a good place.

"See you later," he called as he went back on the field.

"I'm afraid not," answered Larry. "I'll have to get away in a hurry.

I've got an appointment, but I'll stay long enough to see you pile up a good score," and though d.i.c.k looked for his friend after the game, he did not see him.

"Who is that?" asked Paul, as d.i.c.k joined him.

"That's Larry Dexter. One of the best reporters in New York. I met him when I was there, right after I got my fortune. He's a fine chap. But it's about time for the Blue Hill crowd to arrive."

Those of you who have read my Larry Dexter Series need no introduction to the hero of those books. Larry was a farm boy, who had an ambition to become a reporter on a big New York paper. In the book "From Office Boy to Reporter," I told how he did this, and in the other books of the series I related some of his strange adventures.

The Blue Hill cadets had come on a special train, and the team drove up from the station in a large carry-all that had been provided for them by d.i.c.k and his chums. A few days before the game the plans had been changed so as to bring the contest to Kentfield instead of having it on the Blue Hill gridiron.

"Well, you're on time, I see," said our hero, as he shook hands with Captain Haskell of Blue Hill. Haskell had been newly elected, to take the place of a friend who had unexpectedly been called away.

"Yes, and we're got our winning suits on."

"Well, we'll see about that," responded d.i.c.k with a quiet smile. "Now if you'll step over here we can arrange the details, and then both sides can have some practice."

"Sure," and a little later with the two coaches representing Kentfield, and two from Blue Hill, the captains conferred.

"I presume Blake will be all right for umpire," said Mr. Norton one of the visiting coaches.

"You mean George Blake--who umpired in our last game?" asked Mr. Spencer quickly.

"That's the one."

"We'd prefer some one else," said Mr. Spencer quietly, before d.i.c.k could interpose the objection that was on his lips.

"You don't like him? Why?" asked Captain Haskell quickly, with some wrath.

"Because he doesn't see all that goes on in the line," was the calm answer of the Princeton coach. "I don't believe it is necessary to say more."

"Well, if I----"

"It's all right," broke in Coach Norton for Blue Hill. "If you object to him, we'll take some one else. How will Jacob Small do?"

"Of Lehigh?"

"Yes."

"We'll accept him gladly," a.s.sented Mr. Spencer. "Now as to the other officials," and they were quickly settled upon.

"Heads or tails?" asked d.i.c.k, as he prepared to spin the coin for choice of goals.

"Um--heads," spoke Captain Haskell quickly, as the quarter went spinning into the air.

"Heads it is," announced d.i.c.k without a tremor in his voice. The first little indication of fate had gone against him, but it could not be helped. He hoped to get the choice, as there was no wind blowing, and naturally no advantage in goals, so that the winner of the toss could elect to have the other side kick off if he liked. d.i.c.k had planned to let Blue Hill kick if he had won the say of the spinning coin, but it was not to be. Which would Haskell select?

There was a moment's hesitation as the rival captain tested the wind with a moistened, up-lifted finger. Then he announced his choice.

"We'll take the north goal. You fellows can kick off!"

"All right," spoke d.i.c.k and he tried not to show the little disappointment in his voice. "Then as it's all settled we can get to practice."

d.i.c.k had hoped to get possession of the ball immediately after the kick off and by a series of whirlwind rushes demoralize his opponents. Now he would have to change his plans.