Secretly, Jabez chuckled to himself when he thought of the surprise Viewland would give Fardale and Frank Merriwell. For he felt certain that, knowing Fardale’s code of signals, the opposing team would be prepared for any play, and, therefore, must readily defeat it.
Whenever any one accused him of disloyalty for betting on Viewland, Jabez insisted that he did so not because he wished the enemy to conquer, but because he believed that must be the inevitable result. But he found that not a few of the cadets seemed indignant because he was willing to bet against the academy team under any circumstances.
"They’ll be madder," he told himself, "when I gather in their dough. Perhaps they’ll begin to think Mr. Frank Merriwell is not such a great coach, after all."
The Fardale team worked steadily in practise that week, although Merriwell did not permit it to engage in a contest with the scrub the day before the game was to come off.
Saturday arrived, and found Fardale more confident than ever.
Fardale’s good record brought out an unusually large gathering of spectators, filling the seats provided for them.
Of course, Zona Desmond and Doris Templeton were on hand, for they seldom missed a game played in Fardale. Zona seemed more dashingly handsome than ever, but it was Doris who received the undivided attention of Hal Darrell, who accompanied the girls, looking spick and span in his uniform.
A few minutes past two a band of shaggy-haired youngsters, garbed in football-armor, trotted onto the field, and then about thirty loud-lunged Viewland rooters broke loose.
"’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! V-i-e-w-l-a-n-d—Viewland! Viewland! Viewland!"
Divesting themselves of their heavy sweaters, the visitors lost no time in beginning practise. Two footballs were brought out, and then a ring was made, and part of the players began to pass the ball round the circle.