Dick spoke a word to Smart. The plays peculiar to Fardale were abandoned. There was no funnel, no center-back, no ends around, but straight hammering football, smashing into the enemy’s line.
On the benches Chester Arlington rose and cheered. Fardale gained yard by yard. Springvale held as well as she could, but the cadets were at their best.
During the remainder of the first half the tide of battle shifted and swayed, but almost all the time the ball was kept in Springvale’s territory. Twice Fardale had the ball down close to the visitors’ line, but both times a touch-down was missed by a fluke or a fumble. It was disheartening, but Dick managed to keep the courage of the boys up, and they continued the work up to the moment when the whistle blew.
As he was leaving the field with his dirty, sweat-stained comrades, Dick saw Miguel Bunol hastening toward him.
“What you think now?” asked the Spaniard triumphantly. “You see they know every play. I tell you truth. What you do? You fail to expose Chester Arlington?”
“I shall do something when the game is over,” said Dick grimly.
Bunol seemed to take it for granted that he meant to strike a blow at Chester, and his heart rejoiced. Without delay, he sought Arlington out.
“Well,” he said, “how you like it?”
Chester shrugged his shoulders.
“Too bad Springvale made that touch-down,” he said.