"How about concentrating on the passes Richards is going to feed to Davison," Tom asked his unit-mates. "Never mind blocking out Richards and McAvoy."
"Yeah," agreed Astro, "play for the ball. Sounds good to me."
"How about it, Roger?" asked Tom.
"Just play the game," said Roger. And then added sarcastically, "And don't forget to give them every chance to score. Let's play fair and square, the way we did with the Arcturus unit."
"If you feel that way, Manning," answered Astro coldly, "you can quit right now! We'll handle the Capella guys ourselves!"
Before Roger could answer, McKenny blew the ready whistle and the three boys lined up along the white chalk line preparing for the dash to the waiting ball.
The cadets in the stands were hushed. McKenny's hand swept up and then quickly down as he blew the whistle. The crowd came to its feet, roaring, as Tom, five steps from his own goal line, tripped and fell headlong to the grass, putting him out of the first play. Astro and Roger charged down the field, with Astro reaching the ball first. He managed a good kick, but Richards, three feet away, took the ball squarely on his chest. The mercuryball fell to the ground, spun in a dizzy circle and with a gentle tap by Richards, rolled to Davison, who took it in stride and sent it soaring for a forty-five-yard goal.
The Capella unit had drawn first blood.
"Well, hot-shot," snarled Roger back on the starting line, "what happened to the big pass-stealing idea?"
"I tripped, Manning," said Tom through clenched teeth.