Dick was late reaching home. What he had in the way of dinner he had to force down hurriedly, and then start for school once more.
After school that afternoon most of the boys of seventh and eighth grades turned up at the field, eager for more football work.
"It seems to me," announced Dick thoughtfully, "that there is no sense in kicking a ball around the field aimlessly. There isn't much use in rushes or mass plays, either, until we know what we are doing and can do it according to the rules. So, fellows, what do you say to seeing who knows the rules best? Let's have a drill in rules."
Many of the youngsters objected to that as being too tame. Yet Dick's idea carried the day, after all. Some of the fellows went away, thinking this sort of procedure too much like a lesson and too little like fun. After nearly an hour's discussion of the rules two elevens were formed and there was time for some play.
Dick & Co. left the field together. On the way home young Prescott spoke of the falling of the bricks at noon.
"That wasn't any accident," spoke up Dave, with an air of great conviction.
"You think some one did that on purpose?"
"I'm sure of it," Dave asserted.
"Who could have done it?"
"Who but Ab. Dexter?"