That much was a correct guess. Tom didn't intend anything of the sort.
All in a flash Reade, as prearranged, dropped the ball, punting it vigorously.
Up it went, soaring obliquely over Gridley's left flank and far beyond.
Just a second before the ball itself started, little Fenton had put himself in motion. By the time that the ball was in the air Fenton was past Hallam's line and scorching down the field.
Now Forsythe and every Hallam man comprehended all in a flash.
Fenton had caught the ball with a nicety that brought wild whoops from the Gridley boosters, now standing on their seats and waving the Gridley colors.
"That little fellow looks like a streak of light," yelled one
Gridley booster.
The description wasn't a bad one. Fenton was doing some of the finest sprinting conceivable. Before him nothing menaced but big Harlowe, Hallam's fullback. Harlowe, however, was hurling himself straight in the impetuous way of little Fenton.
It looked like a bump. There could be but one result. Fenton would have to go down to save the ball.
Harlowe reached out to tackle.