"Band, four bars of 'Hot Time in the Old Town!'" yelled Prescott through the big megaphone.
The leader's baton fell like a flash. The band itself sharing in the excitement fairly ripped the air out in gallop time.
As Ben Badger heard he straightened up for a moment, shaking his long locks in the wind. A smile crossed his face. Then he bent over the ball for the pass.
"Nine—-fourteen, eighteen—-seven!" he called.
Evans darted quickly out on his end. Quarter-back Winters moved his feet somewhat to left. Trent, left half-back, shot swiftly away to an altered position.
Captain Halsey, of the college team, saw instantly that it looked like a long pass and a sprint around Gridley's left end. A football general must change front swiftly. At the signal, Cobber disposed itself to bunch against the High School left.
The whistle blew. Winters got the ball, and made the movements for a kick. Cobber men, in the air on the jump, halted somewhat uncertainly, some of them.
It was a fake kick, and a royally good one. The ball went to
Stearns instead. Out around the right end dashed the little left,
with Gridley support thumping over the ground to back him up.
But Stearns was the best Gridley runner on the field today.
Moreover, he had not been worked as hard as had Evans.
A nimble dodge, and Stearns was past the first Cobber interference.
A howl of delight went up from the home fans.