This afternoon there was no real team practice Mr. Morton wanted certain individual play features brought out more strongly. One of these was the kicking of the ball.
After several had worked with the pigskin Morton called out:
"Now, Prescott, you take the ball, and drop back to the twenty-five-yard line. When you get there name your shot—-that is, tell us where you intend to put the ball. Where doesn't matter as long as it is a long kick and a true one. After you name your shot, then run swiftly to the center of the field. From there, without a long pause, kick and see how straight you can drive for the point you have named."
"All right, sir," nodded Dick. Tucking the pigskin under his arm, he jogged back to the twenty-five-yard line.
"Right over there!" called Dick, pointing. "I'll try to drop the ball in the front row of seats, second section past the entrance."
"Very good, Prescott!"
No one was sitting in the section named by Prescott, but a few onlookers who had been squatting in a section near by hastily moved.
"The duffers! They needn't think I am going to hit them with the ball," muttered Dick. Then he started on a hard run.
Just at center he stopped abruptly, swung back his right foot and dropped the ball.
It was a hard, fast drive. The ball arched upward, somewhat, though it did not travel high.