"I knew it!" he cried. "Brake rod busted. Oh, if I had the man who made that!"
"Can we go on?" asked Dick anxiously as he picked himself up from the hay.
"Wouldn't dare to without this brake rod being fixed" replied the driver. "There are more hills."
"Here, you football fellows get in one of these other trucks. We'll pile out and walk to the grounds—it's not far," called Percy Haddon.
"That's the stuff!" shouted Manager Hatfield. "We haven't any too much time. Are you boys all right?"
"Sure," answered Paul with a laugh. "We're ready to play the game of our lives."
"That's right!" came in a chorus from the others. Now that the strain was over there was a bit of hysterical feeling, but it soon passed away.
Little time was lost in making the transfer. The football team and the substitutes got in one of the other trucks and were soon being whizzed off to the grounds. The other two trucks, containing as many of the remaining cadets as could squeeze into them, pressed on, and only a few had to walk the remaining distance.
Simpson backed his truck out of the hayfield which had practically saved a number of lives that day. Then the driver began work at repairing the brake rod, his companions promising to return for him when they had taken the cadets to the grounds.
Nor would Simpson accept any pay for the services he had rendered that day.