Rodman's face lengthened. He wanted very much to tell Molly that the advice was the result of his observations. But something, he could not tell what, checked the words.
"We're getting them, all right," he said, instead. "All we have to do now is to hold when they begin to batter against our line."
"Oh, we can do that." Molly nodded confidently. "You wait and see."
Following the kick-off, the battle raged uncertainly in the middle of the field. Near the end of the third quarter, however, Grant City took the ball on downs, and began a steady onslaught that was formidable. Then, when the Lakeville line seemed to have braced, Rodman came to his feet like a puppet on a string. There it was again! Grant was calling for its trick play.
"Signal! What's the signal?" called a confused voice. "All ready, Bert?" "Dig into 'em!" "Signal?" "Wait a minute!" "Hold it!" "Signal!"
Grant's right guard and tackle stood up straight in their places, looking helplessly toward the quarterback.
"Signal?"
Like the flare of a flashlight, the mystery cleared in Rodman's mind. Why, of course, that was the answer! Why couldn't Buck solve it, or Bunny, or some one of those players in the Lakeville line, already glancing up at the confused babel of voices. Surely, they must see through such an obvious device.
They must—No! Back whirled the ball; forward shot the compact interference and runner. Before the wiry half was tackled, he had covered a cool fifteen yards. It was first down again for Grant.
An unworthy thought burned in Rodman's brain. Why should he tell Coach Leland about the play? Why not put the problem squarely up to the squad at the end of the quarter, when, by previous agreement, it would be permissible to talk with them? In that way, all of the fellows would see they had been mistaken in him; would be forced to realize that he was some good, even if he couldn't make the team. Why should he allow the coach another chance to walk off with borrowed laurels?