The Grammar School Boys of Gridley | Page 9

a boost and let us all have some fun!" cried the boys. But Darrin coolly tucked the ball under one arm.
"Dick Prescott has a few remarks to make first," Dave announced.
"Dick going to make a speech?"
"Cut it, and start the ball moving!"
"Won't you fellows interrupt your music lessons long enough to listen to an idea that some of us have been talking over?" called Dick. "Now, fellows, you know this is the time when the crack Gridley High School football team is hard at work. We're all proud of the Gridley High School eleven. A lot of you fellows expect to go to High School, and I know you'd all like a chance to play on Gridley High's eleven."
"Set the ball moving!"
"Wait a minute," Dick insisted. "Now, fellows, no Grammar School in Gridley has ever had an eleven."
"How could we," came a discontented wail, "if we have to stand here and see Dave just do nothing but hold the ball?"
"Fellows," Dick went on impressively, "it's time to have Grammar School football teams here in Gridley. Central Grammar ought to have one, North Grammar one and South Grammar one. Then our three Grammar Schools could play a championship series among themselves."
"Hooray! Give the ball a throw, Dave!"
"So, fellows," Dick continued, "a lot of us think we ought to organize a football team at once. Then we can challenge North Grammar and South Grammar. We can practise the rest of this month, and next month we can play off our games. What do you say?"
"Hooray!"
"We'll have two teams," called Dave. "We'll call one team the Rangers and the other the Rustlers. Now, let's make Dick captain of the Rangers."
"All right!"
"And Tom Craig captain of the Rustlers."
"Good!"
"All right, then," nodded Dave. "Dick, you pick out the Rangers; Craig, you go ahead with the Rustlers. After we've practised a few times we'll pick the best men from both elevens, and make up the Central Grammar eleven. Get busy, captains!"
Forthwith the choosing began. Dick chose all his chums for his own eleven. And no boy lower than seventh grade was allowed on either team.
"Now, who'll be referee?" demanded Dick. "Captain Craig, have you any choice?"
"Have we got any fellows, not on either team, who really know the rules?" asked Tom Craig dubiously.
There was a hush, for this was surely a stumbling block. It seemed clear that a referee ought to know the rules of the game.
"What's up, kids?" called a friendly voice.
The speaker was Len Spencer, a young man who had been graduated from the High School the June before, and who was now serving his apprenticeship as reporter on one of the two local daily papers, the morning "Blade."
"Oh, see here, Len!" called Dick joyously. "You're just the right fellow for us. You know the football rules?"
"I have a speaking acquaintance with 'em," laughed Len.
Dick rapidly outlined what was being planned, adding:
"You can put that in the 'Blade' to-morrow morning, Len, and state our challenge to North and South Grammars. Won't you?"
"Surely."
"But we want to practise this afternoon," Dick continued earnestly, "and we haven't any referee. Len, can't you spare us a little time? Won't you boss the first practice for us?"
"All right," agreed Len, after a little thought. "I'll tackle it for a while. Have you got your teams picked?"
"Teams all picked, and the ball ready. We'll have to place stones for goal posts, though."
"Hustle and do it, then," commanded Len. "I can't stay here forever."
Five minutes later the field was as ready as it could be made.
"Captains will now attend the toss-up," ordered Len Spencer, producing a coin from one of his pockets. "Heads for Craig, tails for Prescott."
It fell head up, and Craig chose his goal, and also the first kick-off.
Dick had been busily engaged in making up his line and backfield. There was some delay while Tom Craig accomplished this same thing.
"Now, one thing that all you youngsters want to remember," declared Len, "is that no player can play off-side. All ready?"
Both young football captains called out that they were. Len had provided himself with a pocket whistle loaned by one of the fifth-grade boys.
Trill-ll! Tom Craig kicked the ball himself, but it was a poor kick. The pigskin soon struck the ground.
"I'll try that over again," announced Tom.
But Dick and his own fighting line had already started. Dick, at center, with Dave on his right hand and Greg Holmes on his left, snatched up the ball and started with it for the Rustlers' goal.
A bunch of Rustlers opposed and tackled Prescott. Dick succeeded, by the help of Dave and Greg, in breaking through the line, but the Rustlers turned and were after him. Down went Dick, but he had the pigskin under him.
"Take it away from him, fellows!" panted Craig. But Len blew his whistle, following up the signal