The High School Left End | Page 3

Dick & Co. and of the
other average boy at the High School.
"Let us see," broke in Dick, suddenly, "who are the soreheads in the
football line?"
"Well, Davis and Cassleigh, of the senior class, for two," replied Dave
Darrin.
"Dodge, Fremont and Bayliss, also first classmen," suggested Reade.
"Trenholm and Grayson, also seniors," brought in Greg Holmes.
"Then there are Porter, Drayne and Whitney," added Dave. "They're of
this year's Juniors."
"And Hudson and Paulson, also of our junior class," nodded Harry
Hazelton.
Dick Prescott had rapidly written down the names. Now he was
studying the list carefully.

"They're all good football men," sighed Dick. "All men whose aid in
the football squad is much needed."
"Drayne is the stuck-up chap, who uses the broad 'a' in his speech, and
carries his nose up at an angle of forty-five degrees," chuckled Dan
Dalzell. "He's the fellow I mortally offended by nicknaming him
'Sewers,' to mimic his name of 'Drayne.'"
"That wouldn't be enough to keep him out of football," remarked Dave
quietly.
Dick looked up suddenly from his list.
"Fellows," he announced, "I've made one discovery."
"Out with it!" ordered Dan.
"Perhaps you can guess for yourselves what I have just found."
"We can't," admitted Hazelton meekly. "Please tell us, and save us
racking our brains."
"Well, it's curious," continued Dick slowly, "but every one of these
fellows---I believe you've given me all the names of the 'soreheads'"
"We have," affirmed Tom Reade.
"Well, I've just noted that every fellow on my sorehead roll of honor
belongs to one of our families of wealth in Gridley."
Dick paused to look around him, to see how the announcement
impressed his chums.
"Do you mean," hinted Hazelton, "that the soreheads are down on
football because they prefer automobiles?"
"No." Dick Prescott shook his head emphatically.
"By Jove, Dick, I believe you're right," suddenly exclaimed Dave

Darrin.
"So you see my point, old fellow?"
"I'm sure I do."
"I'm going to get examined for spectacles, then," sighed Dan plaintively.
"I can't see a thing."
"Why, you ninny," retorted Dave scornfully, "the football 'soreheads'
have been developing that classy feeling. They wear better clothes than
we do, and have more pocket money. Many of their fathers don't work
for a living. In other words, the fellows on Dick's list belong to what
they consider a privileged and aristocratic set. They're the Gridley
bluebloods---or think they are---and they don't intend to play on any
football eleven that is likely to have Dick & Co. and a few other
ordinary muckers on it."
"Muckers?" repeated Harry Hazelton flaring up.
"Cool down, dear chap, do!" urged Darrin, soothingly. "I don't mean to
imply that we really are muckers, but that's what some of the classy
group evidently consider us."
"Why, they say that Cassleigh's grandfather was an Italian immigrant,
who spelled his name Casselli," broke in Dan Dalzell.
"I believe it, son," nodded Dave. "Old Casselli was an immigrant and
an honest fellow. But he had the bad judgment to make some money in
the junk business, and sent his son to college. The son, after the old
immigrant died, took to spelling his name Cassleigh, and the grandson
is the prize snob of the town."
"And Bayliss's father was indicted by the grand jury, seven or eight
years ago, for bribery in connection with a trolley franchise," muttered
Greg Holmes.
"Also currently reported to be true, my infant," nodded Dave sagely.

"But the witnesses against the elder Bayliss skipped, and the district
attorney never brought the case to trial. Case was quashed a year later,
and so now the Baylisses belong to the Distinguished Order of
Unconvicted Boodlers. That trolley stock jumped to six times its par
value right after the case against Bayliss was dropped, you know."
"And, from what I've heard Mr. Pollock say at 'The Blade' office," Dick
threw in, "the fathers of one or two of the other soreheads got their
money in devious ways."
"Why, there's Whitney's father," laughed Dan Dalzell. "Did you ever
hear how he got his start thirty years ago? Whitney's brother-in-law got
into financial difficulties, and transferred to the elder Whitney property
worth a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. When the financial
storm blew over the brother-in-law wanted the property transferred
back again, but the elder Whitney didn't see it that way. The elder
Whitney kept the transferred property, and has since increased it to a
half million or more."
"Oh, well," Dick interrupted, "let us admit that some of the fellows on
the sorehead list have never been in jail, and have never been
threatened with it. But I am sure that Dave has guessed my meaning
right. The soreheads, who number a dozen of rather valuable pigskin
men, are on strike just because some of us