“Those letters have made me late,” said Bob to himself, as he passed the schoolhouse and saw the crowd of boys already gathered on the field.

Dave Duncan was just telling off the school teams for football. There was some squabbling, as usual, on the part of Jed Burr.

“I’m not going to play till my right tackle comes,” he declared.

“Oh, we can’t wait for that,” said Dave.

“You’ve got to. You ain’t running my crowd.”

“I don’t want to,” said Dave, “but if you make me the manager I’ve got to have some say, haven’t I? We’ll only practise this afternoon, and get in trim for the real game Saturday.”

“All right,” grumbled Jed.

There was a merry boyish scramble as the game began. Not much attention was paid to the rules, and that made it better than ever. Bob was quick and active.

The boys had been playing for about twenty minutes, when a kick past goal meant three hand-running for his side. He had got the football, and was in position for a splendid play, when he saw Jed making for him to spoil it.

[37]

[37]

“No fair!” shouted Sammy, Bob and some others.

Jed paid no attention to this. He ran forward all the faster. This made Bob hurry. He gave the ball a wild kick.

“Hurrah!”

“Ya-ah! three times and out!”

Bob, with a good deal of pleasure, watched the leather sphere swing past Jed. Then, with a little start, he stared hard as it landed.

A weazened old man was making a short cut across the end of the field. The ball landed directly against his stomach.

It must have been going with some force, for at once the man doubled up like a jack-knife.

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