CHAPTER XVI.
THE FAKE KICK, TWO WAYS It was almost a touchdown for Cobber when Ben Badger rallied his men enough to fight the college men back some twenty-odd yards.
But then the tide turned once more, and Cobber began to fight its way back to the High School goal line.
The spectators had given up hope, all save those who sat in the Cobber seats.
This was to be the first defeat of the season, and the whipping was to come from worthy foemen.

Yet are home folks ever satisfied to see their own youngsters beaten?
Defeat was now conceded, however.

Even Coach Morton, though his face did not betray him, had given up all hope.
Dick, however, kept calling for the cheers and yells.

The student body did their best, but their spirits were low.
Once Morton turned and frowned, but Freshman Prescott did not see him.

The coach feared that this jubilant racket would get on the nerves of the Gridley battlers.
"How many minutes will it take Cobber to cross our line ?" murmured Dave in Dick's ear.
"They won't do it before next year," Prescott staunchly retorted.
Just then Cobber lost fifteen yards on penalty, and Gridley H.S.
had the ball at the moment when it was sadly needed.
"Band, four bars of 'Hot Time in the Old Town!'" yelled Prescott through the big megaphone.
The leader's baton fell like a flash.