And that's the military school that Phin Drayne went to." "The sneak!" grunted Dave.

"I wonder if he's over in that bunch, now." "I'm not even enough interested to wonder," returned Prescott.
"He's where he can't do us any harm, anyway." "But, if the Fordham boys put anything over us, I'll bet Drayne has things timed so that the military boys will do a big and noisy lot of boasting." "They will, anyway, if we allow them a chance," answered Dick.
"Now, spread out, fellows," he called, raising his voice.
In the next moment the ball was in lively play.
The first time that a fumble was made a jeering chorus sounded among the military school boys.
"I expected it," growled Darrin.
"We don't care, anyway," smiled Dick.

"Let 'em hoot! I don't draw the line until they throw things." "If they knew Phin Drayne as we do, they'd throw him first," grimaced Darrin.
A minute later another hoot went up.

It was plain that the military school boys had been primed for this.
But the gray-clad youths, it was very soon evident, were not the only ones who had come out to make a noise.

Half of the Fordham crowd present joined in the volleys of derision that were showered down on the practicing boys from Gridley.
"It's nothing but a mob!" declared Darrin, his eyes flashing.
"Careful, old fellow," counseled Prescott coolly.