He was waiting his opportunity.
So hard was the "slugging," so overbearing and ruthlessly unfair was the Fordham charge that, at the end of five minutes, Gridley was forced to make a safety, losing two points at the outset.
"Yah!" sneered an exultant voice from the ranks of the military school.

"That's the fine Captain Prescott we've heard about!" Tom Reade, in togs, was standing among the Gridley subs at the side line.
Tom recognized, as did all the Gridley boys, the voice of Phin Drayne.
"Yes!" bellowed Tom, facing the gray-clad group.

"And that last speaker was a fellow who was expelled from Gridley High School for selling out his team!" It was a swift shot and a bull's-eye.

The Fordham Institute boys had no answer ready for that.

Half of them turned to stare at Phin Drayne, whose guilty face, with color coming and going in flashes seemed to admit the truth of Reade's taunt.
"Dick," growled Darrin, as they moved forward, after the safety, to Gridley's twenty-five yard line, "these Fordham fellows are simply ruffians.