It was a comparatively simple matter, the way the signals had been devised, to so change them so that another team, even with a copy of the originals, would have found it impossible to know in advance what the plays were to be. Half an hour was spent in going over the new combinations while the team was in the gymnasium, and then they went out on the field to play against the scrub. It was a little awkward at first for Phil to run the eleven under the new system, and he made one or two blunders. But the scrub was beaten by a good score. "You'll do better to-morrow," commented the coach. "It is a little troublesome, I know, to use the new letters and figures, but we'll practice on them constantly until we meet Boxer Hall on Saturday." This was to be the first game of the season with Boxer Hall, the college, which, with Fairview Institute and Randall, formed the Tonoka Lake League. The Randallites were on edge for it, and they had need to be, for Boxer had a fine eleven, better than in many years. "We'll have all we want to do to beat them," said Phil to a crowd of his chums after practice one day. "They're in better shape than Fairview was." "So are we," declared Tom. "We're going to win." "I hope you do," remarked Ford Fenton. "They have a peculiar way of playing the game in the first half. My uncle says----" "Wow!" It was a simultaneous howl from the crowd of lads. They sometimes did this when Ford's reminiscences got on their nerves. The lad with the uncle turned away. "I was going to put you on to some of their tricks," he continued in injured tones. "Now I won't." "Write it out and hand it to Holly Cross," suggested Phil. "Well, Phil," remarked Tom to his chum on Saturday, about an hour before the big game, when the team was dressing in the Randall gymnasium, "do you feel as if we were going to win?" "I certainly do," spoke the quarter-back as he laced his canvas jacket. "I never felt in better shape. Only for one thing----" He paused suddenly, but Tom knew what he meant. It was the fear that, in the midst of the game, he might get bad news about his mother. Since receiving the telegram advising him to be ready to leave for Florida on short notice, Phil and his sister had had word that their mother had rallied somewhat, but that no permanent hope was held out for her recovery. "Try not to think about it, old man," advised Tom. "I--I do try," responded Phil. "But it--it's hard work," and he bent over to tie his shoe. Out on the gridiron trotted the Randall players. They were received with a burst of cheers, led by Bean Perkins, whose voice was more than ever like a foghorn. "Give 'em the 'Conquer or Die' song," he called. "No; wait until they need it," suggested Sid Henderson, who was in the grandstand. "Let's sing 'We're Going to Make a Touch-down Now!' That'll be better." The verses and chorus welled out from several hundred lusty throats, and the Randall team, which was at quick practice, looked up in appreciation.