After dinner the three boys went up to Gerald’s room and loafed until it was time to go to the game. They reached the field early, but found the grand stand already nearly filled. Forest Hill School had sent over nearly a half hundred rooters and these had taken possession of one end of the stand and were already tuning up for the afternoon’s vocal performance. A good many folks had come over from Greenburg and, of course, Yardley had turned out to a man. The crowds was still streaming on to the field when the Forest Hill team trotted past the corner of the stand and crossed the gridiron to throw off blankets along the further side-line. Gerald, Harry and The Duke were idling by the ropes on the Yardley side when “Perky” Davis, the football manager, stopped. Davis was a thin, light-haired youth with an habitual expression of care and concern. Just now he seemed more worried than ever, and the creases on his forehead were many and deep. “Look who’s here, Gerald,” he said in a low voice. Gerald’s gaze followed the manager’s toward the grand stand. “Who, Perky?” he asked. “Gibson, of Broadwood; the fellow who substitutes at guard. See him? The big chap with the light gray overcoat and the derby hat, sitting next to the Forest Hill crowd. He’s here to spy on us. Probably thinks we won’t recognize him. I wish he’d choke. We were going to use four or five new plays to-day, too. I’ll have to tell Payson.” “I remember him,” said The Duke. “He’s got his nerve, hasn’t he? I think he sees us looking at him.” “Let him,” muttered Davis. “It’s just like Broadwood to send spies over here.” “Seen any more?” asked Gerald. Davis shook his head, searching the throng suspiciously. “Not yet. Maybe he’s the only one. They wouldn’t send more than one, I guess. He isn’t much of a player, but they say he’s a mighty clever chap at sizing up things.” “Well, I suppose they have a right to do it if they want to,” said Gerald. “And we can’t very well put him out, can we?” “No, but he won’t learn much, because when I tell Payson he will shut down on any new stuff. It’s too bad, though, because we need to try out those plays.” At that moment the Yardley team came on and the Yardley cheerers started into action. “We’d better find some seats or there won’t be any,” suggested Harry. “Wait a minute,” said Gerald. Davis had hurried away and was speaking to the coach. When he turned back Gerald hailed him. “What did Payson say, Perky?” “Asked me if I was certain, and I said I was. Then he nodded and called Charlie and Bert. I guess they’re making over the programme.” At a little distance Payson, Merriwell and Simms were in consultation. The rest of the team had taken the field and the footballs were already flying through the air. “Someone ought to kick him out,” said Harry, fixing the Broadwood youth with hostile regard.