"Not very well. I hear that the other side has made a very good offer to Mr. Duncaster, but he has turned them down the same as he did me. There are other matters cropping up, however, that make things complicated in the electric road business, and poor dad is worried to death. I don't know what his next move will be." "Did you hear whether or not we'll have a game with Haskell?" "No, but here comes Hatfield now. We'll ask him. He has some mail, perhaps he just heard." "It's all right!" joyfully called the manager, waving a letter at Dick. "They'll play us next Saturday. Those coaches must have quite a pull." "Will they put in their first team?" asked Dick anxiously, for there would be little glory in beating the Haskell scrub. "They'll do that, and also come here to give us a game." "On our own grounds? Good!" cried Paul. "We'll play our heads off!" "It's great!" declared Dick. "I only hope we--but there of course we're going to win!" and he changed his sentence with an assumed confidence he hardly felt. "Will we work any of the new plays on 'em?" asked Paul. "I like the wing shifts and the sequence plays." "We'll work 'em if we get a chance," said Dick. "It will all depend on what sort of a game they put up. We may have to kick a lot." "Well, we're up to snuff on that line," declared the manager. "Now I must arrange the details. I hope we get out a big crowd and make some money." "And I hope the fellows come out to practice this afternoon," spoke Dick. "Come on Paul, we've got the science lecture on now." The scrub, against whom the Varsity matched forces that afternoon, had been having some secret practice of their own, and they worked a couple of tricks on the rather surprised first team that netted a good gain, and eventually a touchdown. "That's something you must be on the lookout for," said Mr. Martin, who was a bit chagrined over what had happened. "It isn't enough to play well on your own team, you must watch what the other fellow is doing. Now try again, and put some ginger into your work." "Yes, you're getting a bit stale I'm afraid," declared Mr. Spencer, and he added some rather sharp words of correction. The Varsity members were somewhat hurt. They did not know that the words were spoken intentionally, and to force them to do a little better. The rebuke had the desired effect, and thereafter the unfortunate scrub team was shoved all over the gridiron, not only not getting within striking distance of their opponents' goal line, but having three touchdowns rolled up against them in short order. "That's something like!" cried Mr. Martin in approval. "Now, Hamilton, try that wing shift," he whispered to Dick. "I think we can fool them."