It was a well executed play, and when the man with the ball got safely away, and through the scrub line Dick slipped and fell, for the ground was soft from a recent rain. Down he went at full length into a puddle, with another player on top of him, and when he arose he was rather a sorry-looking sight, but not injured. Time was called directly after that, and as the players filed off the field, passing through a little knot of spectators, Dick heard his name called. "Well, of all the disgraceful sights, you certainly present one!" exclaimed a rasping voice. There was a menancing growl from Grit, whom one of Dick's friends held in leash. Our hero looked toward where the voice had sounded. "Uncle Ezra!" he faltered, as he saw his grim-visaged relative. "Yes, I'm here, and I must say of all the brutal exhibitions I ever saw, this is the worst. I never saw a bull fight, but it can't be much worse!" There was some laughter at this, and Dick looked at his crabbed uncle in some alarm. "Have you come to see me?" he asked. "Not exactly. I came because your father is in trouble, and I want to help him." "Trouble? What kind--the--" began our hero. "If you'll go somewhere and get washed up, and put some clean clothes on, so you won't look so much like a tramp, I'll talk to you," said Mr. Larabee stiffly. "I've come to take you back home, Nephew Richard." CHAPTER XVIII ANOTHER FRUITLESS ATTEMPT For a moment the young millionaire did not know what to say or think. His father in trouble! Uncle Ezra had come to take him away from Kentfield! And in the height of the football season just before the first big game! "Is my father ill?" asked Dick. "No, not ill, only worrying over business. I always said he had too many irons in the fire, and now some have burned him," declared the old man as he walked along beside his nephew out of ear-shot of the crowd. "I've come on to try my hand at helping him." "But what can you do here?" asked Dick. "And why must I leave Kentfield?" "To help your father. I should think you'd be glad to. He needs money. It costs money to stay here and play those silly, dangerous games." "Not very much money, Uncle Ezra." "Don't tell me! You ought to be in my woolen mill earning four dollars and a quarter a week, instead of wasting cash here. Now I want to have a serious talk with you, Nephew Richard. Your father is in trouble, and it's your duty to leave here and help him." "I think I can help him by staying here just as well. But did he tell you to take me away from Kentfield--just when I have the football team in good shape? Did he say I was to leave?"