“Captain Huckley, there is a man on your team whom I know to be a slugger, as well as a professional. His name is Porter. I have played baseball against him, and know what he is.” “Porter?” said Huckley, not at all pleased. “I think you must be mistaken about his character. He’s all right.” “Then he has changed greatly for the better,” said Dick. “He has no great liking for me. I had some trouble with him once.” “Well, you can’t ask me to break up my team just because you happened to have some trouble with one of the men on it.” “I don’t ask you to break the team up; but you may find it a good plan to give Porter warning to play straight football. Those fellows up there on the seats won’t stand for crooked work.” “That’s all right,” came with a sneer from Huckley. “We’ll have a snap with your little team to-day, Captain Merriwell. There won’t be any need of our resorting to anything but the simplest kind of football.” “That remains to be demonstrated. Perhaps you may change your mind later.” “Time is passing,” said the referee. “The game will begin late now.” “We’re ready,” announced Dick grimly. “Flip the coin. Mr. Huckley may call it.” “Heads,” said Huckley, as the coin spun in the air. “Tails,” announced the referee. “Your choice, Captain Merriwell.” There was not much wind, and Dick decided to kick off. So Fardale took the ball and the eastern goal to defend. Singleton kicked, but, in spite of the fact that there was no wind, the ball flew off to one side and went out of bounds. When it was brought back the big fellow took plenty of time and smashed it hard and fair. Up into the air and away sailed the ball. Over the muddy field raced Buckhart and Shannock. Sampson caught the ball. He made no attempt to return the kick, but leaped forward. Buckhart seemed to have the fellow foul. He tackled, but somehow he failed to hold the fellow, his hands slipping off in a most surprising way. Sampson dashed onward. Gardner fancied he saw his opportunity. He closed in on the runner and made a beautiful leap for a tackle. “He’s got him!” cried the cadets. But, although Gardner’s hands fell fairly on the runner, he was unable to hold Sampson, who slipped away from him and still kept on. Darrell was the third man to tackle the runner, and he brought him down, although Sampson nearly slipped from his grasp in the struggle. But New Era had carried the ball back to her forty-yard line. “Whatever have those galoots got on?” growled Buckhart, as he hurried to get into the line-up. “Why, I tackled the fellow all right, but he went out of my hands like grease.” Gardner said nothing. He felt chagrined over his failure to stop Sampson. There was plenty of confidence in the New Era players as they lined up for the scrimmage. There was a sudden signal, a single word spoken, and the ball was snapped and passed to Sampson. The runner went straight into Fardale’s center, which was the strongest point of the home team’s line.