“All right,” said Buckhart, regretfully following young Merriwell. “But I wasn’t half done with her. I was just getting round to say over my opinion of her, and I reckon I’d sure rumpled her fur some.” “Never mind,” said Dick. “We’ve got other things to think of besides that woman.” “Don’t you worry none whatever about arrest,” said the Texan. “She’ll not be that big a fool.” “I hope not,” said Dick. As Dick said, he had other things to occupy his mind. He was bound to win the game that afternoon and teach Franklin a lesson. Midday had passed and Dick was entering the gymnasium to prepare for the game when a boy on a bicycle hailed him. He stopped, frowning a little as the boy came up swiftly, for he half-fancied it was some one sent by Mrs. Arlington. As the lad drew near, however, Dick suddenly recognized him. It was Sammy—Sammy of Hudsonville, on a brand-new wheel! Sammy was laughing as he jumped off. “I wanted you to see the wheel Mr. Arlington sent me in place of the old one,” he said. “I’ve ridden over here on it to thank Miss Arlington and to see the football-game. I’m going to root for you in the game. Say, ain’t this wheel a peach?” “It is very handsome,” said Dick. “It seems to be quite as good as your other one.” “Oh, it’s better! A machinist over in our town says it’s the best he ever saw, and he knows a good one when he sees it.” “I congratulate you, Sammy,” said Dick. “I’m very glad you got the wheel all right and like it.” “Oh, I like it! Say, you’re going to do them Franklin fellows, ain’t you? They beat our team, and they think they are the real stuff. I’d give anything to see you do ’em up.” “All right,” smiled Dick. “Keep your eyes open this afternoon, Sammy.” CHAPTER VIII—FARDALE’S WAY In some respects the first half of the game that day was like the first half in Hudsonville. Franklin had the heavier team, and it kept the ball in Fardale’s territory fully three-fourths of the time. The first touchdown was made by Franklin with such ridiculous ease that the watching cadets groaned in despair. But Dick managed to put enough fight into his team to enable it to withstand the further assaults of the enemy, and the half ended with the ball on Fardale’s ten-yard line. Chester Arlington was not on hand to witness the game, but the rest of the Wolf Gang, composed of cadets who hated Dick Merriwell—Mark Crauthers, Fred Stark, Sam Hogan, and Bunol, the Spanish boy—were there and rejoiced. These fellows did not dare show their satisfaction openly, but they expressed it to one another. Sammy of Hudsonville was disappointed, but he kept up his cheering for Fardale and for Dick Merriwell right through to the end of the half. “What are you yelling for?” asked a man roughly. “Fardale is getting beaten.” “That’s all right,” said Sammy. “I’ve seen them fellows play before. I saw them play last Saturday, and they crawled out of a worse hole than this. You can’t keep Dick Merriwell from winning.”