“You seem to be stuck on Dick Merriwell?” “I am. He’s all right, you bet! I’ll bet a hundred dollars he wins this game!” “I’ll take you,” said the man. “Put up your hundred dollars.” Sammy gasped. “I—I ain’t got a hundred dollars,” he said; “but I’ve got a brand-new bike that cost pretty near that, and I’ll bet that.” The man laughed. “I don’t want to rob you of your wheel,” he said, “so we won’t bet.” “Don’t you be afraid of robbing me!” exclaimed the boy. “But I think you need your money, so you hadn’t better bet.” Dick had looked in vain for June Arlington. She had said she would see him that afternoon, but he was sure she was not in the stand where most of the ladies were assembled. “Her mother would not let her come,” he decided. “I’m sorry. I believe we could do better if she were here. But we must win this game, anyhow.” After his usual manner he talked to his men during the intermission, suggesting little things, telling them where the enemy was weak, working up their confidence and courage, and doing everything in his power to get them into proper condition of mind to go in for the game and take it. “Plover hasn’t made no great stir so far, has he, pard?” said Buckhart. “It was Andrews made that touch-down.” “Plover?” said Singleton. “Who is Plover?” “The fellow playing left half-back for them.” “Why, that’s Gray.” “That’s the name they have given him,” confessed Brad; “but his right name is Plover, and he’s the chap who got into that bad scrape at Exeter last year.” “Why, Plover—he’s a professional!” exclaimed big Bob. “That’s what we’re up against to-day?” nodded Brad. “Rush and Carney, their end-men, are ‘ringers.’ Neither of them is taking a regular course at Franklin. And Wettinger, the left guard, is another. Oh, they’ve got a scabby team!” The boys were aroused. “Let’s beat them, hany’ow!” cried Billy Bradley. “It would be a shame, a measly shame!” said Ted Smart. “By Jim!” squeaked Obediah Tubbs; “if them fellers is goin’ to play that sort of a team they want to look out! Dern my picter if I don’t sail in hot an’ heavy next half!” “Everybody sus-sus-sus-sail in!” chattered Chip Jolliby. “We can eat ’em up!” “Eat ’em! eat ’em!” growled Harry Dare. So the boys went back on to the field in something of a fierce mood. Franklin had fancied the cadets would be spiritless and easy toward the end of the game, but when they found the home team snappier than ever, they were amazed. “On your taps every moment, fellows,” said Dick. “Keep them guessing.” Fardale did keep them guessing, but Franklin seemed to recover from her first surprise and settled down for a stubborn battle. It was hot work. With the ball down for the first time on Franklin’s forty-yard line, the cadets could not make a gain, and were forced to kick. Hickman ran back in anticipation of the kick, which he took prettily, and the Fardale rushers were blocked long enough to give him a start, which he improved.