When the Spaniard was gone Dick thought it all over and worried about it. If Bunol told the truth, it was likely that Springvale would come prepared with a knowledge of Fardale’s methods and system that would make the game a walkover for the visitors. He thought of going to Chester and telling him plainly what had been proposed by Bunol. With this idea in mind, he left his room and ran into Arlington at the head of the stairs. Chester listened to Dick’s words, but his manner showed that he was aroused. “So that is Miguel Bunol’s game?” he exclaimed, when Dick had finished. “Merriwell, it’s a lie! I did not take the papers from your room, and I know nothing about them. I brand the whole yarn as a lie from Bunol, and he must be the one who did the trick, else he would not know so much about it.” Dick was not satisfied, but he could do nothing further. Springvale had a husky-looking football-team, and it appeared on Fardale Field that afternoon with a swagger of confidence that seemed to betoken their belief in an easy victory. Thor, their big full-back and captain, was a magnificent-looking fellow, with a shaggy mane of yellow and fearless blue eyes. He seemed a youthful reincarnation of the Scandinavian war god whose name he bore, if a god may be spoken of as reincarnated. Springvale village had plenty of confidence in its team, and almost a hundred rooters had accompanied the young gladiators to Fardale to cheer them on to victory. On the other hand, the villagers at Fardale had begun to believe the academy team could not be defeated, upon which their interest in the games waned, for which reason but a few of them came out. The cadets were on hand as usual, but the bleachers and ground were not crowded. Springvale, like many of the other teams, had an almost entirely new line-up of players.