With Garry gone, his former mates were like a ship without a rudder. Mr. Phillips had done the best he could to strengthen the team. Pete Maddern had been put in Rooster's place and Benny Knapp had taken Garry's, while Rankin had been called on to fill Knapp's place in the backfield. It was the best that could be done under the circumstances, but it was not good enough to avert an overwhelming defeat. For Benny got mixed in his signals, often with fatal results. The whole team became confused, not knowing what to expect from their leader. Thomaston took full advantage of the mistakes and made the game a massacre. Only once did Lenox score, when the Thomaston fullback fumbled and Nick scooped up the ball and went over the line for a touchdown. But Thomaston scored almost at will. They rode easily to victory while Lenox was smothered at every turn. Six times Thomaston battered its way through the line for touchdowns. When they wearied of this, they resorted to the aerial game, while the Lenox overhead defense collapsed. Four times Thomaston scored through the air on two passes of fifty yards each, one of fifty-four and a fourth of twenty-seven. Under this fierce attack the entire Lenox team became like a mass of huddled sheep. The game had become a joke. When at last the referee's whistle sounded an end to the slaughter, Thomaston had triumphed by a score of 63 to 6. The Lenox rooters sat through it all, glum and dumbfounded, while the Thomaston supporters chortled with glee. Lenox had taken a shameful beating. Sick at heart, Garry watched his chance, and when his comrades were not looking slipped away by himself. He was in no mood for conversation. He wanted to be alone in his misery until he could get a grip on himself. To have to sit there and watch his team lose! To feel without conceit that in ten minutes on the field he could have turned the tide of battle! To know this, and yet to sit there in silent agony seeing the team disgraced! It was more than he could bear. Wandering along blindly, his head full of unhappy thoughts, Garry heard himself suddenly accosted. The voice was a familiar one and, looking up, Garry saw Cal Yates' car parked at the curb. Cal was grinning at him amiably. "What's the matter that you can't recognize an old friend," chirped Cal. "Come on, jump in and we'll go for a ride." Garry hesitated, was about to refuse, then suddenly acquiesced. He liked Cal Yates and hardly cared to offend him by refusing the invitation. Then, too, it would be a change and might drive away some of the gloom that enwrapped him. As Garry put a leg over the car door and slumped down in the seat beside him, Cal regarded him slyly out of the corner of his eye. "Think I can guess the reason for your doleful dumps," Cal said with a jerk of his head back toward the field. "I was at the game. Thomaston certain walked all over you." Garry nodded glumly.