"I guess that will be all right," assented Garry. "We can put in the whole scrub team, if you wish. They'll be tickled to death to have the chance, and it looks safe enough." "No," returned Mr. Phillips, "I don't want to go as far as that. You and the backs had better stay in to steady the others, but I'll put in an entirely new string of linesmen." So the scrubs poured in to show what they could do, determined if possible to show up the regulars by bettering their score. But in this they reckoned without their host. The Greenfield team, stung to the quick by the slur implied by putting in second-string men against them, braced up and played like furies. The substitutes found that they had their hands full in trying to hold their own. They did hold it, however, in the third quarter, but in the final period Greenfield escaped the disgrace of a whitewash by pushing one of their backs over for a touchdown. This, however, was as far as they got. And in the last three minutes of play Garry once more touched off the fireworks when he scooped up a fumbled ball, bolted around the right end, and came to earth only after he had once more planted the ball over the enemy's line, to a thundering chorus from the Lenox stands: "Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len! Look, oh, look at that boy run! Our Garry Grayson! Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!" CHAPTER XVIII Crooked Work "Well, we've redeemed ourselves," stated Garry Grayson, as, dusty and begrimed, he ran with his comrades for the clubhouse. "We sure have!" chortled Nick. "We stood those fellows on their heads good and proper. They don't know yet how it happened." It was a hilarious crowd that journeyed back to Lenox, taking with them metaphorical scalps to hang on their wigwam. "Did you see some of our old friends in the stands?" queried Ted. "I thought we had lots of them," replied Garry, "judging by the cheering." "So we did," agreed Ted. "But the friends I mean are the kind that would like to see you skinned alive." "Oh, you mean Sandy Podder and his pals?" replied Garry. "No, I was too busy playing to notice them. Of course they were rooting for Lenox," he added, with a grin. "Praying that you would break your leg, most likely," put in Rooster Long. "It was a cold day for everybody, but I imagine it must have been especially chilly for Sandy and his bunch. How they'd have liked to see us torn to bits by Greenfield!" "Too bad we couldn't oblige them, but we needed that game in our business," laughed Garry. "I wonder how the Pawling-Wimbledon game came out to-day." "Here's hoping that Pawling won!" exclaimed Rooster. "That would take down Wimbledon's chestiness a bit. They're already figuring on getting the pole for the pennant." To the Lenox team's great satisfaction, the boys learned on arriving in the home town that Pawling had indeed defeated Wimbledon, but by the close score of 10 to 9.