"Must have been a pretty tough fight," commented Garry. "But one point is as good as fifty, as long as it's on the right side. Now we stand on even terms with Wimbledon with two won and one lost. It looks as though our game with Wimbledon will decide which school gets the flag." There was no practice the next Monday afternoon at Lenox, for Mr. Phillips decided that his weary warriors had well earned a rest. But he asked Garry to see him after the close of school. "I've been thinking, Grayson," began Mr. Phillips when they were alone together, "that it might be a good thing if we changed our system of signals." Garry looked at him in surprise. "Why, what's wrong with them?" he asked. "Nothing at all," replied Mr. Phillips. "They're about as good and scientific a system as can be devised. All the same, I think it might be a good idea to change them." "Why, of course it's just as you say, Mr. Phillips," Garry replied. "But don't you think it may get the fellows a little mixed? They're so used to the old ones now that it's come to be second nature to obey them. They don't need to think; it comes to them by instinct. And everything's been working as smooth as silk so far. They've got them down fine." Mr. Phillips pondered for a moment. "There's something in what you say," he conceded, "and I want to make sure of that Bass Lake game, so that we may be certain of meeting Wimbledon in the final struggle. I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll compromise. We'll let the old system stand until after we've played Bass Lake. But for Wimbledon we'll have a brand new set." Garry racked his brain to find what Mr. Phillips was driving at. He could see nothing but risk in the plan. "Got you guessing, has it, Grayson?" he asked, with a quizzical smile. "I don't wonder. On the face of it, it doesn't look so good. But you must believe that I have a good reason. I'll tell you just what it is when I get more definite information. Don't say anything to the other boys about this interview until I give the word." With this Garry had to be content. But he was sorely perplexed as he wended his way homeward, pondering on what Mr. Phillips had said. The signals they had been using had been so dinned into the players' heads that it had become second nature to obey them. This was as it should be. In a hot fight where a play had to be timed to a fraction of a second, there was no time to debate the meaning of a signal. If now the old ones were thrown into the discard and a new set substituted, he foresaw trouble and confusion. The old and the new would struggle for the mastery. What on earth could Mr. Phillips be thinking about? But there must be a reason, and a good one. Garry had implicit confidence in the coach. He knew he would not take this risk unless a greater risk threatened. What was that greater risk? It came to him in a flash!