"Tumbled to what!" asked Bill. "I guess I'll leave that to Mr. Phillips to tell you," grinned Garry. "All I'm saying now is that we're having a nice little demonstration that honesty is the best policy. But come along, fellows. Time's up!" Wimbledon had the ball, but when it failed to gain after two line smashes Chambers punted to the Lenox thirty-five-yard line. Nick cut loose on a run of fifteen yards around Wimbledon's left wing. Here again the signals in Wimbledon's possession wrought confusion, for they called for a run to the right and the Wimbledon line had swung round to head him off. Knapp was thrown for a loss on the next play, and then on a deceptive right end rush, Garry squirmed through the line for ten yards. Rooster punted over the Wimbledon goal line and the ball was brought back. Wimbledon failed to penetrate the Lenox line and Sykes resorted again to the kicking game. It was Lenox's ball on Wimbledon's thirty-eight-yard line, and twice Garry, who was fighting like a tiger, jammed his way through for two first downs. The Lenox backs kept up a persistent attack until Nick planted the ball on the visitors' ten-yard line. After Tom Allison had made a brilliant attempt to skirt the enemy's right end, he was forced out of bounds on Wimbledon's three-yard line. On the next play Rooster, on a fake to jump the left end, suddenly whirled and threw himself between guard and tackle for a touchdown. Nick kicked the goal and the score was 20 to 0 in favor of the home team! Amid the playing of the band, the jangle of cowbells and the frenzied shoutings of the Lenox rooters, four very pale and dispirited conspirators looked at each other with panic in their eyes. Sandy, his complexion a yellowish-green, hid his head in his hands and groaned miserably. "Nice thing you've let us in for!" gritted Lent Stewart savagely. "We're done, and done brown!" growled Aleck Anderson. "And I've put every cent I had on Wimbledon," snarled the glowering Bixby. "Aw, shut up!" Sandy came back at his baiters. "I'll lose more money than all the rest of you put together, if Wimbledon loses. I'll be stony broke and in debt too, for I've borrowed from everybody. Can I help it if Sykes isn't taking advantage of the signals I gave him? What's the matter with the fellow, anyway? He's had a dead cinch, if he only had played it right." "It's Lenox that had the cinch," snarled Aleck Anderson. "I've been watching the play, and I know. Lenox has got next to your scheme and has gone back to its old signals. You've been double-crossed, you big boob! Wimbledon's up in the air. You and your smart schemes! Why, Garry Grayson's got more brains in his little finger than you have in your head, you false alarm!"