"Yes, I have," replied Adams soberly. "I've been trying to figure it out. The linesmen have been all right, but the backs have played like simpletons. I can't understand it. Usually, they've been my most dependable men." "And probably would have been to-day," replied Mr. Phillips, "if they'd been playing straight football." "What do you mean by that?" asked Coach Adams quickly, a frown beginning to gather. "Now don't go up in the air, Adams," Mr. Phillips adjured him. "I'm risking a sure victory in telling you this. If I kept still, we'd probably beat you by fifty to none. But I want to keep the game clean. Now here's the story," and in a few brief sentences he told the tale of the stealing of the signals by Sandy Podder's gang. As Mr. Adams listened the frown upon his brow became a thunder cloud. "It's certainly kind of you to tell me this," he said warmly, when Mr. Phillips had finished. "And you can bet there's going to be a shakeup in my team!" he added. He hurried off, and when, a few minutes later, the teams lined up again, Sykes, Chambers, and Farnum were missing. Now the Lenox boys found that they had their hands full. Whether the Wimbledon coach had told his players of the dereliction of their mates or had simply left them to their own suspicions, was not known by Mr. Phillips; but in any event the Wimbledons had been roused to a pitch of ferocity that for a few minutes took the players on the home team off their feet. Wimbledon's first play when they got the ball resulted in a twenty-five-yard gain by Reulbach around the Lenox left end. One forward pass failed, but another, Gray to Weston, gave Wimbledon a net gain of forty yards, bringing the ball to the Lenox eight-yard line. Booth smashed through for five yards. Briggs was halted in his tracks. But on the next try, Weston plunged through for Wimbledon's first touchdown of the game. Reulbach kicked the goal, and Wimbledon had escaped a whitewash. But it was soon evident that they were not going to be satisfied with that. Encouraged by the howls of their rooters--the first there had been any occasion for so far--the Wimbledons played like wild men. Three times in succession they made their distance by line smashing. Then Acland snatched a forward pass out of the air and by a magnificent run around right end crossed the line for another touchdown. The try for point succeeded, and Wimbledon now had fourteen points. Lenox had been resting too securely on its laurels. Its easy time in the first half had inspired it with over-confidence. Now it began to wake up and play the ball of which it was capable. The Lenox line, stung by Garry's furious charge that it was as full of holes as Swiss cheese, became a stone wall against which the Wimbledon cohorts broke in vain.