And so, though the football squad was not yet formally organized for training and practice, yet, up to the last few days, it had been expected that a finer gridiron crowd than usual would present itself for weeding, sifting and training by Coach Morton. The latter was also one of the submasters of Gridley High School. Since the school year had opened, however, undercurrent news had been rife that there would be many "soreheads," and that this would be an "off year" in Gridley football. Just where the trouble lay, or what the "kick" was about, was a puzzle to most members of the student body. It was an actual mystery to Dick & Co. "What is all the undermining row about, anyway?" demanded Dick, looking around at his chums. Dick was pacing the floor. Dave, Tom and Greg Holmes were seated on the edge of the bed. Dan Dalzell was lying back in the one armchair that the room boasted. Harry Hazelton was standing by the door. "I can't make a single thing out of it all," sighed Dan. "All I can get at is that some of the seniors and some of our class, the juniors, are talking as though they didn't care about playing this year. I know that Coach Morton is worried. In fact, he's downright disheartened." "Surely," interjected Dick, "Mr. Morton must have an idea of what is keeping some of the fellows back from the team?" "If he does know, he isn't offering any information," returned Harry Hazelton. "I don't see any need for so much mystery," broke in Dave Darrin, in disgust. "Well, there is a mystery about it, anyway," contended Tom Reade. "Then, before I'm much older, I'm going to know what that mystery is," declared Dick. "You're surely the one of our crowd who ought to be put on the trail of the mystery," proposed Dalzell, with a laugh. "Why?" challenged Prescott. "Why, you're a reporter on 'The Blade.' Now mysteries are supposed to constitute the especial field of reporters. So, see here, fellows, I move that we appoint Dick Prescott a committee of one for Dick & Co., his job being to find out what ails football---to learn just what has made football sick this year." "Hear! Hear!" cried some of the others. "Is that your unanimous wish, fellows?" asked Dick, smiling. "It is," the others agreed. "Very good, then," sighed Prescott. "At no matter what personal cost, I will find the answer for you." This was all in a spirit of fun, as the chums understood. Yet this lightly given promise was likely to involve Dick Prescott in a good deal more than he had expected.