Good-humored avoidance is excellent treatment to accord a snob, and this, as far as possible, had been the plan of Dick & Co. and of the other average boy at the High School. "Let us see," broke in Dick, suddenly, "who are the soreheads in the football line?" "Well, Davis and Cassleigh, of the senior class, for two," replied Dave Darrin. "Dodge, Fremont and Bayliss, also first classmen," suggested Reade. "Trenholm and Grayson, also seniors," brought in Greg Holmes. "Then there are Porter, Drayne and Whitney," added Dave. "They're of this year's Juniors." "And Hudson and Paulson, also of our junior class," nodded Harry Hazelton. Dick Prescott had rapidly written down the names. Now he was studying the list carefully. "They're all good football men," sighed Dick. "All men whose aid in the football squad is much needed." "Drayne is the stuck-up chap, who uses the broad 'a' in his speech, and carries his nose up at an angle of forty-five degrees," chuckled Dan Dalzell. "He's the fellow I mortally offended by nicknaming him 'Sewers,' to mimic his name of 'Drayne.'" "That wouldn't be enough to keep him out of football," remarked Dave quietly. Dick looked up suddenly from his list. "Fellows," he announced, "I've made one discovery." "Out with it!" ordered Dan. "Perhaps you can guess for yourselves what I have just found." "We can't," admitted Hazelton meekly. "Please tell us, and save us racking our brains." "Well, it's curious," continued Dick slowly, "but every one of these fellows---I believe you've given me all the names of the 'soreheads'" "We have," affirmed Tom Reade. "Well, I've just noted that every fellow on my sorehead roll of honor belongs to one of our families of wealth in Gridley." Dick paused to look around him, to see how the announcement impressed his chums. "Do you mean," hinted Hazelton, "that the soreheads are down on football because they prefer automobiles?" "No." Dick Prescott shook his head emphatically. "By Jove, Dick, I believe you're right," suddenly exclaimed Dave Darrin. "So you see my point, old fellow?" "I'm sure I do." "I'm going to get examined for spectacles, then," sighed Dan plaintively. "I can't see a thing." "Why, you ninny," retorted Dave scornfully, "the football 'soreheads' have been developing that classy feeling. They wear better clothes than we do, and have more pocket money. Many of their fathers don't work for a living. In other words, the fellows on Dick's list belong to what they consider a privileged and aristocratic set. They're the Gridley bluebloods---or think they are---and they don't intend to play on any football eleven that is likely to have Dick & Co. and a few other ordinary muckers on it." "Muckers?" repeated Harry Hazelton flaring up. "Cool down, dear chap, _do_!" urged Darrin, soothingly. "I don't mean to imply that we really are muckers, but that's what some of the classy group evidently consider us."