In the first two or three days after his injury at the fire Dick had traveled briefly in the dark valley of physical despair. To be crippled or ill, to be physically useless---the thought filled him with horror. Then young Prescott had taken a good grip on himself. Out of despair proceeded determination not to allow his lungs to go down before the assault of smoke and furnace-like air. Grace Dodge was not, as yet, well on the way to recovery, but Dick Prescott, with his strong will power, and the grit that came of Gridley athletics, was now togging hastily to play in the great game---though he had not, as yet, returned to school after his disaster. Out near the grandstand the band crashed forth for the tenth time. Gridley High School bannerets waved by the hundreds. Yet Filmore, too, had her hosts of boosters here today, and their yells all but drowned out the spirited music. "Here come our boys! Gridley! Gridley! Gridley! Wow-ow-ow!" "Hurrah!" Then the home boosters, who had read Drayne's name on the score card took another look at their cards---next rubbed their eyes. "Prescott at left end!" yelled one frenzied booster. "Whoop!" Then the Gridley bannerets waved like a surging sea of color. The band, finishing its strain, started in again, not waiting for breath. "Prescott, after all, on left end!" Home boosters were still cheering wildly by the time that Captain Pike, of Filmore High School, had won the toss and the teams were lining, up. Silence did not fall until just the instant before the ball was put in play. Drayne, with his headgear pulled down over his eyes, and skulking out beside the grand stand, soon began to feel a savage satisfaction. Something must be ailing the left end man after all, for Dick did not seem able to get through the Filmore line with his usual brilliant tactics. Instead, after ten minutes of furious play, Filmore forced Gridley to make a safety. Then again the ball was forced down toward Gridley's goal line, and at last pushed over. Gridley hearts, over on the grand stand and bleacher seats, were beating with painful rapidity. What ailed the home boys? Or were the Filmore youths, as they themselves fondly imagined, the gridiron stars of the school world! Filmore, like Gridley, had a record of no defeats so far this season. It was a hard pill for Captain Wadleigh and his men to swallow. In the interval between the halves the local band played, but the former dash was now noticeably absent from its music. The Gridley colors drooped. CHAPTER XXIII SULKER AND REAL MAN Dave Darrin glanced covertly, though anxiously, at his chum. Was Dick really unfit to play? Dave wondered. It was not that Prescott had actually failed in any quick bit of individual or team play that he had been signaled to perform. But Darrin wondered if Dick could really be anything like up to the mark.