Morris was something of a problem to Dick and Lanny. In spite of the doctor’s permission, Dick had a feeling that Morris, if allowed to play as much as he wanted to, was likely to peg out before the big game. Lanny, too, shared this belief, and, while neither of them could have given satisfactory reasons for it, they were agreed that the wise course was to nurse Morris along, giving him only enough work to keep him in condition, and bank all on his ability to reach the Springdale contest in top-form. Meanwhile Lanny himself was doing most of the punting, Chester Cottrell supplying short kicks from regular formation. So far Morris Brent had been brought into the game whenever a goal from field was necessary, but Dick was anxious to find another player who could also be relied on to add an occasional three points in that manner. So far, though, no one had shown much promise. Tupper and Nelson Beaton were doing their best under Morris’s tuition, but they didn’t seem to get on very fast. Dick heartily wished that he knew more about drop-kicking himself, or, better still, that there was somebody he could call on to come out and coach in that department of the game. And in the meantime came the game with Logan, which, since it must be played without Lanny and Cottrell, presented another problem! CHAPTER XI “SPY!” Springdale lies nestled amongst the hills six miles inland from Clearfield, and one may make the journey speedily enough by either steam railroad or trolley line. Lanny and Chester chose the latter route, and after an early dinner on Saturday, climbed into a front seat of one of the big, lumbersome cars and settled themselves for the forty-minute trip. Chester――he was a sturdily-built chap of seventeen with a pleasant countenance and a singularly attractive voice――was supplementing his hasty meal with peanuts. Lanny declined the delicacy and intimated that the quarterback would be a whole lot better off if he didn’t eat such “truck” between meals. Lanny was inclined to be irritable to-day, recognizing which fact, Chester diplomatically confined his entire attention to the contents of his paper bag while the car rumbled over the B Street Bridge after slowly and noisily trundling its way through most of the business portion of the town. By the time it had left the mills behind and had plunged into the country――it sped across fields and through woods with no heed to the highways――Lanny was ready to talk. Perhaps the crisp October breeze had blown his irritability away. At all events, after that they chatted pleasantly enough and watched the long line of shining rails rush toward them at breath-taking speed. Every few minutes the car slowed down at a tiny station and folks got off or on, and the two boys, now being in excellent spirits, viewed and discussed them and whimsically invented histories and careers for them. The big car pulled into Central Square in Springdale right on time and the visitors had