"It's all right," broke in Coach Norton for Blue Hill. "If you object to him, we'll take some one else. How will Jacob Small do?" "Of Lehigh?" "Yes." "We'll accept him gladly," assented Mr. Spencer. "Now as to the other officials," and they were quickly settled upon. "Heads or tails?" asked Dick, as he prepared to spin the coin for choice of goals. "Um--heads," spoke Captain Haskell quickly, as the quarter went spinning into the air. "Heads it is," announced Dick without a tremor in his voice. The first little indication of fate had gone against him, but it could not be helped. He hoped to get the choice, as there was no wind blowing, and naturally no advantage in goals, so that the winner of the toss could elect to have the other side kick off if he liked. Dick had planned to let Blue Hill kick if he had won the say of the spinning coin, but it was not to be. Which would Haskell select? There was a moment's hesitation as the rival captain tested the wind with a moistened, up-lifted finger. Then he announced his choice. "We'll take the north goal. You fellows can kick off!" "All right," spoke Dick and he tried not to show the little disappointment in his voice. "Then as it's all settled we can get to practice." Dick had hoped to get possession of the ball immediately after the kick off and by a series of whirlwind rushes demoralize his opponents. Now he would have to change his plans. "Well, we'll see how we can hold them," he said to Paul, as they went over to their side of the field to run through some plays. There was fast, snappy, preliminary work. Dick paused once or twice to observe his opponents. "No sign of them going stale," he reflected. The hour for play had come. The officials had settled all the details. The new ball had been blown up, and the cover laced tightly. Carrying it in his hand the referee advanced to the centre of the field and handed it to Dick. "Are you ready?" the official asked. The young millionaire nodded. "Line up!" called the referee as Dick handed the ball to Innis Beeby to kick off. CHAPTER XXIX HAMMER AND SMASH With a graceful curve the pigskin sailed down the field, high over the heads of the eager, waiting Blue Hill lads, beyond even their full-back who had not stationed himself far enough in the rear. He had to do a nimble sprinting act before he was ready to receive the spheroid on his ten yard line. Then, tucking the leather close to his chest, and with head well down he ran low back toward the Kentfield goal. "Get to him, boy, get to him!" cried Dick. "We mustn't let 'em gain an inch if we can help it." Like hounds from the leash, the young millionaire and his companions raced toward their quarry, and an instant later the two eager advancing lines met, eleven straining lads trying to bore in through ten others and get at the man with the ball.