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Updated: June 22, 2025
Yet, as he walked slowly over to join the tacklers around the swinging figure, the hot blood came again to young Drayne's face. "I'll make this year a year of sorrow Gridley!" he quivered indignantly. "I'll hang on, and make believe I'm meek as a lamb, but I'll spoil Gridley's record for this year!
The oftener Phin looked in the direction of the chums, and more particularly of Dick, the blacker did Drayne's thoughts become. "Prescott has had everything come his way ever since he entered High School," growled Phin. "And now the mucker is going off to West Point, and the government is going to stamp him 'gentleman. A gentleman? Pooh! I'd like to show him up, as a bumptious upstart.
Well here is Drayne's recent examination paper in modern literature. It is, of course, in his own handwriting." Eagerly the two football men and their coach bent over to compare Drayne's handwriting with that on the envelope that had come back from Milton. "There has been an attempt at disguise," announced Mr. Morton, using a magnifying glass over the two specimens of writing.
Leaping forward, with all the adroitness of the born tackler, he caught that cane, just as it descended, and wrenched it out of Phin Drayne's cowardly, hand. Crack! Dick broke it in two across his knee, then tossed the pieces into the street. "You'll never be able to do anything better than a sneaky act," muttered Dick contemptuously, turning to walk on.
And now Dave Darrin was dancing in front of Heathcote Drayne, ordering: "Let go of Prescott! What sort of fair play is this?" "Mind your own business!" ordered Mr. Drayne. "I'm stopping a fight." Not an instant did impulsive Darrin waste in arguing the matter. He landed his fist just under Heathcote Drayne's left eye, causing that Heathcote to let go of Dick in a hurry.
For, almost instantly after Reade had called out, some of the military students around Drayne had demanded of him whether there was a shadow of truth in what Reade had said. Phin Drayne's "brass" had deserted him. He knew, anyway, that these comrades could dig up his past record at Gridley very quickly. Drayne knew that his days at Fordham were over.
In Drayne's present frame of mind all these appeals served to fan his inward fury. "Shut up, all of you!" he snapped. "I've listened to all the roasting I intend to stand. I'm out of the game!" Several looked blankly at "Hen" Wadleigh. "Whom have you to put in his place?" Grayson demanded hoarsely. Drayne heard and it was balm to his soul. He started to pull off his football trousers.
Drayne's treachery has just about crazed the other fellows with anger. They'll win everything ahead of 'em, now, just for spite and disgust, if for no better reason." "Sometimes anger serves a good purpose," laughed Mr. Morton. "But it was pitiful to look at poor old Dr. Thornton yesterday afternoon. At first I thought he was going to faint. He seemed suddenly to grow ten years older.
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