The High School Left End

H. Irving Hancock
The High School Left End

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Title: The High School Left End Dick & Co. Grilling on the Football
Gridiron
Author: H. Irving Hancock
Release Date: June 23, 2004 [EBook #12691]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGH
SCHOOL LEFT END ***

Produced by Jim Ludwig

THE HIGH SCHOOL LEFT END
or Dick & Co. Grilling on the Football Gridiron
By H. Irving Hancock

CONTENTS

CHAPTERS
I. Sulking in the Football Camp II. The Start of the Dodge Mystery III.

Dick Stumbles on Something IV. The 'Soreheads' in Conclave V. At
the End of the Trail VI. The Small Soul of a Gentleman VII. The
Football Notice Goes Up VIII. Dick Fires Both Barrels IX. Bayliss
Gets Some Advice X. Two Girls Turn the Laugh XI. Does Football
Teach Real Nerve XII. Dick, Like Caesar, Refuses the Crown XIII.
Bert Dodge "Starts Something" XIV. The "Strategy" of a School
Traitor XV. A "Fear" for the Plotter XVI. "The Cattle Car for Yours"
XVII. Facing the "School Cut" XVIII. "Prin." Gets in the Practice XIX.
Laura and Belle Have a Secret XX. In the Line of Daring XXI. The
Price of Bravery XXII. The Thanksgiving Day Game XXIII. Sulker
and Real Man XXIV. Conclusion

CHAPTER I
SULKING IN THE FOOTBALL CAMP
"Football is all at sixes and sevens, this year," muttered Dave Darrin
disconsolately.
"I can tell you something more than that," added Tom Reade
mysteriously.
"What?" asked Dick Prescott, looking at Reade with interest, for it was
unusual for Reade to employ that tone or air.
"Two members of the Athletics Committee have intimated to Coach
Morton that they'd rather see football passed by this year."
"_What_?" gasped Dick. He was staring hard now.
"Fact," nodded Tom. "At least, I believe it to be a fact."
"There must be something wrong with that news," put in Greg Holmes
anxiously.
"No; I think it's all straight enough," persisted Tom, shaking his head to
silence Holmes. "It came to me straight enough, though I don't feel at
liberty to tell you who told me."

All six members of Dick & Co. were present. The scene of the meeting
was Dick Prescott's own room at his home over the bookstore kept by
his parents. The hour was about nine o'clock in the evening. It was
Friday evening of the first week of the new school year. The fellows
had dropped in to talk over the coming football season, because the
week had been one of mysterious unrest in the football squad at Gridley
High School.
Just what the trouble was, where it lay or how it had started was
puzzling the whole High School student body. The squad was not yet
duly organized. This was never attempted until in the second week of
the school year. Yet it was always the rule that the new seniors who,
during their junior year, had made good records on either the school
eleven, or the second eleven, should form the nucleus of the new
pigskin squad. Added to these, were the new juniors, formerly of the
sophomore class, who had shown the most general promise in athletics
during the preceding school year.
Gridley High School aimed to lead---to be away at the top---in all
school athletics. The "Gridley spirit," which would not accept defeat in
sports, was proverbial throughout the state.
And so, though the football squad was not yet formally organized for
training and practice, yet, up to the last few days, it had been expected
that a finer gridiron crowd than usual would present itself for weeding,
sifting and training by Coach Morton. The latter was also one of the
submasters of Gridley High School.
Since the school year had opened, however, undercurrent news had
been rife that there would be many "soreheads," and that this would be
an "off year" in Gridley football. Just where the trouble lay, or what the
"kick" was about, was a puzzle to most members of the student body. It
was an actual mystery to Dick & Co.
"What is all the undermining row about, anyway?" demanded Dick,
looking around at his chums. Dick was pacing the floor. Dave, Tom
and Greg Holmes were seated on the edge of the bed. Dan Dalzell was
lying back in the one armchair that the room boasted. Harry Hazelton

was standing by the door.
"I can't make a single thing out of it
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