CHAPTER XXII.
THE THANKSGIVING DAY GAME Say, you're a great one, Prescott, to throw us down in this way," chaffed Drayne, as Dick strolled into dressing quarters.
"Oh, come, now!" broke in Darrin impatiently.

"It's bad enough, Drayne, to have to play side partner to you in the biggest game in the year, without having to listen to your fat-headed criticism of better men." Drayne flushed, and might have retorted, had not Wadleigh broken in, in measured tones, yet with much significance in his voice: "Yes, Drayne; cut out all remarks until you've made good.

Of course you are going to make good, but talk will sound better after deeds." Most of the fellows who were togging were uneasy.
They wanted, with all their hearts, to win this day's game.

First of all, the game was needed in order to preserve their record for unbroken victories.

Then again, Filmore High School was a team worth beating at any time and Filmore boosters had been making free remarks about a Gridley Waterloo.
So there was a feeling of general depression in dressing quarters.
Dick Prescott, with his dashing, crafty, splendid, score-making work at left end, had become a necessity to the Gridley eleven.
"It's the toughest luck that ever happened," grumbled Hazelton, right guard, to Holmes, right tackle.