Use your Judgment to the last, and put a lot of speed and doggedness behind your science," was Wadleigh's adjuration.
Those who followed form most close, now had their eyes on young Prescott.
If he went to pieces that would leave Gridley weak at what had usually been its strongest point, especially in attack.
And Gridley had the ball again.

But what ailed Captain Wadleigh, the boosters wondered?
For he was now sending the ball to the right wing, as if admitting that Prescott must not be worked too hard.
"Use Prescott!" shouted one man hoarsely.
"Prescott! Prescott!" "Yah! Dot's all right.

Vot you t'ink Wadleigh has ein head for' Leafe him und Bresgott alone, and dey hand you der game a minute in!" bawled the deep bass voice of Herr Schimmelpodt who, nearly alone of the Gridley boosters, believed that the home team needed no grand stand coaching.
"But they've only eight minutes left," grumbled the man sitting to the left of Herr Schimmelpodt.
"Yah! Dot's all right, too," retorted the German.

"Battles haf been won in less than eight minutes.

Read history!" In two plays Captain Wadleigh had succeeded in advancing the pigskin less than two yards down the Filmore territory.
But now hats were thrown up in the air, and frantic yells resounded when it was discovered that Dick had the ball again, and that Darrin, Hudson, Wadleigh, quarter and left half were fighting valiantly to push him through the stubborn, panting line of Filmore High School.
It was a splendid fight, but a losing one.