These and other remarks were made, as the boys on the highway gazed down at the craft that was speeding along in such an erratic fashion over the surface of the river. A closer look confirmed their first opinion, that nobody was on board.

"I'm going to try to stop her!" shouted Dave, and ran back along the highway, and disappeared into the bushes. Roger followed him closely, and some of the others trailed behind.

"I am going up the river – to see if I can find Nat!" shouted Phil, and away he sped, and Sam and Ben went along.

It was no easy matter for Dave to work his way down the bank of the stream. The bushes were thick and the footing uncertain, and once his jacket caught on a root and he had to pause to free himself. But at last he came out on a narrow strip of rocks and sand, at a point where the Leming River made a broad turn.

The water at this point was quite shallow, and here he thought the progress of the motor-boat would be stayed. His surmise was correct, the craft bringing up between several smooth rocks. The engine continued to work, pounding the boat back and forth, and threatening to sink her.

Fortunately, Dave had on a pair of gaiters he had borrowed, and they were so big that he slipped them off with ease. His socks followed, and then he rolled up his trousers to his knees, and waded into the stream.

"Be careful, or you'll slip and hurt yourself on the rocks!" sang out the senator's son.

"I'm watching out!" returned Dave.

He was leaping from one smooth stone to another, keeping in the shallow spots as much as possible. Thus he managed to get within a few yards of the motor-boat.

As he came closer he saw that the craft was pounding on the rocks worse than before. The pounding had in some way moved the gasoline control forward and also advanced the spark, and the engine was practically running "wild."

"I hope she isn't getting ready to blow up!" thought the youth, and he gazed anxiously ahead. Smoke was issuing from the motor-boat, coming from some over-heated oil.

He leaped to the next high rock, and then plunged boldly forward, soon gaining the bow of the craft. At the stern the propeller was churning the water into a white foam. The craft was trembling violently, and the hum of the machinery gave full evidence of the power it was exerting.

Fortunately, Dave's knowledge of gasoline engines now stood him in good stead, and without the loss of a second he turned off the supply of gasoline and the electric spark, and thus allowed the engine to "die." As the propeller slowed up and stopped, the water behind the craft calmed down, and then the pounding on the rocks was reduced to a gentle rub that did little but scratch the paint.

"Is she all right, Dave?" called out Roger, who stood on the rocks of the bank watching proceedings with great interest.

"I think so, although it hasn't done the engine any good to run wild. She's pretty well heated up, and the cylinders may be carbonized, or something like that."

"What are you going to do – try to run her in here?"

"No, I'll not take the risk. I only wanted to stop the engine and get rid of the risk of the boat blowing up."

"You ran a big risk doing it. She looked to me as if she might go up any instant."

"She can't get out of here – the current holds her," went on Dave. "She will be perfectly safe until Nat comes for her. I'd like to know where he is."

"Phil and some of the others went off to see."

To save the boat as much as possible, Dave took two of the wooden gratings of the flooring and tied them to ropes hanging over the sides. In this position they acted as fenders, so that the rocks rubbed against the gratings instead of the boat proper.

"I am afraid he'll have quite a job of it, getting her out into the stream," said Dave, on coming ashore, and when he was putting on his socks and the gaiters. "She'll have to back out against the current and do a lot of turning."

"Maybe he'll have to get somebody to tow him out, – with a very long line," returned Roger.

"If only Nat didn't fall overboard," said Dave.

In the meantime, Phil and some of the others had run up the stream a distance. As they turned a point where there were several small islands the shipowner's son set up a shout.

"There is Nat now!"

"Whatever is he doing?" queried Ben.

"Swimming ashore, or trying to wade," answered Sam.

The boys on the shore came down to the water's edge and watched Nat Poole with interest. He was floundering around in water up to his waist. Sometimes he would come up on a rock, and then slip and pitch headlong. But he kept on, until he was but a few yards away.

"Hi, Nat! what's the matter?" called out Phil. "Did you fall overboard?"

"Hel – help me!" chattered the unfortunate one, and now the others realized that he was suffering greatly from the cold. "Don – don't let m – me – g-g-g – go down!"

"We'll help you!" answered Phil, promptly, and ran out on some dry rocks to a point close to poor Nat. "Come, give me your hand and I'll pull you up."

"So will I," added Ben, who had come behind the shipowner's son.

The suffering youth was only too glad to have somebody come to his aid, and he put up both hands, and those on the rocks hauled him up and then aided him to get to a safe spot on shore. He was shivering from head to feet, and his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak.

"I wa – want t-t-to get where it is wa-wa-warm!" chattered Nat. "That wa – water is li – like i-i-i-ice!"

"Take off your wet coat," said Phil, kindly. "Here, you can have mine. I've got a sweater on." And he passed over the garment.

Nat was glad enough to don something dry, and the exchange was quickly made.

"If you'll take my advice, you'll make a run of it to the nearest farmhouse and warm up," said Ben. "If you don't you may take your death of cold."

"I – I wi – will," answered Nat.

"I'll go with you. There is a farmhouse just down the road a bit."

"We'll go back to where we left Dave and the others," said Phil. "They were after your boat," he explained.

"Did th – they st – stop h-h-her?"

"I don't know. We saw her, in the river, running wild. How did it happen?"

"I was fi – fixing the rudder li – line at the st – st – stern when all of a su – sudden we hit a r – r – rock or something and I we – went overboard," answered Nat. "Before I co-could g-g-get back the b-b-boat got away from m-m-me."

"Dave and some others went after the boat. We saw it running by itself, among the rocks."

Nat was too cold to pay attention just then to what had become of his property. He ran as fast as he could to the farmhouse, and there was taken in and allowed to dry himself in front of the fire, and was given a cup of hot tea. In the meantime Phil rejoined Dave and Roger, and told how the money-lender's son had been found.

It was after the supper-hour when all of the boys got back to Oak Hall, and Job Haskers was on the point of reading them a lecture and forcing them to do without supper when Doctor Clay appeared. To the master of the school the lads related their story, and he at once excused them for their tardiness, and told them to go directly to the dining-room, while he ordered Lemond to get out the school coach and go after Nat.

"Poole can be glad he was not drowned," said the doctor. "It was nice of you to stop the engine of his boat. But after this I want all of you to be more careful. I do not want to lose any of my boys!" And the look he gave them went to the heart of every lad present.

"What a difference between him and old Haskers!" murmured Phil.

"I'd give as much as a dollar to have Haskers leave," added Sam.

"I reckon every fellow in the school would chip in a dollar for that," was Plum's comment.

When Nat got in he was sent at once to his room, to change all of his clothes, and was then given a hot supper, which made him feel quite like himself. Later on he questioned Dave about the motor-boat, and said he would try to get the craft from among the rocks the next day, hiring a professional boatman to assist him. He did not thank Dave for his aid, nor did he thank Phil and the others.

"I guess it isn't in him to thank anybody," was Ben's comment. "Nat is one of the kind who thinks only of himself."

"He will have a hard time of it, getting his boat," said Dave, and so it proved. It took half a day to get the craft from among the rocks, and then it was found that she leaked so badly she had to be sent to a boat-builder for repairs.

That Saturday was the day scheduled for the football game with Lemington. As Nat could not take the eleven to that town in his motor-boat, as promised, the school carryall was pressed into service. This made some of the other students, who had arranged to go in the carryall, find other means of conveyance, and there was considerable grumbling.

"Poole said he would take 'em in the motor-boat," growled one student. "He ought to have seen to it that his boat was repaired on time."

The Old Guard football eleven all had bicycles or motor-cycles, and they went to the Lemington Athletic Grounds in a body on their wheels. All carried the school colors, and many also had horns and rattles.

"We'll show 'em that we can root for Oak Hall even if we are not on the eleven!" declared Dave.

Job Haskers took but little interest in athletics, declaring he thought too much time was wasted over field sports, but Andrew Dale was keenly alive to what was going on. He knew all about the trouble in the football organization, and he watched the departure of Dave and his chums with interest.

"Aren't you going, Mr. Dale?" asked Dave.

"Oh, yes, I am going in the carriage with Doctor Clay. Do you think we shall win, Porter?"

"We'll win if rooting can do it!" cried Dave.

"Then you intend to 'root,' as you call it?"

"Yes, sir – we are going to root for all we are worth."

"I am glad to know it," answered Andrew Dale; and then he turned away to attend to some school duties. Later on, when he and the doctor were on the way to the game, he mentioned the trouble in the football club, and told how Dave and his chums had been left out in the cold, and how Dave and the others were now going to cheer for and encourage the school eleven.

"Fine! Grand!" murmured the master of the school, his eye lighting up with pleasure. "That is the proper school spirit! It does Porter, Morr, and the others great credit."

"Exactly what I think, Doctor," answered the first assistant. "Many players would have remained away altogether, or gone to the game to throw cold water on the efforts of those on the gridiron. It shows a manliness that cannot be excelled."

"Yes! yes!" murmured Doctor Clay. "A fine lot of boys, truly! A fine lot! It seems a pity they were forced off the team."

"Perhaps they'll be back – before the football season is over," answered Andrew Dale, gravely.

"What do you mean, Dale?"

"Perhaps the football eleven will need them and be glad to get them back."

CHAPTER XVI
A STRUGGLE ON THE GRIDIRON

When Dave and his chums reached the athletic grounds they found the grandstand and the bleachers about half filled with people. The Lemington contingent had a good number of rooters, and they were already filling the air with their cries of encouragement. The boys looked around, but saw nothing of Vera Rockwell or Mary Feversham.

"Maybe they didn't think it worth while to come," suggested the senator's son.

"No Rockville fellows here, either," said Phil. "They play an eleven from Elmwood this afternoon."

The Lemington players were already on the field, and it was seen that they were rather light in weight, only the full-back being of good size.

"Our eleven has the advantage in weight," said Roger. "But I rather fancy those fellows are swift."

"Yes, and they may be tricky," added Ben.

As soon as Dave and his chums were seated, Dave gave the signal, and the Oak Hall cheer was given. Then followed another cheer for the school eleven, with a tooting of horns and a clacking of wooden rattles.

"Mercy! but those Oak Hall students can make a noise!" exclaimed one girl, sitting close by.

"That is what they call 'rooting'!" answered her friend. "Isn't it lovely!"

"Perfectly delicious! They ought to win, if they shout like that!"

Guy Frapley heard the racket, and walked over to the spot from whence it proceeded. He was astonished beyond measure to see Dave leading off, yelling at the top of his lungs, and waving a rattle in one hand and the school colors in the other.

"What do you think of that?" he asked, of Nat Poole.

"Oh, Porter and his crowd want to make out they don't feel stung over being out of it," grumbled Nat.

"But they are rooting harder than anybody."

"They'll be glad to see us lose."

"We are not going to lose."

"I didn't say we were," answered Nat, and walked away. Somehow, it made him angry to see Dave and his chums cheering, and in such an earnest manner. He would have been better satisfied had Dave acted grouchy or stayed away from the game.

The game was to be of two halves, of thirty minutes each, with ten minutes intermission. Oak Hall won the toss-up, and as there was no wind and no choice of goals, they kept the ball, and Lemington took the south end of the gridiron.

"Now, then, here is where Oak Hall wins!" cried Dave, loudly. "Do your level best, fellows!"

"Shove her over the line, first thing!" added Roger.

"Oak Hall! Oak Hall!" yelled Phil. "Now then, all together in the game!"

Under the inspiration of the cheering, Oak Hall made a fine kick-off, and by some spirited work carried the pigskin well down into the Lemington territory. But then the ball was lost by Nat Poole, and the opposing eleven brought it back to the center of the gridiron, and then rushed it up to the thirty-yard line of the school.

"That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter. "You've got 'em going!"

"Send it back!" yelled Dave. "All together, for Oak Hall!" And this cry was taken up by a hundred throats.

Guy Frapley got the ball, a minute later, and made a really fine run around the Lemington left end. This brought the pigskin again to center, and there it remained for nearly five minutes, the downs on both sides availing little or nothing. A scrimmage followed, in which one Lemington player was injured, and he accused one of the Oak Hall fellows, a new player named Bemis, of foul play. This protest was sustained, and Bemis was retired and another new player named Cardell was substituted.

"Five minutes more!" was the cry, and again both elevens went at it. Dave suddenly saw the captain of the Lemingtons make a certain sign to some of his men.

"They are up to some trick!" he cried to his chums, and hardly had he spoken when the ball went into play, through center and across to the left end. It was picked up like a flash, passed to the quarter-back, who was on the watch for it, and carried toward the Oak Hall line with a rush.

"A touchdown for Lemington!"

"That's the way to do it!"

"Now, Higgins, make it a goal!"

Amid a wild cheering, the pigskin was brought out for the kick, and the goal was made.

"That's the way to do it!"

"Now for another touchdown!"

Again the pigskin was brought into play. But while it was still near the center of the field the whistle blew and the first half of the game came to an end.

Score: Lemington 6, Oak Hall 0.

It must be confessed that it was a sorry-looking eleven that straggled into the Oak Hall dressing-room to discuss the situation.

"You want more snap!" cried John Rand, the manager.

"They put up a trick on us!" grumbled Nat. "They got that touchdown by a fluke."

"Well, I wish we could make one in the same way," retorted Rand. Since being elected manager, he had had anything but an easy task of it to make the eleven pull together. Some of the old players wanted Dave, Roger, Phil, and the others back, and threatened to leave unless a change was made.

"This looks as if Oak Hall was out of it," whispered Phil to his chums, during the intermission.

"Oh, I don't know," returned Dave. "A touchdown and a goal isn't such a wonderful lead."

At the beginning of the second half it was seen that Guy Frapley and his fellow-players were determined to do something if they could. But they were excited and wild, and the captain could do little to hold them in. Several times they got confused on the signals, and once one of the new ends lost the ball on a fumble that looked almost childish. Inside of ten minutes, amid a mad yelling from the Lemington supporters, the ball was forced over the Oak Hall line for another touchdown, and another goal was kicked. Then, five minutes later, came a goal from the field.

"Hurrah! That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter.

"Fifteen to nothing!" cried another. "Thought Oak Hall knew how to play football!"

"They ought to play some primary school kids!"

"You shut up!" screamed Nat Poole, in sudden rage. "We know what we are doing!"

"You ought to be an ice-man, – you're slow enough," retorted the Lemingtonite, and this brought forth a laugh, and made Nat madder than ever.

Again the ball was placed in play, and this time Oak Hall did all it could to hold its own. But it was of no avail. Lemington carried the air of victory with it, and its confidence could not be withstood. Again the ball was shoved over the line for a touchdown, and again the goal was kicked, amid a cheering that was deafening.

"It's a slaughter!" murmured Roger.

"I am afraid so," answered Dave. "Too bad! I am sorry for the school!"

"So am I," said the senator's son, and Phil and Ben nodded gravely.

The last five minutes of the game only served to "rub it in," as Shadow expressed it, for Lemington scored again, this time, however, failing to kick the goal. When the whistle blew the pigskin was on the Oak Hall twenty-five yard line.

Final score: Lemington 26, Oak Hall 0.

It is perhaps needless to state that the local supporters yelled and cheered, and blew their horns, and clacked their rattles until they were exhausted. It was a great victory, for in the past Oak Hall had been a formidable rival on the gridiron. The eleven cheered for Oak Hall, and were cheered in return; and then the visitors got out of sight as quickly as possible.

"A bitter defeat truly," said Doctor Clay, while driving back to the school. "Our boys did not seem to play together at all."

"It was very ragged work," answered Andrew Dale. "But it is no more than I expected, from what I saw in the practice games. Our eleven will be able to do but little unless it improves wonderfully."

"I believe you, Dale. Don't you – ah – think they would do better if Porter and Morr and Lawrence were in the line-up?"

"I certainly do. But they have been voted out, so I was told."

"Ahem!" Doctor Clay grew thoughtful. "What does Mr. Dodsworth think about it?" The party he mentioned was the gymnastic teacher, who took quite an interest in football, although not officially.

"He thinks Porter, Morr, Lawrence, and Plum ought to be put back on the eleven. He says it is a shame that they were put off in the first place."

"I believe our school is to play Rockville Academy next."

"Yes, and I just got a message over the telephone that Rockville won from Elmwood this afternoon, twelve to four. I know Elmwood has a strong eleven, so Rockville must be extra good this season."

"Exactly so; and that means, if our eleven is not greatly strengthened before we meet Rockville, we shall suffer another defeat," responded the master of Oak Hall, rubbing his chin reflectively.

"More than likely, sir."

"Too bad! In these days some folks think football and baseball quite as important – ahem! – as – er – some studies. It is a wrong idea, assuredly, – yet I – ahem! – I think it would be a very good thing if we could show the world that our students can play football as well as do other things."

"Football is a great thing at Yale, Harvard, and Princeton, Doctor."

"Yes, indeed! I remember well how I used to witness those stirring games, and how I would yell with the rest. Why, Dale, one year we had a quarter-back that was a corker. They couldn't stop him! He got the pigskin and skinned down the field like a blue streak, and – but, ahem! that is past history now," finished the doctor, bringing himself back to his usual dignity. "But I must look into this football matter more closely," he added with a speculative sigh.

Poole, Frapley, and their crowd had arranged for a banquet that night, and many others of Oak Hall had gathered boxes and barrels for bonfires. The banquet was a tame affair, and not a single fire was lighted.

"We are having frost early this year," said Luke, dryly.

"Yes, it came on suddenly, this afternoon," added Shadow.

"I'll wager you will hear something drop in the football team before long," went on Luke. "The school won't stand for such work as we had to-day."

"Who is to blame?"

"Rand, Frapley, Bemis, and Nat Poole."

"Then they better resign."

"Just what I say."

During the evening the talk throughout the school was largely about the game, and nearly every player was severely criticised. It was agreed that Bemis had acted in a thoroughly unsportsmanlike manner, and he was told that he would have to resign, and he agreed to do so. It was also agreed by the students generally that of the new players, Guy Frapley had done the best work.

"Give him proper support and he would be all right," said Dave. "But, in my opinion, the eleven as it now stands will never win a victory."

"And that is what I think, too," added Roger.