Dave Darrin came stealing over, as soft-footed as any panther.

Dick did not turn around to look at his chum.  He merely held up a cautioning hand, and Darrin moved even more stealthily.

In another moment Dave’s head was close to his chum’s, and both young men were gazing upon the same scene.

“Bayliss, Porter and Drayne,” Dick nodded back, softly.

“Trenhold, Grayson, Hudson,” continued Darrin.

“All the ‘soreheads,’” finished Dick Prescott for him.

“Or nearly all,” supplemented Dave.

Indeed, the scene upon which these two High School boys gazed was one that greatly interested them.

On a little knoll, just beyond the line of bushes, and on lower ground, fully a dozen young men lounged, basking in the morning sun, which poured through upon this small, treeless space.

Though the young men down in the knoll were not carefully attired, there was a general similarity in their dress.  All wore sweaters, and nearly all of them wore cross-country shoes.  Evidently the whole party had been out for a cross country run.

Now, the dozen or so were eagerly engaged in conversation.

“It’s too bad Purcell won’t join us,” remarked Davis.

“Yes,” nodded another fellow in the group; “he belongs with us.”

“Oh, well,” spoke up Bayliss, “if Purcell would rather be with the muckers, let him.”

“Now, let’s not be too rank, fellows,” objected Hudson slowly.  “I wouldn’t call all the fellows muckers who don’t happen to belong in our crowd.”

“What would you call ’em then?” growled Bayliss angrily.  “Time was when only the fellows of the better families expected to go to High School, on their way to college.  Now, every day-laborer’s son seems to think he ought to go to High School-----”

“And be received with open arms, on a footing of equality,” sneered Porter.

“It’s becoming disgusting,” muttered Bayliss.  “Not only do these cheap fellows expect to go to the High School, but they actually want to run the school affairs.”

“I suppose that’s natural, to some extent,” speculated Porter.

“Why?” demanded Bayliss, turning upon the last speaker in amazement.

“Why, the sons of the poorer families are in a majority, nowadays,” returned Hudson.

“Say, you’re getting almost as bad as Purcell,” warned Porter.

“If I am, I apologize, of course,” responded Hudson.

“I’ve no real objection to the sons of poorer men coming to the High School,” vouchsafed Paulson, meditatively.  “But you know the cream, the finer class of the High School student body, has always centered in the school’s athletic teams.  And now-----”

“Why, these fellows, who are not much more than tolerated in the High School, or ought not to be, make the most noise at the meets of the training squads,” continued Paulson.

“And some of ’em,” growled Fremont, “actually have the cheek to carry off honors in scholarship, too.  Take Dick Prescott, for instance.”

“Oh, let the muckers have the scholarship honors, if that’s all they want,” retorted Bayliss “A gentleman hasn’t much need of scholarship, anyway, if he’s an all-around, proper fellow in every other respect.  But the, gang that call themselves Dick & Co. are a fair sample of the muckers that we have to contend with.”

“No,” objected Fremont; “they’re the very worst of the lot in the High School.  Why, look at the advertising those fellows get for themselves.  And not one of them of good family.”

“Fellows of good, prominent families don’t have to advertise themselves,” observed Bayliss sagely.

It was plain that by “good” family was meant one of wealth.  These young men had little else in the way of a standard.

“It makes me cranky,” observed Whitney, “to see the way a lot of the girls seem to notice just such fellows as Prescott, Darrin, Reade, Dalzell –­fellows who, by rights, ought to be through with their schooling and earning wages as respectful grocery clerks or decent shoe salesmen.”

“But this talk isn’t carrying us anywhere,” objected Bayliss.  “The question is, what are we going to do with the football problem this year?  We don’t want to play in the same eleven with the cheap muckers, and have ’em think they’re the whole eleven.  The call for the football training squad is due to go up some time next week.”

“Yes, Dodge is the fellow I wish we had here with us today,” interposed Bayliss.  “Dodge is the one we ought to listen to.”

“Poor Dodge has his own troubles today,” murmured Hudson.

“Yes; I know –­poor fellow,” nodded Bayliss.  “I wish we fellows could help him, but we can’t.”

“I was talking with Dodge yesterday, before his own troubles broke loose,” went on Hudson.  “Dodge’s idea is that we ought all to keep away when the football squad is called.  Then Coach Morton may get an idea of how things are going, and he may see just what he ought to do.”

“But suppose the muckers all answer the call in force?” inquired Trenholm.  “What are we to do then?”

“We’re to keep out of the squad this year,” responded Bayliss promptly.  “See here, either we fellows organize the Gridley High School eleven ourselves, and decide who shall play in it, or else we stay out and let the muckers go ahead and pile up a record of lost games this year.”

“That’s hard on good old Gridley High School,” murmured Hudson.

“True,” agreed Fremont.  “But it’ll teach the town, the school authorities, the coach and after this year, that only the prominent fellows in the school should have any voice in athletics.  Let the muckers be content with standing behind the side lines and rooting for the real High School crowd.”

“Shall we put it to a vote?” asked Bayliss, looking about him.

“Yes!” answered several promptly.

“Then, as I understand it,” continued Bayliss, “when the football call goes up, we’re all to ignore it.  We’re to continue to ignore the call, and keep out of the school football squad this year, unless the coach and the Athletics Committee agree that we shall have the naming of the candidates.  Is that the general agreement among ourselves?”

“Yes!” came the chorus.

“Any contrary votes?”

Momentary silence reigned in this conclave of “soreheads.”

“Yet,” continued Bayliss, “we’ve started training among ourselves.  This morning’s cross-country is part of our daily training.  If we have to refuse the football call, and stay out of the squad, are we to drop our present training?”

“Hardly, I should say,” responded Fremont.  “I have something to suggest in that line.  If we can’t go into what is really a gentleman’s eleven under the High School colors, I propose that we organize an eleven of our own, and call ourselves simply the Gridley Football Club.  We can bring out an eleven that would put things all over any school team that the muckers could organize without our help.”

“We wouldn’t play the muckers, would we?” demanded Trenholm.

“Certainly not!” retorted Bayliss, with contemptuous emphasis.

“We won’t even know that a mucker High School team is on earth,” laughed Porter.

“I think we understand the plan well enough, now, don’t we?” inquired Blaisdell, rising.

“We do,” nodded Porter.  “And we’ll all do our full share toward bringing control of High School affairs back to the aristocratic leadership that it once had.”

“Hoist our banners, and let them proclaim:  ‘Down with the muckers!’” laughed Hudson, rolling up the hem of his sweater.

“We want a good, not too fast but steady jog back to town,” announced Bayliss.

At the first sign that the “soreheads” were preparing to leave the spot Dick had taken advantage of their noise to slip away.  Dave had followed him successfully.

Then, from another hiding place these two prowling juniors, grinning, watched the “soreheads” move away at a loping run.

“We certainly know all we need to about that crowd,” muttered Dick, a half-vengeful look in his eyes.  “The snobs!”

“Oh, they’re cads, all right,” assented Dave.  “Yet that bunch of fellows contains some of the material that is needed in putting forth the best High School team this year!”

“Humph!” commented Dave disgustedly.  “Yet, Dick, I was almost surprised that you would stop and listen, without letting the fellows know you were there.”

“It does seem sneaky, at first thought,” Prescott admitted, almost shamefacedly.

“Hold on there!” ordered Dave.  “I don’t believe you’d do a thing like that, Dick Prescott, unless you had an honorable reason for it.”

“I did it because the honor of the High School is so precious to me –­to us all,” Dick replied.  “We want to put forth a winning team, as Gridley High School has always done.  Now, these ‘soreheads’ aim to defeat that by keeping a few of the best players off the eleven.  I listened, Dave, because I wanted to know what the trouble was, and just who was making it.  Now, I guess I know how to deal with the ‘sore-heads.’  I’ll make them ashamed of themselves.”

“How?”

“One thing at a time, Dave.  In our excitement we’ve almost forgotten that we started out to find Theodore Dodge and clear up the mystery of his disappearance.”