By dark that evening some two hundred grown-up and
several hundred Gridley boys had congregated on the late ball
field.
"Touch it off, some one. There's no use in waiting any longer,"
urged some of the bystanders. "It's almost dark."
"No, no! Wait!" urged Tom Reade. "The blaze will be all the
finer after dark."
"Where's Dick Prescott?" sounded a voice, this being followed
by a dinning clamor for the captain of the Centrals.
"Here!" called Dick, when he could make himself heard.
"Pouch it off, Dick! Let the fun start. You're the right one
to set the bonfire going."
"Not I," Prescott answered. "There is some one else here who
has been appointed to set the blaze going, and who has accepted
the job."
"Then trot him out and let him get busy!" came the urgent demand.
"Wait just a few minutes, fellows. We want it really dark," urged
Captain Prescott.
At last, when he judged it dark enough, Dick stepped forward,
Captain Ted Teall at his side.
"Friends," Dick explained, "Teall has been good enough to agree
to start the blaze tonight."
"South Grammar fellows this way, please!" called Teall. "Now,
friends, please don't any of you make any noise until we Souths
have a chance to say just a few words. All ready, South Grammars?
Then three cheers for the Central Grammar School, winners of
the school baseball league series.
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