He wondered where Wink Coles could be found. Probably in his room. Tom managed a crooked smile at the thought of how that room would look when he was through with Wink. Then the smile faded before a look of exasperation, for he couldn’t for the life of him remember where Wink roomed! Well, he could find out. Loring had a catalogue. He had seen it on the lower shelf of the bookcase only last evening. And Loring would be out, for Tom had glimpsed him at the far end of the bench when he had slipped past the end of the stand. Yes, and Mr. Cooper had been there, too; sitting back of third base; seeing the whole rotten business. That was tough! He wished Mr. Cooper hadn’t witnessed his degradation. Mr. Cooper was――well, Tom thought a good deal of Mr. Cooper and valued his respect. And that reminded him that Mr. Cooper had wanted so much to have him pass, and had shown such pleasure just that morning when he had heard the news. And now, Tom reflected uneasily, he was going to get himself fired out of school, and Mr. Cooper would be horribly disappointed in him. Somehow the idea of beating up Wink Coles some more lost its appeal. Besides, come to think of it, Wink had done a lot more beating up than he had! Wink was a year older and about twelve pounds heavier and no dumb-bell when it came to the wallops! Tom acknowledged a grudging respect for Wink. Still, that didn’t cut any ice. Even if he got licked good and plenty, he would manage to make Wink look a lot worse than he did now before he was through! Only there was Mr. Cooper, and Mr. Cooper was a corking chap, and―― And just then Tom reached the silent locker room, and there was Wink, sitting on a bench, his legs sprawled before him and his gaze fixed disconsolately on space. But he looked around when Tom clumped in on his spikes, and the two stared at each other for a brief moment without speech. Then each averted his gaze and Tom pulled open the door of his locker and began to unlace a shoe. Silence was heavy. Tom wondered why he didn’t go across and challenge the foe to a renewal of hostilities. They’d probably have the place to themselves long enough to reach a decision. It wasn’t that he was afraid――although, to be quite frank, the passing thought of having to hit anything with his bruised hand again was distinctly unpleasant――but the savor seemed to have gone out of the project. Tom kicked the first shoe off and started on the other. Then Wink’s voice sounded hollowly in the room. “Think he will let us back to-morrow?” asked Wink. “You,” growled Tom. “Not me. I’m fired. For keeps.” There was a long moment of silence. Then: “How does he get that way?” demanded Wink indignantly. “He didn’t tell me I was fired. He just said I was excused for to-day. How come he socks you like that?”