In the gymnasium, as the boys shed their dusty togs, got under showers, and slipped into their street clothes, there was a babble of excited conversation between Garry and his friends. "Old Hill Street didn't show up so badly this afternoon," chuckled Bill. "That tackle of Dittler was a peach, Bill," observed Nick Danter. "And the way Garry broke through their defense has given the regulars something to think about. Gee, Garry, you just ran rings around those fellows." "Oh, I don't know," said Garry modestly. "I had some lucky breaks. But one swallow doesn't make a drink, you know, and we may stub our toes the next time out. We've just got to keep working like the mischief all the time." On their way home the boys passed Trompet Shrugg, who gave them a stiff nod in response to their salutations and glanced disdainfully at the football that Garry carried under his arm. Then the cold dislike in his eyes shifted to Garry's face. "He just loves you, Garry," chuckled Ted. "Yes," grinned Garry, "as he loves poison ivy!" CHAPTER XI STRUGGLING AGAINST ODDS "Trompet Shrugg's after your scalp and won't be satisfied until he gets it, Garry," warned Nick Danter. "He hasn't lifted it yet," returned Garry carelessly. "He tried to yesterday, but he didn't get away with it." "All the same he'll bear watching," surmised Bill. "He's one of the kind that never forgives and never forgets." "I never had a teacher that I disliked so much," declared Ted Dillingham fervently. "He may be a boon to his family, but he's only a baboon to me!" sang Rooster. "Rooster, I'm ashamed of you," said Garry, with mock sternness. "Is that the way to speak of our dear teacher? It is not!" But in the days that followed there were many times when Garry was inclined to believe that Rooster had struck it right. Trompet Shrugg certainly "had it in" for Garry, and lost no opportunity of annoying and humiliating him. In his position of authority this was comparatively easy. Garry was well up in the studies of his grade, in fact was one of the very best scholars of the class. Any fair, legitimate question that came within the scope of what he was supposed to know he could answer clearly and promptly. But Mr. Shrugg had a habit when it came to Garry of suddenly shooting at him some difficult question more appropriate for a college than a high school class, something that was away over Garry's head and clearly intended to be so. And when the boy had to confess ignorance, Trompet Shrugg would appear disgusted and get off some bit of the sarcasm in which he was an adept. Then Garry would take his seat, flushed and irritated, with his heart full of resentment against his tormentor.