"What do you suppose the reason is?" asked Ralph, a frown of perplexity on his brow. "Oh, I know the reason all right," explained Bill. "A bunch of the fellows were practicing in an open lot near Garry's house and Garry let go a punt just as Mr. Shrugg came around a corner into the lot. The ball was muddy and it caught him in the face. He was a sight, I must confess. Of course it was all an accident. Garry was mighty sorry, apologized to him, and wanted him to go into his house and clean up. But Mr. Shrugg was as sore as a boil. He's never forgotten that muddy football, and ever since school began he's been making Garry sweat for it." "It's a bad thing for Lenox High to have a teacher of that kind in it," said Ralph in disgust. "The sooner it gets rid of him the better." "And as for keeping Garry after school," went on Bill, "Mr. Shrugg does that for two reasons. He knows Garry is on the scrubs and is crazy about football. So he keeps him away from practice all he can. Then, too, when the question of scholarship comes up, he'll be able to point to the many times he's had to keep him in, and that will give him a chance to say that Garry doesn't stand high enough to be permitted to play. Oh, he's a foxy guy, that Trompet Shrugg!" "I'm glad that you told me all this, Sherwood," said Coach Garwin. "It explains a lot of things that have puzzled me. And I think all the more of the lad for not making excuses. He's the right stuff." "And don't let the question of Garry's scholarship keeping him out of the game worry you," put in Ralph Wynn. "If that thing ever comes to an issue, I'll see that the truth is told. I think the amiable Mr. Shrugg will find that he has overreached himself." All of this was balm to Garry Grayson's troubled heart when Bill narrated the conversation to him on the way home. He had been standing up under Mr. Shrugg's persecution without a whimper. But it had galled him horribly, especially the fear that he might not be allowed to play on account of the marks that the teacher of English was giving him. Loyal Bill Sherwood had done for him what his own pride would not permit him to do for himself. "It was mighty good of you, old boy," he said to Bill gratefully. The next day, Mr. Garwin told the boys that on the following Saturday there would be a real game between the first and second teams. "I haven't hurried to bring you boys along," he said. "I wanted to get you limbered up and get some of the kinks out of your muscles. Then, too, I've wanted to size you up. But now I think you're in shape for a regular game." There was a murmur of assent from the eager boys who wanted nothing better than to show the stuff of which they were made. "I want each team to play against the other as hard as though they were tackling Pawling or Wimbledon," went on the coach, referring to rival teams in the High School League. "If there's any let-down I'll be on hand to see it. You regulars have got to try to walk all over the scrubs--"