At this moment the door opened and Mr. Allen, the principal, entered on his daily tour of inspection of the classes. He was a genial man and very popular with the boys. He was also a great friend of Mr. Grayson's and often visited at his home. His eye lighted on Garry, who was just taking his seat. "Hello, Garry," he said quizzically. "You look as though you had been through the wars." "I got roughed up a little in the football game on Saturday," replied Garry, grinning. Mr. Allen threw back his head and laughed. "Well, they're honorable scars," he remarked. "I saw part of that game, and was especially struck by the way you made that last touchdown. It was splendid work, and I hope you'll keep it up. I want to say to all you boys that football is a great game. Any one with red blood in his veins can't help liking it. It develops courage, self-reliance, discipline and quick thinking--all the qualities that go into the making of the best type of manhood. I am sure that Mr. Shrugg will agree with me in this. Of course you must not let it interfere with your studies. Scholarship comes first. But as long as you maintain a good rank in your studies you can't do anything better in the hours devoted to pastime than to play good hard football, the harder the better. An occasional black eye won't do you any harm. It's a badge of honor, as in Garry's case." During this talk, Trompet Shrugg's face was a study. Chagrin, embarrassment, consternation chased themselves across his features. As for the boys, they nearly choked in restraining their mirth. Of course, had Mr. Allen had any idea of what had preceded his entrance, he would have foregone his eulogy on football for the sake of discipline and to spare the feelings of the teacher. But, wholly unaware of the situation, he made one or two more routine inquiries and left the room. Study was resumed, but the work of the rest of that hour did not amount to much. Mr. Shrugg's face was as red as a peony. His pettiness had met with a just reward. The persecution he had heaped on Garry had returned to plague him. Never had the teacher felt such relief as when the gong sounded the signal of dismissal. The boys poured out into the hall and then for the first time dared to give vent to their emotions. Peals of laughter echoed through the corridors, and the sound of it penetrated to the room in which Trompet Shrugg sat. "Did you ever see such a face?" gurgled Ted Dillingham. "And to think Mr. Allen should have come in just at that minute!" rejoiced Rooster. "Garry, you old rascal, I'll bet you had it all cooked up in advance!" "Not guilty," declared Garry with a grin. "But it sure was a bit of good luck for me." "I guess that ends Shrugg's riding you," conjectured Pete Maddern. "He won't dare rag you any more." "Things were getting to such a pass that I'd just about made up my mind to draw up a round robin to Mr. Allen and get all the fellows to sign it," put in Tom Allison.