"Too bad Dittler was hurt though," said Tom Allison. "He's one of the best men on the team." "As it happened, though, he wasn't missed," declared Pete Maddern. "Garry more than made up for him." "That's because I was fresh while he was tired," protested Garry. "He can run rings all around me." "You're the only fellow in Lenox that thinks so then," put in the loyal Ted. The coach had a heart to heart talk with the members of the team the next school-day afternoon. He went over the game in detail, pointing out a mistake here, giving full credit for a good play there, and making the boys wonder how on earth he had managed to see so many things with those sleepy eyes of his. "On the whole you played a fair game of ball," he summed up. "But no game is really good unless it's good enough to win. Don't kid yourselves into thinking that the other fellows had the breaks of the game. That's the excuse of faint hearts. You had as many breaks as they did. They won the game on its merits. That's the way I want you to win the next one. And every one of you fellows has got to work like the mischief if you want to hold your jobs." Garry was not present at this gathering, and for a sufficient reason. Trompet Shrugg had been in an execrable humor that day. He was usually grumpy, but now he was ferocious. For some reason, which the boys could not fathom, he had apparently thrown discretion to the winds. He distributed stings and sarcasms with a liberal hand--or rather, tongue. "The old boy's as full of poison as a rattlesnake," whispered Ted to Garry. "And seems as if he was in a hurry to get rid of it all at once," replied Garry. The teacher caught the motion of Garry's lips. "Talking again in class, Grayson?" he snapped. "You'll stay and write a composition of fifteen hundred words this afternoon." "Stung!" Garry muttered forlornly to himself. So it was that he rejoined his chums only as they were coming from the gymnasium after the talk by Mr. Garwin. "So the old crab got you, did he?" said Bill consolingly, as he threw his arm around Garry's shoulder. "But don't care, old-timer. It's the last time." "No such luck," returned Garry moodily. "He'll ride me till the end of the term." "I said it was the last time," repeated Bill. Something in his voice made Garry look at him quickly. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Trompet Shrugg leaves to-morrow," replied Bill. CHAPTER XVIII LIKE A THUNDERBOLT Garry Grayson stared at Bill as though he could not believe his ears. "Wh-h-at?" he stammered. "Don't roll your eyes like a dying fish," admonished Bill "Trust old Doc Sherwood. He knows. And if you feel like crying, you can weep on my shoulder." "Bill knows what he's talking about," broke in Ted, who, with a number of other boys, had been watching Garry's face with amusement as the news was imparted to him. "It's straight goods. This is old Shrugg's last day in Lenox."