“There are some mighty funny-looking faces around today,” observed Pop. “Phillips couldn’t see at all out of one eye, and――――” “Phillips isn’t anything,” cut in Nick. “You should see Downer! He’s positively disreputable! I told him so, too. Told him he oughtn’t to appear among gentlemen looking as he did. He was quite short-tempered about it.” “I wonder if they’ll do anything,” pondered Bert. “Someone said he’d heard they were going to stop junior meeting after this,” replied Guy. “It would be a good thing if they did. Such behavior is most――er――reprehensible.” “Piffle!” scoffed Nick. “You were just dying to get into it yourself last night, you old hypocrite!” “I did get into it,” said Guy grimly. “And I got this for my pains.” He laid a finger on his bruise. “Pop was the one who put ’em to rights. Pop went into it like a whirlwind. _Thump!_ Down goes a lower! _Bang!_ Down goes an upper! Great stuff, Pop!” “You fellows could have fought all night,” replied Pop calmly, “for all I cared, only I thought it would be rather a silly piece of business for half of you to get nabbed and put on pro. To come right down to hunks, though, it was a pretty rank piece of business for grown kids to pummel each other for no reason at all. You upper middlers ought to be proud of it.” “Well, we didn’t start it,” said Nick aggrievedly. “One of those chaps punched one of us and so we punched back.” “It’s always the other fellow who starts things, I notice. If you and Bert and Kinley and a few more had been caught at it a fat chance the team would have had!” “That’s so,” agreed Guy. “I understand that Bonner was extremely eloquent this afternoon.” “He flayed us,” said Bert grimly. “He has a nasty tongue sometimes.” “It struck me he was mighty easy with you,” said Pop unfeelingly. “When you’re on the School Team, Bert, you’re supposed to behave yourself and not act like a kid.” “Oh, chuck it, Pop,” returned Bert shortly. “I’ve been lectured enough. You’re as cheerful as a raven.” “After all,” said Nick, “’is ’Ighness is the only one should kick. He’s dished on football for two weeks, anyway, and that queers him utterly for this year. If anyone has a right to grouch it’s Hugh, and he’s the most cheerful of the lot.” “Do you really think it lets me out for the year?” asked Hugh sadly. “I was hoping that maybe, if it was only two weeks, they’d let me back on the――the――grinds.” “The what?” demanded Nick. “Oh, the scrubs! Grinds isn’t bad, though! That’s what they do, all right.” “Hope on, hope ever,” said Guy. “Put it up to Ted some time. Maybe he will fix it for you. Who’s going to captain the second this year, Pop?” “I don’t know. I suppose it will be Ben Myatt.” “Honest? Poor old Bennie! He’s been trying for the first team for three years now. I hoped he would make it this time.” “Perhaps he will, but I doubt it. Ben just doesn’t reach to the first. He’s a clever player, too.”