Tom looked and said he guessed so, too, but he didn’t leave his seat to offer the coach any advice. A more self-assured fellow than Tom would have hesitated to approach “G.G.” on any matter not vitally important. “G.G.’s” name was George G. Otis. Some said the second “G” stood for “Grumpy,” but it really didn’t. It stood for Gray. Mr. Otis wasn’t very large――Captain Dave Lothrop, beside him, was four inches taller and quite as wide of shoulders; and even the long trousers of faded gray flannel didn’t wholly conceal the fact that he was slightly bowlegged. But there was plenty of body there, and the fact that his legs weren’t quite straight hadn’t kept him from winning a fair share of fame as a plunging half not many years back. He hadn’t greatly distinguished himself while at Wyndham, but his subsequent career had been linked with two football teams by which all later teams at his college were judged. He had a rather bullet-shaped head, with thin hair of a faded brown, sharp eyes of a brown that wasn’t the least bit faded, a short nose a bit too flat for beauty, a mouth that closed tight and straight and an aggressive chin. On the whole he wasn’t an Apollo. But he knew a lot of football and could teach it to boys; and teaching football to boys is a different and much harder task than teaching it to men. “G.G.” didn’t seek popularity, and so he won it. He was a hard taskmaster, could act the tyrant on occasion and had a sharp, harsh tongue. He insisted on absolute obedience and had been known to use drastic methods to enforce discipline. He was sometimes intensely disliked by those who didn’t share his views on the necessity for obedience. But he was fair, could laugh as heartily as any one, off the field, and never made the mistake, a too common one, of expecting boys of preparatory school age to think or perform like collegians. Best of all, perhaps, from the point of view of the School, was the fact that during his three years as coach at Wyndham his charges had won twice from Wolcott. That was almost enough to account for popularity, but I think that there was another reason for it. Boys have a respect for despotism and a liking for being firmly ruled just so long as they are certain that the despotism is just and the ruler is worthy. And as a despot George G. Otis would have satisfied the most demanding! Tom, after looking the coach over exhaustively from the distance of some ten yards, said “Huh!” in a very doubtful tone. After a moment he said “Huh!” again, and this time it seemed to express conviction. It did, for he followed it with: “Something tells me, Clif, I’m not going to like that guy! He――he’s got a bad eye!”