"Ye-es, sir." Dick dropped once more into his seat. Ralph Morton sighed. That very popular young submaster, only three years out of college, was the hugely admired coach who had led the Gridley eleven to victory during the last three seasons. He was as disturbed as anyone could have been over the rumored intention of the Board of Education to take some unpleasant action regarding High School athletics.
It was a terribly unsatisfactory hour in IV. English. Five minutes before the period was up Mr. Morton dejectedly closed the text-book from which he had been questioning, and remarked, tersely:
"At ease!"
Instantly the buzz of whispering broke forth. It was required only that not enough noise be made to disturb the students in adjoining rooms.
Dick, Tom and Dan sat in the front row. Directly behind them were the other three members of the "Co."
"Say," muttered Dan, in a low undertone, "Mr. Morton looks half glum and half savage this morning, like the rest of us."
"Seems to," muttered Tom Reade.
"What do you make of that?" challenged Dan.
"There must be strong foundation for the little hint Dr. Thornton let fall this morning," guessed Dave Darrin.
"And Mr. Morton knows it's a straight tip," added Harry Hazelton, sagely.