ball
had been kicked---not, in fact, until the ball was almost upon
you."

"Then, when you saw me, why didn't you call out to warn me?" demanded
the principal, still fearfully angry, though trying to keep back
unparliamentary language.

"I did call out, sir," replied Dick. "There was mighty little
time to think, but I called out the two quickest words I could
think of."

"What did you call?" demanded the principal.

"I yelled 'low bridge!'"

"A most idiotic expression," snorted the principal. "What on
earth does it mean, anyway?"

"It means to duck, sir," Prescott answered.

"Duck?" retorted Mr. Cantwell, glaring suspiciously at the sober-faced
young left end. "Now, what on earth does 'duck' mean, unless
you refer to a web-footed species of poultry?"

"Prescott was rattled, beyond a doubt, Mr. Cantwell," interposed
Coach Morton. "So was I---the time was so short. All I could
think of as to call out to you by name."

"With the result that I looked your way--- and lost my row hat,"
snapped the principal. He now turmoil to take the spoiled article
off the paling. He looked at it almost in anguish, for he had
been very proud of that glossy article.

"It's a shame," muttered Drayne, with mock sympathy.

"That's what it is," agreed Dave Darrin innocently. "But---Mr.
Morton---I think the matter can be fixed satisfactorily. If
you call this to the attention of the Athletics Committee won't
they vote to appropriate the price of a new hat out of the High
School athletics fund? You know, the fund is almost overburdened
with money this year."

"That might not be a bad idea," broke in the principal eagerly.
"Will you call this to the attention of the Committee, Mr. Morton,
For it was in coming here to watch the young men that I lost my
fine, new hat."

"Now, I'm heartily sorry," replied Mr. Morton, "but I am certain
the members of the committee will feel that money contributed
by the citizens of the town can hardly be expended in purchasing
hats for anyone."

"But-----" Mr. Cantwell began to expostulate. Then he stopped,
very suddenly. Just as plainly as anyone else present the principal
now saw the absurdity of expecting a new hat out of the athletics
fund. Mr. Cantwell shot a very savage look at innocent-appearing
Dave Darrin.

"My afternoon is spoiled, as well as my hat," remarked the principal,
turning to leave with as much dignity as could be expected from
man who bore such a battered hat