“I beg your pardon, Mr. Morton,” he came out straightforwardly.  “That sounded like slang, or disrespect.  I beg to assure you, sir, that neither was intended.  The truth is-----”

“Your mind is busy with other things this morning, I see,” smiled the sub-master.

“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.

“It’ll be a confounded shame, if the Board does anything like that,” glowed Dick Prescott, indignantly.

“They’ll be so many dead ones, if they do,” flared Tom Reade, hotly.

“Yes,” agreed Dave Darrin.  “But the worst about that Board of Education is that, though they are dead ones, they’re so very dead that they’ll never find it out.”

“Won’t they, thought” whispered Dan Dalzell, hotly.   “Say, I’m
inclined to think they will!   I-----”

“Dan!” whispered Dick, warningly.

“Yep; you’ve guessed right,” grinned Dan.  “I am hatching a scheme in my mind.  I’m getting up something that will bring even that dummified Board to its senses.”

“Then you can achieve the impossible,” teased Reade.

“Say, but it’s a warm one that’s forming this time,” whispered Dan, his eyes dancing.  “I’ll see you fellows at recess.  Not a word until then.  But you-----”

Ting-ling-ling.  The bell connecting with the annunciator at the principal’s desk was trilling in IV.  English, as it was in all the other recitation rooms.  IV.  English rose, the boys waiting until the girls had passed from the room.  A study-hour in the big assembly room followed for Dick & Co.  Yet, had anyone watched Dan Dalzell, it would have been found that young man was in the reference room, and reading, or thumbing—–­of all volumes in the English language—–­the city directory!