“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 in his hands.

“The hatter might be able to block your hat out and repair it,” suggested Hudson, though without any real intention of offering aid.  “Our coachman had that sort of trick done to played-out old silk hat that Dad gave him.”

“Mr. Hudson,” returned the principal, turning and glaring at this latest polite tormentor, “will you be good enough to remember that I am not extremely interested in your family history.

“Back to your practice, men!” called the coach sharply, after the last had been seen of the back of the principal’s black coat.

“It was too bad!” muttered Dick, in a tone of genuine regret.

“Say that again, and I’ll make an effort to thrash you, Prescott!” challenged Hudson, with a grin.

“Well, I am sorry it happened,” Dick insisted.  “And mighty sorry, too.”

“You couldn’t help it.”

“I know it, but that hardly lessens my regret.  I don’t enjoy the thought of having destroyed anyone else’s property, even if I couldn’t help it and can’t be blamed.

“Prescott said he didn’t know I was there!” exclaimed Mr. Cantwell angrily to himself.  “Bosh!  That boy has been a thorn in my side ever since I became principal of the school.  Of course he saw me—–­and he kicked wonderfully straight!  Oh, how I wish I could make him wear this hat every day during the balance of the school year!  Such a handsome hat—–­eight dollars!”

“It’s a shame to tell you,” confided Dave Darrin, as he and Dick headed the sextette of chums on the homeward tramp, “but you’re certainly looking in great condition, old fellow.”

“I feel simply perfect, physically,” Dick replied.  “I have, in fact, ever since I first began to train in the baseball squad last season.  It’s wonderful what training does for a fellow!  I know there’s a heap of bad condition in the world, but I often wonder why there is.  Why, Dave, I ought to knock wood, of course, but I feel so fine that it seems as though nothing could put me out of form.”