Let Gil and Poke tell about Gary’s surprise party, for they were eye-witnesses.

“You could have knocked me over with a feather,” declared Poke—the four Sunnywood boys were on their way back to the cottage at noon—“and I never thought Nancy Hanks had it in him! Here’s the way it was. Most of the class were in their seats and Mort Nichols—he’s monitor, you know—was calling the roll. When he got to the G’s he skipped Bull’s name because he could see that Bull wasn’t there. Mort’s rather a chum of Bull’s, you know. But Nancy was on to him. ‘You’ve left out a name, Nichols,’ says he. ‘Go back, please.’ So Mort gets sort of red and calls, ‘Gary.’ And Bull, who had just come loafing in at the door says, ‘Dead on the field of battle,’ and the fellows began to laugh. It really was funny, wasn’t it, Gil?”

“Rather.”

“Pshaw! You laughed, too. I saw you. Well, Nancy never turned a hair—”

“The funny thing,” interrupted Gil, “was the way Mr. Hanks was looking. He was sort of white and frightened and he had his mouth set in a straight line like—like this.” And Gil illustrated. “I never saw him look that way before.”

“And he had a funny little sparkle in his eyes,” said Poke. “Did you notice that, Gil?”

“Yes. He really looked kind of dangerous and I was mighty glad I wasn’t Bull Gary just then.”

“Well, get on with your story,” said Jim. “Then what happened?”

“Then,” replied Gil, “Mr. Hanks said, ‘Are we to understand by that cryptic remark, Gary, that you desire to be marked as present?’ And Bull was so flabbergasted that all he could do was stammer, ‘Y-yes, sir.’ ‘Mark Gary present,’ said Mr. Hanks. So Mort went on with the roll and we began the recitation, all the fellows looking at each other and wondering what had happened to Mr. Hanks. Marshall was reciting when there was a crash at the back of the room. It seems that Bull had reached out with his foot and poked over a pile of books on Punk Gibbs’ desk. Mr. Hanks held up a hand and Marshall stopped. ‘Whose books are those?’ he asked. ‘Mine, sir,’ replied Punk very, very meekly. ‘Pick them up, please.’ So Punk picked them up and put them back and the room was very quiet. Every one was grinning, but no one made a sound. Marshall started off again when—bang! went the pile of books once more. Mr. Hanks lifted his hand. ‘Whose books are those?’ he asked again. ‘Mine,’ said Punk, looking sort of scared. ‘Pick them up, please.’ ‘I didn’t knock them off,’ grumbled Punk. ‘Who did?’ asked Mr. Hanks. But Punk wouldn’t tell. Then Mr. Hanks said, ‘The student who pushed those books onto the floor will kindly pick them up.’ No one moved for a minute. ‘We will wait,’ said Mr. Hanks, and sat down again in his chair. Finally Punk grumbled something and started to pick them up, when Mr. Hanks said: ‘Let them alone, Gibbs!’ And Punk sat up as though he was shot. Another minute or so passed. Some one began to snigger nervously at the back of the room. ‘Who’s that laughing?’ asked Mr. Hanks. After that there wasn’t a sound. Finally Mr. Hanks looked at the clock. ‘I’ve given you plenty of time,’ he said, ‘but you may have thirty seconds more in which to replace those books,’ and he looked straight at Bull. Bull grinned, but didn’t move.”

“Just the same,” broke in Poke, “he was getting pretty nervous.”

“We all were,” said Gil. “Finally Mr. Hanks said, ‘Time’s up, Gary. You’re delaying the recitation.’ ‘I didn’t knock them off,’ said Bull in his ugliest tones. ‘You didn’t?’ asked Mr. Hanks very quietly. ‘Think well, Gary, before you answer.’ Bull looked around and grinned. ‘No, I didn’t,’ said he. And then Mr. Hanks, our quiet little Nancy Hanks, exploded a bombshell. ‘Report to Mr. Gordon, Gary,’ said he sternly. Bull sat and looked at him with his mouth wide open, too surprised to speak, and the rest of us just gasped. Finally Bull said, ‘What for, sir?’ in that bullying way of his, and Mr. Hanks came back at him like a flash. ‘For disturbance in class and lying!’ he said!”

“And that,” murmured Poke, “was the way the battle was fit.”

“Gee!” said Jim. “Gary must have been surprised.”

“Did he go right away?” asked Jeffrey.

“Like a lamb,” answered Gil. “And then, ‘Please continue, Marshall,’ said Mr. Hanks. And there wasn’t a better-behaved class in school than we were!”

“Just what we told him would happen,” declared Poke. “He ought to be mighty grateful to us for giving him the tip.”

“He will probably send up a set of engraved resolutions, thanking us,” said Jim dryly.

“What I want to know is,” remarked Jeffrey as they passed through the cottage gate, “what the team’s going to do without Gary at right guard.”

“I wonder myself,” mused Gil as they took their places on the porch. “Probably they’ll bring Parker over from the second. But it’s going to weaken the team like anything.”

“How long will J. G. keep him on pro?” asked Poke.

“Search me. Maybe he will let him back in time for the big game. That’s not much more than a month away now.”

“I hope he will,” said Jeffrey. “We certainly need him in the line.”

“But think of Nancy rearing up and being saucy like that!” marveled Poke. “I could hardly believe my own little eyes, fellows!”

“It’s a case of the worm will turn,” observed Jeffrey.

“And here comes the worm,” whispered Jim.

Mr. Hanks came along the road with a bundle of blue books under his arm. He had discarded his straw hat for a faded black Fedora that was perhaps two sizes too large for him and that settled down over his forehead in a desperate and rakish manner. To-day it seemed to the boys on the porch that the instructor held his head more erect and stepped out more briskly. When he came up the steps they were all on their feet and unconsciously there was a new respect in the way in which they stood at attention and took off their caps. Mr. Hanks bowed his jerky bow and passed them silently. When he was heard mounting the stairs Jim observed thoughtfully:

“‘Nancy’ doesn’t seem to fit him so well to-day, fellows.”

Naturally enough Mr. Hanks’ astounding change from the meek and lowly victim to the high-handed martinet was a nine days’ wonder. During that nine days three other members of his classes were punished in various ways and from that time on recitations in Latin and history were conducted with a decorum that soon became the envy of other instructors. Mr. Hanks never spoke to Gil or Poke, Jim or Jeffrey about the matter, nor did he ever show them any special consideration in class, but in some way they all understood that he was grateful, and with their new respect for him was a stronger liking.

In the meanwhile football affairs were at sixes and sevens for the better part of a week, for Gary’s probation prohibited him from taking part in athletics and when he left the team the team lost one of its strongest units. Parker was tried, but found wanting. Springer, left guard on the second, was brought across to the first but fared badly in the first game played. Finally Cosgrove, right tackle on the first, was moved to Gary’s vacant place, and Curtis, of the second, was promoted to right tackle on the first. Whereupon, presto!—Mr. James Hazard found himself with disconcerted suddenness playing left tackle on the second team! And the season was half over and already the Hawthorne game loomed large and impending on the horizon.

To say that Jim was pleased is putting it but mildly. To say that he was secretly alarmed is no more than the truth. It is one thing to serve as a substitute and be put in for five or ten minutes when the game is safe and quite another to be a first string man. On defense Jim found himself opposed to Tearney, right end on the first, and that was not so bad, but on the attack he had Cosgrove in front of him and Cosgrove was an old and experienced player with a most irritating trick of coaxing Jim off-side, for which, for the first week or so, Jim was forever being censured by coach and captain and quarter-back. Of course playing on the second team is not as momentous an affair as being on the ’varsity, but it’s the next biggest thing, and if any one thinks that a second team doesn’t take itself very seriously they should have watched proceedings at Crofton that fall. The second, captained by Page, the tiny quarter-back, went into every tussle as though the fair honor of Crofton was in their keeping. The second regretted the loss of Curtis, but speedily made Jim welcome to their ranks. He soon got close to several fellows well worth knowing and within a fortnight was “Jim” to every member of the team.

At Sunnywood, true to their promise, Gil and Poke assisted in the household duties every morning and evening. Mrs. Hazard had instead of one majordomo three cheerfully willing assistants. Chilly weather had come and the furnace had begun its duty, and in the morning the three boys descended to the cellar and put it in shape, raking out ashes and sifting them, shoveling coal, picking over cinders and splitting kindling for the kitchen. Jeffrey, although barred from taking an active part in the chores, made himself useful whenever possible. In the evening a somewhat similar program was carried out, and at ten o’clock Poke, who had evolved certain theories for the scientific management of furnaces, went down and fixed the fire for the night. In this way Jim had plenty of time to pursue the gentle art of football.