Out of one of the rooms near by rushed Mr. Cantwell, the principal---or
"Prin." as he was known, his face white with the anger that he
felt over what he regarded as a most unseemly disturbance.

"Stop this riot, young gentlemen!" commanded the principal sternly.

"Send in the riot call, like you did last year!" piped up a disguised,
thin, falsetto voice from the outskirts of the rapidly growing
crowd. Quite a lot of the girls had gathered, too, by this time.

The principal turned around, sharply, as some of the girls began
to giggle. But Mr. Cantwell was unable to detect the one who
had thus taunted him.

Coach Morton peered over the railing of the floor above.

"Mr. Morton!" called the principal.

"Yes, sir."

"Sound the assembling gong, if you please."

Clang! clang! clang!

The din of the gong cut their recess four minutes short, but not
one of the excited High School boys regretted it. They had had
a chance to express themselves, and now fell in, filing down to
the locker rooms, then up the stairs once more to the assembly
room. Bayliss and Fremont came in, joining the others. They
were white-faced, but strove to carry their heads very high.