Then, as if satisfied with fits work, the football struck and bounded back, landing at the principal's feet.
For one moment Mr.Cantwell was dumb with amazement.
Then he saw his impaled hat and realized the extent and tragedy of his loss.

The angered man went white with wrath.
"What ruffian did that!" he roared.
But the boys, unable to hold in any longer, had let out a concerted though half-suppressed "whoop!" and now came running to the spot.
"Who kicked my hat off ?" demanded the principal, pointing tragically to the piece of headgear, through the crown and past the rim of which the picket now stood up as though in triumph.
"You---you got in the way of---the ball, sir," explained Drayne, trying hard to keep from roaring out with laughter.
"But some one kicked the ball my way," insisted the principal, with utter sternness.

"Don't tell me that no one did! That football could not By through the air without some one propelling it.
Now, young gentlemen, who kicked that ball ?" "I did, Mr.Cantwell," admitted Dick, pushing his way through the throng.

"And I'm very sorry that anything like this has happened, sir." "On, you did it, oh ?" demanded the principal, eyeing the young man witheringly.

"And you actually expect an apology to restore my new and expensive hat to its former pristine condition of splendor ?" "I didn't know you were there, sir," Dick explained.