CHAPTER XIII.
THE RIOT CALL AND OTHER LITTLE THINGS "To your seat, Mr.Bristow! You're acting like a rowdy!" Principal Cantwell uttered the order sharply.
Fully half the student body had gathered in the big assembly room at the High School.

It was still five minutes before the opening hour, and there had been a buzz of conversation through the room.
The principal's voice was so loud that it carried through the room.

Almost at once the buzz ceased as the students turned to see what was happening.

Bristow had been skylarking a bit.
Undoubtedly he had been more boisterous with one of the other fellows in the assembly room than good taste sanctioned.
Just as naturally, however, Bristow resented the style of rebuke from authority.

The boy wheeled about, glaring at the principal.
"Go to your seat, sir!" thundered the principal, his face turning ghastly white from his suppressed rage.
Bristow wheeled once more, in sullen silence, to go to his seat.
Certainly he did not move fast, but he was obeying.
"You mutinous young rascal, that won't do!" shot out from the principal's lips.