"Let her rip, Rip!"

A good many were laughing. Fred was not popular. Many tolerated
him, and some of the boys treated him with a fair amount of
comradeship. Yet the lawyer's son was no prime favorite.

"Order!" rapped out the coach, sharply. "This is training work.
You'll find the minstrel show, if that's what you want, at the
opera house next Thursday night."

"How well the coach keeps track of minstrel shows!" called another
gibing voice.

"That was you, Parkinson!" called Mr. Luce, with mock severity.
"Run over and harden your funny-bone on the punching bag. Run
along with you, now!"

Everybody laughed, except Parkinson, who grinned sheepishly.

"Training orders, Parkinson!" insisted the coach. "Trot right
over and let the funny-bone of each arm drive at the bag for
twenty-five times. Hurry up. We'll watch you."

So Mr. Parkinson, of the junior class, seeing that the order was
a positive one, had the good sense to obey. He "hardened" the
funny-bone of either arm against the punching bag to the tune
of jeering laughter from the rest of the squad. That was Coach
Luce's way of dealing with the too-funny amateur humorist.