A CHANGE IN SIGNALS
The scene in the room was one of confusion. Tom was dancing about,
rubbing first here and then there on his anatomy. The snake which Sid
held was wiggling as if in protest at being suspended by the tail, and
was tying itself into all sorts of complicated knots and geometrical
figures.
"Look out, it may bite you!" cried Phil, who was holding the mudturtle
by the tail, the feet of the animal working back and forth in a vain
effort to get a grip on the air.
"It isn't a poisonous snake," declared Sid, who was something of a
naturalist. "But I wonder who played this trick on us? What ails you,
Tom?"
"Yes; what are you wiggling around in that fashion for, son?" inquired
Phil, who began to laugh, now that the extent of the scare was evident.
"Wiggle! I guess you would, too, if some one had filled your bed with
needles that came right through your pajamas," replied Tom.
"Needles?" from Sid.
"Needles?" reiterated Phil.
"Yes, needles; ten million of them, by the way I feel!"
Phil placed the mudturtle in the wash basin, where it vainly tried to
climb up the slippery porcelain sides. Then he went over to Tom's bed.
"There are no needles here," he said.
"No? What are they, then?" demanded Tom, continuing to rub himself.
"Chestnut burrs," replied his chum, after a more careful inspection.
"Some one has taken the stickers off a lot of chestnut burrs and
scattered them in your bed. No wonder they went through your pajamas.
I'd rather have the mudturtle than them."
"Or a snake," added Sid. "I wonder who did it?"
Phil pulled back the covers from Tom's bed. At the foot, between the
sheets, was a piece of paper. The quarter-back made a grab for it and
read:
"Compliments of the freshmen. Maybe you won't be so smart next
time."
"The freshmen!" cried Tom. "We'll make them smart for this!"
"They've made you smart already," commented Sid, as he put his snake
in a pasteboard box, and carefully closed it with a weight on top. "I
guess they got ahead of us this time."
"This is Gerhart's writing," went on Phil, looking closely at the note.
"He originated the scheme. Let's see if any other fellows have suffered."
They partly dressed, and stole silently to the rooms of some of their
classmates. No one else had felt the vengeance of the freshmen, and our
friends concluded that the performance had been arranged for their
special benefit, on account of the friction they had had with Gerhart.
"How am I going to sleep in that bed to-night?" asked Tom ruefully, when
they had returned to their room. "It's like being in a beehive."
"I'll show you," said Phil, and he carefully took off the sheets,
folding them up so that the chestnut stickers would not be scattered.
"You can do without sheets to-night, I guess."
"I guess I'll have to," went on Tom. "But I'm going to get another pair
of pajamas. Those feel too much like a new flannel shirt," and he went
to his trunk, which he began ransacking.
"What can we do to get square?" asked Sid, as he again prepared to get
into bed. "We've got to teach Gerhart a lesson."
"That's what," agreed Tom. "We'll discuss it in the morning."
But it was not so easy as they had supposed to think up a joke to play
on the inventive freshman, that would be commensurate with the trick he
had perpetrated on them. Besides, Gerhart kept pretty well with his own
crowd of classmates, and, as there was safety in numbers, and as our
three friends did not want a general class fight, they were, to a
certain extent, handicapped. By Gerhart's grins they knew that he was
aware of their discomfiture of the night previous. Tom was sorely
tempted to come to fistic conclusions with the freshman, but Sid and
Phil dissuaded him, promising to unite with him on some scheme of
vengeance. The mudturtle and snake were retained by Sid, who had a small
collection of live things.
"We must keep this to ourselves," suggested Phil that morning, as they
started for chapel. "Only our own fellows must hear of it."
"Sure," agreed Tom and Sid, but they soon found, from the greetings of
the juniors, seniors and freshmen, that the story was all over the
school. In fact, to this day the yarn is handed down in the annals of
Randall College as an example of how a freshman, single-handed, played a
joke on three sophomores; for it developed that Gerhart had done the
trick alone.
It was a day or two after this, when Tom and Phil were walking along the
river after football practice, that, down near the bridge, they saw
Gerhart just ahead of them.
"There's a chance to take a fall out of him," suggested Tom, whose
appetite for vengeance was still unappeased.
"That's so," agreed Phil. "Let's catch up to him and toss him into the
river."
They quickened their steps, but a moment later they saw a young man come
from the bushes at one end of the bridge and join Gerhart. The two
walked briskly on, and, as Tom and Phil could see, they were engaged in
earnest conversation.
"We can't do anything now," spoke Tom. "That's a stranger. He's not of
Randall College. Look at his cap."
"He's from some college," declared Phil. "That cap seems familiar. I
wonder who he is."
"Give it up," spoke Tom. "We might as well go back now."
They were about to turn when suddenly the lad with Gerhart swung about
and made a violent gesture of dissent. Then Tom and Phil heard him say:
"I'll have nothing to do with such a dirty trick, and you ought to be
ashamed to make the offer!"
"Oh, is that so?" asked Gerhart, and he did not seem nonplussed. "Well,
maybe some other fellow will be glad to get what I have to offer."
"I don't believe it!" exclaimed the other. "I'm done with you, and that
settles it," and he crashed into the bushes and disappeared, leaving
Gerhart alone on the road.
"Did you see who that was?" asked Tom, looking at Phil.
"No; I couldn't make out his face."
"It was George Stoddard, captain of the Boxer Hall eleven."
"That's right," agreed Phil. "I knew I'd seen him before. But he didn't
look as he used to in a baseball uniform. I wonder what he and Gerhart
had on the carpet."
"Oh, probably Gerhart wanted him to go to some sporty gambling affair. I
hear he plays quite a high game at cards."
"Who?"
"Gerhart. Lots of the freshmen of our college have found his pace too
fast for them. He and Langridge are thicker than ever. Probably Gerhart
wanted some new easy-marks to win from, and is trying to take up with
the Boxer Hall boys."
"Shouldn't wonder. But Stoddard turned him down cold."
"Yes; didn't make any bones about it. Well, I s'pose we could catch up
to Gerhart now. But what's the use?"
"That's right. Hello! There's Langridge joining him now, Phil," and as
Tom spoke they saw the sophomore come from a side path and walk along
with the freshman. The two began talking earnestly, and from the manner
of Gerhart it seemed that something had gone wrong, and that he was
endeavoring to explain.
Tom and Phil forgot the little scene of the afternoon when they got
down to studying that night, and as lessons were getting to be pretty
"stiff," to quote Sid, it was necessary to put in considerable time over
books. The three "boned" away until midnight, and after an inspection of
their beds, to make sure that no contraband articles were between the
sheets, they turned out the light and were soon slumbering.
The next day Phil was turned back in Greek, and had to write out a
difficult exercise.
"Tell Mr. Lighton I'll be ready for practice in half an hour," he said
to Tom, as the latter hurried off to get into his football togs. "I'll
come as soon as Pitchfork lets me off."
"All right," answered his chum.
When Tom got to the gridiron he found most of the 'varsity eleven there.
Coach Lighton was in earnest conversation with Captain Holly Cross.
"Where's Phil?" asked the coach as Tom came up. The left-end explained.
"Come into the gym, fellows," went on the coach. "I have something
important to tell you. Phil will be along soon."
Vainly wondering what was in the wind, and whether, by any chance, it
concerned Phil, Tom followed the sturdy lads across the field. Phil
joined the throng before the gymnasium was reached.
"What's up?" he panted. "Aren't we going to practice?"
"Yes," replied the coach; "but first we've got to arrange for a new set
of signals."
"New signals?" cried half a dozen.
"Yes. I have just learned, in an anonymous communication, that an offer
was made to a rival college to sell our signals. The offer, I am glad to
say, was indignantly refused; but if some one is in possession of our
system, we must get a new one. Now, if you will come in here I will
change the signals, and we will then go to practice."
Tom and Phil instinctively looked at each other. The memory of the scene
between Gerhart and Stoddard, and Langridge's later presence with the
freshman, came to them both at once.