A STRANGE DISCOVERY
The _Kappa Delta_ dance was a brilliant affair. Phil took Madge, and
very charming she looked in a new gown of--oh, well, what difference
does it make what her dress was like, anyhow? Besides, I don't know
whether it was bombazine or chiffon, and the more I try to describe it
the worse I will get tangled, so if you'll take my word for it, as well
as Phil's, who ought to know, she looked very pretty indeed. The girls
said she was "sweet," whatever that means.
"Isn't Ruth coming?" asked Phil of his partner after the first waltz.
"Why, I thought so," answered Madge slowly. "She was getting ready to
come when I left."
"Who with?"
"I don't know. Didn't she tell you?"
"She never does," replied Phil. "I thought you'd know."
"Well, I usually do, but this time Ruth was quite mysterious about it."
"There she comes now!" exclaimed Phil, looking toward the entrance to
the ballroom. "Who's that with her?"
"I can't see. She's in front--why, it's Tom--Tom Parsons!" added Madge
quickly.
"Tom!" exclaimed Phil. "The sly beggar! He was going to take her all the
while, yet he pretended to be jealous because I said I was going to
take----"
He stopped in some confusion. Madge looked at him quickly.
"Was he--was he jealous about me?" she asked softly.
"He pretended to be," said her partner.
"Only pretended? How ungallant of you!" she cried gaily, yet there was
more meaning in her tones than Phil was aware of. "Why don't you say he
was madly jealous of me; and that you two quarreled dreadfully over me?"
"Well, I s'pose I could say it," replied Phil slowly, "but you see----
Let's try this two-step," he interrupted, glad of the chance to get out
of an awkward explanation.
"I was going to wait and speak to Ruth," said Madge.
"Later will do," answered Phil, and they swung out on the polished floor
together.
"You frowsy beggar, why didn't you tell me you were going to bring my
sister?" cried Phil to Tom, when the two-step finished and the four had
come together.
"I wasn't sure she'd go," replied Tom in a low voice, and Phil missed
the usual friendly note in his tones. "Will you come down and have an
ice?" he asked Ruth, and before Phil could say anything more Tom had led
his fair partner away.
"Hang it all! There's something the matter with Tom!" thought honest
Phil as he looked at Madge. "I'll have it out with him when this affair
is over. We can't let girls come between us."
It was late when Phil got back to his room, after taking Madge home. Sid
was asleep, and the quarter-back moved about softly, so as not to
disturb him, for Sid had foresworn such dissipations as fraternity
dances. Just as Phil was about to get into bed, Tom came in.
"Say, old man," burst out Phil in a whisper, "what's the matter?"
"Matter?" asked Tom, as if greatly surprised.
"Yes, matter. You've been different ever since I told you I was going to
take Madge to the dance. Now, am I trespassing on your preserves? If I
am, say so. But I thought you liked Ruth."
"So I do!"
"That's what I thought. I knew you used to go with Madge, but since----
Oh, hang it all, I can't explain--I'm Ruth's brother, you know. But if
you think I want to cut you out----"
"It's all right," broke in Tom with a forced geniality that Phil
noticed. "Forget it, old man. Of course, you had a perfect right to go
with Madge. I dare say she'd a heap sight rather have you than me."
"I don't know about that," interposed Phil; "but I was afraid I was
treading on your corns."
"It's all right," repeated Tom quickly. "Fine dance, wasn't it?"
"Very. But are you sure----"
"Oh, dry up!" exclaimed Tom, more like himself. "Here's a letter Ruth
gave me to give you. It's from your mother. Your sister meant to hand it
to you at the dance, but she forgot. Came late to-night--or, rather,
last night--it's morning now. She's a little better, it seems."
"That's good!" exclaimed Phil eagerly. "But I wonder why she didn't
write to me."
"She couldn't manage but one letter, I believe Ruth said," went on Tom
gently.
"Say, I wish you fellows would cut out that gab!" suddenly exclaimed
Sid, turning over in bed. "I want to sleep. I don't go out to dances,
where there are a lot of silly girls, and then sit up all night talking
about it."
"Get out, you grumpy old misogynist!" exclaimed Phil, shying a sofa
cushion at his chum. "Wake up and hear the glad tidings of the dance!"
"Glad pollywogs!" grumbled Sid. "Get to bed and douse the glim."
Which Phil soon did, as Tom showed no further inclination to talk.
In spite of Tom's assertions to the contrary, Phil could not help
feeling that a coldness had sprung up between himself and his chum.
That it was about Madge, Phil could not deny, yet he hesitated to
speak further of it to Tom.
"Maybe it will work itself out," he said to himself. "I hope so,
anyhow."
Meanwhile, the time for the final and deciding championship football
game was drawing closer. Randall and Boxer Hall were easily the two best
teams, not only in the Tonoka Lake League, but in that section of the
country. Neither had done any remarkable playing, nor could it be said
that their goal line had not been crossed, but the championship lay
between them. The practice was exacting and constant, and the 'varsity
eleven was "as hard as nails," to again quote my friend, Holly Cross,
who had an extensive sporting vocabulary. They were eager for the
contest.
Tom and Phil, between whom there was still a shadow of coldness, came
walking together from the gridiron. They were talking about a wing-shift
play that had been tried with some success.
"I don't like the signal for it," said Phil. "It's too complicated, and
the other fellows may get on to it. I think I can work out a better
combination. I'll use some of the old signal letters and numbers that we
discarded. I've got a copy of them in my room."
"Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea," commented Tom. "I think, myself, that
the signal takes too long to understand. It ought to be snappier."
"That's my idea. We'll see if we can't work out a better one."
Hurrying from the gymnasium, where they had changed their clothes, Tom
and Phil went to their room. Sid was there studying. Phil went over to
the wall, where he had placed the new picture of Madge Tyler she had
given him, and took it down.
"That's right!" exclaimed Sid. "It's about time you removed some of
these flags, banners, ribbons and other effeminate decorations. Start
in, Tom, on your share. We'll get this room to looking right, after a
bit."
"Oh, I'm not taking it down," declared Phil as he removed the photograph
from the wall. He had had it placed in rather a heavy and deep gold
frame. "I want to get my copy of the football signals--the ones we
discarded--from behind it," he explained. "I hid them there, as being
the place least likely to be disturbed. I'm going to frame up a new
signal----"
He stopped suddenly, and looked first from the picture to the floor,
and then from the floor to the picture.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom.
"The copy of the signals--it's gone," he said quickly. "I had it
fastened to the back of the picture by a bit of wire."
"Are you sure?" inquired Sid, getting up from the old easy chair, and
making a cloud of dust in the operation.
"Of course!" exclaimed Phil. "They're gone--some one must have taken the
signals."
Tom dimly recalled a certain scene he and Phil had witnessed, and also
remembered the words of the coach when he had made a shift of the
signals. Phil looked at Tom. He was thinking of the same thing. Suddenly
Phil uttered a cry. From the deep, curved frame of the picture he held
up a small gold watch-charm.
"Look!" he exclaimed.
"A freshman charm!" spoke Sid slowly, as he recognized the device
affected by a certain first-year secret society.
"Whose is it?" asked Tom.
"There's no telling," replied Phil.
"Yes, there is," went on Sid. "They always have their initials on the
back of the charm. Look and see."
Phil turned it over.
"Whoever left this here must have taken the copy of the signals," he
said slowly. "He probably took down the picture and removed the paper.
In doing so the charm slipped from his watch-chain and fell in the deep
frame. He must have held it about at his belt to bend up the wire, for
it was stiff."
"Whose initials are on the back?" asked Tom in a low voice.
Phil looked at them.
"They are 'G. A. G.,'" he announced.
Sid reached for a college roster, and turned to the freshman class list.
The room was strangely silent, not even the ticking of the alarm clock
being heard, for it had run down.
"Well?" asked Tom.
"The only fellow with the initials 'G. A. G.' is Garvey A. Gerhart,"
answered Sid.