TOM GETS A TIP
It lacked but two days of the big game with Boxer Hall. The Randall
eleven had bucked against the scrub until that aggregation of substitutes
was weary, worn and sore. For the 'varsity team was now a magnificent
fighting machine. The men played together like clock-work, and were a joy
to the heart of Coach Lighton. As for Holly Cross, no captain was ever
prouder of an eleven than he was. The ends were fast, the backs could go
through the line for gains every time, guards, tackles and Snail Looper
at center were like a wall of flesh. The punting, while not all that
could be desired, was good, and several trick plays had been worked up
well nigh to perfection against the scrub. How they would work against
Boxer Hall was yet to be seen.
But if Randall was in fine shape for the coming struggle on the gridiron,
so was Boxer Hall. Reports from that institution showed that the eleven
was the best that had been turned out in many a season, and by comparing
the games played by Randall (the loss of one game to Fairview and the
winning of the other) and those played by Boxer Hall against the same
teams, an expert would have been hard put to pick the winner of the
championship struggle.
"But we're going to win, fellows!" cried Tom after two halves of hard
practice. "Aren't we, Phil, old chap?"
"Of course," was the rather quiet answer.
"How's your mother, Phil?" asked Holly Cross. "I hope she is getting
better."
"I haven't heard for two days," replied the quarter-back, and his face
showed a little worry.
"Well, she must be all right, or your father would have wired," went on
Dutch Housenlager. "My, but I'm tired!" he added.
"Don't go stale," cautioned the coach. "I think I can let up a bit on
you fellows now. We'll have only light practice to-morrow, and the
morning of the game we'll do some kicking and run through the signals.
Don't forget to listen for the word to change the system. We may have to
do it if they get on to our curves, so to speak. But I don't believe
they will. And don't forget that the signals for trick plays have been
altered a bit. Also remember the tip for the sequence plays. I depend on
them for at least one touch-down. Now amuse yourselves some quiet way
to-night. Get to bed early, and sleep well. I hope none of you have any
lessons to worry over."
"We'll not let study worry us, no matter what happens, until after the
game!" cried Grasshopper Backus. "Wow! But what a celebration there'll
be if we win! The baseball championship, and then the football on top of
it! Wow!" and Grasshopper gave a leap into the air to show how exuberant
he felt. But Dutch Housenlager slyly put out his foot, and Grasshopper
went down in a heap.
"I'll punch your head for that, Dutch!" he cried, springing up; but
Dutch, in spite of his bulk, was a good runner, and got away.
"Well, I suppose you gladiators are all ready for the fray," spoke Sid
that evening, when Phil and Tom were in the room, one on the sofa and
the other curled up in the easy chair. Sid was stretched out on his bed.
"Ready to do or die," answered Tom. "I hope it's a nice day."
"Why, you don't mind playing in the rain, do you?" asked Sid. "I thought
you chaps were regular mudlarks."
"So we are," went on Tom. "Only I want to see a good crowd out. It's
more enthusiastic."
"I know what you want," declared Sid. "You want a lot of girls from
Fairview Institute to be on hand. And, what's more, you want some
particular girl to see you make a star play. So does Phil, I'll wager."
"Well, from what I hear there will be a good crowd of Fairview girls to
see the game," said Phil. "Fairview is sore at being walloped twice by
Boxer Hall, and the co-eds want to see us put it all over that crowd. So
they'll be on hand to cheer us."
"Are you sure?" asked Tom.
"Sure--Ruth told me," went on Phil. "Oh, it will be a glorious occasion!
Don't you wish you were playing, Sid?"
"Not for a minute! Baseball for mine! When I want to wallow in the mud
and get my mouth and ears full of it, I know an easier way than playing
football."
"Yes; go out with a camera and get stuck in the swamp!" cried Tom, and
he got up, ready to dodge any missile which Sid might heave at him in
revenge for having his misadventure recalled. But the naturalist only
answered:
"That's all right. I got the best picture of a fox you ever saw. The mud
will come off."
"Oh, you're a hopeless case!" exclaimed Phil as he got up and began to
change his clothes, laying out a particularly "sporty" necktie.
"Hello!" exclaimed Tom in some surprise. "Where are you going?"
"Out," replied his chum noncommittally.
"I thought you were told to stay in and take it easy to-night," said
Sid.
"Well, I'm not going to any exciting place," came from Phil as he
struggled with a stiff collar. "I'll be in early."
"Going to town?" asked Tom.
"Not Haddonfield."
"Where?"
"I'll bet he's going to see some girl!" exclaimed Sid. "He's got perfume
on his handkerchief, and he never wears that tie unless there's a damsel
in the offing."
"Well, I don't mind admitting that there is a young lady in the case,"
spoke Phil. "I'm going to call on my sister, and you can put that in
your pipe and smoke it, you hard-shelled old misogynist!"
"I thought so!" cried Sid. "I knew it. But tell that yarn about your
sister to your grandmother. It's somebody else's sister you're going to
see. You'd never tog up like this for your own sister."
"Maybe," admitted Phil coolly as he finished dressing.
As he stooped over to lace his shoes an envelope fell from his pocket.
Tom picked it up and handed it to him. He could not help seeing the
address, and, with something like a start, he noticed that it was in the
handwriting of Madge Tyler. He handed it to Phil without a word, and he
noticed that a dull red crept up under the bronze skin of his chum's
face. But Phil shoved the note into his pocket and made no comment.
"He's going to see her--Madge," thought Tom, and he tried to struggle
against the bitter feeling that seemed to well up in his heart.
"Leave the door unlocked," was Phil's parting injunction as he went out.
"I'll be in early."
"Girls, girls, girls!" grumbled Sid as he rolled over to a more
comfortable position. "I'll be hanged if I room with you fellows next
term if you don't go a bit easier on this dame question. You don't give
me any attention at all. It's all football and the ladies."
"It will soon be over," murmured Tom.
"Which; football or the ladies?"
"Football," was the answer, given with a laugh.
Sid was asleep when Phil came quietly in, but Tom was wide awake. Still,
he said nothing as Phil went about, getting ready for bed, and when his
chum came close to him, Tom shut his eyes and feigned slumber. There was
something coming between Tom and Phil. Both realized it, yet neither
liked to broach the subject, for it was a delicate one.
"Well, how was your sister?" asked Sid pointedly of Phil the next
morning.
"Very well," replied Phil calmly. "By the way, Tom, she was asking for
you."
"Yes," answered Tom, and there was coldness in his tones. He did not
wait for Phil to go to lectures with him after chapel, but hurried off
alone, and Phil, feeling humiliated, wondered if he had done or said
anything to hurt Tom's feelings. Tom took care to keep out of Phil's way
all that day, and when the last practice was over, save for some light
work the morning of the game, the left-end hurried to his room. As he
entered it he saw a note thrust under the door. He picked it up. It was
addressed to him, and an odd feature of it was that the letters were all
printed.
"Who brought this here?" he asked of Sid, who was studying his biology.
"Didn't know anybody had brought anything."
"Some one shoved this note under the door for me," went on Tom, ripping
open the missive. He could not repress a start as he read, in the same
printed letters that were on the envelope, this message:
"There is danger threatening Phil Clinton. Watch for it."
"Anything wrong?" asked Sid.
"No--no," spoke Tom slowly, as he tore the note into bits and tossed
them into a basket. "It's just a tip, that's all, but I guess it doesn't
amount to anything."
He walked over to the old sofa and sat down. His brain was in a whirl.
What danger could threaten Phil? Whence had come the mysterious warning?
"It doesn't amount to anything," thought Tom. "If it had, who ever
sent it would have signed his name. It's meant as a joke. I'll pay no
attention to it. I'll not tell Phil. It might worry him. Besides, I
guess he can look out for himself," and Tom shrugged his shoulders.
Ah, Tom, would you have said that but for what had happened in the last
few weeks? But for the fact that Phil and a certain pretty girl had
become fast friends? Tom felt those questions arising in his mind, but
he put them resolutely from him. He did not want to answer them. He went
over to the basket and carefully picked out the torn bits of the note.
He thrust them into his pocket. Sid watched him curiously, but said
nothing. He thought the note was from some girl.
Phil came in a little later. Tom was busy studying, and hardly looked
up; nor did he say anything about the warning he had so mysteriously
received.