The mystery of the "spook" that had so suddenly appeared at the academy
grew with every night. Strange sounds were heard in the corridors,
sentinels were frightened, and little articles and things of value
continued to disappear from the rooms of the cadets.
"I wonder if this yere spook has visited us, pard?" said Brad Buckhart,
one morning.
"Why?" asked Dick.
"My knife is gone now. The critter seems to take to knives and such
things as a duck takes to water, and so I thought maybe he had wandered
in here and appropriated my sticker."
But Brad dismissed the matter with that, nothing more being said about
it.
The "spook" excitement continued to provide a topic of interest for the
boys, but the approach of the football-game with the New Era A. A.
finally surpassed it in interest.
Various were the opinions expressed in regard to the probable outcome of
the game with New Era. Some thought New Era would not be able to score,
some thought she would make the game interesting, some even thought
there was a chance for her to win; but the majority seemed inclined to
the idea that Fardale, thus far undefeated, would not fall before this
team.
When the report came that the Trojan A. A., which had been defeated by
Fardale, had not permitted New Era to score and had rolled up
twenty-eight points, it seemed a settled thing that the cadets were to
have an easy time of it. The members of the team grew overconfident,
something Dick warned them against.
"Oh, we'll eat those galoots up!" declared Buckhart.
"Perhaps so," said Dick; "but we don't want to be too sure of it. You
know it is never possible to know just what to expect from one of these
independent teams. They are full of tricks, and they are not
over-particular about their methods."
"Oh, if they are looking for rough-house, they can find it! Remember
what happened to the Trojans when they tried that sort of business."
Dick remembered that the Trojans had been battered into a state of
amazed decency.
Chester Arlington's interest in the football-team seemed very keen. He
was out every day to watch practise, and he cheered and encouraged the
boys like a most loyal supporter of the eleven. He even went further
than that. Darrell's shoulder had been injured, and Chester declared he
knew just how to massage the muscles to bring it back into perfect
condition. He peeled off his coat, to the surprise of all, and gave
Hal's shoulder a rubbing after practise each day.
And it was a fact that Darrell's shoulder improved amazingly beneath
this treatment. Seeing which, some of the other fellows, who were
bruised or lame, ventured to ask Chester to give them a little
attention.
Dick was not a little surprised when Arlington consented and seemed so
intensely eager to have every man on the team in the finest possible
condition.
Buckhart looked on in deepest distrust. Leaving Arlington in the gym,
working over Bradley, stripped of coat, vest, and hat, and sweating
handsomely, Brad followed Dick from the building and spoke to him as
they walked toward the barracks.
"This yere Ches Arlington is puzzling me some, I admit I can't just make
out his little game now."
"Then you think he's up to some game?" asked Dick.
"Pard, he's crooked. He's been against us ever since he found he
couldn't get on the team. There is no reason why he should flop now."
Dick thought how Chester had been compelled to humble himself and ask a
favor. Was it possible there had come a change of heart in the fellow?
"I suppose you're right, Brad," he said. "But I don't see what harm he
can do. He seems to be doing considerable good."
"I wouldn't let him put his paws on me if every bone in my body was out
of place and he could put them all back!" exploded the Westerner.
"Bradley's just thick-headed chump enough to let him do it."
In the meantime, Arlington had attended to Billy Bradley, who was the
last one to seek his attention, and had donned his coat and vest and
found Hal Darrell waiting. Bradley departed, leaving Arlington and
Darrell together.
"Well, Arlington, old man," said Darrell, with a puzzled smile, "I never
thought you'd come down to it."
Chester flushed a bit.
"Come down to what?" he asked.
"Rubbing these fellows you consider so far beneath you. It is amazing!"
"I suppose so," admitted Chester.
"You have turned Good Samaritan."
"For my own benefit."
"For your benefit?"
"Exactly."
"I fail to catch on. How for your benefit?"
"I've got to get on my feet somehow, Darrell. You know my dislike for
Merriwell has led me into betting heavily against Fardale, and I have
been soaked good and hard."
"Yes, I know."
"I know you did, but every time I thought I had a sure thing. With
Merriwell off the team I should have been eager for Fardale to win. With
him on it, I hated him so much that I was more than eager for the other
side to win. Fardale secured victory after victory; but that simply made
me all the more confident that the tide must turn and she must lose.
What's the result? I'm flat. Of course, I can get more money, but
really, old man, I'm ashamed to call for it."
Thinking of the money Chester had lost and had squandered in foolish
ways, Hal did not wonder that he was ashamed. Truly, it was astonishing
that a boy of Chester's years could have so much money to fling about
without thought or reason.
"That's the explanation," nodded Arlington. "I must get on my feet
somehow."
"I don't see how you expect to do it by----"
"This time I'll back Fardale."
"Why, you can't find any one to bet on New Era."
"Oh, yes, I can! Those New Era fellows have sent some chaps into town
looking for bets."
"Why, great Scott! we downed the Trojans, and the Trojans buried New
Era!"
"All the same, the sports who are looking for bets seem confident that
New Era will make Fardale look like thirty cents."
"But you say you're broke. How are you going to----"
"I've raised money on everything I could hook. I've borrowed some. I
want to borrow ten of you, Hal. You know I'll pay if I lose, but I won't
lose. Will you let me have a sawbuck? It's my chance to get even, and
I'm going to make the best of it."
"Why, yes, I think I can squeeze out a tenner," said Darrell.
"But you will be in up to your eyes if we happen by any chance to drop
this game."
"If Fardale loses, I'll have to make a clean breast to mother and get
her to put me on Easy Street again. But Fardale's not going to lose.
That's one thing I'm sure of. And I want every man in the best possible
condition. That's why I'm working so hard on the fellows who will let me
polish them up. See?"
Hal saw, but still it seemed strange that Chester Arlington, proud,
haughty, independent, should do what he was doing.
The following day was Friday. After practise Arlington again stripped in
the gym and gave his attention to those who would have him.
There was more or less football talk, and the boys gradually dressed and
wandered out. A few were left when a little incident occurred that must
be recorded.
Again Arlington was working over Bradley. Sweating, he paused to pull
out his handkerchief and wipe off his face. As he removed the
handkerchief from his pocket a knife dropped to the floor. He picked it
up and then paused, staring at it.
Dick noticed this, and he saw Chester stop and stare at the knife. He
also noted a frown on Arlington's face, a puzzled expression. Suddenly
Dick showed interest.
"Let me see that knife, Arlington," he demanded.
Chester surrendered it.
"Is this your knife?" asked Dick, with something like accusation in his
voice and manner.
"No," admitted Chester, "it is not."
"But it came out of your pocket?"
"It dropped to the floor when I took my handkerchief out. I never saw it
before."
Dick stood looking straight at Chester. Somehow Arlington's manner
seemed truthful. In a moment, however, he grew angry beneath Dick's
persistent gaze.
"What do you mean by staring at me that way?" he demanded hotly. "Do you
think I'm lying?"
"No," said Dick, turning away and putting the knife in his pocket. "I
know the owner of this knife, and I'll give it to him." Then he walked
out.
Chester started as if to follow him, but stopped and turned back, saying
to Bradley:
"I think you're all right now."
"Here's your knife, old man," said Dick, as he handed the knife over to
Buckhart in their room after supper.
"Hey?" exclaimed the Texan. "Why, why, where----"
"It is your knife, isn't it?"
"Sure as shooting. But where did it come from?"
"I saw Chester Arlington pick it up from the floor in the gym."
"When?"
"To-day."
Brad looked surprised.
"Why, it couldn't have been there ever since I lost it," he said.
"Somebody would have found it before this."
"It seems that way," said Dick; and he did not explain to Brad that the
knife had fallen first from Chester's pocket as he pulled out his
handkerchief.
Why Dick chose to keep silent on this point he hardly knew. He was
mystified over the knife incident. Chester Arlington did not seem like a
fellow who would resort to petty robbery. Surely he would not steal an
ordinary pearl-handled knife, worth perhaps three dollars, when he spent
money lavishly? And yet Dick had heard it hinted within a day or two
that Chester was hard up, and that his parents had declined to advance
more money for him to squander until a certain time had passed.
Strange thoughts were flitting through Dick's head. Placed in a
desperate situation, would Chester be tempted to pilfer? The "spook,"
the missing trinkets and articles of value, these things Dick thought
about. Then he wondered if there was not some way for him to solve the
mystery and clear up the whole affair. But, in the meantime, the
football-game with New Era took his attention.