DISQUIETING NEWS
There was a singing in Dick's ears. He seemed to be on a heaving,
rolling sea, and he dimly wondered how he happened to be back on board a
boat. Then he felt a dash of water on his face--cold, stinging
water,--and he half imagined himself back on the raft with a sea
breaking over him. Next he felt some one lifting him to his feet, and he
heard the murmur of voices.
"That was a nasty blow."
"Yes. Who did it?"
"Shall we send for the doctor?"
"I'm--I'm all right," protested Dick feebly, as he opened his eyes. He
came back to earth with a shock, and the boatlike motion suddenly
ceased. "I--I----"
"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Paul anxiously.
Dick put his hand up to his head. A big lump was beginning to form, and
was tender to the touch. His head started to ache and hum.
"That was my fault," contritely confessed Hal Foster, of the scrub. "I
was trying to stop you from making that tackle, when my feet slipped
from under me, and shot right at your head, Hamilton. I hope you're not
much hurt. I'm awfully sorry."
He took hold of Dick's arm in a brotherly fashion.
"It's all right--don't mention it old chap. It was no one's fault. I
shouldn't have jumped in so quickly. I'm all right again. Come on, we'll
finish the game."
"No, the time's about up," announced Teddy. "We've had enough for
to-day. And it's been better practice than we've had in a long while. I
guess we're all anxious to get on Hamilton's team."
"Hamilton's team?" asked Sam Porter, in a curious tone. "Since when has
it been _his_ eleven?"
"Oh, I forgot you hadn't heard the news," went on Teddy. "Why Dick is
going to pay for two of the best coaches in the country, and we're going
to have a team as _is_ a team. That's why we all played so well to-day,
I guess--even the scrub."
"Thanks!" exclaimed Tom Coleton. "We'll do you up good and proper
to-morrow just the same."
"Not with Dick Hamilton's team," cried Teddy with a laugh.
"It isn't going to be my team at all," declared Dick, as he supported
himself on Paul's shoulder and walked along, after his head had again
been bathed in the cold water. "I don't want it known as that. I'm only
doing what any fellow would do--putting up some cash to help out. It
isn't my team at all."
"I should say not!" sneered Porter. "Hamilton's team--that sounds like
playing favorites all right."
"Yes, if it keeps on this will be known as the Kentfield-Hamilton
Military Academy," added his crony.
Dick heard, and his face flushed. He took a step toward the two lads,
but he was unsteady on his feet, for the blow on his head had been
severe.
"You'll have to take that back Mr. Porter," said our hero a bit stiffly,
"and you too, Mr. Weston."
It was seldom that the cadets addressed each other thus, and only when
there was some feeling engendered.
"Take what back?" demanded Porter.
"What you said about favorites," went on Dick. "I won't stand for that."
There was that in his look and manner, and in his words that impressed
not only his friends but the two cronies as well. They realized that
Dick as an upper classman, had considerable influence, and, though they
had their own following, due to their wealth and their willingness to
spend money, they doubtless felt that they had gone too far.
"Oh, well, I didn't mean anything," said Porter, half sulkily. "I--I was
only joking."
"I don't like such jokes," declared Dick grimly, and he looked at
Weston.
"Same here," muttered Porter's crony. "I was only fooling."
"Your apologies are accepted," was Dick's reply. He walked on, half
supported by Paul, and when his chums saw how evidently weak he was they
wanted him to go to the doctor's office. But Dick would not.
"I'll be all right in the morning," he said. "All I need is a little
rest. We're getting right into football good and proper," he added with
an attempt at a smile.
"Yes, starting off with a hospital list," added Teddy. "Don't have too
much of it, though."
Dick was rather lame and stiff the next morning, and his head was in
poor shape for study, so he cut some lectures, and got excused from
drill and artillery practice. In the afternoon however, he was much
better, and insisted on going through light practice in signals playing
one half against the scrub, his place being taken by a substitute in the
second period.
Whether it was because Dick was off the team, or because the scrub
played with fiercer energy, due to their defeat of the day before, was
not manifested, but the Varsity was beaten by a score of fourteen to
eleven, and once more there was a feeling of gloom in the ranks of the
first eleven.
"Oh, it's all right," Teddy assured his players. "We will make up for
it to-morrow. By the way, Dick, when are your coaches coming?"
"I've written, and I expect an answer some time this week. It may take a
little longer than I hoped, but I told them not to let money stand in
the way. I have made an offer to Burke Martin of Yale, and Wilson
Spencer of Princeton."
"Martin and Spencer!" cried Teddy in delight. "Say, if we get them here
they'll make even the goal posts play the game. There aren't any two
better coaches living."
"It pays to get the best," said Dick, with a smile. "I have had my
father send a line to the athletic committee of the Tigers, and I told
him to write to our distant relative who once went to Yale, and get him
to put in a good word for us."
"Fine!" cried the captain. "I fancy they'll make the team all over again
when they get here. I may lose my place."
"Nonsense!" declared Dick. "But the way I feel about it is this--we want
the best men to represent Kentfield, and we'll let the coaches do the
picking. I don't want to play unless they say I'm better, in my
particular place, than some other fellow. It's a fair field and no favor
for me."
"Same here," declared Naylor. "I'll step out the minute I'm asked to.
It's for the honor of Kentfield, not for any particular player. But it
would be rubbing it in if they turned you down Dick, after what you've
done--putting up all that money."
"Say, look here, that's a matter I want to speak about!" exclaimed Dick
with sudden energy. "I don't want the coaches to know who is putting up
the money--I don't want it known that I am doing it. They are both fair
men, and I know you couldn't influence them with a million dollars. But
let this matter be kept quiet, and have it given out that the athletic
committee of Kentfield is supplying the funds. Then there can't be
anything said against me."
"I guess that would be the best way," assented Teddy. "I'll call a
meeting right away and we'll settle it. But you say you have already
written to the coaches."
"I did, but I wrote in the name of the committee," said Dick. "I took
that liberty, as I wanted to conceal my part in the affair. I thought it
would be all right."
"Sure. I'll see that it is."
The athletic committee at a meeting that night, endorsed the action of
our hero, and the members were bound to secresy in the matter as to who
was supplying the money with which to pay the coaches.
For the next few days practice went on, and there was a distinct
improvement in the playing of the Varsity team, to the disquieting of
the scrub, for those unfortunate players were shoved all over the
gridiron, and several were laid up with bruises, as the first eleven
was playing for touchdowns, and secured several. Still their playing was
anything but what it should be, and the lads themselves realized it. But
they were willing to learn, and anxiously awaited the arrival of the
coaches.
Dick, meanwhile, had spent some time with Porter and his crony, though
he did not like their companionship. He played many games of pool and
billiards with them, losing occasionally, and again, by some brilliant
cue work, making the two gasp with astonishment and chagrin.
"I don't see how it is that you don't win oftener," spoke Porter a bit
suspiciously one day.
"Oh, well, it's luck I guess," declared Dick, and then he steered the
conversation around to the topic on which he wanted information--the
plan to wrest the control of the trolley line from his father.
But Porter either did not want to tell more, or could not. He declared
that his father's plans were coming along in great shape, and that Mr.
Porter was a wonder as a financier.
"There'll be some surprised millionaires when my dad gets through with
them," he boasted.
"Is he doing it all alone--I mean hasn't he some men associated with
him?" asked Dick as carelessly as he could as he made a neat carom shot.
"Oh, I guess there are some pikers in along with my governor, but he's
the main squeeze," declared Porter. "He lets some fellows trail along
so he can use 'em when he wants to. But he gets most of the dough, and
he keeps it too. I hope the deal soon goes through, for I want my
allowance increased, and the governor promised to raise the ante as soon
as he gets control of this electric road. By the way, it's somewhere out
your way, Hamilton. You must have heard of it."
"I have," answered Dick as quietly as before.
"Is your dad interested? I hear he has scads of money. Maybe he's in
with my father."
"No, I fancy not. It's your turn, Weston," and Dick turned aside to
conceal a grim smile on his face.
That night there was a letter for Dick from his father. It contained
disquieting news, for it bore the information that the enemies of the
millionaire were getting more active.
* * * * *
"There is some other man besides Mr. Porter who is in this matter,"
wrote Mr. Hamilton. "I can't just learn who he is, but he holds a large
number of shares, that he has bought up in little lots from the original
holders. If I could learn who he is, and get in touch with him, I might
persuade him to sell me some stock, so I would have the controlling
interest. Then I could bid these others defiance. If you can learn who
this man is, Dick wire me at once. I'll do the same for you, but as
things are now they certainly look bad for the Hamilton family. But
keep up your spunk."
* * * * *
"Poor dad," mused Dick, "I guess managing finances is about as hard as
trying to re-shape a slumping football team. But we'll both do our best.
I wonder who that unknown man is?"