A TOUGH PROPOSITION
“Now, boys,” said Coach Tyler on Friday afternoon, at the close of a
meeting of the football team, “take the rest of the day off.”
Tyler did not believe in working a team up to the very last minute, and
never had his men on the field the day before a big game.
“Take things easy,” he went on. “Drop football out of your minds and
conversation. Stay out of doors as much as possible. Don’t do anything
exciting, and get to bed early. The train leaves South Street Station at
8:30, and I want you here in the gym at eight sharp!”
“Let’s go for a little spin,” suggested Tut Miller to Jack Dunn as they
strolled out onto the campus. “It’s only half past one. Tyler is
certainly getting big-hearted.”
“I’ve got a paper to write for—” began Jack.
“Oh, come on!” urged Tut, dragging him toward a yellow roadster parked on
the drive. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that later. Some friends of
mine want to meet you.”
Reluctantly Jack got into the car, wondering a little at the unusual
request. Tut settled himself in the driver’s seat, quickly swung the
machine out onto Grover Road, and headed for the country. Jack had never
been very chummy with this big blond Soph with the protruding jaw and
narrowed eyes which looked at you speculatively, as if you were a bug
under a microscope. He was always friendly, almost too friendly; one
sometimes wondered if he were laughing scornfully, away down inside of
him.
Neither boy spoke until they had turned onto Route 8, one very little
traveled at that hour of the day; then Tut began smoothly: “These friends
of mine live about ten miles out on this road; some fellows I knew in
prep school. They’re awfully keen on football, and like to be able to say
they’ve met this or that celebrity. Been at me for some time to bring you
out. They run a big roadside stand; have several cabins, and I guess
they’re making a pretty good thing of it; always have plenty of dough to
spend.”
Jack, for all his popularity, was a modest fellow and hated being shown
off. If he had known where they were going, he would have managed to
evade the trip; but Tut had trapped him, fairly and squarely. Nothing for
it now but to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible.
Tut drove rapidly, and before long drew up at a tourist camp in a grove
some feet back from the road. Three fellows a little older than the
Granard boys came out to greet them. They were husky, finely built
individuals, all with bright red hair, blue eyes, and a strong family
resemblance.
“The Holm brothers,” said Tut, with a wave of his hand. “I don’t need to
tell you boys who this is!” slapping Jack on the back. “Everybody knows
him, at least by sight.”
“Mighty glad to meet you,” said each in turn, as he grasped Jack’s hand
in a vise-like grip.
The five stood for a few minutes talking of various unimportant matters;
then Seldon, the oldest Holm, proposed showing Jack around the place.
“Some of our cabins are pretty nice,” he said; “and farther back in the
grove there is a stream beside which we have built ovens and tables.”
Bernard, the second brother, promptly moved to their side as Jack
murmured a polite assent to the proposal.
“I’ll stay here with Vin,” said Tut, “and help keep store.”
After Seldon and Bernard had proudly displayed their property, of which
Jack was able to approve quite honestly, they stopped for a moment at a
rustic bridge which led back from the picnic grounds to a deep woods.
“We’ve a proposition to make to you, Dunn,” began Seldon abruptly,
“somewhat of a surprise to you, and probably not a very agreeable one;
but just keep cool and think it over a bit before you decide. Briefly,
it’s this: we Huron Prep fellows always hang together, and let nothing
stand in the way of promoting the welfare and reputation of our school.
We want Tut to have his big chance in the Greystone game. Now, what will
you take to stay out of it?”
For a fleeting second, Jack’s impulse was to knock the fellow over into
the stream below; but some more cautious instinct immediately urged upon
him the wisdom of proceeding carefully.
“Well,” began Jack, as slowly as his fast-beating heart would allow,
“naturally, since I’ve never given a thought to such a question, I’m not
prepared to answer it on the spur of the moment.”
“Take your time,” urged Bernard, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
Jack’s brain fairly raced. If he refused, since they strongly outnumbered
him, they could readily keep him a prisoner until after the game. Yet to
accept was definitely out of the question; he’d be just a plain cur to
take a bribe. How could he get away from them without either definitely
accepting or refusing? That seemed to be his only chance. What an easy
mark he had been!
“How long am I to have to decide?” he asked, finally.
“Until Tut’s ready to go back,” replied Seldon, who, leaning against a
big oak tree, was watching Jack closely.
“Let’s go back to where the others are,” suggested Jack; “I’d like to
talk to Tut before I decide.”
“No objection to that, I guess,” replied Bernard, looking at his brother.
Not a chance of this fellow getting away when there were four of them to
prevent such a contingency. Much better for Dunn to accept the bribe (for
that meant Tut would have his place for the next two years, as well as at
the Greystone game) than it would be to have to keep him prisoner until
after Saturday. Why had the fellows urged Tut’s being helped with his
course at Granard except so that Huron could have a representative on the
big team? Tut had played mighty good football at prep school, but this
upstart kept him from his rightful place here. Pity they hadn’t gotten
rid of him before. It took the Greystone game to wake them all up. The
Greystone supporters would be glad to see Dunn out of the game; they
didn’t know how good Tut was.
“Now let’s get down to business,” said Seldon briskly, when they joined
the others who were standing at the edge of the grove. “Tut, Dunn wants
to talk over the proposition with you before he decides.”
Jack managed to get on the outside of the group, from which point he had
a straight and unobstructed path to the yellow car which was parked at
the farthest point of the Holm property and headed toward Granard. Tut
must have turned it around so as to be ready for a quick get-away if
necessary. The Holms probably had a car; but it was not in sight.
Wherever they kept it, it would take at least a few minutes to get it
started and out. True, Tut could have him arrested for going off with his
car, but he’d have to run the risk.
“Well,” Tut was saying, “spill it!”
“If I should decide to take the money, how would you explain my absence?”
“We thought you’d play up sick, and just stay at home,” put in Seldon.
“That would be sheer foolishness,” retorted Jack. “Tyler would send Doc
to examine me, and he’d find me perfectly O. K. How would it do for me to
go to Greystone, just as if nothing had happened, and start the game;
then get hurt and have you put in in my place?”
“That would seem more natural,” answered Tut, looking at Seldon for
approval; but that sturdy individual frowned.
“How could you fake that any better than being sick before you went?” he
growled.
“Just this way. I’d make a run, stumble, fall, and lie still on the
field. When they picked me up, I’d go limp and not be able to stand at
all. I could fool anybody who’d never seen me do it before. Let me show
you what I mean, and then see if you don’t think it would work out
perfectly. When I fall, you come and try to stand me up, Tut.”
Jack looked questioningly at the Holms for permission to stage his act.
“Go ahead,” replied Seldon curtly.
Instead of making directly for the yellow roadster, as he had intended,
Jack cleverly ran about a bit, close enough to the others for them to
have been able to seize him any moment they chose.
“This is just warming up a bit,” he said, smiling, as he passed the group
for the second time. “In a minute or two I’ll put on my act.”
Jack sensed, rather than saw, that the tenseness with which they had
watched his start relaxed somewhat as he continued to warm up. Then like
a catapult he hurled himself forward and sprinted to the car. With a
bound he was in the driver’s seat, the ignition was on, the clutch was
thrown in, the car shot out onto the road. Wild shouts from those left
behind.
Jack realized that it would be foolhardy to stay on Route 8; so at the
first crossroad he turned off into a road which he thought would bring
him out at Portersville, a suburb of Granard. The road was a winding one,
but he made good time and met no other cars. He kept close watch in the
mirror for his pursuers, but the road behind him basked quietly in the
afternoon sunshine.
Just as he turned into the road leading into Portersville, a stretch of
heavily wooded highway, he saw a big blue car coming toward him. In it
were four big fellows wearing blue and green ribbons in their
buttonholes—Greystone colors. All this, Jack took in at a glance as he
sped onward. The blue car slowed down, turned around, stopped for a
moment, then came on with a burst of speed, passed him and swung sharply
across the road, directly in his path. It was so unexpected that Jack had
to jam on the brakes suddenly to avoid crashing into the larger car.
“What—” he began angrily, when he noticed that the three individuals who
had tumbled out of the car and were coming toward him had handkerchiefs
tied over the lower part of their faces.
“A hold-up!” thought Jack. “Foolhardy to try to resist them.”
Without a word they seized him, dragged him out of the yellow roadster,
then two of them hurried him over to the blue car while the third moved
the smaller car over onto the shoulder. A blindfold was tied tightly over
Jack’s eyes, he was tumbled into the tonneau, and the big car started off
for—somewhere.