TOM IS SUSPICIOUS
Tom Parsons, who was one of the best all-around athletes at Randall,
believed in doing a variety of things in order to keep himself in form.
He realized that if he devoted himself exclusively to one thing he might
excel in that, to the detriment of some other form of sport. He was one
of the best pitchers Randall had ever sent into the box, and it had been
said of him that had he devoted more time to running, pole vaulting,
broad or high jumping, he could have made fine records at either. But he
preferred to be a little better than the average at either one, and yet
he did not want to strain himself to be a top-notcher.
“I’m just sort of going to hold myself in reserve,” he said to Holly,
“and you can fill me in wherever you need me.”
“Not a bad idea,” the young manager had agreed, and so to-day Tom was
practicing with the sixteen pound shot. In order to be out of the way of
the others, and so that he might not be too closely watched, Tom had
set the toe board some distance off. There he was heaving the shot to
his heart’s content.
He was not far from a corner of the gymnasium, which building was now
pretty well emptied, since nearly every lad who intended to try for a
place in the games was out on the field.
As Tom went to recover the shot, after a “put” that gave him considerable
satisfaction from the distance covered, he saw two figures passing behind
the angle of the building. One he knew at once for that of Shambler. The
other--that of a shabbily dressed man--was not familiar to him.
Since the little episode of the May walk, Tom had had no occasion to
speak to Shambler, and the latter, whether or not he was aware of
anything unusual, did not show any curiosity over Tom’s behavior.
As Tom heaved the shot again, the toe of his tennis shoe caught on the
board, and part of the sole was ripped off.
“Serves me right for using that old pair,” mused the lad. “I’ve got
another pair in my locker, I’ll put them on.”
He was rummaging among his things in the gymnasium, when he became aware
of voices outside, directly under an open ventilating window. And it did
not take very sharp ears to know that one of the voices was Shambler’s.
Without in the least meaning to be an eavesdropper, Tom could not help
hearing something of what was said.
“You don’t seem at all glad to see me,” spoke the voice of the shabby
man.
“Well, maybe not. I wish you hadn’t come here. Why didn’t you send me
word, and I could have met you in the village? It doesn’t look good, you
coming here on the college grounds.”
“I suppose I’m not dressed well enough,” was the sneering retort.
“Well, never mind about that. Only some of the fellows may be
suspicious.”
“Oh, they’ll never guess. You’ve changed your name; haven’t you?”
“Hush! Not so loud! Of course I have, but I can’t change my face, and
I’m afraid every day of getting found out. But what do you want,
Nelson?”
“What do I always want, but money? Did you think I came here to pass the
time of day?”
“I wish you had.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the man, sharply.
“I mean that I haven’t any money for you.”
“Why, look here--er--Shambler--you’ve just got to have money for me.”
“Got to is a strong word, Nelson.”
“I know it, and I mean it. I’m broke I tell you.”
“Then get it from someone else. I haven’t any.”
“Why, what have you been doing here all this while, I’d like to know?”
and the man’s voice took on a whine.
“I haven’t been picking up gold dollars, if that’s what you mean,
Nelson. I’ve been bucking down and studying hard. It is isn’t as easy at
Randall as it was at Harkness.”
“What’d you come here for then?”
“Because athletics are better managed. Now look here. You know the games
won’t take place for some time yet, and I can’t get any cash until
they’re run off. I have just enough to get along on as it is, but if
things go right I’ll have plenty later on.”
“Backing yourself, I suppose?”
“Hush! You can’t tell who may hear you. I tell you it was a big risk for
you to come here to-day. I wish you hadn’t. You had better go away now.
Go out this way, where no one will notice you.”
“I will when I get some money--not before,” growled the man.
“Oh, hang it, Nelson! Do you want to spoil everything? I tell you I
can’t give you any money. Why don’t you go see some of the others?”
“They’re broke too. I was counting on you, and I’ve just got to have it.
Come now, fork over. You can cut out some of your fancy business, and
make it up.”
“Fancy business? I’m living plainer than any one else in college. I
haven’t given a spread, and I don’t go to ’em when I can help it, for I
can’t return the compliment.”
“So that’s why he hasn’t been around much,” mused Tom. “He hasn’t the
money. Well, that’s nothing against him, but I must say I’m suspicious
of this talk. I--I wish I hadn’t heard it.”
Tom had on his other shoes now, and was preparing to leave the gymnasium.
Then the voices resumed.
“Well, I’ll spare you a little,” said Shambler, “though it’s a hard
pull. Now don’t you come back here until after the games. If all goes
right you’ll get your share.”
“I should think I would, after what I’ve done for you,” retorted the
other. “Come on now, fork over. I’m in a hurry.”
“I’ll have to get it. It’s in my clothes in the gym. Wait here for me.”
Tom changed his mind about going out just then, as he felt that he might
meet Shambler. He slipped into one of the shower bath compartments and
waited there until he heard the runner enter and leave again. Then came
the jingle of coins through the open window, and the sound of retreating
footsteps.
“That sure was queer,” mused Tom, as he slipped from the gymnasium, and
went back at his shot putting. “I wonder what sort of a hold that fellow
had on Shambler, to get money out of him? It looks bad, and yet I can’t
say anything.”
“I didn’t mean to listen, but, since I did, I can’t tell anyone that I
did. But it sure is queer. I wonder how he expects to make any money off
the games, unless he bets on Randall? Of course, that’s legitimate
enough, if one believes in betting.”
Tom shook his head. It was too much for him. And, as he thought of how
Shambler had, of late, crossed his path in more ways than one, the tall
pitcher was more and more puzzled over the growing mystery.
“I wish I could tell the fellows, and talk it over with them,” he went
on, as he made an extraordinary good put. “But it’s out of the question.
I’ll have to puzzle it out by myself. But I’ll keep my eyes open for
that shabby looking man.”
The fellow was not in sight when Tom came out of the gymnasium, and
Shambler had resumed his training, while Tom went back to the seven
foot circle.
“Well, I guess we’ve had enough for to-day,” called Holly Cross to the
various contestants, a little later. “No use overdoing the thing, and
going stale. Knock off, everybody!”
“And glad enough we are to do it, too!” gasped Dutch, who was in a
perspiration from his efforts. Everyone was in a healthy glow, and as
Holly and Kindlings looked at the notes of some of the records made that
day there was a look of satisfaction between them.
“If this keeps up we’ll be all right,” remarked Holly.
“That’s right. Everything seems to be going well, but, of course,
we want all the points we can get. I think the new hurdles are an
improvement. There’s no danger of a fellow getting hurt, and it gives
him more confidence as he approaches them. We must insist on them in the
games.”
“Think the others will agree to ’em.”
“Oh, yes. We’ve given in to them on lots of points, and it’s no more
than fair that they should concede something to us.”
“Do you think they’ll all decide on Tonoka Park as the place to hold the
games?”
“I’m almost sure of it. It’s big enough, and will hold a good crowd.
That’s what we want so we can get plenty of admission money. Boxer and
Fairview are in favor of Tonoka, and so are we. Exter will have to agree
with three against her.”
“They had rather stiff nerve to want the contests to come off on their
grounds.”
“Yes, but I don’t anticipate trouble there.”
And the two managers walked on, talking over many points yet to be
settled.
“Well, Tom, how goes it?” asked Sid as the four chums entered the
gymnasium for showers.
“Pretty good. I didn’t strain myself to-day, but I’m coming on.”
“That’s good. Say, I hear that Shambler is doing well on the mile run.”
“Yes,” admitted Tom shortly. “He’s a good runner.”
“Tom’s still sore,” murmured Sid to Frank.
“Can’t blame him. You’d be too.”
Then conversation was interrupted by the splashing of water, to be
succeeded by various grunts and puffings, as the boys vigorously rubbed
down after their practice.
“Telegram for you, Mr. Parsons,” announced one of the messengers about
the college, as he met our hero coming from the gymnasium. “I’ve been up
to your room, but you weren’t there.”
“Thanks,” murmured Tom, as he ripped off the end of the yellow envelope.
His companions watched his face curiously as he read the message.
“Hum, I’ve got to go home,” announced Tom, a moment later.