THE ACCUSATION
“Well, I suppose you fellows are going to do your share next week,”
remarked Dan Woodhouse. He had entered the room of the inseparables
shortly after Holly had gone to answer the telephone summons.
“Oh, sure,” answered Tom.
“Well, we’ll need every point we can pile up,” went on the manager.
“Where’s Holly, by the way? I thought I’d find him here, and there are a
lot of things I want to talk over with him. Where is he?”
They were just telling Kindlings where Holly had gone when the lad in
question came back. There was rather a queer look on his face.
“Oh, Dan, you’re here,” greeted Holly. “Come on out, I want to talk to
you.”
“And you don’t want us to hear; is that it?” asked Sid with a laugh. “I
like your nerve.”
“Come on, Dan,” went on Holly, without replying to the chaff, and there
was something in his manner that impressed every lad in the room.
Kindlings must have noticed something, too, for he got up quickly, and
joined his chum. As he closed the door after him, Tom and the others
heard Dan ask:
“What is it? What’s up? Anything wrong?”
“I don’t know,” answered Holly. “I’m afraid so. Wallace just had me on
the wire. You know, Wallace from Exter, their manager. He asked me a
queer question. Wanted to know if our list of competitors that I mailed
him for the games next week, was to be revised.”
“Revised?”
“Yes. He asked if those were the fellows who were going to take part in
the games, and of course I said they were. Then he came back at me with
this:
“‘Well,’ he said, ‘I just thought I’d give you a chance to make any
change if you wanted to, before we took action. But if it’s your last
word, all right, and you’d better come over and see me, or I’ll come and
see you.’”
“Wallace said that?” demanded Dan.
“Yes,” answered Holly, “and of course I wanted to know right away what
the trouble was. He said he couldn’t tell me over the wire, but he was
anxious for me to call, and I said I would. He intimated that his
committee might make a protest against some of our fellows.”
“He did? Who?”
Tom and the others heard no more, for Dan and Holly moved off down the
corridor, but they had caught enough to make them stare wonderingly at
each other.
“What do you know about that?” asked Tom, slowly.
“That’s the limit!” exclaimed Sid. “Going to protest against some of our
fellows! Who? And for what?”
No one could answer him, and for a moment there was momentous silence.
“Has anyone done anything, or does anyone know anything, that might make
one of our contestants ineligible?” asked Phil.
“Not me,” replied Tom, and the others said the same.
“Let’s go and ask Dan or Holly more about it,” suggested Sid. “We’ve
heard part, and we might as well hear all.”
This plan seemed to meet with general approval. But when Tom and Phil
went to find the two managers and trainers, they were told that they had
left the college.
“I’ll wager they’ve gone to see Wallace,” said Tom, as he rejoined his
chums. “We’ll have to wait until they get back.”
But when Holly and his chum did return, late that night, they would not
talk, though importuned to do so by many, for the story of the possible
protesting of some of Randall’s lads had spread.
“There’ll be a meeting of our committee and Exter’s in the gymnasium
to-morrow morning,” was all the information that Holly would give out.
There were grim looks on the faces of himself and Dan, looks that boded
no good for Randall.
“But if they protest against some of our fellows, and they have to
withdraw, will there be time enough to rearrange our list?” asked Tom.
“We’ll have to make it do,” declared Dan. “We’ll have a few days to make
good in if--well, if some of our best men have to drop out.”
“But who are they?” demanded Sid. “Why can’t we know?”
“Because Wallace wouldn’t tell,” was the reply. “He said he’d make
formal charges to-morrow, and he intimated that we might post a notice,
without saying who it was, stating that some one would be protested. His
idea was that the fellow or fellows might withdraw of their own accord,
and so save a scandal.”
“Are you going to post the notice?”
“I am not!” declared Holly decidedly. “I’m going to bed, and that’s
where all you fellows ought to go if you want to be in shape for the
meet.”
It was an unpleasant night for many at Randall, and anxious faces were
noted on all sides at chapel the next morning. Wallace, and some of his
fellow committee members, came over from Exter early, and soon all who
could, by hook or crook, “cut” a lecture, were in the gymnasium.
“Fellows,” began Holly, who took the chair, “I guess you all know what
we’re here for. Mr. Wallace, of Exter, has an announcement to make, I
understand.”
Wallace arose, rather pale, and began at once.
“Fellows of Randall,” he said, “I’d give a good deal not to have to do
this, but I believe it to be my duty. You all know that your college and
ours, and two others are in a four-sided league for some games. The
games are strictly amateur contests, as you all know, and amateur rules
prevail. That is, no professionals are to be allowed.”
There was a gasp of surprise at this, and Tom, who was looking across
the room, saw a movement among some lads seated near Shambler.
“None but amateurs are to be allowed to compete, under the rules,” went
on Wallace, “not only for the sake of the colleges themselves, but for
the contestants too. We don’t any of us want to lay ourselves open to
charges by the A. A. U. of competing with professionals, and so be
barred out of future games.
“I am deeply sorry to do what I have to do, but certain information has
been laid before me, affecting the standing of two members of Randall
who are on the lists to compete in the games soon to be held. I got the
big list yesterday.”
“Who are they?”
“Name ’em!”
“It’s not true!”
These cries were heard, among other confusing ones, as the Exter manager
paused.
“I’ll name them now,” shouted Wallace. “I formally charge that Jacob
Shambler is a professional ball player, that he has played in a number
of games for money, and that he has taken part in other sports as a
professional. I claim that he was asked to leave Harkness college for
that reason, and if he is to take part under the colors of Randall, then
every Exter man will refuse to compete. I can prove what I have said,
and if Mr. Shambler is present I challenge him to stand up and refute
what I have charged!”
If a cannon had been fired in the room, it could not have produced more
of an effect, nor brought about a more stunning silence following
Wallace’s charge. Every eye was turned toward where Shambler had been
observed to be sitting.
“Is it true?”
“It can’t be!”
“There’s some mistake!”
“Shambler, answer him--tell him it isn’t so!”
These cries followed each other in rapid succession. Tom was aware of
many thoughts flying in confusion through his brain. Several suspicious
circumstances in regard to Shambler seemed likely to be explained now.
“Shambler, will you answer?” called Holly, in strained tones. “Can’t you
say, for the honor of Randall, that this isn’t so?”
There was a hush of silence, and, as white as a sheet of paper, the
student on whom so much depended--who it was hoped would win the big
mile run, and perhaps other contests for the college, arose.
“Mr. Chairman, and members of Randall,” he began, and then his voice
broke. “I--I can’t say anything!” he faltered.
Once more that tense silence.
“Is it--is it true?” hoarsely asked Kindlings. “Are you a professional?”
“I--I am,” confessed Jake Shambler and then, amid a storm of hisses
which broke out all over the room, the dishonored student hurried out.
He had not dared to deny the charge.
“The sneak!” cried several, and more than one arose as though to follow
and inflict corporal punishment on one who had trailed the colors of
Randall in the dust.
“Silence!” cried Holly Cross, leaping to his feet. “It’s bad enough
without making it worse. Stop that hissing!”
It stopped instantly, and amid a death-like silence Shambler opened the
door of the gymnasium, and walked out. He did not look back. No one at
Randall saw him again, for he left hurriedly, not even stopping to get
his belongings.