FRANK WITHDRAWS
Tense and anxious faces looked into those of Holly and Kindlings as the
athletic committee drew closer to the platform in the gymnasium. The
doors were closed. The Exter lads had been taken in charge by some
Randall fraternity members, but it could not be said that there was a
spirit of gaiety observable. Only those of whom it was absolutely
required attended lectures. The others, not charged with the extending
of courtesies to the Exter lads, hung about the gymnasium, waiting for
any news that might leak out.
“Well, boys, what’s to be done?” asked Holly, rather helplessly, as he
faced his committee. Tom, Sid, Phil and Frank, of course, were present.
“Who’s got anything to suggest?” asked Dan Woodhouse.
It seemed that the two trainers and managers were all at sea, as,
indeed, were most of the others.
“I suggest that Frank tells us all he knows about this case,” said Tom,
finally. “We’re with him to the last. I guess I needn’t say that,
though,” he added.
“That’s right,” chimed in several others.
Frank arose, all eyes turned toward him.
“Fellows,” he began, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that this thing
has come to you. It’s like a bolt out of a clear sky to me, and I
needn’t say that I never dreamed of such a charge being brought.”
“We know it,” said someone.
“If I was surprised when the charge was made against Shambler--and he
admitted it was true,” went on the Big Californian. “I was completely
astounded when they named me as the second man. I hardly know what to
say.”
“Did you really take part in those games?” asked Holly.
“I did, but there was not the least hint of professionalism. No one
dreamed of such a thing. As I recollect it, a number of college fellows
were asked to compete. I was at Stanford University at the time. I
entered. It was for some charity. I’ve forgotten just what now, but a
hospital, I think. A business men’s committee was formed, and I was told
there were to be several prizes offered for contestants. We didn’t care
about them, for we only thought of doing our best and winning. We all
supposed the prizes would be medals, cups, or something like that.
“Then there was some talk of money prizes being offered. But I don’t
believe any of us thought anything about it being professional to
compete for money, but I know we college fellows held a meeting.
“We decided unanimously that whatever prizes we won we would donate to
the charity for which the contests were run off. None of us wanted them.
Then came the meet.
“I don’t know just how many events I took part in. I think I won the
pole vault, as well as the mile run, but I’m not sure. Anyhow, I know
that after the games a man came up to me, and some of the other winners,
with envelopes. I realize now that they must have contained money--the
prize money.
“Everyone of us waved him aside, and the general order was: ‘Give it to
the hospital,’ if it was a hospital for which the meet was held. I know
I never accepted a cent, and none of the other college fellows did.
That’s all there is to it.”
There was a short period of silence following the statement by the Big
Californian. Then Tom arose in his seat.
“Mr. Chairman,” he said, “I move you that we take a vote of confidence
in Frank, first of all, and then that we send word to Exter and Boxer
Hall and Fairview, that the charges of professionalism are groundless in
this case, and that Frank will take part in the games.”
“Second it!” yelled Joe Jackson.
“One minute,” began Holly calmly. “I appreciate the spirit in which that
motion was made, and I’ll put it at the proper time. But, before I do,
I’d like to know if anyone here has a copy of the A. A. U. rules bearing
on professionalism. If he has will he see if they bear on this case?”
“I’ve got a copy!” said Dan Woodhouse, “and I know ’em pretty much by
heart. I don’t believe that Frank would be barred under the rules. They
make the ‘acceptance’ of money a bar, I think, and by his own evidence
Frank didn’t accept it.”
“Not that I want to seem to believe for a moment this charge, but
because I think we ought to be very sure of our ground, I make this
suggestion,” spoke Phil Clinton. “Of course Frank didn’t take, or
accept, the money. But might it not be said that by tacitly turning it
over to the charity after winning it, that he had it? I’m afraid they’ll
say--the committee I mean--that when he competed for a money prize he
became a professional.”
“No! No!” cried several.
“Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” said Holly Cross. “That’s what
we’re here to decide. Shall we fight this case, and have it threshed out
in a general meeting, or----”
“Fight! Fight!” cried a number.
“Frank isn’t a professional, and never was,” declared Sid Henderson,
jumping up and excitedly waving his arms. “I say let’s defy Exter and
all the rest.”
“And maybe break up the meet?” asked Dan.
“Fellows, let me speak once more,” begged Frank. “I have thought this
matter over carefully in the last few minutes, and, while I don’t
retreat one point from my position, perhaps a compromise would be better
than a contest.”
“No! No! Contest it!” was the general cry.
“Wait!” begged the lad who had most at stake. “This comes at an
unfortunate moment. Shambler confessed that he was a professional.
Fortunately it came in time to save the honor of Randall. Now, what I
propose to do is for the further honor of our college.”
“What’s the matter with Frank Simpson?” demanded Bean Perkins.
“He’s--all--right!” was thundered out.
“Thank you, boys,” responded the Big Californian, when quiet had been
restored. “I appreciate all that, but we must face the facts. As soon as
it becomes known that Shambler has confessed, there will be a lot of
talk. Fortunately Randall can’t be scorned. We have done our duty. Now
there’s this charge against me. There are some complications in it. I
believe----”
“A fair committee would never bar you,” broke in Tom.
“Perhaps not,” admitted Frank. “But we don’t want any question raised.
Boys,” he went on, and his voice was solemn, “we have to think of the
honor of Randall before we think of ourselves. It’s the college and not
the contestants who will be exalted, or dragged down, as the case may
be.
“I fully believe that I am in the right, and that no charge of
professionalism would stand against me. But, for the honor of Randall I
want you to let me withdraw. I----”
“No! No!” came a storm of protests.
“Stick it out!” urged Joe Jackson.
“We’re with you to the end,” added Phil.
Frank raised his hand for silence.
“It’s very good of you to say that,” he went on, when he could be heard,
“but I know how these things sometimes turn out. There is talk afterward.
You don’t want the success of Randall questioned, in case she should win
this meet.”
“But can we win with you and Shambler out?” someone asked.
“Boys, you’ve got to--for the honor of Randall,” said Frank quietly.
“You’ve just got to! You’ve got to let me drop out, and someone must
take my place. It can be done, easily. Someone must run for Shambler,
too. I know it’s going to be hard to get someone with his record, but
we’ll do it. Boys, I’m not going to take part in the games. That’s
final!”
In spite of the fact that they all expected this as a climax to what
Frank had started to say, it came as a shock. There was a tense silence,
and then someone asked:
“Isn’t there a way out? We need you, Simpson.”
“There is no way out, except my resignation,” answered Frank, “and I
hereby tender it now, formally, and ask that it be accepted at once.
Then you can go into the games with a clean slate, and--win!”