ON THE TOURNAMENT COURTS
The spy went down, more under the force of a well-directed blow that Sam
had planted on the back of his neck than from the force of Sam’s weight
that fell upon him.
“I’ve got him!” yelled Sam. “I’ve got the miserable spy. Come here,
fellows, quick! Oh-h-h-h! Ouch!” There was a despairing wail in the voice
of the Tramp Boy now. The note of triumph had left it.
Sam’s companions had sprung up with his first call and started into the
grove, but though they could hear their companion they were unable to
locate him.
Sam Crocker’s yells were now half smothered, so it seemed to his
companions. Then all at once they saw Sam rise from the ground, saw him
with both hands clapped to his face, heard his unintelligible yells for
help. The boys ran at top speed.
“What is it?” shouted George.
“Catch him!” moaned Sam, suddenly sitting down again.
“Catch whom?”
“The spy! the spy! He’s getting away. He ran that way. Chase him.”
The boys now began to understand. With one accord they spread out and
began running through the grove, shouting to each other as they ran, but
no trace of Sam’s spy did they find. He had had ample time to make his
escape while Sam was trying to make his companions understand what had
happened.
The girls had dropped their racquets and ran out, following the boys.
They found the unhappy Sam, hands still pressed against his face, rocking
to and fro and groaning.
“Oh, Sam, you have hurt your poor nose again,” sympathized Miss Elting.
“Get a pail of water. No, we will take him back to camp where we can give
him better treatment,” said the guardian. Sam permitted himself to be
assisted to his feet and slowly led back to the camp of the Meadow-Brook
Girls. Miss Elting promptly set to work to wash the blood from his face
so that she might determine how serious was the hurt that he had
received.
It was while she was thus engaged that George and his companions
returned. They were in none too good humor either.
“You are a fine one to send us off on a wild goose chase like that!”
growled George. “I don’t believe you saw any one at all. You must have
seen a shadow.”
Sam found his voice.
“Look at my nose! Does that look as if I hadn’t seen any one? Does my
nose look as if I had met a shadow?” he roared, his roar ending in a
groan, for, in opening his mouth, he had hurt his nose again.
“Tell us what you did see,” urged Baker, his voice growing sympathetic
when he saw that Sam was suffering.
“I think we shall have to take him to a physician,” announced the
guardian. “I fear this is a little beyond my ability as a surgeon. Can’t
you wait until he is fixed up, George?”
“Yes, but if he’s able, he must tell us now,” replied the captain. “If
there is anything at all to this we should know it at once. Think you can
talk, Sam?”
“Ye—es, if you won’t nag me. Ouch!” Sam remonstrated as the guardian
touched his suffering nose.
“Never mind. I won’t do it again,” said Miss Elting gravely. “I thought
that perhaps I might be able to straighten your nose, but see that is not
best, nor had I better put on any adhesive plaster. The doctor would have
to take it off, thus causing you useless additional pain. Tell them,
please, if you are going to do so. We must get you to a doctor at once.”
“I was coming through the grove when I discovered a fellow hiding behind
a tree,” explained Sam Crocker with many a halt and groan. “I crawled up
toward him. I didn’t like his looks. Then I saw he had a pair of opera
glasses. Through the glasses he was watching the girls at practice.”
“What!” shouted George. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did, but you thought I had seen shadows. Shadows don’t give a fellow
this,” he added, pointing to his own disreputable nose. “When I got up
close enough I jumped upon him. I punched him at the same time. He went
down and I on top of him. It looked like a soft thing for me. I yelled to
you boys about that time. But Fate was against me. Do you know, that
fellow knew all about my sore nose, knew that it was the one particular
tender, sensitive spot on my whole body. The scoundrel jerked his elbow
back just like this. It hit me on the nose and made me yell. Oh, it hurt
awfully. I just rolled right off him and clapped both hands to my poor
nose. It was bleeding badly. Then the fellow jumped up. I made a grab for
him; then, what do you suppose he did? He kicked me in the nose, kicked
me right on the sorest spot in my whole body. I don’t mind being kicked,
but to be insulted by being kicked on the nose—that’s _too_ much for a
self-respecting Tramp. If you catch him, don’t do anything to him. Just
bring him to me.”
“Would you know the fellow if you were to see him again?” questioned
George, frowning.
“I don’t know. I think so, although I saw his face only for a second.”
“How was he dressed?”
“He had on a pair of shoes, heavy ones,” was Sam’s innocent reply.
“What kind of suit?” persisted George.
“Didn’t notice it. Don’t think I saw it at all.”
“Boys, this is serious,” declared Captain Baker, turning to his fellow
Tramps. “Some one has been spying while the girls were at practice. We
should have posted guards, but I didn’t think we should be bothered this
afternoon. There are some queer people around here. Of course, we can’t
blame them for wanting to know all they can, but we may blame ourselves
for letting them find out. We shall see to it, however, that this
incident is not repeated.”
“I wonder if he saw our signals!” gasped Jane.
“He did, no doubt. We were making them about that time. But, girls, keep
your eyes open. If the boys don’t catch the guilty ones, we shall
undoubtedly do so when we get in the tournament. If this spying has been
done in the interest of any of the players, the girls will know our
signals when we face the net,” declared Harriet. “The spy may not have
heard our explanations, but if he is sharp he will be able to identify
the signals with the plays that follow. When any of you sees that her
opponents understand our signals you will know you are getting close to
the fellow who hurt Sam’s nose. Then you just watch. Are you going to
send him to a doctor, Miss Elting?”
“I’ll take him in the motor car,” said Jane.
It was arranged in that way, Miss Elting and Captain George accompanying
the injured boy, who really was suffering more than he ever remembered to
have suffered in all his life. The other Tramp Boys remained with the
Meadow-Brook Girls. The boys were angry and the girls indignant at the
attack on Sam Crocker, but there was nothing to be done in the matter now
except to wait and watch.
Sam was brought back in Jane’s car. His face was plastered until he was
well-nigh unrecognizable, but it was the same old familiar voice that
inquired if supper were ready. The girls had forgotten all about the
meal. Their minds had not been on eating at any stage of this eventful
day. They hurriedly set about preparing a meal for themselves and the
boys.
“The doctor says he will not be permanently disfigured,” Harriet informed
her companions. “Of course, he must not get any more such knocks on the
nose. It’s too bad, now that the tournament is on.”
“I have my voice left,” answered Sam. “I can yell, and now that the
plasters are there to hold my nose in place I won’t crack my face doing
so. I’m going to do some yelling. Another fellow may be heard to yell,
too, but he won’t yell in the same tone, not if I lay my gentle hands
upon him.”
The girls were tired and they were to have a long day’s practice on the
following day, so the boys were permitted to go to their own camp at an
early hour in the evening. There the Tramps discussed ways and means of
trapping the spy and giving him the thrashing he deserved, not so much on
account of his having spied on them as because of his brutal kicking of
Sam Crocker. The elbow jolt was necessary in order to free himself, but
the kick in the nose was not. It was the kick that he should be punished
for, the lads decided, after sitting in judgment on the matter for a long
time. They, too, went to bed with their minds fully made up as to what
they would do when they found the man. It would not have been a pleasant
prospect for him had he known.
Next morning Harriet was out at daylight. Shortly afterward she saw the
men setting the nets on the tournament courts.
“Here is our chance, girls,” she cried. “The nets are being placed. Get
ready and we can have a long practice before the rest of the community is
stirring.”
There was some grumbling, but Harriet being recognized as the leader
among the girls, her suggestions were usually adopted. They were in this
instance and were warmly seconded by the guardian. As soon as they could
get ready they did so and were off across the fields, each eating a piece
of bread. There were no Tramp Boys in sight at that early hour, only the
workmen and a manager who was directing the placing of the nets on
measurements already laid down. Jack Herrington had reasoned that some of
the contestants might desire early practice and, to give them all an
opportunity, had ordered the nets set up at daybreak.
Miss Elting asked permission to use the courts, which was granted; then
the girls began a game, after first having warmed up, for the morning was
chill. There being no one to see them except the men at work, they did
not hesitate to use all their tricks and secret plays, making good use of
the signals all through the set. Harriet and Tommy won the first game,
Hazel and Jane the next.
Acting upon the suggestion of the guardian the girls were not playing
fast games that morning, but instead they were playing for accuracy and
perfection. They were devoting a great deal of attention these days to
form, seeking to make their movements as graceful and artistic as
possible and yet obtain the best results from their playing. In this
instance Miss Elting was their critic.
So interested were the Meadow-Brook Girls in their work that they failed
to see a man climb the fence from the street and cross the lot toward the
courts. His approach was shielded by the stand built for the tournament
spectators. They were unaware of his presence as he stood behind the
stand, where he watched the whole of the second set. Then to their
amazement he suddenly appeared before them, having walked around to the
front of the stand without attracting attention to himself until Harriet
Burrell had called “Game!”