SID IS CAUGHT
"It's this way," began Holly, as he crossed one leg over, and clasped
his hands under his recumbent head. "Randall has been looking up in
athletics lately. Since we did so well last season on the diamond, and
won the championship at football, some of the old grads and men who have
such 'oodles' of money that they don't know what to do with it, have a
kindlier feeling for the old college. It's that which brought about the
presentation of the loving cup trophy, or, rather the offer of it to the
winner of the baseball championship of the Tonoka Lake League. The cup
will be worth winning, so the doctor says."
"How'd he come to tell you?" asked Phil.
"I happened to go to his study to consult him about some of my
studies----" began Holly.
"Yes you did!" exclaimed Tom disbelievingly.
"You went there because Proc. Zane made you!" declared Phil.
"Well, no matter, if you can't take a gentleman's word for it," said
Holly, with an assumed injured air. "Anyhow, I was in the doctor's
office, and he had just received a letter from some old grad, honorary
degree man, offering the gold cup. Doc asked me if I thought the boys
would like to play for it. Has to be won two out of three times before
any college can keep it. I told him we'd play for it with bells on!"
"Of course!" agreed Tom and Phil.
"Now, about the team for this spring?" resumed Holly. "You're captain,
Tom, but we've got to elect a manager soon, and we'd better begin
talking about it," and then the trio launched into a rapid-fire talk on
baseball and matters of the diamond.
The three youths were sophomores in Randall College, a well-known
institution located near the town of Haddonfield, in one of our Middle
Western States. The college proper was on the shore of Sunny River, not
far from Lake Tonoka; and within comparative short distance of Randall
were two other colleges. One was Boxer Hall, and the other Fairview
Institute--the latter a co-educational institution. The three, together
with some other near-by colleges and schools, formed what was called the
Tonoka Lake Athletic League, and there were championship games of
baseball, football, tennis, hockey, golf, and other forms of sport.
Those of you who have read the previous volumes of this "College Sports
Series" need little if any introduction to the characters who have
held the stage in my opening chapter. Others may care for a formal
introduction, which I am happy to give them.
In the first book, called "The Rival Pitchers," there was told of the
efforts Tom Parsons made to gain the place as "twirler" on the 'varsity
nine. Tom was a farmer's son, in moderate circumstances, and had come to
Randall from Northville. Almost at once he got into conflict with Fred
Langridge, a rich student, who was manager of the 'varsity ball nine,
and also its pitcher, and who resented Tom's efforts to "make" the nine.
After much snubbing on the part of Langridge, and not a few unpleasant
experiences Tom got his chance. Eventually he supplanted Langridge, who
would not train properly, and who smoked, drank and gambled, thinking
himself a "sport."
Tom soon became one of the most liked of the sporting crowd, and the
especial friend of Phil Clinton and Sidney Henderson, with whom he had
roomed for the last term. The three were now called the "inseparables."
In the first book several thrilling games were told of, also how Randall
won the championship after a hard struggle with Boxer and Fairview, in
which games Tom Parsons fairly "pitched his head off," to quote Holly
Cross, who was an expert on diamond slang. Langridge did his best to
injure Tom, and nearly succeeded, but the pitcher had many friends,
besides his two special chums, among them being Holly Cross, Bricktop
Molloy, Billy or "Dutch" Housenlager, who was full of horseplay, "Snail"
Looper, so called from his ability to move with exceeding slowness, and
his liking for night prowlings.
Then there was Pete Backus, known as "Grasshopper," from his desire, but
inability, to shine as a high and broad distance jumper; "Bean" Perkins,
a "shouter" much depended on in games, when he led the cheering; Dan
Woodhouse, called Kindlings, and Jerry and Joe Jackson, known as the
"Jersey Twins."
Of course, Tom and his two chums had many other friends whom you will
meet from time to time. Sufficient to say that he "made good" in the
eyes of the coach, Mr. Leighton, and was booked not only to pitch on the
'varsity again, but he had been elected captain, just before the present
story opens.
Phil Clinton was the hero of my second volume, a story of college
football, entitled "A Quarter Back's Pluck." Phil was named for quarter
back on the 'varsity eleven, but, for a time it looked as if he would be
out of the most important games. His mother was very ill in Florida, in
danger of death from a delicate operation, and Phil, and his sister Ruth
Clinton (who attended Fairview Institute) were under a great nervous
strain.
Langridge, seeing that Tom was beyond his vengeance, tried his tricks on
Phil. Together with Garvey Gerhart, a freshman, Langridge planned to
keep Phil out of an important game. They "doctored" a bottle of liniment
he used, but this trick failed. Then they planned to send him, just
before an important contest, a telegram, stating that his mother was
dying. They figured that he would not play and that Randall would lose
the contest--both Gerhart and Langridge being willing to thus play the
traitor to be revenged on the coach and captain of the eleven.
But, with characteristic pluck, Phil went into the game, stuffing the
fake telegram in his pocket, and playing like a Trojan, even though he
believed his mother was dying. It was pluck personified. After aiding
his fellows to win the championship, Phil hurried off the field, to go
to Florida to his mother. Then, for the first time, he learned that the
message he had received was a "fake"--for his mother was on the road to
recovery as stated in a telegram his sister Ruth had received.
Of course the trick Langridge and Gerhart played was found out, and they
both left Randall quietly, so that the name of the college might not be
disgraced.
But though Tom, Phil, Sid and their chums lived a strenuous life when
sports were in the ascendency, that does not mean that they had no time
for the lighter side of life. There were girls at Fairview--pretty girls
and many of them. One, in particular--Madge Tyler--seemed to fit Tom's
fancy, and he and she grew to be very friendly. Perhaps that was because
Tom had rather supplanted Langridge in the eyes of Miss Tyler, who had
been to many affairs with him, before she knew his true character. Then
there was Ruth Clinton, Phil's sister. After meeting her Tom was rather
wavering in his attachment toward Miss Tyler, but matters straightened
themselves out, for Phil and Miss Tyler seemed to "hit it off," to once
more quote Holly Cross, though for a time there was a little coldness
between Tom and Phil on this same girl question. When this story opens,
however, Tom considered himself cheated if he did not see Ruth at least
twice a week, and as for Phil, he and Miss Tyler--but there, I'm not
going to be needlessly cruel.
To complete the description of life at Randall I might mention that Dr.
Albertus Churchill, sometimes called "Moses," was the venerable and
well-beloved head of the institution, and that as much as he was revered
so much was Mr. Andrew Zane, the proctor, disliked; for, be it known,
the proctor did not always take fair advantage of the youths, and he was
fond of having them "upon the carpet," or, in other words, before Dr.
Churchill for admonition about certain infractions of the rules.
Another character, little liked, was Professor Emerson Tines, dubbed
"pitchfork," by his enemies, and they were legion.
I believe that is all--no, to give you a complete picture of life at
Randall I must mention that Sidney Henderson, the third member of
the "inseparables" was a woman hater--a misogynist--an anchorite--a
dub--almost anything along that line that his chums could think to call
him. He abhorred young ladies--or he thought he did--and he and Tom and
Phil were continually at variance on this question, and that of having
girls' photographs in the common study. But of that more later.
With Holly stretched out on the old sofa, and Phil and Tom in various
tangled attitudes in chairs--Phil in the depths of the ancient one--the
talk of baseball progressed.
"Yes, we must have an election for manager soon," conceded Tom. "But
first I want to see what sort of a team I'm going to have. We need
outdoor practice, but if this rotten weather keeps up----"
"Hark! I think I hear the rain stopping," exclaimed Phil.
"Stop nothing," declared Holly. "It's only catching its breath for
another deluge." And it did seem so, for, presently, there came a louder
patter than ever, of drops on the tin gutter.
"Well, guess I'd better be moving," announced Holly, after another spasm
of talk. "What time is it by your town clock, anyhow?" and he shied a
book at the alarm timepiece so that the face of it would be slewed
around in his direction, giving him a peep at it without obliging him to
get up.
"Here! What are you trying to do?" demanded Tom. "Do you want to break
the works, and stop it?"
"Impossible, my dear boy," said Holly lazily. "Just turn it around for
me, will you, like a good fellow. I don't see how I missed it. I must
practice throwing, or I won't be any good when the ball season opens.
Give me another shot?" and he raised a second volume.
"Quit!" cried Tom, interposing his arm in front of the fussy little
clock.
"That calls us to our morning duties," added Phil, adding in a sing-song
voice: "Oh, vandal, spare that clock, touch not a single hand, for
surely it doth keep the time the worst in all the land."
"Fierce," announced Holly, closing his eyes and pretending to breathe
hard. "It tells you how much longer you can sleep in the morning, I
guess you mean," he went on. "The three of you were late for chapel this
a. m."
"That's because Sid monkeyed with the regulator," insisted Tom. "He
thought he could improve it. But, say, it is getting late. Nearly ten."
"And Sid isn't back yet," went on Phil.
"My bedtime, anyhow," came from Holly, as he slid from the sofa, and
glided from the room. "So long. Sid wants to look out or he'll be
caught. Proc. Zane has a new book, and he wants to get some of the
sporting crowd down in it. See you in the dewy morn, gents," and he was
gone.
"Sid _is_ late," murmured Tom, as he began to prepare for bed. "Shall we
leave a light for him?"
"Nope. Too risky," decided Phil. "No use of us all being hauled up. But
maybe he's back, and is in some of the rooms. He's got ten minutes yet."
But the ten minutes passed, and ten more, and Sid did not come back.
Meanwhile Tom and Phil had "doused their glim," and were in bed, but not
asleep. Somehow there was an uneasy feeling worrying them both. They
could not understand Sid's action in going off so suddenly, and so
mysteriously--especially as there was a danger of being caught out after
hours. And, as Sid was working for honors, to be caught too often meant
the danger of losing that for which he had worked so hard.
"I can't understand----" began Tom, in a low voice, when from the chapel
clock, the hour of eleven boomed out.
"Hush!" exclaimed Phil.
Some one was coming along the corridor--two persons to judge by the
footsteps.
"Is that Sid?" whispered Tom.
Phil did not answer. A moment later the door opened, and in the light
that streamed from a lamp in the corridor, Sid could be seen entering.
Behind him stood Proctor Zane.
"You will report to Dr. Churchill directly after chapel in the morning,"
the proctor said, in his hard, cold voice. "You were out an hour after
closing time, Mr. Henderson."
"Very well, sir," answered Sid quietly, as he closed the door, and
listened to Mr. Zane walking down the corridor.
"Caught?" asked Tom, though there was no need of the query.
"Sure," replied Sid shortly.
"Where were you?" asked Phil, sitting up in bed, and trying to peer
through the darkness toward his unfortunate chum.
"Out," was the answer, which was none at all.
"Humph!" grunted Tom. Then, suddenly: "You must have been hitting it up,
Sid. I thought you didn't smoke. Been trying it for the first time?"
"I haven't been smoking!" came the answer, in evident surprise.
"Your clothes smell as if you'd been at the smoker of the Gamma Sig
fraternity," declared Tom.
"Oh, shut up, and let a fellow alone; can't you?" burst out Sid, and he
threw his shoes savagely into the corner of the room. Neither Tom nor
Phil replied, but they were doing a great deal of thinking. They could
not fathom Sid's manner--he had never acted that way before. What could
be the matter? It was some time before they learned Sid's secret, and
the keeping of it involved Sid in no small difficulties, and nearly cost
the college the baseball championship.