A Plot in the Making
There was a gasp of surprise and a buzzing as of innumerable bees as
Mr. Allen uttered the last fateful words and intimated with a wave of
the hand that assembly was dismissed.
Once out of the building, Garry, Bill, and Rooster became the center
of an excited throng of schoolmates, who congratulated them and mauled
them as they laughingly milled about them.
None were more enthusiastic than the members of the football team, who
had been terribly depressed since the Waterloo they had received at the
hands of Thomaston. The drubbing they had then suffered had largely
taken the heart out of them, and all hope of another championship had
been resigned.
Nor had they been at a loss as to the reason for the defeat. Thomaston
had been no stronger than Pawling, and yet Lenox had beaten Pawling.
But Garry Grayson had led them in the Pawling game, and in the
Thomaston game he had been absent. That spelled all the difference
between victory and defeat.
But their joy in Garry's vindication, which of course carried
reinstatement on the football team along with it, was tempered somewhat
by the loss of Aleck Anderson. Whatever his faults, he had been a
strong player at tackle, and his dismissal from the school created a
hole that it would be hard to fill.
As for Sandy Podder and Lent Stewart, no sympathy at all was felt for
them, except perhaps by a few of their own ilk, of whom some specimens
were left in the school.
After the tumult had subsided and most of the boys had dispersed, Mr.
Phillips approached Garry, where he stood with a group of his friends,
and heartily shook his hand.
"I am more delighted than I can say by your vindication, Grayson, and
yours as well, Long and Sherwood," he said. "It simply shows that in
the long run right is bound to win. I want to say that never for a
moment, even when things looked blackest, have I believed you guilty."
"Thank you, Mr. Phillips," said Garry, while his comrades echoed him.
"I've heard how hard you fought to lift my sentence of suspension or
have it changed to a lighter one. Even at that, it's been pretty tough
to be barred from athletics."
"Tough on the team too," returned Mr. Phillips, with a smile. "But
that's all in the past now. The team will take on new life now with
you and the others back in their places. We've missed you, Long, at
fullback. The only one who won't go back to his position is Sherwood."
There was a moment of consternation at this announcement, and Bill was
appalled.
"Why, Bill's been cleared of the charges too!" put in Garry anxiously.
"All the same," said Mr. Phillips soberly, though his eyes twinkled,
"he isn't going back to his old place on the scrubs. I want him on the
regulars."
"What?" cried Bill, hardly able to believe his ears.
"That's right," rejoined Mr. Phillips. "You'll take Anderson's place at
right tackle."
"Glory hallelujah!" cried Garry, fairly hugging big Bill in his delight.
"Think you can fill the place, Sherwood?" asked the coach.
"Gee, I'll try to, Mr. Phillips, and thanks for the chance!" replied
Bill. "I'll work my head off, you can bet on that!"
"I believe you," replied Mr. Phillips. "But we'll all have to work our
heads off, if we win our next game with Greenfield. Those boys are
going great guns this year, from all I hear. Be out on the field for
practice to-morrow afternoon, and we'll do our best to redeem ourselves
for that defeat by Thomaston."
There was immense jubilation on the part of Garry and his chums after
Mr. Phillips had left them.
"Gee, but this is my lucky day!" exulted Bill. "To be freed from those
charges and then, as if that wasn't enough, to get a place on the
regulars!"
"Was I right in saying that when the thing did break you fellows
wouldn't be sorry?" beamed Garry.
"You had the goods!" admitted Nick. "Though how you got them beats me,"
he added. "I'm still all in a daze. Mr. Allen said that those skunks
had confessed. But why did they confess? We know that they didn't do it
of their own accord. They'd have lied out of it if they could. He must
have had them so dead to rights that lying wouldn't do them any good."
"That's what's been puzzling me too," put in Rooster. "You must know
the reason, Garry. What was it?"
"Yes, you had the advance information," declared Ted. "Out with it, old
boy. Spill it!"
"I can't," replied Garry. "Cross my heart and hope to die, fellows, I
can't. It would bring others in that we've promised should be kept
out of it. A clue was given me by a fellow that we all know. He and I
followed it up, and the whole thing came out. It was a dead open and
shut certainty, and Sandy and his bunch couldn't get out of it. The
only thing I didn't know was that Anderson was mixed up in it. That
came out later. I suppose Sandy, likely enough, peached on him with
the hope of saving his own skin. But all that doesn't matter. The only
thing that counts is that we've been reinstated and that bunch has got
what was coming to them."
The practice the next day was such as to fill Mr. Phillips with
satisfaction. With Garry and Rooster back on the team it played as
though inspired. And Bill Sherwood outdid himself at his new position.
His tackling was savage and spectacular, and before the play was half
over it was evident that Aleck Anderson would not be missed.
The game with Greenfield was coming on apace. It was the third game on
the Lenox schedule, and it promised to be one of the hardest ones.
Thus far Lenox had played two of the five games with the teams that,
besides themselves, constituted the High School League. They had beaten
Pawling and been defeated by Thomaston. Greenfield was next, and then
would follow the games with Bass Lake and Wimbledon in that order.
That they could beat Bass Lake, Lenox felt reasonably certain.
Greenfield would be a harder nut to crack. And harder yet probably
would be the final game with Wimbledon, the team that had given Lenox
its only defeat the year before and this year was reported to be
stronger than ever. Wimbledon had already won both games it had played,
and by impressive scores. So, while Lenox held none of its opponents
cheap, it had the feeling that Wimbledon was the team it would have to
beat if it again carried off the championship.
Practice went on unremittingly under the driving force of Mr. Phillips.
A weakness was lopped off here, a crudity there, until the team
developed into a smoothly working, hard-fighting one that no opponent
could beat without putting up a tremendous battle.
"No more sixty-three to six scores this season!" chuckled Nick after a
day of sparkling practice.
"Not unless we're on the big end of the score," returned Garry. "I
guess we got all the bad football out of our systems in that Thomaston
game."
"No more traitors on the team, anyway," stated Rooster.
"N-no," replied Bill hesitatingly. "That is, I hope not."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Garry quickly. "You hope not! Don't
you know there aren't!"
"I'm sure there are none on the regulars," replied Bill. "But I feel a
little leary about one fellow on the scrubs."
"Who is that?" demanded Garry.
"Well, perhaps I ought not to say it," responded Bill. "Mind, fellows,
this is in strict confidence. I may be all wrong. But haven't you
noticed something a little queer about Ed Bixby at right tackle?"
Garry pondered for a moment.
"Not especially," he replied slowly, "except that he seems to forget
himself sometimes and resorts to dirty football. He's roughed me a good
deal lately when I've come in contact with him, but I laid that to his
eagerness to win."
"Maybe," admitted Bill. "As I say, I may be wrong. But what struck me
is that he doesn't resort to those tricks except when he's up against
you. He's all right with the other fellows, plays hard but plays fair.
But he gives you the knee whenever he can. And when he tackles you he
slams you to the ground as hard as he can. Looks as though he were
trying to put you out."
"I remember he slugged me yesterday," replied Garry. "But I thought he
had lost his temper in the excitement of the game and I let it go at
that."
"By itself, it might not prove anything," replied Bill. "But he was a
great pal of Anderson's, and several times lately I've seen Ed with
him in the street, their heads together and both talking earnestly. Of
course, that may mean nothing. Then again, it may mean a good deal.
Anderson, of course, is as sore as a boil at you, and if you could be
put out of the game it would be pie for him and the bunch he trains
with, Sandy Podder, Lent Stewart, and Chat Johns. I just wanted to put
a flea in your ear, old boy, so that you'd be on your guard."
That afternoon on their way home Bill and Garry met Frank Sherwood,
Bill's brother.
The change in Frank since he had been cleared of the charge of theft,
falsely brought against him by Gyp Mooney and Sandy Podder, was
amazing. He had learned his lesson and had cut loose entirely from
his former wild associates. He had recovered all of his old pep and
ambition and was making remarkable advance in his studies in the
medical school, from which he had run down to spend the week end with
his family.
"How are you, Garry?" Frank greeted him.
"Fine," replied Garry as they shook hands. "I needn't ask how you are.
You look like a million dollars."
"I'm feeling fit and studying hard," smiled Frank. "I'm mighty glad to
learn that you and Bill have got out of your trouble at the school. It
was a dirty trick those fellows played on you, and I'm glad they got
what was coming to them. I've no more reason to love Sandy Podder than
you have."
"I know you haven't," replied Garry, with a smile.
"All the same," went on Frank, "you want to keep your eyes peeled.
Those fellows will do you mischief if they can."
"On general principles I suppose they would," replied Garry.
"But I've got something more specific than general principles to go
on," warned Frank. "I saw Sandy and a pal of his on the train by which
I came in this morning."
"You did?" returned Garry, with a quickening of interest.
"Yes," replied Frank. "They got on at a way station, came in at the
back of the car I was in, went past me and took the seat right in front
of me. They didn't notice me, but I knew Sandy at once. I ought to know
him," he added grimly. "But what I'm getting at is this. They got to
talking together earnestly. I didn't pay any attention until I heard
them speak your name, Garry. That interested me, especially as they
were calling you all the names in the calendar."
"I can imagine some of them," laughed Garry.
"Swellhead was the mildest of them," stated Frank. "I put my paper up
in front of me so if they turned around they wouldn't know who I was.
They were talking rather low, and what with that and the rattle of the
train I couldn't get many connected sentences. But I got enough to know
that they were trying to put a raw deal over on you."
"That's their favorite outdoor sport," said Garry dryly. "Did you get
any dope on what it was this time?"
"Not clearly," replied Frank. "But I caught certain phrases. 'Big
bets' was one of them. 'The Wimbledon game' was another. Then there
were 'sure thing,' 'all fixed,' 'can't lose.' And I heard the names of
Anderson and Bixby. I don't know who they are. Do you?"
Bill and Garry looked at each other significantly.
"We know them," replied Bill. "Anderson was fired from Lenox High along
with Sandy Podder and Lent Stewart. Bixby is still there."
"Well, that's about all I heard," went on Frank. "But Garry's name came
in so often that I felt sure they were cooking up something especially
against him. I made up my mind I'd give you the tip. Those fellows are
bad medicine."
"Thanks very much, Frank," said Garry warmly. "I'll sure be on the
watch."
They changed the subject then, and after a little more conversation
Frank went on, leaving Bill and Garry in an especially thoughtful mood.
"So, maybe after all it wasn't a mare's nest that I uncovered this
morning," remarked Bill, as they walked on.
"Looks that way," admitted Garry. "There may be some one else in the
school that'll have to be thrown overboard. Why can't fellows be
decent? Why should there be such things as traitors?"
"Why should there be such things as skunks and snakes and mosquitoes?"
Bill answered. "But there are, just the same. We've just got to grin
and bear them."
"Not on your life!" cried Garry, clenching his fists. "We've got to
fight them!"