Almost a Tragedy
The shock of the blow from the runaway car was so great that Joe Brench
was rendered unconscious. If Garry had not acted as swiftly as he had,
there was little doubt that the boy would have been instantly killed.
A crowd was already following the car, and in response to Garry's
shouts others came running from all directions. Some one called up the
hospital, and in a few minutes an ambulance came tearing up.
The surgeon knelt down and examined the injured boy, whose head Garry
was holding on his knee.
"Leg broken and a bad gash in the head, received when he fell," he
announced after a moment. "Don't think the skull is fractured though.
Can't tell yet whether he has any internal injuries. We'll get him to
the hospital at once."
He administered what immediate aid was necessary, and then, with the
help of the bystanders, got the boy into the ambulance and was off.
The car in its wild gyrations had come up against a tree, and now lay
in the street, almost a wreck.
"Whose car is it?" asked one of the crowd.
"It's Sandy Podder's," answered a small boy who had seen the car start
on its wild journey and now came up breathless. "He left it in front of
Bagley's store at the top of the hill while he went inside."
"H'm! I'd rather it was his car than mine that hit that boy," remarked
a bystander. "He'll have a pretty penny to pay for damages."
"Damages, nothing!" snarled Sandy himself, who at that moment arrived,
wild-eyed and pale from his run down the hill. "Some boys must have
started the car. Could I help that? You're talking through your hat."
But this was contradicted a minute later when the storekeeper himself
came running up. He had seen the whole affair from start to finish.
"Young Podder can say what he likes," the storekeeper said to a group
that gathered about him. "No boy touched the car. It began to move
before Sandy got ten feet away from it. It was standing on an incline,
and it must have been that he hadn't set his brakes right. It's lucky
Mr. Podder is rich. He'll have to shell out something before he gets
quit of this business."
The accident had been a great shock to Garry. One moment he had been
talking to Joe, who was as vital and vigorous as himself. The next
moment that boy had been stricken down--fatally, for all Garry knew.
Garry's head was swimming and his nerves were in a jangle. But he
had saved Joe from instant death, anyway. For that he was profoundly
thankful.
As Garry gradually acquired control of himself his thought recurred to
what Joe had been saying when the accident happened. What had the boy
meant when he spoke of his wanting to beat Lenox, but do it "fairly and
squarely--on the level"?
Had he learned that some of the Wimbledon team had the Lenox signals
and had he revolted at the thought and determined that Lenox should
have a fair chance to win or lose on the merits of the game it played?
Was that the explanation of his queer errand?
Garry's heart warmed toward the boy. He was square, at any rate, an
honest foe. Of course, thought Garry to himself, Wimbledon, if it
had any of the Lenox signals at all, had only the old ones that had
now been discarded. Joe's errand, however well intentioned, had been
needless. There was nothing to worry about as far as the signals were
concerned. How lucky it was that Mr. Phillips had changed the old ones
for the new! And how disconcerted the conspirators would be when they
found that all their trickery had availed nothing!
In the evening Garry called up the hospital and inquired about Joe
Brench. He was infinitely relieved when he learned that the injuries,
though serious, were not fatal. The broken leg was the principal
damage. There appeared to be no internal injuries. The boy had been
delirious for a time, but was now resting quietly. Yes, Garry could
probably see him for a few minutes the next morning. But he must not
stay long and must not say anything to excite him.
So about eight o'clock the next morning Garry called at the hospital
and was led by a nurse to the bed on which Joe Brench lay.
The sick boy smiled up at Garry gratefully as the latter sat down in a
chair at the side of the bed.
"You're a bully scout," he murmured. "They tell me if you hadn't
snatched me out of the way as quickly as you did, I'd have been killed,
sure."
"I wish I'd been able, Joe, to pull you out of the way altogether,"
replied Garry. "But you'll be all right now, they tell me here. It's
only a matter of patience till your leg mends."
"Remember what I was saying to you when the car came along?" asked Joe.
"Oh, something about the game between Wimbledon and Lenox," replied
Garry lightly. "But let that go now. You can tell me some other time."
"But some other time will be too late," replied Joe. "I want that game
to be an honest one. And it won't be as it stands now."
"Why not?" asked Garry.
"Because," said Joe, "Wimbledon has got your signals. Two or three of
the fellows are going to profit by them. They tried to get me to go
in with them, but I put them off. But the more I thought of it the
crookeder it seemed, and I couldn't stand for it. I want Wimbledon to
win, but win honestly. I hate dirty football."
"So do I," replied Garry. "Now, Brench," he added, with a smile, "let
me tell you something. Those signals that Wimbledon has are old ones.
They're no good. We've thrown them into the junk heap and have taken up
a complete new system. So we shan't worry. It's the crooks that will
get left."
"No, no!" exclaimed Joe. "You're all wrong! They've got the new ones!"
"What?" cried Garry, hardly able to believe his ears. "They can't have!
It's impossible!"
"Sure as shooting!" affirmed Joe. "Listen! I heard Bill Sykes telling
one of the fellows about it. Those fellows who did this dirty work did
intend to give away the old signals, but they got a tip that they were
suspected. They guessed you'd call in the old ones and get new ones. So
two of them hid in a closet in the gymnasium the day your coach went
over the new signals, and they heard every word he said. They copied
the new signals and--wait! What's your hurry?"
But Garry had already bolted from the room and was going down the
stairs four steps at a time.