JIMMY HAS A CLEW
It was a rejuvenated team that met Oak Grove Academy the following
afternoon. I don’t mean that it played faultless football, for it
didn’t, but it had certainly come back wonderfully, and the School,
looking on, marveled and perked up and, toward the end of the game,
regained its old confidence and belief. It might have been argued that
Oak Grove was, after all, not a very strong opponent, but that argument
would have been wasted. Besides, while Oak Grove doubtless did show
herself weak in one or two departments, it was still true that she had
passed through a successful season, sustaining but one defeat, and that
two weeks before she had held Kenly to a 6 to 9 score.
It was the first full-period game of the season, and the sixty minutes
of actual playing time was filled with excitement and, from an Alton
point of view at least, pleasure. From the third or fourth minute of
the contest, when Oak Grove fumbled on her forty yards and watched
Putney gobble up the ball and streak down the field for a touchdown,
to the last twilighted moments when, her back to her goal, Alton, her
line holding many substitutes, repelled the frenzied attacks of the
enemy and finally punted out of danger, the interest never flagged.
Jimmy stood eight yards behind the goal-line when he sent the ball
corkscrewing away into the gathering gloom, and even as it fell into
the anxious hands of the enemy quarter-back the last whistle sounded.
The score at the end was 21 to 6.
Ned Richards gained new fame that day, not by spectacular dashes, but
by the truly remarkable manner in which he ran the team. There were
weak places in the line, there were faults of performance all through,
but the generalship was of the best. Ned was steady in his catching of
punts, too, and once or twice gained ground for his side, but it was as
a commander of men and a strategist that Ned excelled. There were other
heroes beside Ned, though none were really outstanding. Perhaps when
all is said and done Jimmy deserved as much credit as any other player
in the last two periods. He entered the game when the third quarter
was a few minutes old and when, with the game secure by an 18 to 3
score, it was thought best to kick rather than rush. Jimmy surprised
his audience, perhaps even Jimmy, by the length of his punts and the
direction of them. Nothing hurried him or seemed to fluster him. Time
and again the ball escaped the upthrust hands of the charging enemy
by an apparent miracle. But escape it always did. Jimmy had no kicks
blocked.
Harmon, at left half, Browne, at full-back, Nichols, at center, and
Rowlandson, at left guard, played top-notch football. Captain Proctor
was, as always, good, although to-day he was far from at his best. The
Alton ends were not up to the rest of the forwards, and the right of
the line, especially after Raleigh had replaced Stimson at guard, was
decidedly weak. Tackling was not of the best, the team was penalized
far too often and there were times when even Ned’s most frantic efforts
failed to speed up the players. But the old fight was back again, the
old will to win, and that brought victory. And victory brought joy to
the School.
Even in the sudden turn from pessimism to cheerfulness, Alton did
not, however, swing to the extreme. No one, perhaps, yet looked for a
conclusive victory over Kenly Hall next week. Many predicted a tie,
some a triumph by a few points--perhaps a goal after touchdown or even
a goal from the field. But the main thing was that the Gray-and-Gold
had shown that afternoon that, come what might, she was not to be
trampled on; that, victor or vanquished, she would uphold the honor of
Alton and its proud traditions. So the student body took hope, and high
spirits reigned. If Alton was not destined to win, at best the enemy’s
triumph was to be insignificant. That the School should find reason for
rejoicing on so slight an excuse was, when one considered it, strange,
for a preponderance of victories during recent years had endowed Alton
with a perhaps excusable arrogance. A more disinterested philosopher
than any of our characters might have told himself that a defeat for
the Gray-and-Gold would possibly prove an unpalatable but beneficial
medicine!
Naturally enough a certain restraint existed between the roommates in
Number 27 Upton subsequent to Stick Patterson’s ultimatum. In spite
of being quite convinced that he was acting within his rights, Stick
was uncomfortable and showed it by acting in an unusually care-free
and careless manner which fooled neither him nor Russell. On his part,
Russell, recognizing his friend’s privilege of selling his interest
as he had indicated, tried to feel no sense of injury, failed and was
unnaturally polite and awkward in Stick’s presence. It was a relief
to both when either could avail himself of an excuse to get away.
Fortunately for Russell football affairs took precedence over all
else during the next few days. The Best Second Team in the History of
Alton Academy was finishing its career at full steam, and Russell was
steaming with it. Monday and Tuesday saw battles royal between the
first and the scrub. Wednesday’s meeting was less ferocious, since then
the second was used as a battering ram and, given the ball time and
again on the first team’s ten yards, was instructed to carry it over.
That success came but once, and then with the aid of a half-distance
penalty, spoke well for the big team’s reviving defense. Work was
interrupted frequently while coaches explained and corrected, and
under such circumstances the old fury of battle was sadly wanting.
Thursday, though, contrary to established custom, saw one final,
glorious struggle. The second, knowing that it was the last, offered
life and limb and fought as never before. More than once Coach Cade
was forced to intervene and caution in the interest of his charges
and Coach Gaston was obliged, unwillingly it appeared, to echo the
remonstrance. That was a fine and fitting finish for the second, for
although the first scored a touchdown and kicked a field-goal, the
scrub team took the ball away from the enemy on the latter’s forty-two
yards and, growling and snarling, plunged and twisted, battered and
hammered her way across nine almost obliterated white lines and set the
pigskin behind the first team’s goal. That march was epic. Friendship
was forgotten and no mercy was asked nor shown. Behind the retreating,
amazed first team line Coach Cade barked passionate entreaties. In the
wake of the second Steve Gaston, an unholy light of triumph on his lean
face, roared hoarsely.
“Fight! _Fight!_ FIGHT!” urged Steve. “Six yards more! You can do it,
Second! Take it over! It’s your last chance! Don’t quit now! Smash
them! Smear them! Fight, Second.”
To the cries of the coaches were added the panting expostulations,
appeals, commands of the quarterbacks and captains and the hoarse
clamors of the players. Wells, of the second, had found his old
eloquence once more and his voice sounded well above the bedlam. “Yah!
Try that again, you mutton-face! Come on, Second! Tear ’em up! Look
out, you yellow curs, we’re coming through! Yah!”
And then red-headed Reilly was flat on the yellowing sod, his legs in
their torn gray hose inside the field but his body in its sweat-stained
jacket well over and the pigskin nestled beneath him in a grip that
would have resisted wild horses! No goal was kicked, none attempted.
The last scrimmage was over. Friend and foe faced each other, panting,
glaring, growling. A hushed moment passed. Then tense faces relaxed.
The second swarmed together and beat each other’s backs and turned
somersaults with the last ounce of remaining strength, shouted
with what breath was left in their well-nigh empty lungs, and the
first looked on with understanding at least. A few grins made their
appearance, gruesome efforts, maybe, on dirt-marked and sometimes
battered countenances. Then Captain Proctor, leaning heavily on
Rowlandson’s big shoulder, lifted a tired voice.
“Regular ... cheer ... for the ... Second ... fellows!... All together!
Come on!”
And the second, grouping themselves about Captain Falls, came back
heartily, and their season was over, the duties finished, their rest at
hand!
But that was on Thursday, and before it happened other events had
occurred which must be set down here. It was Tuesday night that Jimmy
appeared hurriedly at Number 27 and, since Stick was seated across the
table from Russell, decoyed the latter into the corridor and thence
downstairs to a corner of the recreation room.
“Look here,” he began when they were seated, “there may not be anything
in this, but I thought I’d better tell you. You know that fellow
Throgmorton? Well, I’ve just discovered that he and Billy Crocker are
as thick as thieves. I happened to see them together in the village
this morning. They went into the drug store across the street. Had
drinks, I suppose. Then I asked Stimson this evening at table; he rooms
in the same corridor with Throgmorton; and Stimson says those two are
great pals. Crocker’s at Throgmorton’s room half the time.”
Russell stared blankly. “You mean--”
“Well, what do you think? Here’s this old geezer, Crocker, trying to
put you out of business. Patterson gets an offer for his interest from
Throgmorton. Throgmorton is young Crocker’s pal. Smell a rat?”
Russell nodded. “Still,” he said, “I don’t see--why, even if
Throgmorton bought Stick out--”
“Why, he’d sell to old Crocker again the next minute! Throgmorton
doesn’t want to buy in for himself. I don’t believe he’s got any
hundred and fifty to his name. Billy Crocker has probably arranged
the whole transaction. He picked on Throgmorton because Throgmorton
wouldn’t arouse suspicion and you wouldn’t dream that old man Crocker
was behind him. But Billy made the silly mistake of letting me see them
together; and that got me thinking.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Russell dejectedly. “Although even if
Mr. Crocker owns a minority interest he can’t do much damage, can he?
I’ve still got the say about things. I don’t mean that it would be very
pleasant--”
“Wake up, son! How long do you suppose you’d keep on doing business if
old Crocker wanted to close you up? He’d find plenty of ways to put the
store on the blink. No, sir, it won’t do, Rus, and you’ve got to find
some way of fooling ’em.”
“You’re right, Jimmy. Well, I don’t believe that Stick will sell to
Throgmorton when I tell him this. He’s a pretty decent sort, after all.
He will be disappointed--”
Jimmy laughed incredulously. “Why, you silly chump, Stick Patterson
does know! At least, I’m pretty sure he does. I’ll bet he and old
Crocker fixed it up between them.”
“Oh, no, I don’t believe that,” Russell expostulated. “I don’t believe
Stick has ever even spoken with Mr. Crocker.”
Jimmy looked puzzled. “Hasn’t spoken to him? Why, how about that time
when Crocker was in the store? Saturday before last, wasn’t it?”
Russell looked blank. “Saturday? You mean that Mr. Crocker was in our
store and talked to Stick? Are you sure?”
“Of course. J. Warren told me. Said the old guy was there half an hour
or more talking with Patterson. He couldn’t tell what they were talking
about, but he said it looked like something important. I thought of
course Patterson had told you.”
Russell shook his head. “He didn’t say a word about it,” he replied
soberly. He was silent a moment. Then, “I wouldn’t have thought it of
Stick,” he sighed.
“I don’t know that I would,” said Jimmy. “He doesn’t seem quite such a
cut-throat as that. But it certainly looks--”
“Yes, I guess he fixed it up with Mr. Crocker. Well, if he did there
isn’t anything I can do. There’s no use asking him not to sell.”
“Of course not. Now I’ve been mulling it over ever since I talked with
Stimson. What you want to do is buy out Stick yourself.”
“Yes, but I can’t. I don’t dare take enough money out of the bank,
Jimmy. It would leave me flat, and--”
“Wait a sec! What about Patterson? Will he give you until to-morrow
noon, say?”
“Oh, yes, I think so. He said I could have until Wednesday to buy him
out. To-morrow’s Wednesday, isn’t it?”
“Yes, if it doesn’t rain. Now listen. Here’s a proposition. I haven’t
worked it out yet, but-- Look, Rus! You see Patterson right away and
make him agree not to sell until twelve to-morrow. By that time you’ll
have the money.”
“I’ll have the money,” agreed Russell. “Of course. Some one’s going to
die and leave it to me, I suppose.”
“Shut up! I’ll get it for you. Listen, idiot.” Jimmy dropped his voice
another note, although the nearest person was a small boy half the
length of the long room away. “I’ll jump the ten-twenty train to-night.
That’ll get me to New York at twelve-forty. I’ll put up at a hotel and
be downtown at nine in the morning. Dad always gets to his office at
ten past. That’ll give me thirty-six minutes to see him and get the
nine-forty-six back. That gets here at eleven-thirty-three. I’ll take a
carriage--”
“Are you crazy?” interrupted Russell.
Jimmy chuckled. “Not a bit. It’s a cinch. You stall Patterson off until
twelve--”
“But your father isn’t going to let you have a hundred and twenty-five
dollars for a crazy business like this!”
“Oh, yes, he is. He’s a good sort, dad is. I can get a check from him
and make that express easy.”
“But, Jimmy, you’re sick in the head! A hundred and twenty-five dollars
is a lot of money. Even if your father happened to have that much to
spare right now he wouldn’t--”
“Huh?” Jimmy looked surprised. “To spare? Oh, I see.” He grinned then.
“Rus, you don’t happen to know who my dad is, do you?” Russell shook
his head. “He’s Austen of Austen and Cooper.”
“Is he?” asked Russell, unimpressed.
“Oh, gee,” laughed Jimmy, “you’re no New Yorker, are you? Well, Austen
and Cooper are a couple of disgustingly wealthy old men, Rus. That’s
enough for them. Anyway, dad is pretty sure to be able to dig up a
hundred and twenty-five, and he will let me have it, all right, when I
tell him what it’s for.”
“Oh!” said Russell. “But, look here, Jimmy, I couldn’t take a loan of
that size!”
“Why not? Oh, very well, we won’t argue about that. I’ll buy
Patterson’s interest from you as soon as you get it from him. That is
if you don’t object to me as a partner. Of course I wouldn’t be a very
active partner after next June, but we could make some arrangement
that would be fair to you. The main thing now is--”
“But have you got permission to go to New York?” interrupted Russell.
Jimmy grinned and shook his head. “Permission? I couldn’t get it if I
tried, you idiot. And I’ve no notion of trying. No, what I do is just
unostentatiously walk away about half-past nine. No one’s going to
know anything about it. I’ll have to cut chapel and two classes in the
morning, but I’ve been a pretty good boy so far this term and that’ll
be all right. I’ll be around for dinner and no one need know I’ve been
away.”
“I don’t like it,” protested Russell. “Suppose Coach Cade got wind of
it?”
Jimmy sobered perceptibly and then shrugged. “Let’s not be Glooms,” he
said, grinning. “Of course there’s a slight risk, but the end excuses
the means, or whatever the saying is. What time is it now?” He looked
at his watch.
“Never you mind what time it is,” said Russell firmly. “You’re not
going to do it, Jimmy. It’s corking of you to want to, and all that,
and I’m awfully much obliged to you, but you’re staying right here.”
“Nonsense!”
“Yes, you are! Look here, Jimmy. If Mr. Cade ever found out you know
what would happen. You’d be dumped off the team in a minute. No matter
if you were the mainstay of it, the only fellow who could win us a
victory over Kenly, you’d go just the same. You know that. You know
Johnny Cade well enough. Isn’t it so?”
“Possibly, but he isn’t going to know.”
“Yes, he is.”
“How?”
“I shall tell him.”
They eyed each other straightly for a moment. Then:
“You mean that?” asked Jimmy.
“Yes.”
Jimmy shrugged. “All right. That’s that. Only thing left to do is
telegraph.”
“How about telephoning?”
“No good. I thought of that. This is Tuesday and dad will be in town.
I’ll send a wire to the office, but I don’t believe the money will get
here in time. I’ll try it, though. I’ll ask him to telegraph it. Now
let’s see.” Jimmy crossed to a writing table and brought back a sheet
of paper. While he frowned and wrote, erased and rewrote Russell fell
into thought. He didn’t really believe that Jimmy would get the money,
and he sought in his mind for some other way out of the dilemma. He
had said that there would be nothing gained by an appeal to Stick, and
yet perhaps he was wrong. At least, he would try the appeal. In spite
of some faults, Stick had heretofore always acted straight. Russell’s
cogitations were interrupted by Jimmy, who thrust the written message
in a pocket and got to his feet.
“I’ll cut across to the telegraph office and get this off,” Jimmy
announced. “Come along?”
Russell shook his head. “I guess not. I think I’ll have a talk with
Stick.”
“We-ell, all right. Going to the cheer meeting?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“See you in the morning, anyway. Don’t forget to get Patterson to hold
off until twelve to-morrow; later, if he’s willing. And keep your head
up, Rus. We’ll pull it off all right.”