JACK AND JOEL INVESTIGATE
So the time passed, and a week, yes, fully ten days more had gone,
with the Marshall game only a few more days away. All this while the
coach had kept at his constant grind, trying to get the eleven so
accustomed to the many plays of the game that they could act through
instinct rather than reason.
Every boy remembers how difficult it was at first to ride a bicycle,
when equilibrium was a thing to be studied; but how after the muscles
of the body had grown accustomed to adapting themselves to the
slightest motion of the wheel, from that time on it seemed the easiest
thing going to do all sorts of stunts while riding.
So with football, where the action must be as quick as a flash.
Players who are dull-witted never make any great success in the game,
no matter how clever they may appear at some particular feat.
Old Joe Hooker knew this only too well. It had been the reason for his
detaching several promising fellows who could never understand why
they were given the "Indian sign" and dropped; but the fact was Joe
had found they could not break themselves of the habit of stopping
just a brief space of time as if to consider, before making a play;
and that second or two lost, he knew, might account for the game.
It had now reached the critical point where they were practicing
signals. While doing this it was deemed wise that they should get away
from all spectators; not that they feared any Chester boy would be so
mean as to betray their codes to the enemy, or that either Marshall or
Harmony would descend to taking advantage of such underhand treachery;
but then it was the ethics of the game that such things should be kept
to the players themselves.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon, besides the eleven in the
field there were only a dozen select fellows on hand, and all of them
really held places as substitutes of one sort or another. Some of them
were likely to be called into action in case a fellow got hurt, and
had to be taken out; so they were just as vitally interested in this
secret work as any one could be.
During the course of the afternoon they would all be given an
opportunity to take part in the play going on, so as to become used to
it.
As the great day approached everyone seemed to be more filled with
ginger than at any time in the past. Coach Hooker was racing this way
and that, calling, adjuring, scolding mildly at times, but always with
an eye singly to the advantage of the Chester interests. If the team
did not pull off a victory with Marshall few there would be to say it
was any fault of old Joe.
Jack had been in the melee for quite some time now, and was giving way
to a substitute who seemed eager to get in the game. Joining the group
over at one side Jack fell into conversation with some of his mates.
As he stood there he continued to follow the excited actions of the
bunch out on the field. The counting could be plainly heard, and then
would come the lightning-like play as the ball was put in motion;
fellows leaped into action, each with a definite aim in view. Then Joe
would call them back, to tell them where they fell short, and could
improve on the play.
"Old Joe seems to see everything that goes on, just as if he had a
dozen eyes in his head," remarked Joel Jackman, who was also allowing
a sub to take his place in the line-up.
"Well, that's what makes him the clever coach he is," Jack told him.
"In his way he's like the old orchestra leader, Theodore Thomas. I've
heard it said that when his orchestra of a hundred and twenty pieces
was practicing some big movement by one of the great composers, Mr.
Thomas would suddenly stop the music, and scold one player in
particular. His wonderful ear had caught a note that was imperfect,
and he had been able to pick out the chap who was guilty. Well, that's
the way with our Joe; only in this case it's his eye that is highly
educated, instead of his ear."
Joel moved aside with Jack.
"Listen to me, Jack," he went on to say, impressively. "Some of the
boys here chanced to mention the fact that last year a Harmony fellow
tried to steal the signals of Marshall, and in fact did so; but the
other fellows discovered him watching the play from a tree or some
place, and they just changed their code of signals after he had been
scared away. Now, Jack, don't look surprised when I tell you I've got
a sneaking notion we're being spied on right at this very minute!"
Jack saw that Joel was not joking, and he looked serious.
"What makes you say that?" he inquired, immediately.
"I haven't mentioned anything about the matter to the fellows; in
fact, I only got on to the game about the time you dropped in. Just
turn to the right a little, will you, Jack. I'm not pointing, because
it would tell the skunk we knew about his being there. See that bunch
of trees over yonder, do you? Pretty thick, all right, and offering a
splendid asylum to any chap who might want to watch what we were doing
out in the open field. He's up in the largest tree, that's right."
"Did you see him then, Joel?" asked the other, after staring for a
brief interval in the direction indicated, without noticing any
incriminating evidence.
"Well, no, I can't say that I did, though it seems to me there is
something like a bunch in that crotch about ten feet from the ground;
but the branches sort of screen it. But, Jack, I saw the sun flash
from the lens of a pair of glasses, not only once but several times."
Jack continued to watch. This sounded like serious business, and he
began to feel something like indignation surging up within him. If
there was anything Jack Winters despised it was underhand work.
Straight and aboveboard himself he was unable to conceive how any
fellow could so demean himself as to wish to win by trickery.
"There, didn't you see that flash then, Jack?" whispered Joel,
eagerly, a short time later on.
"I certainly did," replied the other, between his set teeth.
"Don't you agree with me that there's some one hidden in that same big
tree, and watching us through means of powerful glasses?" continued
Joel.
"I must say it does look a good deal that way," he was assured.
"Well, what's the answer, Jack? Are we going to stand for such dirty
business? Of course he can't exactly catch the signals from over
there, unless he's got some way of accentuating his hearing. But he
can see the work that's being repeated over and over again, and in
that way learn what our play is. It's a burning shame, that's all I
can say. I'd just like to take half a dozen fellows and capture that
spy. We would duck him in the river, and make him sorry he ever took a
notion to peek on us. I heard that Bushnell chap from Marshall was
over one day some time ago."
"You can depend on it this spy isn't Horace Bushnell," Jack hastened
to assure his companion. "I talked things over with him at the time,
and found him a boy after my own heart, who despises trickery."
"But can't we do something about it to let him know he's discovered,
and had better chase himself off?" pleaded Joel.
"I'm thinking of a way in which we might at least learn the truth,"
said the other, thoughtfully. "We've been going over to the little
spring to the left for water. Once we get there it would be easy to
slip around, for it happens there's plenty of good cover, I notice. In
that way we could surprise the fellow, and catch him in the tree."
Joel showed considerable eagerness to try the plan of campaign.
"Let's be starting across for a drink, then, Jack," he urged, and
accordingly they set forth.
No one paid any attention to them, because from time to time some of
the boys would head toward the spring, when the water in the bucket
lost its freshness, and in their heated condition they panted for a
cold drink. Jack and Joel both had their heavy wool sweaters on, so
they took no chances of catching cold after their recent energetic
exercise.
They stopped at the spring, where there was a gourd that could be used
for dipping up the refreshing water, and each of them took a drink.
"There, he's still working away!" snapped Joel, indignantly; "I caught
another flash when he moved his glasses. The sun chances to shine in
just the right quarter to make that flash each time. I only hope the
skunk will stay there till we can get him, that's all."
Joel looked so extremely pugnacious when saying this that Jack knew he
must be making up his mind just what sort of corporeal punishment best
fitted the crime of playing the spy on rivals in football, in order to
obtain an unfair advantage over them and taking a game by trickery.
"Now, just duck down, and we'll be off," Jack told his companion.
He had sized the situation up correctly, Joel saw. There was excellent
cover running around to the patch of trees among which the object of
their solicitude was placed. It would be an easy matter for two such
agile lads to bend over and cover that short distance, all the while
keeping themselves hidden from the eyes of the party perched amidst
the dead leaves of that oak.
It was real exciting work, too, for they fully anticipated having some
trouble in making the spy come down after they arrived under the tree
in which he was so comfortably perched. Perhaps there might be a pair
of them, when the situation was likely to be somewhat more strained.
Joel even wished now they had asked a couple of the fellows to
accompany them, so as to make the capture more certain.
Once or twice they found themselves compelled to make a little detour,
because the ground in front was too open, and offered little in the
way of a screen; but Jack knew just how to manage, and Joel was quite
willing to leave matters in the hands of his associate. Everybody
trusted Jack Winters, when a task was to be performed; and it is a
great thing for any boy to possess the confidence of his mates in this
fashion.
"We're getting mighty close now, Jack," whispered Joel, presently. "I
can see the trunk of the big oak all right. It's got limbs pretty near
the ground too, so that spy couldn't have had a very hard time of it
climbing up. I reckon he must have hit on that particular tree partly
on that account."
"Keep quiet, Joel, he might hear you," warned Jack; although truth to
tell there was little fear of that, because all the while there came
across the field the cries of the workers and the chatter of those who
looked on.
A little farther and Jack stopped short. He held up a finger as if to
tell Joel not to say anything. But that worthy was crouching there,
listening as if petrified, while a look of astonishment bordering on
consternation began to hold sway in his face.
The truth of the matter was both boys had caught a series of giggles,
and sounds of low laughter, which undoubtedly came from the direction
of that particular tree; and what struck them as a staggering fact was
that these gurgling noises seemed to be of a girlish character, rather
than to proceed from boys.
Then Jack made a gesture with his crooked finger, and both of them
again commenced to creep softly along, wondering what effect their
coming would have upon the fair watchers perched in the lower crotch
of the giant oak with the spreading branches.