TWO SHEETS OF BUFF PAPER
The warm weather continued on Friday. Between recitations The Prospect
and entrances of the halls swarmed with boys, all intent on the
discussion of just one subject, the morrow’s game. There was a wide
difference of opinion as to the outcome of it. Fellows who two weeks
ago had predicted a Yardley victory were now shaking their heads
gloomily and talking defeat, while others, erstwhile pessimists, were
now jubilantly prophesying a glorious triumph for the Blue. Perhaps
there was somewhere a fellow who managed to put the game out of his
thoughts and attend to his duty in the form of study, but if so he
wasn’t in evidence. Yardley frankly consigned lessons to the limbo of
things left undone, and the faculty wisely shut its eyes.
In the afternoon the Cross-Country Team trotted over the course for the
last time before the race, and the Football Team held what was expected
to be and what would ordinarily have been its final signal drill.
But to the surprise of the fellows who gathered in the gymnasium that
afternoon the coach announced that it had been decided to make a change
in the signal code. Payson said he regretted the necessity, but made no
explanation of the reason.
“I’ll make it as easy as possible, fellows,” he said. “There isn’t time
to learn thoroughly a new set of signals, and so we will change the
code by making the second number the fake instead of the first. That
is, the second digit of the first number will indicate the man, the
second number will be a fake, and the second digit of the third number
will indicate the hole. Thus 28, 76, 93 means that full-back carries
the ball for a plunge through guard-tackle hole on the left, the 76
being the fake number. In the same way, on a kick the signal will be
‘Kick formation, So-and-so back; 59, 107, 22, the first number, 59,
holding the kick digit, 9, and the other numbers being fillers. Just
remember that the first number indicates the player instead of the
second, that the second is the fake, and that the third indicates the
hole. Now, as to special plays. The key number has been any number over
500 for those, given as the second number in the signal. We’ll change
that, I think, and make the key number any number over 200 and have
it the first number in the series. Thus the signal for the delayed
forward pass to the left will be 217, 21, 175, the last two numbers
being merely fillers. You’ll have to study this, fellows, between now
and to-morrow afternoon, for there mustn’t be any mix-up on signals.
There’ll be another drill here this evening at eight o’clock. And
between now and then I want every one of you to plot out on a sheet
of paper one or more plays. Indicate each position with circles or
squares, label each one with letters, as ‘R. E.’ for right end, and so
on, trace the progress of the ball, show how the interference moves,
and underneath give the correct signals for the play. Also be sure
and sign your name in the upper right-hand corner of the sheet. Don’t
neglect this matter, if you please. I want to know that each one of you
is familiar with the signals. Bring the papers here this evening and
hand them to Mr. Davis. All right now; let’s see those plays!”
There was much speculation and not a little dissatisfaction among the
fellows after the drill was over. Simms especially was bitter and
sarcastic, but Simms’s nerves were pretty taut just then and he may be
excused some show of annoyance.
“Just when we get the signals down pat he goes and changes them,” said
Simms in the locker room later. “And what for, I’d like to know?
Putting the fake number in the middle is a fool piece of business, I
think.”
Captain Merriwell, to whom Simms addressed his remarks, was
noncommital. “I suppose Payson has a good reason for it,” he replied.
“It isn’t likely he’d do it unless he had, Bert. You can bet he doesn’t
want to risk a mix-up on signals to-morrow unless it’s absolutely
necessary.”
“Well, the only reason for changing signals at the last hour that I
can think of,” muttered Simms, “is that the other fellow has got on to
them; and I don’t believe that!”
“I think he will explain this evening or to-morrow,” said Merriwell
soothingly. “Meanwhile we’ve got to make the best of it and learn the
new signals.”
“That’s well enough for you,” replied Simms bitterly. “You haven’t got
to have the whole thing at the end of your tongue to-morrow. If I make
a mistake I’ll get blamed for it.”
“Then don’t make any mistakes,” answered Merriwell quietly.
Simms stared at him a moment, outraged, and finally said, “Humph!” and
relapsed into silence.
But Coach Payson didn’t explain that evening, or ever; at least, not
to the team at large. After the evening’s session, however, he and
Merriwell and Davis went over to the captain’s room, and there the
only member of the trio who was in ignorance of the reason for the
eleventh-hour change, Manager Davis, was enlightened.
“Now,” said Payson, when they were seated, “let’s see those papers,
Davis.”
One by one he looked them over, comparing each with a much-creased
sheet of buff paper which he extracted from his bill-book and laid
beside him. Davis looked on curiously. Now and then Payson paused as
he turned the papers over and glanced doubtfully at the buff sheet.
Finally, when he had reached almost the bottom of the pile, he said
“Hm!” very softly. A second sheet of buff paper was in front of him
and he was studying it attentively. Presently, as though satisfied, he
handed it to Captain Merriwell, following it with the creased sheet.
The latter had been folded several times and was soiled, as though it
had passed through many hands. Merriwell, frowning, compared one sheet
with the other. Finally he nodded.
“I can’t believe, though, that he’d do a thing like that, sir,” said
Merriwell troubledly.
“I can scarcely believe it myself,” replied the coach, “but there is
the evidence. Show them to Davis. Davis, should you say that those two
diagrams had been made by the same person?”
“Certainly,” replied the manager after a brief survey of them. “There
can’t be any doubt of that, can there?” He looked at the name written
in the corner of the fresher sheet. “But when did Burtis do this other
one, sir?”
“That’s what we don’t know. Have you got that letter there, Merriwell?”
For reply Merriwell opened a drawer in the table, searched a moment and
then handed a folded sheet of writing paper across to Perky. The latter
opened it and read as follows:
“MR. CHARLES MERRIWELL,
“Yardley Hall School,
“Wissining, Ct.
“Dear Sir:
“There’s been a leak over at your place and some dirty work
over here. The enclosed sheet, which, as I understand it,
is supposed to be an explanation of your signals to be used
Saturday, has just come into my hands. I’m sending it to you
thinking that perhaps you will be able to find the sneak who
sent it. We had nothing to do with it here. The fellow who
obtained it did so without authorization on his own hook. I’m
sorry about it, but I guess the only thing for you to do is
to change your signals for the game. Let me know whether this
reaches you. I don’t think it has been seen by more than three
or four people here, including the fellow who received it,
our coach, and myself, and we haven’t made any study of it.
Nevertheless, you’d better protect yourself by changing your
signals before the game. We’ll look after the fellow at this
end, and I hope you’ll find the traitor at your end and give
him what he deserves. You fellows can’t say we haven’t always
played fair and you mustn’t blame us for this business. I hope
we’ll have a good day for the game and a dandy contest.
“Yours truly,
“WILLIAM L. RAYNOR.”
Davis laid down the letter and stared in bewilderment.
“Merriwell got that this morning,” said the coach. “We decided that
the best way to trace the authorship of that document was to get all
the players to make similar diagrams. There’s one peculiar thing about
that first paper, Davis. You’ll notice that Burtis――supposing he did
it, and I can’t see any reason to doubt it――labeled the positions with
small letters. See what I mean? He has written, or, rather, printed,
‘l. h. b.’ in what printers call lower case, instead of ‘L. H. B.’ in
capitals. Now, if you look through all the diagrams submitted to-night,
and every fellow handed one in, you’ll find that Burtis is the only
one who does that. Then, too, there is the evidence of the paper. Both
sheets apparently were torn from the same block. The paper is the same,
a deep buff in color. There’s one other paper there that is buff――I
think it’s Brinspool’s――but it is lighter. Now, two and two usually
make four, Davis.”
“Yes, but――but why should he do it? Why, the fellows were talking of
him for captain!”
“Too bad! It’s beyond me; I can’t see any motive. The only explanation
I can think of is that some Broadwood fellow got hold of him and fooled
him. I’m not willing to think that Burtis did this realizing what it
meant. It――it’s absolutely contrary to my conception of the boy’s
character, Davis.”
“It was Gibson!” declared Perky. “I’ll bet you anything it was that
fellow Gibson! You remember the day he came over to spy on us? We
fooled him then, and so he got back at us. But I didn’t know Burtis
knew him.”
“It’s a funny affair,” said Merriwell thoughtfully. “Anyway, there’s no
use raising a fuss until after the game. We’re in a bad enough fix as
it is. We’ve got to work like the very dickens to win to-morrow, and if
we let this thing get out the team will be upset, probably, and we’ll
get licked as sure as shooting. You aren’t going to say anything to him
about it now, are you, sir?”
“No, I think not. Better let him alone. I don’t believe he is morally
guilty, fellows. And we need him to-morrow if we ever did.”
“There’s one thing that puzzles me,” observed Davis. “It doesn’t seem
as if the writing was in the same hand as the printing.”
“Yes, I noticed that. But very often a man writes differently with a
pen than with a pencil. Besides, you can’t very well compare printing
with writing. Anyway, whoever did it managed to give a very pretty
exposure of our signal code. They’ve even got two special plays down
there.”
“It’s a rotten piece of business,” exclaimed Davis. “And I’ll bet
you anything that chap Gibson is at the bottom of it. Look here, Mr.
Payson, suppose you let me have a talk with Burtis. Maybe I could find
out about it without letting him know.”
But Payson shook his head and Merriwell dissented with a frown.
“Better not,” said the coach. “Wait until after the game. There’s
enough to contend with now, Davis; don’t let us have any more upsets.
We’ll let Burtis play his game to-morrow, giving him the benefit of
the doubt, and ask an explanation later. It’s a good thing we are all
agreed that he isn’t really guilty, fellows, for if we weren’t we’d
have no right to let him play; and if he didn’t play”――Payson shrugged
his broad shoulders――“we’d be in a hole, to say the least. Merriwell,
you keep this truck until it’s wanted. Put it away somewhere where it
won’t be seen. Great Scott, I wish this hadn’t happened!”
“So do I,” muttered Merriwell.
“Will the fellows know the new signals all right, sir?” asked Davis
anxiously.
“I think so. The change is slight. You see, I’m taking Raynor’s word
for it that they haven’t tried to profit by that document. If I
thought they had I’d have changed the whole code over; made a new set
of signals right through. As it is, I’ve only altered them enough to
safeguard us. Well, I must be off. Get to bed, Merriwell, and try to
forget the whole thing. After all, we’re no worse off than we were, or
but very little. I must drop in on Simms a minute. He’s the one who is
probably having fits. Good night. Good night, Davis. Not a word about
this!”
“Not a word, sir. Good night.”
“Look here, Charlie,” said Perky, after the door had closed behind the
coach, “I just don’t believe he did it!”
“Burtis?” Merriwell shrugged his shoulders wearily. “There’s the
evidence.” He nodded at the littered table.
“Then he was fooled; someone got at him! He――he isn’t that sort, and
you know it. Look here, they can’t make him captain with this thing
hanging over his head, Charlie!”
“I don’t think he had a show anyway, Perky. Crandall’s the man for the
job. I shall propose Crandall.”
“We-ell, yes, Howard’s all right, but――――”
“But what?”
“Well, there are a lot of the fellows want Burtis,” replied Perky
frankly. “It’s too bad.”
“Oh, never mind about who’s the next captain,” exclaimed Merriwell
crossly. “What we’ve got to do now is to win to-morrow’s game! Good
night!”