"Brass" for an Armor Plate
Thursday night and Friday morning more copies of the betrayed
signals poured in upon Captain Dick.
Wherever these signals had been received by captains of other
school teams, it soon appeared, these captains of rival elevens
had punctually mailed them back. It spoke volumes for the honor
of the American schoolboy, for Gridley High School was feared
far and wide on the gridiron, and there was not an eleven in the
state but would have welcomed an honorable way of beating Prescott's
men.
Moreover, working on Dick's suggestion, Mr. Morton busied himself
with securing several letters that had been received from Drayne's
father.
These letters were compared, Friday evening, with the copies of
the signals that had been sent to other elevens. Under a magnifying
glass these collected papers all exhibited one fact that the letters
and the copies of the signal code had been struck off on a machine
having the same peculiarities as to worn faces of certain types.
It was thus rather clearly established that Phin Drayne must
have used the typewriting machine that stood in his father's office.
Drayne was not at school on Friday. Instead, an excuse of illness
was received from him.
Nor did Mr. Morton say anything to Dr. Thornton, the principal,
until the end of the school week.
Just after school had been dismissed, at one o'clock Friday afternoon,
Mr. Morton called Dr. Thornton to the private office, and there
laid before him the charges and the proofs.
That fine old gentleman was overwhelmed with grief that "one of
his boys" should have done such an utterly mean, wanton and dishonorable
thing.
"This can't be passed by, Mr. Morton," exclaimed Dr. Thornton
brokenly. "If you will kindly leave the proofs in my hands, I
will see that the whole matter is taken up officially."
Friday afternoon the football squad met for more practice with
the new signals. Friday evening each young man who was scheduled
as being even likely to play the next day studied over the signals
at home, then, under orders, burned his copy of the code. Saturday
morning the squad met for some more practice, though not much.
"I believe all of us are in trim now, sir," Captain Prescott reported
to the coach. "I am rather sure all of our men know the new signals
by heart, and there'll be no confusion. But, of course, for the
first game, the old snap of our recent practice will be missing.
It has been a hard blow to us."
"If we have to lose to-day's game," muttered Mr. Morton, "I'll
be almost satisfied to lose it to Tottenville, after the manly
and straightout conduct of Mr. Jarvis!"
"That same line of thought would make us content to go through
a losing season, for all the fellows in other towns who received
that betrayed code sent the information right back to us," smiled
Prescott. "But we're not going to lose to-day's game, Mr. Morton,
nor any other day's. Drayne's treachery has just about crazed
the other fellows with anger. They'll win everything ahead of
'em, now, just for spite and disgust, if for no better reason."
"Sometimes anger serves a good purpose," laughed Mr. Morton.
"But it was pitiful to look at poor old Dr. Thornton yesterday
afternoon. At first I thought he was going to faint. He seemed
suddenly to grow ten years older. It cut him to the quick. He
loves every one of his boys, and to have one of them go bad is
just as painful to him as to see his own son sent to the penitentiary."
"Is Dr. Thornton coming to the game this afternoon, sir?"
"Yes; he has never missed one yet, in any year that he has been
principal of Gridley High School."
"Then we'll make that fine old American gentleman feel all right
again by the grand game that we'll put up," promised Dick vehemently.
"I'll pass the word, and the fellows will strain themselves to
the last drop."
Orders were issued to the gate tenders to throw Drayne out if
he presented himself at the gate.
Drayne did put in an appearance, and he got through the gate to
a seat on the grand stand, but it was no fault of the gate tenders.
Drayne had spent some of his spare money at the costumer's. With
his trim, rather slim figure Phin Drayne made up rather well as
a girl. He wore black---mourning throughout, perhaps in memory
of his departed honor---and a heavy veil covered his face. In
this disguise Drayne sat where he could see what would happen.
At the outset it was Gridley's kick off, and for the next ten
minutes Tottenville had the ball, fighting stubbornly with it.
But at last, when forced half way down the field between center
and its own goal line, Gridley blocked so well in the three following
plays that the pigskin came to the home eleven.
Dick bent over, holding the ball for the snapback, while his battle
front formed on each side of him.
Dave Darrin, quarter-back, raced back a few steps, then halted,
looking keenly, swiftly over the field.
Phin Drayne drew his breath sharply. Then his heart almost stopped
beating as he listened.
"Thirty-eight---nine---eleven---four!" sounded Darrin's voice,
sharp and clear.
"That's the run around the left end!" throbbed Phin Drayne.
But it wasn't. A fake kick, followed by a cyclonic impact at
the right followed.
"They've changed the signals!" gulped the guilty masquerader behind
the black veil. "Then they've found out."
With this came the next disheartening thought:
"That's the reason, then, why the coach ordered me out of the field
Thursday afternoon. Morton is wise. I wonder if he has told it
all around?"
Gridley High School was doing some of its brilliant, old-style
play now. Prescott was proving himself an ideal captain, quick-witted,
full of strategy, force, push and dash, yet all the while displaying
the best of cool judgment in sizing up the chances of the hard
battle.
But that which Phin Drayne noted most of all was that every signal
used had a different meaning from that employed in the code he
had mailed to the captains of the other school teams.
"It was all found out, and Gridley wasn't hurt," thought Phin,
gnashing his teeth. "Good luck always seems to follow that fellow
Prescott! Can't he be beaten? We shall see! Prescott, my fine
bully, I'm not through with you yet."
The first half ended without either side scoring. Impartial onlookers
thought that perhaps formidable Tottenville had had rather the
better of it, but no one could tell with certainty which was the
better team.
When neither side scores in the first half that which remains
to be determined is, which side will show the bigger reserve of
vitality in the second half.
And now the ball was off again, with twenty-two men pursuing and
fighting for it as though the fate of the nation hung on the result.
Dick, too, soon had things moving at a gait that had all Gridley
standing up and boosting with all the powers of lungs, hands and
feet.
All that remained to interest Phin Drayne was to discover whether
his late comrades had sufficiently mastered their new signals
not to fail in their team work.
Once in the second half there was a brief fluster. Two Gridley
men went "woozy" over the same signal. But alert Dave Darrin
rushed in and snatched a clever advantage out of momentary confusion.
After that there was no more confusion. Gridley took the game
by a single touchdown, failing in the subsequent kick for goal.
Five minutes later time expired.
Feeling doubly contemptible now, and sick at heart, Phin Drayne
crawled weakly down from the grand stand. He made his way out
in the throng, undetected. He returned to the costumer's, got
off his sneaking garb and donned his own clothing, then slipped
away out through a back door that opened on an alleyway.
Not until Sunday afternoon did Drayne yield to the desire to
get out of doors. His training life had made outer air a necessity
to him, so he yielded to the desire. But he kept to back streets.
Just as luck would have it, Drayne came suddenly face to face
with Dr. Thornton.
The good old principal had a fixed belief which followed the practice
of American law, to the effect that every accused man is innocent
until he has been proved guilty.
In addition, the doctor had recovered a good deal from his first
depression. Therefore he was able to meet this offending pupil
as he would want to under the circumstances.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Drayne," was Dr. Thornton's courteous greeting.
"It is beautiful; weather to be out, isn't it?"
"It is a perfect day, sir," Drayne replied.
Once he had gotten past the principal the young wretch gave way
to his exultation.
"No charge has been made, then," he told himself gloatingly.
"If I had been denounced, the Prin. could hardly have been as
gracious. Well, hang it all, what are charges going to amount
to, anyway?"
At the High School Monday morning, both before school and at recess,
the members of the football squad cut Drayne dead.
"They suspect me, but they can't prove anything, anyway," chuckled
the traitor to himself. "Brass, Phin, my boy! Brass! That is
bound to win out when the clodhoppers can't prove a blessed thing."
As none of the students outside of the squad showed any especial
inclination to cut him, Phin felt almost wholly reassured.
"It would be libelous, anyway, if the gang passed around a word
that they couldn't prove," chuckled Drayne. "So I guess those
that may be doing a heap of thinking will have caution enough
to keep their mouths shut, anyway,"
That afternoon, after luncheon, Phin Drayne took a long tramp
over country roads at the back of the big town. It was five o'clock
when he returned.
"Here's a note for you, on High School stationery," said Mrs.
Drayne, putting an envelope in her son's hand. "It came some
time ago."
Something warned the fellow not to open the envelope there. He
took it to his room, where he read the letter. It was from Dr.
Thornton, and said only:
_"You are directed to appear before the Board of Education at
its stated weekly meeting to-night. This is urgent, and you are
warned not to fail in giving this summons due heed."_
In an instant Phin was white with fear. His legs trembled under
him, and cold sweat stood out on his neck, face and forehead.
For some moments the young man acted as though in danger of collapse.
Then he staggered over to the tap at his washbowl, and gulped
down a glass of water. He paced the room restlessly for a long
time, and finally went over and stood looking out of the window.
"Young man," he said to himself severely, "you've got to brace,
and brace hard. If you haven't any nerve, then getting square
is too strenuous a game for you? Now, what can that gang prove?
They can suspect, and they can charge, but my denial is fully
as good as any other man's affirmation. Go before the Board of
Education? Of course I will. And I'll make any accuser of mine
look mighty small before that august board of local duffers!"
Brave words! They cheered the young miscreant, anyway. Phin
ate his supper with something like relish. Afterwards he set
out for the High School building, in which the Board had its offices.
Nor did his courage fail him until he had turned in through the
gate.
A young man, whistling blithely, came in behind him. It was Dick
Prescott, erect of carriage, and brisk and strong of stride, as
becomes a young athlete whose conscience is clear and wholesome.
"Hullo, Prescott, what are you doing around here to-night?" hailed
Drayne.
But Dick seemed not to have heard. Not a note did he drop in
the tune that he was whistling. Springing up the steps ahead,
Dick vanished behind the big door.
"Oh, of course he goes here to-night," thought Phin, with sudden
disgust. "Prescott scribbles for 'The Blade' and the Board of
Education is one of his stunts each week."