JERRY INTERVENES
At the same moment that Garry struck Sandy Podder, Bill tackled Lent
Stewart and gave him a blow that sent him staggering.
The bullies recovered themselves in a moment, and, with Chat, were
about to rush on their opponents when a voice close at hand startled
them.
"Three to two," said the voice of Jerry Cox, who had come around a
corner. "That doesn't seem exactly square. Count me in on this."
"You keep out of this, Jerry Cox," snarled Sandy.
"It's none of your funeral," growled Lent, sourly.
"Seems to me that there'd have been flowers at your funeral, Lent
Stewart, if Garry Grayson hadn't saved your life," returned Jerry
coolly. "And now here you are trying to beat him up. Nothing doing,
Lent. You know I can lick you and perhaps help a bit in licking your
pals. So come along if you're ready."
But the bullies were not at all ready. What had seemed easy had
suddenly become hard. They stood growling and disconcerted for a
moment, and then decided to move on.
"I'll get square with you yet, Garry Grayson," called back Sandy.
"Any time you like," replied Garry quickly. "Put a bit of arnica on
that jaw of yours. It sometimes helps."
Jerry looked at Garry and Bill with a broad grin.
"They're yellow clear through," he remarked. "Didn't like the game at
all when the chances were even. What was the trouble, anyway!"
"Oh, they made a dirty crack and we came back at them," replied Garry
evasively. "It was mighty good of you to pitch in on our side."
"I thought they were friends of yours," said Bill, though with less of
coldness in his tone than he had previously used in speaking to Jerry.
"I've cut 'em out," replied Jerry soberly. "No more of that poolroom
gang for me. I was a fool for playing around with them as long as I
did. But I've got the right slant on things now and I'm hunting for a
real job, and when I get it, you bet I'm going to stick to it."
"Anything special in view?" asked Garry cordially.
"Not yet," answered Jerry. "But I'm looking for it with both eyes.
I need it badly, too, because there's been sickness at home and my
father's out of work. Well, so long, fellows, and good luck."
He went away with a friendly wave of the hand. Garry and Bill looked at
each other.
"Seems to have the right stuff in him, after all," admitted Bill.
"Glad he's cut loose from that bunch," said Garry. "He sure proved a
friend in need just now, and I think it's up to us to find him and his
father jobs. I'll put it up to my dad and you speak to your father
about it. They know almost everybody in town, and they ought to be able
to help Jerry if any one can."
Bill agreed to do this and later both fathers promised to do what
they could. The consequence was that within a week Jerry's father had
secured a position in Mr. Sherwood's large manufacturing establishment,
while Mr. Grayson got Jerry himself a place in a lumber concern down on
the river front.
The young fellow was immensely grateful, and from that time on Garry
had no firmer friend in Lenox, outside of his own immediate chums.
Lenox now had played three games on its football schedule and had but
two remaining, those with Thomaston and Greenfield, which were to be
played in that order. Like Lenox, the Greenfield team had lost but one
game, and its victories had been by scores much more impressive than
Lenox had been able to muster.
Lenox therefore feared Thomaston much less. It was a good team--in
spots. And it also played well--in spots. It was an in-and-outer,
sometimes rising to great heights and again playing football far below
the high school standard.
None the less, Mr. Phillips drove his team hard for the Thomaston game,
which was to be played on the enemy's grounds, and Lenox was in fine
fettle when it went over, determined to bring back the scalps of the
foe and fasten them on the Lenox wigwam.
It proved to be the only game of the season in which Lenox did not have
to work hard to win. It was not a game. It was, rather, a massacre. The
Thomaston boys had one of their bad days and played like a lot of dubs.
Their passing was wild, their line bucking weak, their fumbles frequent.
Lenox scored almost at will, making two touchdowns in the first period
and a touchdown and field goal in the second, while Thomaston never
came within striking distance of the Lenox goal.
With the game securely stowed away, Mr. Phillips in the third period
took out his first string men with the exception of Wynn, Dittler, and
Knapp, and sent in substitutes from the scrubs.
Pete, Tom, Nick, Ted, Rooster, Bill, Hick Dabney, and Garry were those
chosen, and they made the most of the opportunity. It was the first
time that so many of them had been used in any one game, and they went
in to play their heads off.
The first string men resting on the side lines looked on patronizingly.
They told themselves that they had really won the game and it would do
no harm to let the scrubs take up the burden. Of course, they would not
do much, but it would give them exercise.
Garry sensed their feeling and caught their condescending smiles.
"Now, fellows," he exhorted, "let's show those first string boobs where
they get off. They've made twenty-four points. They're counting on
us to do not much more than hold Thomaston even. Let's give them the
surprise of their lives."
This they promptly proceeded to do. They ran wild. Nothing could stop
them. Under the delighted eyes of Mr. Phillips and the now sober looks
of the first string men, they piled up touchdown after touchdown until,
when the last period ended, they had added thirty-five points to the
twenty-four already scored, making the final tally 59 to 0. It was the
worst Waterloo that Thomaston had ever encountered.
The Lenox boys were filled with joy, and none more so than the
once-despised scrubs.
"Just doormats, are we?" laughed Pete.
"We've given them something to think of," chortled Tom Allison. "Did
you see their long faces while we were piling up the score?"
"We put a dent in that freshman tradition, anyway!" exulted Nick.
"And now for Greenfield!" exclaimed Garry, turning from the present to
the future. "That's the only obstacle left. If we hurdle that, we win
the championship."
"And it will take some hurdling," predicted Nick. "They won't be the
pudding that Thomaston was to-day."
That seemed more likely than ever when the boys learned that on that
same afternoon Greenfield had fairly smothered Bass Lake, the same team
that Lenox had beaten by only a scanty margin.
The contest for the league pennant was now clearly defined. Lenox and
Greenfield had each won three games and lost one. The other teams
were out of the running. The Lenox-Greenfield game would decide the
championship.
In the meantime Mr. Grayson was busy preparing to defend Frank
Sherwood in his trial for theft, which had been put on the docket for
an early date. The more the lawyer delved into it the more confident he
felt that Frank was innocent. Yet there was the definite evidence of
Mooney and Anson, each corroborating that of the other, and despite the
bad character of the men there was no knowing what effect it might have
on the jury.
Jerry Cox had several times met Garry on the street, but each time the
latter had been accompanied by friends, so that Jerry had just spoken
to him and passed on.
But one afternoon toward dusk Garry happened to be alone as he
encountered Jerry at the intersection of two streets.
"Hello, Garry," Jerry greeted him. "How's tricks?"
"Everything fine," replied Garry. "How are things going with you?"
"Dandy," responded Jerry. "I like my work and the boss seems to like
the way I do it. At least, he hasn't fired me yet," he added, with a
grin.
"My dad saw your boss the other day, and he said you were doing good
work," said Garry.
"I'm doing my best," declared Jerry, "and I'm tickled to death to
get away from the poolroom gang. By the way, Garry, speaking of
poolrooms--" He hesitated.
"Yes," said Garry encouragingly.
"It's about that Frank Sherwood matter," went on Jerry slowly. "I've
been meaning to speak to you about it for some time, but have never
been able to catch you alone."
Garry was all alert in an instant.
"Do you know anything about that case?" he asked eagerly.
"I know that Frank Sherwood didn't steal that money, and I can't stand
by and see a fellow framed for something he didn't do," replied Jerry.
Jerry's words had the effect on Garry of an electric shock.
"What's that?" he cried excitedly. "Tell me all you know! For the love
of Pete, Jerry, spill it! I was sure that Frank didn't take the money.
But do you know who did take it?"
"Yes," replied Jerry. "It was Gyp Mooney himself."
"Gyp Mooney!" exclaimed Garry. "The dirty crook! But are you sure? How
do you know?"
"Well," said Jerry, "it was this way. I saw Mooney hanging around
Sandy's coat, but thought nothing of it. It was late and most of the
fellows had gone. I was leaving myself when I saw Sandy put on his
coat, feel in the pocket and turn pale. Then he called Mooney outside.
I was taking a short cut through the lot where there were plenty of
bushes, and it was dark. Sandy and Mooney were walking in the same
direction. They were arguing so angrily I thought there might be a
scrap coming, and I slowed up to see what might happen.
"They stopped nearly opposite me, but didn't see me. Sandy was accusing
Mooney of having robbed him. Said he'd seen him taking something from
his coat. Mooney denied it, but Sandy insisted. Then Mooney turned
ugly. Seems he had a hold on Sandy. He knew of a barn that Sandy had
set fire to. Mooney said he'd have Sandy sent to jail for that if he
didn't keep quiet. Told Sandy that all he'd have to do would be to tell
his father Mr. Long hadn't put the money in the envelope. Then Mr. Long
would have to pay over again. Anyway, Podder was rich and could stand
it. If Sandy kept his mouth shut, Mooney would see that Sandy would get
a bit of the money for himself. If not, he'd tell about that barn fire
and Sandy'd go to jail.
"So it ended that way. Sandy caved in. Mooney admitted he had taken
the money and that just as soon as it was safe he'd see that Sandy had
his bit. They went on then and I didn't hear anything further, but I
suppose Sandy told his father the story that Mooney had coached him to
tell."
"I know he did!" cried Garry. "But Podder didn't get the money again
from Mr. Long! I suppose he's been trying to find out where the money
went, and the thing got so hot that Mooney got scared and cooked up
this thing about Frank Sherwood.
"That's it, as sure as shooting," went on Garry. "They picked on Frank
as the goat, and Mooney got Piker Anson to back him up. That skunk
would swear to anything for ten dollars!
"But come right along with me, Jerry, and see my father. He's in charge
of Frank's case, you know. Gee, but I'm glad I met you!"
Jerry went along willingly. There was a long conference in the Grayson
home that night. At its conclusion Jerry Cox went away with a strong
injunction to keep tight-lipped till the trial.
And Mr. Grayson's face was beaming.