CHAPTER XX
COWAN BECOMES INDIGNANT
Breakfast at the training-table that morning was a strange meal, towhich the fellows loitered in at whatever hour best pleased them. Manyshowed signs of restless slumber, and the trainer was as watchful as anold hen with a brood of chickens. For some there were Saturday morningrecitations; those who were free were sent out to the field at teno'clock and were put through a twenty-minute signal practise. Amongthese were Neil and Paul. A trot four times around the gridiron endedthe morning's work, and they were dismissed with orders to report attwelve o'clock for lunch.
Neil, Paul, and Foster walked back together, and it was the last thatsuggested going down to the depot to see the arrival of the Robinsonplayers. So they turned down Poplar Street to Main and made their wayalong in front of the row of stores there. The village already showedsymptoms of excitement. The windows were dressed in royal purple, withhere and there a touch of the brown of Robinson, and the sidewalkalready held many visitors, while others were invading the collegegrounds across the street. Farther on the trio passed the bicyclerepair-shop. In front of the door, astride an empty box, sat theproprietor, sunning himself and keeping a careful watch on the villagehappenings. With a laugh Neil left his companions and ran acrossthe street.
"Good-morning," he said. The little man on the box looked up inquiringlybut failed to recognize his tormentor.
"Mornin'," he grunted suspiciously.
"I wanted to tell you," said Neil gravely, "that your diagnosis wascorrect, after all."
"Hey?" asked the little man querulously.
"Yes, it _was_ a cold-chisel that did it," said Neil. "You remember yousaid it was."
"Cold-chisel? Say, what you talkin'--" Then a light of recognitionsprang into his weazened features. "You're the feller that owes me aquarter!" he cried shrilly, scrambling to his feet.
Neil was off on the instant. As the three went on toward the station thelittle man's denunciations followed them:
"You come back here an' pay me that quarter! If I knew yer name I'd havether law on yer! But I know yer face, an' I'll--"
"His name's Legion," called Ted Foster over his shoulder.
"Hey? What?" shrieked the repair man.
"Legion!"
"I don't know what you say, but I'll report that feller ter th'authorities!"
Then a long whistle broke in upon the discussion, and the three rushedfor the station platform.
From the vantage-point of a baggage-truck they watched the Robinsonplayers and the accompanying contingent descend from the train. Therewere twenty-eight of the former, heavily built, strapping-lookingfellows, and with them a small army of coaches, trainers, andsupporters. Neil dug his elbow against Paul.
"Look," he said, "there's your friend Brill."
And sure enough, there was the Robinson coach who had visited the two atHillton a year before and tried to get them to go to the rival college.
"If you'd like to make arrangements for next year, Paul," Neil whisperedmischievously, "now's your time."
But Paul grinned and shook his head.
The players and most of the coaches tumbled into carriages and weretaken out to Erskine Field for a short practise, and the balance of thearrivals started on foot toward the hotel. The three friends retracedtheir steps. Luckily, the proprietor of the bicycle repair-shop was sobusy looking over the strangers that they passed unseen in the littlestream. There remained the better part of an hour before lunch-time, andthey found themselves at a loss for a way to spend the time. Fosterfinally went off to his room, as he explained airily, "to dash off aletter on his typewriter," a statement that was greeted with howls ofderision from the others, who, for want of a better place, went intoButler's bookstore and aimlessly looked over the magazines and papers.
It was while thus engaged that Paul heard his name spoken, and turned tofind Mr. Brill smilingly holding out his hand.
"I thought I wasn't mistaken," the Robinson coach said as they shookhands. "And isn't that your friend Fletcher over there?"
Neil heard and came over, and the three stood and talked for a fewminutes. Mr. Brill seemed well pleased with the football outlook.
"I'll wager you gentlemen will regret not coming to us after to-day'sgame is over," he laughed. "I hear you've got something up your sleeve."
"We have," said Neil.
"So I heard. What's the nature of it?"
"It's muscle," answered Neil gravely.
The coach laughed. "Of course, if it's a secret, I don't want to hearit. But I think you're safe to get beaten, secret or no secret, eh?"
"Nonsense!" said Paul. "You won't know what struck you when we getthrough with you."
Mr. Brill laughed good-naturedly but didn't look alarmed.
"By the way," he said, "I saw one of your players a whileago--Cowan--the fellow we protested. He seemed rather sore."
"Where was he?" asked Paul eagerly.
"In a drug-store down there toward the next corner. Have your coachesfound a good man for his place?"
"Oh, yes, it wasn't hard to fill," answered Neil. "Witter's got it."
"Witter? I don't think I've heard of him."
"No, he's not famous--yet; you'll know him better later on."
Paul was plainly anxious to go in search of Cowan, and so they bade theRobinson coach good-by. Out on the sidewalk Neil turned a troubled facetoward his friend.
"Say, Paul, Cowan knows all about the 'antidote,' doesn't he?"
"Why, yes, I suppose so; he's seen it played."
"And he knows the signals, too, eh?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Well, I've been wondering whether--You heard what Brill said--thatCowan was feeling sore? Well, do you suppose he'd be mean enoughto--to--"
"By thunder!" muttered Paul. Then: "No, I don't believe that Cowan woulddo a thing like that. I don't think he's a--a traitor!"
"Well, you know him better than I do," said Neil, "and I dare say you'reright. Only--only I wish we could be certain."
"I'll find him," answered Paul determinedly. "You wait here for me; or,no, I may have to hunt; I'll see you at lunch. I'll find out all right."
He was off on the instant. As he had told Neil, he didn't believe thatCowan would reveal secrets to Brill or any other of the Robinson people;but--well, he realized that Cowan was feeling very much aggrieved, andthat he might in his present state of mind do what in a saner moment hewould not consider. At the drug-store he was told that Cowan had left afew minutes before. The only place that Paul could think of where Cowanwas likely to be was his room, so thither he went. He found the deposedguard engaged in replacing certain of his pictures and ornaments whichhad been taken down.
"Hello!" he said. "Thought you'd cut my acquaintance too."
"Nonsense," answered Paul, "I've been trying to find you ever since lastnight. Where've you been?"
"Oh, just knocking around. I got back late last night."
"I was afraid you had left college. You know you said you might."
"I know. Well, I've changed my mind. I guess I'll stay on until recessanyway; maybe until summer. What's the use going anywhere else? If Iwent to Robinson I couldn't play; Erskine would protest me. I wish togoodness I'd had sense enough to let that academy team go hang! Only Ineeded some money, and it seemed a good way to make it. After all, therewasn't anything dishonest about it!"
"N--no," said Paul.
"Well, was there?" Cowan demanded, turning upon him fiercely. Paul shookhis head.
"No, there wasn't. Only, of course, you'd ought to have remembered thatit disqualified you here." Cowan looked surprised.
"My, but you're getting squeamish!" he said. "The first thing you knowyou'll be as bad as Fletcher." There was a moment's silence. "What doeshe say about it?" Cowan asked carelessly.
"Who, Neil? Oh, he--he sympathizes with you," answered Paul vaguely."Says it's awfully hard lines, but doesn't think the committee could doanything else."
"Humph!"
"By the
way," said Paul, recollecting his errand, "I met Brill ofRobinson a while ago. He said he'd seen you."
"Yes," grunted Cowan. "I'd like to punch him. Made believe he was allcut up over my being put off. Why--why it was he that knew about thatacademy business! Last September he tried to get me to go to Robinson;offered me anything I wanted, and I refused. After all a--a fellow's gotsome loyalty! He asked all sorts of questions as to whether I waseligible or not, and I--I don't know what made me, but I told him abouttaking that money for playing tackle on that old academy team. He saidthat wouldn't matter any. But after I decided not to go to Robinson hechanged his tune; said he wasn't sure but that I was ineligible!"
"He's a cad," said Paul."
"And then to-day he tried to get sympathetic, but I shut him up mightyquick. I told him I knew well enough he was the one who had started theprotest, and offered to punch his nose if he'd come over back of thestores; but he wouldn't," added Cowan aggrievedly.
"You--you didn't let out anything to him that would--er--help them inthe game, did you?" asked Paul, studying the floor with great attention.
"Let out anything?" asked Cowan in puzzled tones. "What do you--" He putdown the picture he held and faced Paul, the blood dying his face. "Lookhere, Paul, what do you mean by that?"
"Why, why--"
"You want to know if I turned traitor? If I gave away our signals orsomething like that, eh?" There was honest indignation in his voice anda trace of pain, and Paul regretted his suspicions on the instant.
"Oh, come now, old man," he began, "what I meant--"
"Now let me tell you something, Gale," said Cowan. "I may not be so niceas you and Fletcher and Devoe and a lot more of your sort, but I'm notan out-and-out rascal and traitor! And I didn't think you'd put that onme, by Jove! I've no love for some of the fellows in this college, norfor Mills, and I wouldn't care if we got beaten--" He paused. "Yes, Iwould, too; I want Robinson to get done up so hard that they'll throwthat cheat Brill out of there. But I want you to understand right hereand now that I'm not cad enough to sell signals."
"I beg your pardon, Tom," said Paul earnestly. "I didn't think it ofyou. Only, when Brill said he'd seen you and that you were feelingsore, we--I--"
"Oh, so it was Fletcher that suspected it, was it?" demanded Cowan.
"No more than I," answered Paul stoutly. "We neither of us reallythought you'd turn traitor, but I was afraid that, feeling the way younaturally would, you might thoughtlessly say something that Brill couldmake use of. That's all"
Cowan looked doubtful for a moment, then he sniffed.
"Well, all right," he said finally. "Forget it."
"You're going out to the game, aren't you?" Paul asked.
"Yes, I guess so. What's Fletcher think of being laid off?"
"Well, he doesn't seem to mind it as I thought he would. I--I don't knowquite what to make of him. It almost seems that he's--well, glad of it!"
"Huh! You've got another guess, my friend."
"How's that? What do you mean?"
"Nothing much; only I guess I've got better eyes than you," respondedCowan with a grin. After a pause during which he rearranged the objectson the mantel-shelf to his satisfaction, he turned to Paul again:
"Say, do you think Fletcher and I could get on together if--well, if weknew each other better?"
"I'm sure you could," answered Paul eagerly.
"Well, I think I'd like to try it. He--he's not a bad sort of a chap.Only maybe he wouldn't care to--er--"
"Oh, yes, he would," answered Paul. "You'll see, Tom."
"Well, maybe so. Going? Good luck to you. I'll see you on the field."
Paul hurried around the long curve of Elm Street toward Pearson'sboarding-house, where the players were already gathering for luncheon.He found Neil on the steps and dragged him off and down to the gate.
"It's all right," he said. "I found him and asked him, and I wish Ihadn't. He was awfully cut up about it; seemed hurt to think I couldsuspect such a thing. Though, really, I didn't quite suspect, you know."
"I'm sorry we hurt his feelings," said Neil. "It was a bit mean of me tosuggest it."
"He's going to stay for a while," went on Paul. "And--and--Look here,chum, don't you think that if--er--you tried you could get to like himbetter? From something he said to-day I found out that he thinks you'rea good sort and he'd like to get on with you. Maybe if we kind of lookedafter him we could--oh, I don't know! But you see what I mean?"
"Yes, I see what you mean," replied Neil thoughtfully. "And maybe we'dget on better if we tried again. Anyhow, Paul, you ask him down to theroom some night and--and we'll see."
"Thanks," said Paul gratefully. "And now let's get busy with the funeralbaked beans--I mean meats. Gee, I've got about as much appetite as afly! I--I wish the game was over with!"
"So do I," answered Neil, as with a sigh he listlessly followed his chuminto the house.