CHAPTER X.
WHO TOLD?
Jack Nelson was right about Barker; Berlin came back “with his headup.” To the surprise of his teammates, he was on hand for footballpractice that night, having caught the afternoon train from Clearport.When some of the boys commented on the shortness of his visit to Merwinand hinted broadly that he had made that visit for the purpose ofavoiding the height of a severe storm which had threatened to fall uponthe heads of all concerned in that piece of skylarking at which he wasthe master mover, he made an indignant denial. Even Crane, who hadvowed he would give Barker a piece of his mind, was silenced byBerlin’s resentment and anger over the insinuation that he had shownthe white feather.
Barker was not one of the few who betrayed a disposition to make thebest of the fact that Grant had turned the joke upon his tormentors; onthe contrary, this knowledge seemed to pierce his very soul with ared-hot iron, and he became still more vindictive and vicious towardthe lad from Texas, declaring he would yet make the fellow laugh out ofthe other side of his mouth. Nor was his bitterness softened in anydegree when he was told of Grant’s silence regarding the breaking ofthe skeleton.
“He didn’t dare peach, that’s all,” said Berlin. “If he’d had thenerve, he’d blown the whole business.”
A secret known by many persons may scarcely be called a secret, andalmost invariably it is sure to “leak.” For reasons, Roger Eliot hadnot been taken into the confidence of the hazers, yet it was not longere he learned what had happened on that lively night, and in his quietway he took occasion to jest a trifle at the expense of the fellowsconcerned. They wondered who had told him, and Rollins expressed thebelief that Grant must be “tattling and boasting.”
With the approach of the date for the Wyndham game, which was toconclude the season, football almost wholly absorbed the attention ofthe boys. Every effort was being made to strengthen the weak points onthe team, for Oakdale still hoped to defeat the former champions andconclude a remarkable series of triumphs by winning the championshipfor the first time in the history of the academy. Although he pretendedto be optimistic, the coach kept the players keyed to a fine point,never once permitting them to get the impression that the game would beanything but a stern battle from start to finish in which the failureof a single fellow to do his level best might prove disastrous.
In secret consultation with Eliot, Winton owned up to apprehensionconcerning two of the players, and repeated over and over that even onemore good man might strengthen the eleven enough to bring about thedesired victory. Although Grant’s name was not mentioned again, Rogerfelt sure the coach had him in mind, but Eliot knew well enough therewas no prospect of altering the fellow’s decision about playing.Furthermore, the time had already grown too short for the new boy toput in the practice he would need to become at all efficient.
The game, to be played in Wyndham, was scheduled for a Saturday. OnFriday, at the beginning of the afternoon session, Prof. Richardsonstartled the school by delivering a grim lecture on the evils ofhazing. Beneath his calm but scathing words some of the boys writhedvisibly, despite their efforts to maintain a semblance of indifference.They knew, at the very start, the cause of this lecture, and concludedat once that in some manner the principal had learned the particularsof the hazing affair in which they had been concerned. As he went onthe master proceeded to cite special instances in which hazing hadresulted in the wrecking of the mental or physical health of thevictims. He denounced it as disgraceful, unmanly and brutal, addingthat he had been mortified and shocked to learn that various of hismost respected boys had been concerned in such a piece of work.
“A few days ago,” said the professor, “I had something to say to youabout the breaking of the skeleton in the laboratory, which at thattime I supposed to be an act of vandalism. I have since learned thatthis skeleton was used by the hazers to frighten the unfortunatesubject of their pitiful sport, and that it was broken while being thusused, and then returned to the academy. I declared, should I learn whohad been concerned, that I would be severe in my punishment; but thatdeclaration was made without a full understanding of the circumstances.I am now in complete possession of the facts, and I know the name ofevery boy who took part in that disgraceful frolic. The wisest menoften feel at liberty to change their minds, and, without any claim tospecial wisdom, I have changed mine. I shall not inflict immediatechastisement upon the offenders. However, I shall hereafter keep closeand constant watch upon them, and any further offense of theirs comingto my notice shall not pass, I promise, without merited discipline. Iam not so old that I do not understand that boys will be boys, butthere are plenty of clean and manly sports in which you may indulge toyour heart’s content without danger of bringing to yourselves pangs ofregret, and without fear of inflicting shame upon your parents andfriends by your behavior. Although I have been exceedingly mild in mydenunciation of your conduct, I wish you to know that I feel highlyincensed and grieved and regretful over it.”
Without exception, they were intensely relieved when he had finished.Few of them ventured to exchange glances, but behind his geography HunkRollins grinned and winked at one or two of the guilty chaps whochanced to look in his direction.
After school that night, ere proceeding to the football field for finalsignal practice, half a dozen lads gathered behind the gymnasium.
“Somebody pup-peached,” said Phil Springer.
“Well, whoever the pup is, he’s a peach, that’s all I have to say,”observed Chipper Cooper.
“Who d’you s’pose it was, fellers?” questioned Sile Crane.
“My deduction is,” said Sleuth Piper, “that it was a certain partynamed Grant.”
“Of course it was Grant,” agreed Berlin Barker. “No one else would doit.”
“If it was him,” said Tuttle, “why didn’t he come right out with itwhen the prof gave us that first game of talk about busting theskeleton and offered to let off without punishment any one who wouldown up?”
“Because he’s a sneak and a coward!” exclaimed Berlin. “He was afraidto get up before the whole school and squeal, but he went to Prof.Richardson privately and told the whole business. I’ll bet my life I’mright.”
“Of course you are,” eagerly put in Rollins—“you’re dead right, Berlin.You’ve got the cheap skate sized up correct.”
“If you _are_ right,” said Cooper, “we’d all better show Mr. Grant whatwe think of a sneak. I’m in favor of sending him to Coventry. Let’s cuthim out, let him alone, have nothing to do with him; let’s not evenspeak to him. If every fellow will do that, he’ll enjoy himselfhugely—I don’t think.”
“It’s a good idea,” nodded Barker.
“Maybe there’s one feller yeou can’t git to agree to it,” drawledCrane. “Ben Stone’s ruther chummy with Rod Grant.”
“There was a time when Stone wasn’t very popular around here,” remindedBarker.
“Oh, yes,” nodded Sile; “but yeou don’t want to forgit that he come outon top, just the same.”
“Look here,” sneered Berlin, turning on the lanky fellow, “if you wantto take up with a sneak and a coward like this boasting Texan why don’tyou say so? If you want to be friendly with a skulking, white-liveredcreature who peaches on you behind your back you can do so.”
“Naow yeou hold right on!” snapped Crane. “I ain’t said nothin’ aboutbein’ friendly with him myself, have I? We all know haow we used Stoneand what come of it. Bern Hayden was at the head of that business, andhe’s got out of Oakdale and gone to school somewheres else. I justmentioned the fact that Stone was ruther friendly with Grant. I s’posethat’s natteral, too, seein’ as he recollects what happened to himselfwhen he first hit this taown. We don’t know yet for dead sartain that’twas Grant who give us away, and so I’m in favor of goin’ slow, that’sall.”
“We don’t have to have proof against him,” retorted Barker. “Nobodyelse would tell. Besides that, he’s shown himself t
o be a quitter and acheap dub. A fellow who hasn’t the sand to play football when his teamneeds him is a——”
“’Sh!” hissed Piper. “Here’s Eliot.”
“Come on, fellows,” called the captain of the team, looking round thecorner. “What are you doing here? The coach is waiting for us.”
They followed him to the field.
A slight spitting fall of snow, beginning early the following morning,filled the boys with apprehension, but it did not result in a storm;and at ten o’clock the members of the team and the coach set out ontheir long ride over the frozen roads to Wyndham. A group of boys andgirls who could not make the trip to witness the game were assembled atthe square in front of the postoffice, and gave the buckboard load ofhusky youngsters a rousing send-off. As the buckboard swung down themain street Piper espied a sturdy, solitary figure in front ofStickney’s store.
“There he is!” exclaimed Sleuth. “There’s Grant watching us!”
“The cheap, blabbing coward!” cried Barker.
Ben Stone, sitting in front of Berlin, twisted round in his heavyovercoat.
“Look here, Barker,” he said indignantly, “if you’re referring to myfriend Grant, take my advice and use different language in my hearing.”
“Oh, ho!” sneered Berlin. “Your friend Grant, eh? Well, you must beproud of your friend!”
Stone’s face was flushed, and he would have made a hot retort had notEliot promptly interfered.
“Drop it, both of you,” commanded Roger. “This is no time for aquarrel. We’ve got a football game on our hands.”
“All right, captain,” said Ben, straightening round. “I’m mum.”
Barker laughed mirthlessly, and the buckboard rumbled across the bridge.
Little did those boys dream that while they were on their way to thescene of the contest Rodney Grant made arrangements with the telephoneoperator in Wyndham to secure the earliest possible report of the game.And while they were fighting desperately on the field Grant sat withininstant call of the phone, waiting to bear of the result. When at lastthe exultant Wyndham operator transmitted over the wire theintelligence that Oakdale had been defeated by a score of 10 to 6, theboy from Texas returned to the home of Priscilla Kent in a deeplydejected frame of mind.
“I’m sorry,” he said to himself. “It’s too bad.”
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