CHAPTER III
Putting the Tag on the Sneak
Anything that Dick Prescott had charge of went along at leapsand bounds. Hence the football eleven was in good shape ten daysearlier than Coach Morton could remember to have happened before.
"Your eleven is all ready to line up in the field, now, Captain,"announced coach, one afternoon not long after, as the squad cameout from dressing quarters for practice.
"I'm glad you think so, sir," replied Dick, a flush of pleasuremantling his cheeks.
"You have every man in fine condition. Condition couldn't bebetter, in fact, for those of the men who are likely to get onthe actual battle line. And all the work is well understood,too. In fact, Captain, you can all but rest on your oars duringthe next fortnight, up to your first game."
"Hadn't we better go on training hard every day, sir?" inquiredthe young captain.
"Not hard," replied coach, shaking his head. "If you do, you'llget your men down too fine. Now, there's almost more danger inhaving your men overtrained than in having them undertrained.Your men can be trained too hard and go stale."
"I've heard of that," Dick nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes," continued coach, "and I've seen school teams that sufferedfrom training down too fine. Boys can't stand it. They haven'tas much flesh in training down hard, and they haven't as muchendurance as college men, who are older. Captain, you will trainyour men lightly, three afternoons a week. For the rest, seeto it that they stick to all training orders, including diet andhygiene and no tobacco. But don't work any of the men hard, withan idea of getting them in still better shape. You can't do it."
"Then I'd like to make a suggestion, Coach."
"Go ahead, Captain."
"You never saw a school team, did you, sir, that understood itssignal work any too well?"
"Never," laughed Mr. Morton.
"Then I would suggest, sir, that most of our training time, fromnow until the season opens, be spent on drilling in the signals.We ought to keep at practicing the signals. We ought to getthe signals down better than ever a Gridley team had them before,sir."
"You've just the right idea, Captain!" cried Mr. Morton heartily,resting one hand around Dick's shoulders. "I was going to orderthat, but I'm glad you anticipated me."
"Hudson," called out Prescott, "you head a scrub team. Take themen you want after I've chosen for the school team."
Dick rapidly made his choice for the school team. He played centerhimself, putting Dave Darrin at quarter, Greg Holmes as left tackleand Tom Reade as right end. Dalzell and Hazelton were left out,but they understood, quite well, that this was to avoid showingfavoritism by taking all of Dick & Co. on the star team for practice.
"Let me play quarter, Hudson," whispered Drayne, going over tothe acting captain of the "scrub."
"Not this afternoon, anyway," smiled Hudson. "I want Dalzell."
Drayne fell back. He was not chosen at all for the scrub team.Yet, as he had nearly a score of companions, out of the largefootball squad, he had no special reason to feel hurt. Thosewho had not been picked for either team lined up at the sides.There was a chance that some of them might be called out as subs,though practice in signal work was hardly likely to result inany of the players being injured.
Drayne did not appear to take his mild snub very seriously.
In fact, after his one outbreak before the team captain, and hissubsequent remarks to the girls, Drayne had appeared to fall inline, satisfied even to be a member of the school's big squad.
The ball was placed for a snap-back, and Coach Morton soundedthe whistle.
"Twelve-nine-seventeen---twenty-eight---four!" called Dave Darrin.
Then the scrimmage was on in earnest. As soon as the play hadproperly developed Mr. Morton blew his whistle, for this waspractice only in the signal part.
Then Hudson took the ball and Dalzell called off:
"Nine---eight---thirteen---two!"
Again the ball was put in play, to be stopped after ten seconds.
So it went on through the afternoon's work. The substitutes onthe side lines watched with deep interest, for they, too, hadto learn all the signal work.
Within three afternoons of practice Dick had nearly all of hisplayers so that they knew every signal, and were instantly readyto execute their parts in whatever was called for.
But there was no danger of knowing the signals too well. CaptainPrescott still called out the squad and gave signal work unceasingly.
"The Gridley boys never jumped so swiftly to carry out their signalsbefore, Captain," spoke Mr. Morton commendingly.
"I want to have this line of work ahead of anything that Tottenvillecan show next Saturday," Dick replied.
"I guess you have the Tottenville boys beaten all right," noddedMr. Morton.
Tottenville High School always gave one of the stiffest gamesthat Gridley had to meet. This season Tottenville was first onthe list. Prescott's young men knew that they had a stiff fight.It was to take place on the Gridley grounds---that was comfortto the home eleven.
The entire student body was now feeling the enthusiasm of theopening of the season on Saturday.
The townsmen of Gridley had subscribed as liberally as ever tothe athletics fund. There had also been a fine advance sale ofseats, and the Gridley band had been engaged to make the occasiona lively one.
"You'll win, if ever the signs were worth anything, Captain,"remarked Mr. Morton to Prescott, at recess Thursday forenoon.
"Of course we'll win, sir," laughed Dick. "That's the Gridleyway---that's all. We don't know how to be whipped. I've beentaught that ever since I first entered the High School."
"Pshaw!" muttered Drayne, who was passing.
"Don't you believe our chances are good, Mr. Drayne?" asked Mr.Morton, smiling.
"I look upon the Gridley chances as being so good, sir," repliedPhin, "that, if I weren't a member of the squad, and a studentof the High School, I think I'd be tempted to bet all I couldraise on Tottenville."
"Betting is too strong a vice for boys, Mr. Drayne," replied thesubmaster, rather stiffly. "And doubt of your own comrades isn'tvery good school spirit."
"I was talking, for the moment, as an outsider," replied PhinDrayne, flushing.
"Change around then, Mr. Drayne, and consider yourself, like everyother student of this school, as an insider wherever the Gridleyinterests are involved."
Drayne moved away, a half-sneer on his face.
"I don't like that young man," muttered Mr. Morton confidentiallyto the young captain of the team.
"I have no violent personal admiration for him," Prescott answered.
Then the bell sounded, calling all the boys and girls back totheir studies.
At just about the hour of noon, a young caller strode into theyard, paused an instant, studying the different entrances of theHigh School building, then kept straight on and entered.
"A visitor for Mr. Prescott, in the reception, room," announcedthe teacher in charge of the assembly room.
Bowing his thanks, Dick passed out of the room, crossed the hall,entered a small room, and turned to greet his caller.
A fine-looking, broad-shouldered, bronzed young man of nineteenrose and came forward, holding out his hand.
"Do you remember me, Mr. Prescott?" asked the caller heartily.
"I've played football against you, somewhere," replied Dick, studyingthe other's face closely.
"Yes, I guess you have," laughed the other. "I played with Tottenvillelast year. I'm captain this season. Jarvis is my name."
"Oh, I'm downright glad to see you, Mr. Jarvis," Dick went on."Be seated, won't you?"
"Yes; if you wish. Though I've half a notion that what I haveto say may bring you jumping out of your seat in a moment."
"Anything happened that you want to postpone the game?" inquiredPrescott, taking a chair opposite his caller.
"No; we're ready for Saturday, and will give you the stiffestfight that is in us," re
turned Jarvis. "But see here, Mr. Prescott,I'll come direct to the point. Is 'thirty-eight, nine, eleven,four' your team's signal for a play around the left end, afterquarter has passed the ball to tackle and he to the end?"
Dick started, despite himself, for that was truly the signal forthat play.
"Really Mr. Jarvis, you don't expect me to tell you our signals!"laughed Dick, pretending to be unconcerned.
But Jarvis called off another signal and interpreted it.
"From your face I begin to feel sure that I'm reeling off theright signals," pursued the Tottenville youth. "Now, I'll getstill closer to the point, Mr. Prescott."
From an inside pocket Jarvis drew forth four typewritten pages,clamped together and neatly folded.
"Run your eye over these pages, Mr. Prescott, or as far as youwant to go."
As Dick read down the pages every vestige of color faded fromhis face.
Here was Gridley's whole elaborate signal code, laid down in blackand white to the last detail. It was all flawlessly correct,too.
"Mr. Jarvis," said Dick, looking up, "you've been a gentlemanin this matter. This is our signal code, signal for signal.It's the code on which we relied for our chance to give your teama thrashing on Saturday. I thank you for your honesty, sir."
"Why, I always have rather prided myself on a desire to do themanly thing," smiled Captain Jarvis.
"May I ask how this came into your possession?" demanded Dick.
"It was in our family mail box, this morning, and I took it outon my way to school," replied Jarvis. "You see, the heading onthe first sheet shows that the document purports to give the Gridleysignals."
"And it does give them, to a dot," groaned Prescott, paling again.
"So I showed it to our coach, Mr. Matthews, and to some of themembers of the team," continued Mr. Jarvis. "I would have broughtthis to you, in any case, and I'm heartily glad to say that everyone of our fellows agreed that it was the only manly thing todo."
"You have won the Gridley gratitude," protested Dick. "This codecouldn't have been tabulated by anyone but a member of our ownsquad. No one else had access to this list. There's a BenedictArnold somewhere in our crowd," continued Dick, with a suddenrush of righteous passion. "Oh, I wish we could find him. Butthis typewriting, I fear, will give us no conclusive evidence.Was the address on the envelope in which this came also typewritten?"
"No," replied Mr. Jarvis. "I opened this communication on thestreet, while on my way to school. I tossed the envelope away.Then I fell to studying this document."
"You must have thought it a hoax," smiled Dick wearily.
"I did, at first, yes," continued the Tottenville football captain."In fact, I was half of that mind when I left Tottenville tocome here. But I was determined to find out the truth of thematter. Mr. Prescott, I'm very nearly as sorry as you can be,to have to bring you this evidence that you have a sneak in GridleyHigh School."
"I'd far rather have lost Saturday's game," choked Prescott, "thanto discover that we've such a sneak in Gridley High School. I'mfearfully upset. I wish I had any kind of evidence on which tofind this sneak."
"Have you any suspicions?"
"That would be too much to say yet."
"Of course, Mr. Prescott," continued the Tottenville youth, "you'llnow have to revise all your signals. It will be a huge undertakingbetween now and Saturday. If you wish to postpone the game, I'llconsent. Our coach has authorized me to say this."
"I think not," replied Dick, "though on behalf of the team I thankyou. I'll have to speak to our coach, and Mr. Morton is in hisclassroom, occupied until the close of the school session."
"I'll meet you anywhere, Mr. Prescott, after school is over."
"You're mighty good, Mr. Jarvis," murmured Dick gratefully. "Now,by the way, if we're to catch the sneak who has done this dastardlything, we've got to work fast. We ought not to let the traitorsuspect anything until we're ready to act. Mr. Jarvis, do youmind leaving here promptly, and going to 'The Morning Blade' office?If you tell Mr. Pollock that you're waiting for me, he'll giveyou a chair and plenty to read."
"I'm off, then," smiled Jarvis, rising and reaching for his hat.
"I want to shake hands with you, Jarvis, and to thank you againfor your manly conduct in bringing this thing straight to me."
"Why, that's almost insulting," retorted Jarvis quizzically."Why shouldn't an American High School student be a gentleman?Wouldn't you have done the same for me, if the thing had beenturned around?"
"Of course," Dick declared hastily. "But I'm glad that this fellinto your hands. If we had gone into the game, relying on thissignal code-----"
"We'd have burned you to a crisp on the gridiron," laughed Jarvis."But what earthly good would it do our school to win a game thatwe got by clasping hands with a sneak and a traitor? Can anyschool care to win games in that fashion? But now, I'm off for'The Blade's office---if your Mr. Pollock doesn't throw me out."
"He won't," Dick replied, "I'm a member of 'The Blade' staff."
"Don't go back into assembly room with a face betraying as muchas yours does," whispered Captain Jarvis, over his shoulder.
"Thank you for the tip," Dick responded.
When young Prescott stepped back into the general assembly roomhis face, though not all the color had returned to it, wore asmiling expression. He stepped jauntily, with his head well up,as he moved to his seat.
For fifteen minutes or more Dick made a pretense of studying histrigonometry hard. Then, picking up a pen with a careless gesture,he wrote slowly, with an appearance of indifference, this note:
_"Dear Mr. Morton: Something of the utmost importance has comeup in connection with the football work. Will you, without mentioningthis note, and without doing anything that can sound the warningto any other student, meet me at 'The Blade' office as soon aspossible after school is dismissed? I shall go to 'The Blade'office just as soon as I get away from here, and I shall awaityou in the greatest anxiety.
"Prescott."_
This note Dick carried forward and left on the general desk.It was addressed to Mr. Morton, and marked "immediate."
When the reciting classes returned, and the teachers followed,Mr. Morton read his note without change of expression.
A moment later school was dismissed.
"In a hurry, Dick?" called Dave, racing after his leader as theyoung men made a joyous break away from the school building.
"Yes," breathed Prescott. "Come along, Dave. But I don't wantthe others, for I don't want a crowd."
"Why, what-----"
"Quiet, now, old fellow," murmured Dick. "You'll have a big enoughsurprise in a few moments."
They got away together before their other chums had a chanceto catch up.
"From the look in your face, I'd say that there was somethingqueer in the air," guessed Dave.
"There is, Darrin. But wait until the moment comes to talk about it."
Walking rapidly, the two chums came to "The Blade" office. Jarvis,who had been sitting at the back of the office, rose as the twoGridley boys entered. Dick quietly introduced Dave to the youngman from Tottenville who greeted him cordially.
"Now, we're waiting for one more before we talk," smiled Dickanxiously.
At that moment the door opened again, and Mr. Morton entered briskly.
"Now, Captain, what is your news?" called coach, as he came forward.
"Why, this is one of the Tottenville team, isn't it?"
"Mr. Morton, Captain Jarvis, of the Tottenville High School team,"replied Dick, and the two shook hands.
Then Dick drew the typewritten document from his pocket. Theycould talk here, for Mr. Pollock had been the only other occupantof the room, and that editor has just stepped out to the composingroom.
"Captain Jarvis received this in the mail this morning, sir,"announced Prescott, in a voice that quivered with emotion.
Coach glanced through the paper, his face showing plainly whathe felt. Then Dick took the pap
er and passed it to Dave Darrin,who sat consumed by curiosity.
"The abominable traitor---whoever he is!" cried Dave, risingas though he found his chair red hot. "And I think I can comepretty near putting the tag on the sneak!"