CHAPTER XII
THE MISSING DEED
Bad news, they say, travels fast, and certainly it must have made arecord trip throughout the length and breadth of Randall that afternoon.
Tom and the others had scarcely changed from their football togs intoordinary clothes before half a score of their fellows demanded to knowif they had heard the rumors that were flying around.
"We sure have," replied Tom. "How much truth is there in them, JerryJackson?"
"I don't know," replied the Jersey twin.
"We only heard as much as you did," echoed his brother.
"Prexy will make an announcement at chapel to-morrow morning, if there'sanything in it," declared Dutch Housenlager.
"Then I wish it was chapel time now," murmured Phil. "I don't like thissuspense."
"Me either," declared Sid.
"Well, there's one consolation," put in Frank Simpson. "If it's gotanything to do with the law there's no present danger that the collegewill be torn down--not before the football season is over, anyhow."
"Why not?" demanded Tom.
"Because the law is so slow. If it's a question of title to land it cango through several courts before it's definitely decided. I know becausemy father's a lawyer, and he's had several cases of disputed titles."
"Well, there's something in that," declared Phil. "But I don't like tothink of old Randall being in any kind of danger. It makes me uneasy."
The talk became general, and there were many speculations as to what thetrouble really was, and what the outcome would be. The conversationcontinued after our friends had gone to their room, whither flocked anumber of their chums to discuss the situation. For the time beingfootball was forgotten, and the trouble of Randall held the centre ofthe stage.
"Well, there's no use worrying about a bridge, until you hear the rustleof its wings," said Sid at length.
"What we fellows need to do is to get out and make a noise like havingsome fun," opined Dutch Housenlager. "When the cat's gone on hervacation, the mice eat bread and cheese, you know. Proc. Zane iscloseted with the bunch of highbrows, and so what's the matter withcutting up some?"
"Dutch, I'm surprised at you!" exclaimed Tom, reproachfully.
"Why? What's the matter?" asked the fun-loving youth, innocently.
"Wanting to skylark at a time like this, just because the authoritiesare in _statuo quo_," went on Tom. "Not on your life, Dutch! It's funenough to play some tricks when you're taking chances on getting caught.Now it would be like taking pie from a baby in arms."
"I guess you're right," admitted Dutch Housenlager, contritely. "We'lldefer the operation," he went on, in solemn tones. "I think the patientwill survive until morning."
Seldom had there been such an attendance at service as greeted Dr.Churchill when he stood on the platform in the Booker Memorial Chapelthe next morning. The early sun glinted in through the stained glasswindows, and seemed to pervade the room with a mystic light that addedto the solemnity of the occasion.
The Scriptural selection was from one of the Psalms of David--one ofthose beautiful prose poems which are such a comfort in times oftrouble. And as the vibrant tones of the venerable president's voicerose and fell, when he feelingly spoke the words, it seemed to the boys,careless and happy-go-lucky as they might be ordinarily, that a newdignity and depth of appreciation was theirs.
After the prayer, which was in keeping with the Bible reading, Dr.Churchill arose, and came slowly to the edge of the platform. He stoodfor a moment, silently contemplating the throng of earnest young facesraised to his, and then he spoke.
"Men of Randall," he began, solemnly, "we are facing a crisis in thehistory of our college. Men of Randall, it behooves us to meet itbravely, and with our faces to the enemy. Men of Randall, we may be atthe parting of the ways, and so, being men together, I speak to you asmen."
The good doctor paused, and a sound, as of a great sigh, passed throughthe assemblage. Usually when the doctor had any announcement to make, headdressed the students as "young gentlemen." They felt the change in theappellation more than any amount of talk would have impressed them.
"Doubtless you have heard rumors of the crisis in our affairs," went onthe president, after taking off his glasses, slowly wiping them, andreplacing the frames back of his ears, over which the white locks fell."Whatever you have heard I beg of you to disregard to this extent, thatyou do not repeat it. In evil times words increase trouble. I will tellyou the truth as nearly as I and the gentlemen associated with me cancome at it.
"Randall College, as you know, was built many years ago. The land waspurchased from a fund left by a gentleman who had the good of the youthof this land at heart. Other endowments enabled buildings to be put up.In all these years no hint of trouble has come to us, but now we areconfronting a fact, not a theory, as your political science teaches you.
"The land whereon Randall and the various buildings stand, yes, wherethere is laid out the fields for the pursuit of baseball and football,and I think I am right in assuming this to be the football season?"
The president paused, and glanced questioningly at the proctor, whom heevidently took for an authority on sports. For Dr. Churchill, while anenthusiastic supporter of every team in the college, knew rather lessabout the various terms, and times of games than the average baby. Theproctor nodded in acquiescence.
"Even the very football field is under suspicion," continued thepresident, and there was another great sigh, mainly from that section ofthe chapel where sat Tom and his chums. "In fact the entire ground onwhich the college is built has been claimed by outsiders.
"The facts, in brief, are these: When the land was purchased there wereseveral persons who had interests therein. From them releases, in theform of quit-claim deeds, were obtained, and then it was thought thatthe corporation of Randall had a clear title. Now it develops that acertain Simon Hess was one of the persons who gave a quit-claim deed,after being paid for his share in the land.
"That deed, I regret to say, can not be found, and in the absence of it,it is as if it never existed. Simon Hess is dead, but he left severalheirs, and they are now making a claim against the college. Perhapsthey might not be so eager, were it not for certain lawyers who areapparently urging them on.
"An attempt was made to settle with them when they made their claimknown, but the lawyers insisted that their clients prosecute theirsuits, and so the hope of compromise was abandoned. It seems that theywant the life's blood of our college, and, as you know, we are not awealthy institution.
"Yesterday I received from Mr. Franklin Langridge, the lawyer whorepresents the claimants, a demand for a large cash settlement if theirclaim was abandoned. I need hardly say that Randall is in no position topay a large amount in cash. I called a meeting of the faculty, and wecame to that conclusion. I have so notified Mr. Langridge."
At the first mention of that name there had been an uneasy movementamong the students. At its repetition, when it was whispered around thatthis was the father of Fred Langridge, the former bully of the college,the movement became more pronounced.
"Mr. Langridge," went on the president, when he was suddenly interruptedby a series of hisses. Dr. Churchill started. Mr. Zane hurriedlywhispered to him, explaining that it was only the name of Langridge thatthus met with disapprobation. The venerable president raised his handfor silence.
"Men of Randall," he said, solemnly, "that was unworthy of you."
The hissing stopped instantly.
"And so our college is in danger," continued the good doctor, after apause, "but we must face it bravely. We will not give way to it. We willmeet it like men! We will fight the good fight. We will----"
"Three cheers for Randall College and Dr. Churchill!" yelledBean Perkins, leaping to his feet and forgetting that he was inchapel--forgetting that it was a solemn occasion--forgetting everythingsave that he was wrought up to the point of frenzy. "Three cheers, andthe biggest tiger that ever wore stripes, fellows!"
Oh, what a shout
there was! Every student was on his feet in an instant,yelling at the top of his voice. Even some of the faculty joined in, andDr. Emerson Tines was observed to be wildly waving his hands. How thecheers rang out! And then the tiger!
Dr. Churchill blew his nose violently, and wiped his glasses severaltimes, for there was a mist of tears on them. He tried to speak--to goon--but he was too affected.
Slowly he turned, and walked back to his seat amid the faculty. And thenBean Perkins did what forever covered him with glory, wherever, in afteryears, the stories of Randall College were told.
Jumping up on one of the pews, he raised his hand for silence. Then, ina voice that was singularly sweet and clear, he started that schoolsong: "_Aut Vincere, Aut Mori!_"
Welled out the strains from hundreds of throats--the song of songs--thesong that was always sung in times of victory, or when the teams ondiamond or gridiron seemed to be putting up a losing fight--the songthat had snatched many a victory from defeat.
Forth it rolled, deep-voiced and solemn, sung in the original Latin,in which it had been composed years ago by a gifted graduate: "_AutVincere, Aut Mori!_"--"Either We Conquer, or We Die!"
It was the rallying cry to the battle that confronted the college.