The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER IV

  ANOTHER DISAPPEARANCE

  "Hello! What's up?" demanded Sid, as he and Phil, about to leave theirapartment, were almost hurled from their feet when Tom burst in. "Whatin the name of the Gaelic Wars ails you, Tom? Has some one else left theteam; or is the college on fire?"

  "Yes, why this unseemly haste?" came from Phil, as he sank back on thesofa and endeavored to recover his breath, which was almost at thevanishing point because of the suddenness of his chum's advent.

  "Haste? I guess you'd be in a hurry if you just heard what I did!"exploded Tom. "I'm on the track of our chair! What's the matter with youfellows, anyhow? I thought you were coming out and help me get on thetrail of it."

  "Oh, Sid had to look at Miss Harrison's picture before he could ventureout," replied Phil, with a mocking grin at his chum. And then he dodgedto escape a book, while Tom murmured:

  "You old misogynist! And me working like a detective to get on the trailof our beloved chair! What kept you in, Phil?"

  "Couldn't get his tie fixed to suit him," responded Sid, thus gettingone in on the quarter-back, who was rather noted for his taste in neckscarfs.

  "Well, come on, now!" urged the pitcher. "We've got time enough to getto town and back before the 'eats,' and if we go now Proc. Zane won't beso apt to spot us."

  "What's the game?" asked Sid.

  "Second-hand Shylock has our chair," explained Tom briefly, as he toldof the information Wallops had given him. "We'll go talk to him like aDutch uncle, and make him tell how he dared come into our rooms while wewere at practice. Come on!"

  "The nerve of Komsky!" cried Phil. "I'm with you," and the three ladshurried from the college, crossed the campus, and were headed for atrolley that would take them to the village. They saw the car coming,and were about to sprint for it, when Tom became aware of the figure ofa small, fussy little man striding toward them from behind a row oftrees, holding up his hand as if to command a halt.

  "Zane!" gasped the pitcher.

  "The proctor," added Phil, in a whisper. "He hasn't any right to stop usnow!"

  But whether the official had the right or not, he was evidently going toexercise it, and our heroes thought it better to obey.

  "Well, young gentlemen," began the proctor, as he strode up to the trio,"you are evidently going to the village."

  "Yes, sir," answered Tom, meekly.

  "There goes the car," remarked Sid in a low voice. "There won't beanother for half an hour, and we'll sure be late for grub. Hang Zane,anyhow."

  "May I ask how long you intend to remain?" went on the obnoxious collegeofficial.

  "Not very long," answered Phil. "We are going on an errand. We didn'tknow it was against the rules not to leave the college grounds indaylight, Mr. Zane." It was a sarcastic reference to the many somewhatchildish rules the proc. was in the habit of framing up from time totime.

  "There is no rule prohibiting students from leaving the grounds indaylight, Mr. Clinton," said the proctor, severely, "but the reason Istopped you is that I wish to point out that if you go to town now youwill hardly be back in time for supper, and that means that you willprobably get a meal in Haddonfield. Also, there is no set rule againstthat, but Dr. Churchill does not like it. Staying to supper in thevillage might mean that you would stay later, and I need hardly pointout that there _is_ a rule about being out after hours. That is all,"and the little proctor walked stiffly away.

  "Well, wouldn't that get your goat!" murmured Tom, when the official wasbeyond hearing.

  "I should say so; and also frizzle your back teeth," added Sid.

  "Shall we go?" asked Phil, doubtfully.

  "Of course," asserted Tom. "And we'll fool Zane, too. It won't takeus long to have it out with Komsky. Then we can go to one of thosequick-lunch places, have a bite, and get back to college in plenty oftime before locking up. We can arrange to have an expressman bring backthe chair."

  "Good!" exclaimed Phil. "I was afraid you'd propose that we lug it backon the car, and while I'd do a good deal to get it again, I think we'dlook foolish toting it home in our arms."

  "Afraid of meeting some girls, I suppose," sneered Tom.

  "Say, supposing Komsky hasn't got it," suggested Sid, while Philblushed.

  "Perish the thought!" cried the pitcher. "We've _got_ to get our chairback, and if that Shylock hasn't it some of the other second-handdealers in town have."

  They strolled along, talking of the chair, the chances for a goodfootball team, and many other college matters until the next car came,when they hopped aboard, and were soon in Haddonfield.

  "Vell, young gentlemans, vot is it? Somedings nice vor de college room,ain't it? Yes! No? Vell, Isaac Komsky has it vot effer you like, undcheap! So help me gracious, I lose money on everyt'ing I sell! Now, votit is?"

  Thus spoke the old second-hand dealer, when our three friends entered.Eagerly he had come forward, rubbing his hands and wagging his long,matted beard, while from under bushy eyebrows he peered at them witheager orbs.

  "We're looking for a chair, Komsky," said Tom, brusquely. "A nice, easy,soft, comfortable chair that we can sit in."

  "Oh, so! An easy chair is it? Vell, I haf many, und cheap! It is a shameabout de cheapness. Look, here is one, vot is so--vot you call--easy,dot it vould make you schleepy efen ven you looket at it, ain't it?"

  He thrust forward a most uncomfortable wooden rocker, with gaudy cushionson the seat and back. The cushions were in Randall colors--yellow andmaroon--and the chair had evidently been sold by some student, eitherbecause he needed the money or because he could afford better furniture.

  "No, that's not the kind we want," said Tom, whose eyes were rovingabout the cluttered-up shop. He and his chums had decided on the courseof pretending to want to buy a chair, with the idea that if Komsky hadtaken theirs, by hook or crook, he would be more apt to show it if hesaw prospective customers, than if he knew they had come demanding theirrights. "We want an easier chair," went on Tom.

  "Oh, an easier vun? Den I haf it. See!" and he brought to light a bigTurkish rocker, that was in the last stages of decay.

  Meanwhile Sid and Phil had been strolling about, leaving Tom to engageKomsky in conversation. The two looked in many corners, and peered underheaps of furniture, but they did not see their chair. Nor, if the dealerhad it, did he show any desire to produce it. Tom looked at rocker afterrocker that was brought out, and at last, convinced that his method waslikely to prove a failure, he boldly stated the case, and demanded toknow, whether by mistake or otherwise, the dealer had taken their oldrelic.

  The surprise of Mr. Komsky was pitiful to observe. He all but tore outhis beard, and called upon his ancestors as far back as the sixteenthgeneration to witness that he had not even seen the chair. He was anhonest man, he was a poor man, he was a man born to poverty and under anunlucky star, but never, never, _never_! not if you were to give him amillion dollars, would he take a chair from a student's room, withoutpermission.

  "For vy should I, ven I can buys dem efery day?" he demanded, with apathetic gesture of his forward-thrust hands.

  "Well, I guess it isn't here," spoke Tom, regretfully, when they hadexhausted all the possibilities. "Yet you were at college to-day,Komsky."

  "Vy, sure I vos at der college to-day. Nearly efery veek I am there,ain't it? Yet I have not your chair."

  It was evident that he was telling the truth. He did not have the chairthen, though he might have had it, and have sold it to some otherstudent, perhaps one from Boxer Hall or Fairview, for those lads alsopatronized the second-hand dealers, and Komsky was one of the largest.

  "Caesar's grandmother!" cried Tom, in dismay, as this possibilitysuggested itself, "just suppose Langridge or some of those chaps had ourchair! Say, maybe Langridge put up the game!"

  "Hardly possible," asserted Phil. "Come on, we'll have a look in some ofthe other shops, then we'll get grub and hurry back. I think I sawdrops of blood in Zane's eye."

  "He sure _would_ like to get our names down in his
little book," saidSid.

  But a round of the other second-hand dealers, where inquiries were made,developed nothing. There were many easy chairs on sale, but that of ourheroes was not to be seen, and sorrowfully they returned to the college.

  It was long past the regular supper time, but they had satisfied theirhunger in Haddonfield. And, in spite of their troubles--their worrimentover the chair, and the mix-up that was sure to result in the footballteam--they had managed to eat a good meal.

  They saw Proctor Zane, as they strolled up over the campus, and theofficial glanced sharply at them.

  "He's just wishing we were coming in late," declared Tom.

  "I believe you," assented Phil.

  They entered their room, stumbling in the darkness over books andchairs, for they never took the trouble to put their apartment torights.

  "I say, strike a light, some one!" exclaimed Tom, rubbing his shinswhere they had come in contact with a chair.

  There was a click as Phil turned the electric switch, and theincandescent glowed. For a moment the three chums stood in the middleof the room, gazing at each other.

  "Doesn't it seem lonesome without the old chair," spoke Phil at length.

  "Sort of makes the room look bigger though," declared Sid, as he threwhimself on the sofa. It was a poor consolation at best.

  "I can't imagine what has become of it," said Tom, as he proceeded toget into some lounging clothes.

  "Well, now for some boning, and maybe we'll forget our troubles," wenton Phil, as he scattered a pile of books, looking for his own.

  "Are you going to the football meeting to-night?" asked Tom, as hefinished a hurried toilet, for a session of the squad had been calledlate that afternoon to consider the loss of Kerr and Molloy.

  "I may come over later," spoke Phil. "I think the best thing we can dois to----"

  He paused suddenly, and glanced quickly toward the shelf that served asa mantle. The gaze of his chums followed. The room seemed suddenly tobecome oppressively still. They could almost hear each other breathing.Then the same thought came to all three.

  "The clock!" they exclaimed in a tragic chorus.

  "It's gone!" gasped Tom.

  "Vanished!" added Phil, staring at the vacant space as though unable orunwilling to believe the evidence of his eyesight.

  "Another mysterious disappearance," exploded Sid, and then Tom remarkedin significant tones:

  "I guess we'll have to chain the sofa if we want to keep that!"