CHAPTER VI--A DOUBTFUL MATTER
Chester and June Arlington remained in Hudsonville that night and thenext day. On Monday they came back to Fardale, but Chester did notreturn to the academy. He declined to go to the house where June hadbeen stopping, but ordered the best suite of rooms in the Fardale Hotel,and there he went comfortably to bed.
Perhaps it was a mistake to say he went comfortably to bed, for he wasfar from comfortable, as his back had been hurt badly, although theHudsonville doctors consoled him with the assurance that, with rest andproper treatment, he would recover without any permanent injury.
June remained at the hotel to care for him as best she could, and Mrs.Arlington was notified of his misfortune, with the result that she lostno time in hastening to the side of her idolized son.
Dick had called at the hotel to see June a moment, and she showed himthe telegram that told her that her mother was coming with all speed.
"I don't know what will happen when mother gets here," confessed June,"but there may be trouble. To tell the truth, I am afraid there will be,for Chester is determined to tell her I gave you that locket, unless Iget it back."
Dick's heart sank a little, but he soon said:
"Then I suppose I shall have to give it up, for I do not wish you to getinto trouble on my account."
But she declined to take it.
"No," she said firmly. "I gave it to you, and you are to keep it. I wantyou to promise to keep it, even though my mother demands it of you."
His heart rose at once.
"You may be sure I will do so," he said.
He was in very good spirits as he went whistling back to the academy. Itwas just past midday, but the autumn sun was well over into thesouthwest. The wind sent a flock of yellow leaves scudding along theroadside like a lot of startled birds. The woods were bare, and therewas a haze on the distant hills. In spite of the bright sunshine, inspite of the satisfaction in his heart, he felt vaguely the sadness ofautumn, as if the world itself were fading and growing old and feeble,like a man that has passed the prime of life and is hurrying down thehill that leads to decrepit old age and death. Always the autumnimpressed Dick thus. True he saw in it much of beauty, but it was a sadbeauty that made him long to fly to another clime where fallen leavesand bare woods would not remind him of winter.
Not that Dick disliked the winter, for in it he found those pleasuresenjoyed by every healthful lad with a healthy mind; but it was thechange from early autumn to winter days that stirred his emotions sokeenly and filled him with that unspeakable longing for something thatwas not his.
A stream ran through the little valley, the sunshine reflected on itssurface. Beyond the valley was a little grove, where a red squirrel wasbarking, the clear air and favorable wind bringing the chatter of thelittle creature to the lad's ears. Some one had started a fire on thedistant hillside, and the smoke rose till it was hurled away by thesweeping wind.
Dick's eyes noted much of beauty in the landscape, for he was sensitiveto color, and the woods were gray and brown and green, the fields weremottled with brown and green, for there remained a few places where thegrass was not quite dead, late though it was; the hills were misty bluein the far distance, and the sky overhead was cloudless.
From a high point of the road he could look out on the open sea, and heheard the breakers roaring on Tiger Tooth Ledge.
The squirrel in the grove seemed calling to him, the woods seemed tobeckon, and even the dull, distant roar of the sea struck a responsivechord in his heart. A sudden desire came upon him to stray deep into thewoods and hills and seek to renew the old-time friendship and confidencewith nature and the wild things he had once been able to call aroundhim. Then he thought of Fardale, of the football-field, of his friendsat school, and, lastly, of--June.
"No," he muttered, "I would not give up my new friends for those I usedto know. The birds and squirrels know me no longer, but I have foundhuman friends who are dearer."
He resumed his whistling and trudged onward with a light heart.
That afternoon Dick worked earnestly with the scrub on the field, forthe weakness of the academy's line in the recent game with Hudsonvillehad shown him that injury to one or two players simultaneously mightcause Fardale's defeat unless some remarkably good substitutes wereready at hand to go in. And he had come to realize that first-classsubstitutes were lacking.
The injured ones were improving as swiftly as could be expected, but itwas certain they would not get into practice until near the end of theweek, and Shannock might not be able to go on to the field for anotherweek to come.
At the opening of the season Fardale had resolved not to play withFranklin Academy for reasons well known on both sides. A year beforeFranklin had permitted a Fardale man and a traitor to play with itseleven, and the traitor had dashed red pepper into Dick Merriwell's eyesat a time when it seemed certain that the game would be won by thecadets through young Merriwell's efforts.
Brad Buckhart "mingled in" and promptly knocked the pepper-throwerstiff, after which the fellow had been exposed.
But Franklin's action in permitting the traitor to play on her team hadangered the Fardale athletic committee so that a vote was taken not tomeet her on the gridiron again. But the faculty at Franklin took a hand,offered apologies, regrets, and made promises to look after the team inthe future. They felt a keen disgrace to have Fardale refuse to meet theFranklin eleven. The result was that the Fardale athletic committeefinally withdrew the ban, and a date was arranged with Franklin.
This was the team Fardale had to meet on the following Saturday afterthe game with Hudsonville, and to Dick's ears came a rumor that Franklinhad a remarkable eleven that had been winning games in a most alarmingmanner.
To add to Dick's uneasiness came a report that Franklin had hired aprofessional coach and that there were at least four "ringers" on theteam. Dick was not inclined to believe this at first, for it did notseem possible such fellows would be permitted on the eleven after theentreaty and assurance of the Franklin faculty.
Brad Buckhart resolved to investigate. Without saying a word to Dick,who, he fancied, might object to "spying," the Texan paid a man to findout the truth. The result was that, one day, he informed Dick there wasnot the least doubt but the "ringers" were to be with the Franklin team.
"I can hardly believe it now!" exclaimed Dick, when Buck had explainedhow he came by his knowledge. "How can they afford to do such a thing?"
"Well, pard," said the Westerner, "I hear that they're hot set to wipeout the disgrace of last year's defeat, and then they won't care a rapwhether we play with them any more or not. That's what's doing over yonat Franklin. I opine we'd better decline to play."
"No," said Dick. "We have no absolute proof that there are 'ringers' ontheir team, although it is likely your man made no mistake. I shallnotify their manager at once that I have heard such a report, askconcerning its correctness, and protest against the questionable menbeing in the game."
"And then if they are in it just the same?"
"We'll play them," said Dick grimly, "and beat them. After that we candecline to have any further athletic dealings with them."
"Partner, you're right!" exclaimed the Texan. "The only thing I fear isthat our team may not be up to its usual form. If it is, we can down'em, 'ringers' or no 'ringers.'"
No reply came to Dick's note of protest until Friday, before the gamewas to come off. Then the manager answered briefly that all the men onhis team were amateurs and were taking regular courses at FranklinAcademy.
"That settles it," said Dick. "I'd play him now if I had proof that hehad 'ringers' on his team. Then I'd relieve my mind after the game."
Dick Merriwell's Trap; Or, The Chap Who Bungled Page 6