CHAPTER XX
PHIL GETS A TELEGRAM
The music stopped with a discord. A strange spell seemed thrown over thedancers. Some, who had come to a stop, now tried to move, and found thattheir feet were fast to the floor. It was an effort to lift them. Thesurface that had seemed well waxed was now as sticky as if glue had beenpoured over it. To walk was almost impossible; to dance, out of thequestion.
"Maybe it's only in a few places, and we can scrape it off," suggestedWill Foster, a chum of Gerhart. "Let's try."
He endeavored, with his knife, to remove some of the sticky stuff, buthe might as well have tried to dig up a board in the floor.
"What is it?" asked Gerhart's partner.
"I don't know," he answered ruefully. "Something very sticky has gottenon the floor."
"Maybe some of the waiters spilled ice cream or coffee, or some candygot there," she suggested.
"This is stickier than any of those things," spoke Gerhart. "I--Iguess some one has played a trick on us."
"A trick?"
"Yes; the sophomores. I should have been more on the lookout, but Ididn't think they could get in. I told the men at the door not to letany one in who didn't have a freshman pin. But--well, we'll wait a bitand see if it dries up," he concluded.
But the stuff on the floor didn't dry up. Instead, it became moresticky. The ballroom was like one big sheet of adhesive flypaper, andthe dancers, walking about, felt their shoes pull up with queer littlenoises every time they took a step. They tried to dance once more, butit was a miserable failure. One might as well have tried to waltz ortwo-step on the sands of the seashore.
Then from a window there sounded the old song: "Clarence McFadden, HeWanted to Waltz." The chagrined dancers turned to the casement, tobehold a circle of mocking faces. Gerhart looked, too.
"Clarence McFadden, He Wanted to Waltz"]
"The sophs!" he cried, as he caught sight of Tom, Phil, Sid, DutchHousenlager and several others.
"At your service!" cried Phil. "Guess you'll have to dance to slow musicto-night!" And then, to show that it was in revenge for the fire scare,the sophomores sang: "Scotland's Burning."
"It worked to perfection, Dutch. However did you manage it?" asked Tom,as the sophomores, having satisfied themselves that the freshman dancehad been spoiled, walked back to college.
"Easy," answered the fun-loving student. "I mixed up a sticky preparationof glue, varnish, gum and so on, made it into a powder, and put itin alcohol. Then I sneaked in past the doorkeeper I had bribed, andsprinkled the stuff all over the floor. There was no color to it, andthey didn't notice it. The alcohol kept it from sticking until after themarch, and then, when the alcohol evaporated, it left the gum ready to doits work."
"And it did it," commented Sid.
It certainly did, for the disconcerted freshman and the pretty girlssoon left the hall. It was impossible to dance on the floor until thesticky stuff had been scraped off.
"It was rather a brutal trick, after all," said Tom to Phil a littlelater, when the three were in their room. "It would have been all righton the freshies alone, but the girls--they had to suffer, too."
"Of course," said Sid. "Why not? _Secundum naturam_, you know, accordingto the course of nature it had to be. The good with the bad. Thefreshies brought it on themselves, eh, Phil?"
"Oh, I suppose so," replied the quarter-back, who was busy with paperand pencil. "Still, it was a bit rough on the lassies. There were somepretty ones----"
"Oh, you fellows and the girls!" exclaimed Sid in disgust. "You make mesick!"
"That's all right," went on Tom easily. "You'll get yours some day, andthen we'll see----"
"Hello, where'd that picture come from?" asked Sid, pointing to anotherphotograph on the wall beside those of Ruth and Madge. Tom blushed abit, and did not answer. Phil looked up and exclaimed:
"Why, it's another picture of my sister! She must have had some new onestaken. Where did it come from?"
"She gave it to me," explained Tom, and his shoelace seemed suddenly tohave come unfastened, so it was necessary to stoop over to tie it.
"Hum!" murmured Phil, with a queer look at his chum's red face. "Shedidn't say anything to me about it. But if you're going to add to ourcollection, Tom, I guess it's up to me to get another one, too."
"Whose will you get now?" asked Sid. "Haven't you got enough girls'faces stuck up around here? Do you want another?"
"Not another," spoke Phil slowly, "but another of the same one. MissTyler promised me one of her new photographs."
"She did?" cried Tom, and he turned quickly.
"Yes; have you any objections?" and Phil gazed straight at Tom.
"No--oh, no. Of course not," he added hastily, "only I didn't know----What are you doing?" he asked rather suddenly, changing the subject, ashe saw Phil's paper and pencil.
"I'm working on a new football play," replied Phil, and he, too, seemedglad that the subject was changed.
"That's more like it," commented Sid. "Now you're talking sense. Let'shear it."
"It's this way," explained Phil, as he showed his chums what he haddrawn. "It's a fake tackle run, and a pass to the right half-back.Nothing particularly new about it, as it's often used, but my plan isto work it immediately after we run off a play of left-tackle throughright-tackle and right-end. After that play has been pulled off, itwill look as if we were trying to repeat it, and we'll catch the otherfellows off their guard. In this play, the left-tackle, after thesignal, turns back and takes the ball from me. He passes the ball to theright-half, who turns to the left for a run around our left-end. Ourfull-back charges on the opposing left-tackle, crossing in front of ourright-half to better conceal the ball. The left half-back helps theleft-tackle to make his quick turn, and then blocks off the opposingright-end, while I help make interference for the right-half, who's gotthe ball."
"That sounds good," commented Tom. "Go over it again."
Which Phil did, and his two chums both declared it ought to work well.They tried it in practice against the scrub next day, after CoachLighton and Captain Holly Cross had given their approval to it. The playoperated like a charm, and was good for a touch-down. It completelyfooled the second eleven.
"It remains to be seen whether it will do the same thing against anotherteam," said the coach. "But we'll try it Saturday against the DodvillePrep School. Now, boys, line up, and we'll run through it again? Alsothe forward pass and the on-side kick."
The players were in the midst of a scrimmage, and Joe Jackson had justmade a fine run, when Wallops was seen coming across the gridiron. Themessenger had an envelope in his hand, and at the sight of him PhilClinton turned pale.
"Get back, Wallops!" cried the coach. "You're in the way."
"I have a telegram for Mr. Clinton," said the messenger.
"Oh, all right. Come on."
Phil's hand were trembling so he could hardly open the message. Heread it at a glance. Tom went close to him, and put his hand on hisshoulder.
"Is it--is it----" he began.
"Dad says to hold myself in readiness to come at any time," said Philslowly.
There was silence among the players, all of whom knew of the seriousillness of Phil's mother. Coach Lighton went up to the quarter-back andsaid:
"Well, we won't practice any more to-day. It's too bad, Clinton."
Phil swallowed two or three times. He forced back a mistiness that wasgathering like a film over his eyes. He thrust the telegram into hisjacket.
"Let's go on with the practice," he said sturdily. "We aren't perfect inthat fake tackle run yet, and I want to use it against Dodville."
It was a plucky answer, and many a hardy player on the Randall elevenfelt a new liking for the quarter-back as he went to his place behindSnail Looper, who stooped to receive the ball.
A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football Page 20