A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXXII

  TOM GETS A TIP

  It lacked but two days of the big game with Boxer Hall. The Randalleleven had bucked against the scrub until that aggregation of substituteswas weary, worn and sore. For the 'varsity team was now a magnificentfighting machine. The men played together like clock-work, and were a joyto the heart of Coach Lighton. As for Holly Cross, no captain was everprouder of an eleven than he was. The ends were fast, the backs could gothrough the line for gains every time, guards, tackles and Snail Looperat center were like a wall of flesh. The punting, while not all thatcould be desired, was good, and several trick plays had been worked upwell nigh to perfection against the scrub. How they would work againstBoxer Hall was yet to be seen.

  But if Randall was in fine shape for the coming struggle on the gridiron,so was Boxer Hall. Reports from that institution showed that the elevenwas the best that had been turned out in many a season, and by comparingthe games played by Randall (the loss of one game to Fairview and thewinning of the other) and those played by Boxer Hall against the sameteams, an expert would have been hard put to pick the winner of thechampionship struggle.

  "But we're going to win, fellows!" cried Tom after two halves of hardpractice. "Aren't we, Phil, old chap?"

  "Of course," was the rather quiet answer.

  "How's your mother, Phil?" asked Holly Cross. "I hope she is gettingbetter."

  "I haven't heard for two days," replied the quarter-back, and his faceshowed a little worry.

  "Well, she must be all right, or your father would have wired," went onDutch Housenlager. "My, but I'm tired!" he added.

  "Don't go stale," cautioned the coach. "I think I can let up a bit onyou fellows now. We'll have only light practice to-morrow, and themorning of the game we'll do some kicking and run through the signals.Don't forget to listen for the word to change the system. We may have todo it if they get on to our curves, so to speak. But I don't believethey will. And don't forget that the signals for trick plays have beenaltered a bit. Also remember the tip for the sequence plays. I depend onthem for at least one touch-down. Now amuse yourselves some quiet wayto-night. Get to bed early, and sleep well. I hope none of you have anylessons to worry over."

  "We'll not let study worry us, no matter what happens, until after thegame!" cried Grasshopper Backus. "Wow! But what a celebration there'llbe if we win! The baseball championship, and then the football on top ofit! Wow!" and Grasshopper gave a leap into the air to show how exuberanthe felt. But Dutch Housenlager slyly put out his foot, and Grasshopperwent down in a heap.

  "I'll punch your head for that, Dutch!" he cried, springing up; butDutch, in spite of his bulk, was a good runner, and got away.

  "Well, I suppose you gladiators are all ready for the fray," spoke Sidthat evening, when Phil and Tom were in the room, one on the sofa andthe other curled up in the easy chair. Sid was stretched out on his bed.

  "Ready to do or die," answered Tom. "I hope it's a nice day."

  "Why, you don't mind playing in the rain, do you?" asked Sid. "I thoughtyou chaps were regular mudlarks."

  "So we are," went on Tom. "Only I want to see a good crowd out. It'smore enthusiastic."

  "I know what you want," declared Sid. "You want a lot of girls fromFairview Institute to be on hand. And, what's more, you want someparticular girl to see you make a star play. So does Phil, I'll wager."

  "Well, from what I hear there will be a good crowd of Fairview girls tosee the game," said Phil. "Fairview is sore at being walloped twice byBoxer Hall, and the co-eds want to see us put it all over that crowd. Sothey'll be on hand to cheer us."

  "Are you sure?" asked Tom.

  "Sure--Ruth told me," went on Phil. "Oh, it will be a glorious occasion!Don't you wish you were playing, Sid?"

  "Not for a minute! Baseball for mine! When I want to wallow in the mudand get my mouth and ears full of it, I know an easier way than playingfootball."

  "Yes; go out with a camera and get stuck in the swamp!" cried Tom, andhe got up, ready to dodge any missile which Sid might heave at him inrevenge for having his misadventure recalled. But the naturalist onlyanswered:

  "That's all right. I got the best picture of a fox you ever saw. The mudwill come off."

  "Oh, you're a hopeless case!" exclaimed Phil as he got up and began tochange his clothes, laying out a particularly "sporty" necktie.

  "Hello!" exclaimed Tom in some surprise. "Where are you going?"

  "Out," replied his chum noncommittally.

  "I thought you were told to stay in and take it easy to-night," saidSid.

  "Well, I'm not going to any exciting place," came from Phil as hestruggled with a stiff collar. "I'll be in early."

  "Going to town?" asked Tom.

  "Not Haddonfield."

  "Where?"

  "I'll bet he's going to see some girl!" exclaimed Sid. "He's got perfumeon his handkerchief, and he never wears that tie unless there's a damselin the offing."

  "Well, I don't mind admitting that there is a young lady in the case,"spoke Phil. "I'm going to call on my sister, and you can put that inyour pipe and smoke it, you hard-shelled old misogynist!"

  "I thought so!" cried Sid. "I knew it. But tell that yarn about yoursister to your grandmother. It's somebody else's sister you're going tosee. You'd never tog up like this for your own sister."

  "Maybe," admitted Phil coolly as he finished dressing.

  As he stooped over to lace his shoes an envelope fell from his pocket.Tom picked it up and handed it to him. He could not help seeing theaddress, and, with something like a start, he noticed that it was in thehandwriting of Madge Tyler. He handed it to Phil without a word, and henoticed that a dull red crept up under the bronze skin of his chum'sface. But Phil shoved the note into his pocket and made no comment.

  "He's going to see her--Madge," thought Tom, and he tried to struggleagainst the bitter feeling that seemed to well up in his heart.

  "Leave the door unlocked," was Phil's parting injunction as he went out."I'll be in early."

  "Girls, girls, girls!" grumbled Sid as he rolled over to a morecomfortable position. "I'll be hanged if I room with you fellows nextterm if you don't go a bit easier on this dame question. You don't giveme any attention at all. It's all football and the ladies."

  "It will soon be over," murmured Tom.

  "Which; football or the ladies?"

  "Football," was the answer, given with a laugh.

  Sid was asleep when Phil came quietly in, but Tom was wide awake. Still,he said nothing as Phil went about, getting ready for bed, and when hischum came close to him, Tom shut his eyes and feigned slumber. There wassomething coming between Tom and Phil. Both realized it, yet neitherliked to broach the subject, for it was a delicate one.

  "Well, how was your sister?" asked Sid pointedly of Phil the nextmorning.

  "Very well," replied Phil calmly. "By the way, Tom, she was asking foryou."

  "Yes," answered Tom, and there was coldness in his tones. He did notwait for Phil to go to lectures with him after chapel, but hurried offalone, and Phil, feeling humiliated, wondered if he had done or saidanything to hurt Tom's feelings. Tom took care to keep out of Phil's wayall that day, and when the last practice was over, save for some lightwork the morning of the game, the left-end hurried to his room. As heentered it he saw a note thrust under the door. He picked it up. It wasaddressed to him, and an odd feature of it was that the letters were allprinted.

  "Who brought this here?" he asked of Sid, who was studying his biology.

  "Didn't know anybody had brought anything."

  "Some one shoved this note under the door for me," went on Tom, rippingopen the missive. He could not repress a start as he read, in the sameprinted letters that were on the envelope, this message:

  "There is danger threatening Phil Clinton. Watch for it."

  "Anything wrong?" asked Sid.

  "No--no," spoke Tom slowly, as he tore the note into bits and tossedthem into a basket. "It's just a tip, that's all,
but I guess it doesn'tamount to anything."

  He walked over to the old sofa and sat down. His brain was in a whirl.What danger could threaten Phil? Whence had come the mysterious warning?

  "It doesn't amount to anything," thought Tom. "If it had, who eversent it would have signed his name. It's meant as a joke. I'll pay noattention to it. I'll not tell Phil. It might worry him. Besides, Iguess he can look out for himself," and Tom shrugged his shoulders.

  Ah, Tom, would you have said that but for what had happened in the lastfew weeks? But for the fact that Phil and a certain pretty girl hadbecome fast friends? Tom felt those questions arising in his mind, buthe put them resolutely from him. He did not want to answer them. He wentover to the basket and carefully picked out the torn bits of the note.He thrust them into his pocket. Sid watched him curiously, but saidnothing. He thought the note was from some girl.

  Phil came in a little later. Tom was busy studying, and hardly lookedup; nor did he say anything about the warning he had so mysteriouslyreceived.