CHAPTER XIV
SHAMBLER'S VISITOR
Tom Parsons's chums had the common sense--or shall we say grace--not tomention his non-appearance at the May walk. As they came into the roomat the close of the day that had meant so much to them, and which hadbeen fraught with incidents that would be long remembered, Sid, Phil andFrank acted just as though, all along, they had not expected Tom to go,or as if he would be on hand to meet them on their return. For he wasback ahead of them. He had fairly rushed for a car after seeing Madgewith Shambler.
"Did you finish your book?" asked Frank, as he slumped down into an easychair.
"No," replied Tom quietly. "I went for a walk."
"It was a fine day," remarked Sid, taking the companion chair to the oneFrank had selected, and with such violence did he fling himself into itthat the joints creaked and groaned in protest. "I'm tired," added Sid,in explanation.
"No reason for killing the chair though," objected Phil. "That's the oldoriginal, too, not the one we got from Rosencranz. Treat it gently."
Tom was stretched out on the sofa, his arms up over his head, staring atthe ceiling. He moved his feet to make room for Phil, who settled downbeside his chum.
For a space there was silence in the room, a deep silence, for no oneknew just what to say to relieve the somewhat embarrassing situation.The three did not just know what to make of Tom, though they had heard,just before coming home, that Madge Tyler was with Shambler, and thatexplained much.
"Great Scott! The clock!" suddenly exclaimed Sid, as the silence, whichwas beginning to make itself felt, became so oppressive that they wereall aware that the clock had stopped. "Have you been doing anything toit, Tom?"
"Who? Me? No, it was going when I went out. Maybe it needs winding."
"That's it," declared Sid with an air of relief as, by testing the thumbscrew that operated the main spring, he found the time piece had indeedrun down. Soon its cheerful, if somewhat monotonous ticking, filled theroom.
"Well, now for some boning," remarked Phil, with half a sigh, as hetook off his stiff collar, and made himself comfortable. "I understandthe Spring exams are going to be pretty stiff," he added.
"Well, they ought to be," remarked Frank. "We're getting up in theworld. We're not in the kindergarten class any more. But it will soon beSummer, and then for a long rest. I'm going out on a ranch, I think."
"Me for the mountains," declared Sid.
"And a lake and a motor-boat for me," chimed in Phil. "How about you,Tom?"
"I don't know. Haven't made any plans. It depends on how dad's lawsuitcomes out. I may be a waiter in a hotel where some of you fellows aresporting."
"If you are, I'll sit at your table and give you big enough tips so youcan come back to Randall in the Fall," spoke Sid with a laugh, in whichthe others joined. And then, with minds that probably dwelt more on thehappenings of the day than on their books, the three fell to studying.But Tom remained stretched out on the sofa, with his arms up over hishead, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Everybody out for practice to-day!" ordered Holly Cross the followingafternoon, as a crowd of lads poured forth from Randall at the close ofthe last lecture of the day. "Shot-putters, weight throwers, runners,jumpers, hurdlers--everybody on the job!"
"What's the rush?" asked Phil. "Anything new?"
"Well, yes, in a way. The committee from the four colleges met lastnight, and we've practically decided to hold the meet. All theobjectionable points were done away with, and it only remains to decideon the events and the date."
"That's the stuff!" cried the Big Californian.
"Wow! Something doing all right!" yelled Shambler. "I'm going to getinto my running togs."
"You'd think the whole college depended on him," remarked Sid, with ahalf sneer, as the new student hastened toward the gymnasium.
"Well, we're counting on him to win the mile run for us," said Holly."He's the best we've struck yet, even if he is loaded to the muzzle withconceit. Come on, now, you fellows, get busy."
"Did those new hurdles come?" asked Frank Simpson, who was muchinterested in the proposed one hundred and twenty yard hurdle race.
"Yes, I'll have them out on the path pretty soon," replied Holly."They're fine, and it only takes a few seconds to change from one heightto another. See how you like 'em."
Soon the athletic field at Randall presented a busy scene. Lads in allsorts of undress uniform, from running trunks to jerseys and sweaters,were at practice.
SOON THE ATHLETIC FIELD AT RANDALL PRESENTED A BUSYSCENE.]
Here, in the seven-foot circle, Phil was balancing himself for thehammer throw, while off to one side Tom was adjusting the toe board inorder to put the sixteen pound shot. Frank Simpson was assisting one ofthe janitors in setting up the new hurdles, and Sid was testing hisvaulting pole.
Dutch Housenlager, whose big frame and mighty muscles gave him anadvantage few others enjoyed, was juggling with the fifty-six poundweight.
"I'm going to do better than twenty-five feet to-day," he declared, andforthwith he swung up the big iron ball with its triangular handle andheaved it.
"Twenty-five feet eight inches!" announced a measurer.
"Hurray!" yelled Sid.
"Oh, I'll beat that yet," predicted Dutch with a laugh.
Shambler came running from the gymnasium attired in his new suit. Hepresented an attractive figure; Tom could not help admitting that, muchas he disliked the newcomer. And certainly Shambler could run. He had acertain confident air, and a manner about him that counted for much.
The practice went on, and Holly Cross and Kindlings, who had beenvoted into permanent trainers and managers interchangeably, watched withkeen eyes the performances of all the lads.
"There's some good stuff here," remarked Holly.
"Yes," agreed Kindlings, "if they'll only practice and keep at it. It'squite a while to the games though, and any one of them may go stale.This isn't like baseball or football. If we don't win one game onthe diamond or gridiron, we have another chance. But we won't in theall-around contests. It's do or die the first time."
"Why, you aren't worried, are you?"
"No, but Boxer Hall would give her head to beat us, and we can't takeany chances. Say, just hold the watch on Shambler, will you? I thinkhe's hitting it up to-day."
Holly walked over to the cinder track, where Shambler was about tofinish his mile run. As he breasted the tape Holly pressed his stopwatch.
"Time!" panted Shambler.
"Six minutes, fifty-six seconds," reported Holly.
"Well, I'm going to get it down to six and a half before I'm done," wenton the new student. "I can do it."
"Better take it easy," advised the trainer. As he spoke he saw a changecome over Shambler's face, and there was a light in his eyes that toldof someone approaching to speak to him. Holly wheeled about to confronta rather shabbily dressed man--a stranger, walking toward Shambler.
"Hello, Shambler," greeted the newcomer. "At your old game, I see. Ithought I'd find you."
The change that came over Shambler was surprising. Even as he turnedaway, to look after some of the other contestants, Holly was aware ofit. It seemed, he said afterward, as though Shambler was afraid, orashamed of being spoken to by the shabby visitor.
"Aren't you glad to see me?" went on the man. "I came a long way to seeyou, and----"
"Of course," broke in the runner. "Come on over here where we can talk.I didn't expect you."
"You never can tell when I'm going to show up," was the answer, andHolly, hurrying away, thought that the words contained a half threat.
For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics Page 14