CHAPTER XVIII
TOM'S TEMPTATION
"Are you really going to sell it, Frank?"
"Is this a fake?"
"What's the upset price?"
"Honor bright, now! It isn't a joke; is it?"
These were only a few of the questions that were put to the BigCalifornian, as a crowd of boys filed into the gymnasium the next dayafter the auction notice had been posted.
"Oh, it's straight all right," answered Frank. "The davenport, whichis as new as heart could wish, will be sold to the highest bidder.We--er--that is I--bought it by mistake. We didn't need it. Our old sofahas been fixed up."
"Oh, but I say Frank," expostulated Tom, when he got a chance to speakto his chum privately. "You could send this back to the store, and getnearly all you paid for it. You won't get half what it's worth, atauction."
"I don't give a hang. I'm going to sell it this way. It will be fun.Besides, whatever is realized is going into the athletic fund, anyhow.That'll make bidding higher."
"Maybe it will. But say, you must have struck it rich to blow in allthat cash."
"Oh, not so much. I got the davenport at a bargain, anyhow, and Ithought it would be just the thing for our room. But I can see, now,that it isn't. Say, there's a good crowd coming, all right."
"There sure is. Have you got it here."
"Yes, I saw Prexy, and explained how it was. He said I could auction itoff. Proc. Zane put up a stiff kick, though, but Moses overruled him,and it's going on. I guess the janitor has the old shebang on hand."
"Yes, there it is," answered Tom, as he and his friend entered thegymnasium, and caught sight of the new davenport, supported on twoleathered-covered "horses."
The crowd, laughing, talking, chaffing each other and the inseparables,filed into the big room, until it scarce could hold any more. Frank tookhis place in front of the piece of furniture, and soon the bidding wasunder way.
It began low, but was spirited enough. Sid, Tom and Phil refrained fromraising the bids, but there was no lack of others. By small advances theprice crept up to seven dollars. There it hung for a while.
"Seven-fifty!" sung out Shambler.
"Seventy-five!" came from Joe Jackson.
"Eighty," put in another voice, and Phil whispered to Tom:
"The Jersey twins are bidding against each other, and they don't knowit. This is rich! Frank will get more than he paid if this keeps on!"
The bidding became more spirited, being confined chiefly to Shambler,and the two twins, the latter, being in separate parts of the bigauditorium, not knowing that they were whip-sawing one another.
Finally, when the price reached fourteen dollars and thirty-five cents,the davenport was knocked down to Shambler, who ordered the piece offurniture taken to his room.
"It will do to stretch out on when I come in from a run," he remarked tosome of his intimate friends. And, though Tom had no special interest inwhat became of Frank's "surprise," as it had been dubbed, still thepitcher felt himself wishing that someone else besides Shambler hadsecured it.
The new student seemed to feel that the purchasing of the davenport fromone of the inseparables entitled him to a closer acquaintanceship withthem. For, a few days after the auction, he called at their room, andmade himself rather at home.
"Cosy place you've got here," he remarked, blowing cigarette smoke aboutin clouds. "Quite a collection of antiques."
"Yes, we like old things best," remarked Tom significantly, wonderingwhether the lines about "old books, and old friends," would recur toShambler. But it did not seem to.
"Well, it won't be long before we have the Spring games," went on thevisitor. "I'll be glad of it, too, for I'm training hard, too hard, Iguess. I'm going to have a little recreation to-night. Some friends andI are going in to town. Don't some of you want to come along?"
None of the inseparables accepted the invitation.
"I'm taking chances, too," went on Shambler. "I've been caught two orthree times, lately, and Zane warned me that the next time would meansuspension. But I'll chance it. A fellow has to have some fun. Any ofyou smoke?" and he extended his box of cigarettes.
"It's bad--when you're in training," remarked Phil. "Count us out."
"You, too, Parsons?" asked Shambler. "Say, by the way," he went on, "Imet a friend of yours the other night. Miss Tyler, of Fairview. At leastshe said she knew you. Fine girl."
"Yes," half growled Tom, the blood flushing his face. "I'm going to seeif there's any mail," he added quickly, as he left the room.
"Anything wrong?" asked Shambler of the others. "Have I been poaching onhis preserves?"
"You'll have to ask him," replied Phil, with significant glances at hischums.
"Not much!" exclaimed the visitor. "I have a notion he has a hastytemper. But aren't any of you coming to town for a lark?"
No one was, evidently, and Shambler soon took his leave. It was sometime before Tom returned, and he had no letters. His chums did not bringup the subject of his going out.
Tom, in preparation for the examinations, had permission that night tospend some time in the rooms of a senior who had volunteered to coachhim on some points wherein our hero was a bit behind in his class. Thesenior's room was in another dormitory from where Tom and his chumsroomed, being across the campus.
It was after midnight when the tall pitcher was on his way back to hisown particular part of the college, and, as he was about to open thedormitory main door, with a pass key with which he had been provided, adark figure hurried up the steps from the shadow of a statue on thecampus, and stood at his side.
"I say!" came in a cautious whisper. "Let me in with you, will you? Ioverstayed in town, and I don't want to be caught."
"Oh!" exclaimed Tom, wondering for a moment who was speaking, and thenhe recognized Shambler's voice.
"It's Parsons!" whispered the new student, evidently much relieved. "I'min luck! I've been waiting here half an hour hoping Zane's light wouldgo out, and that I could bribe one of the janitors, or a monitor, to letme in. But the old Proc. is staying up infernally late. But it's allright now. You have a key; haven't you."
"Yes," answered Tom shortly, as he inserted it in the lock.
"Talk about luck!" exulted Shambler, as he slipped in ahead of Tom, whostood back to let him pass in first. "It's great, isn't it?"
Tom did not answer. A wave of revulsion against this lad seemed to sweepover him, and he recalled a certain day in the woods when he had seenthe fellow with Madge Tyler.
Shambler, not seeming to notice the grouchiness of his companion, passedhurriedly along the dark corridor toward his room. Tom walked moreslowly, having made sure that the door was locked after him. He had notgone half a dozen steps, before the door of the proctor's office opened,and Mr. Zane stepped out.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Parsons," replied our hero. "I had permission. I was studying withMorrison."
"Oh, yes, I recollect. Who came in with you, Parsons?"
"In with me?" repeated Tom, for he had hoped that this question wouldnot be asked.
"Yes, I heard the footsteps of two, and you were the only one in thisdormitory who had permission to be out to-night. Who came in with you?"
"I--er--that is--I don't wish to tell, Mr. Zane."
"I demand to know," said the proctor sternly. "You let someone in; didyou not?"
"Yes, sir, but----"
"And you won't tell who it was?"
Tom hesitated for a moment, but it was only a moment. There came aninstant of temptation. He recalled what Shambler had said about theprobability of suspension if he was caught again.
"And it would be a good thing if he did go," thought Tom bitterly. "Goodfor Randall--good. But then the games! We need him!"
Then he knew that it was a selfish motive that was urging him to takeadvantage of the chance thrown in his way.
"No! No! I--I can't do it!" he cried within himself.
"Well," asked the proctor sharply.
"I--I c
an't tell you," answered Tom simply.
"You mean you won't?"
"If you prefer to put it that way--yes, sir."
"Very well. I will see you in the morning," and, turning on his heel,the proctor went back into his office.
For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics Page 18