Left End Edwards Part 33

"Never you mind the barge, old man! You're not going in it. I'll come to that later, though."

"Take your time," said Tom, dropping into a chair. "I love to hear your innocent prattle."

"Shut up! It's like this, Tom. I met Durkin awhile ago and he got to talking about that shoe-blacking stand. Remember the note he left here that night?" Tom nodded. "Well, it came out that while he was putting it under our door Eric Sawyer walked out and fell over him."

"Out of here?"

"Right-o! Sawyer said he'd been waiting to see me. Now you remember I'd seen him coming out of Daley's room earlier, eh? Well, it seems that Sawyer saw a chance to put up a game on me. So after I'd gone upstairs again, he sneaked back to 'Horace's' room, got that confounded blue-book of Upton's and waited his chance. After we'd left the room he came up here and slid the thing among some books on the table there. While he was in here Durkin came along and knocked and Sawyer slipped over and locked the door. Then he waited until he thought Durkin had gone and unlocked the door again and came out. But old Durkin had written a note to us down under the light and come back with it and he was putting it under the door when Sawyer came out and fell over him. Of course, when Durkin told me that I had a hunch what had happened and I hot-footed it to 'Horace.' He confessed that it was Sawyer who had told him he'd seen me carrying off the book. So he streaked off after Sawyer, found him somewhere and took him to Durkin's room. Sawyer----"

"Were you there too?" asked Tom excitedly.

"No, he told me to wait in his study for him. He was back in about a half-hour looking sort of worried. Of course Sawyer had to own up. He told 'Horace' that he'd just done it for a joke, but 'Horace' didn't believe him for a cent. And there you are!" Steve ended in breathless triumph. Tom viewed him round-eyed.

"What--what about Sawyer?" he asked.

"I don't know for certain, but I think Sawyer's on pro. Anyway, Tom, I know this much: You don't go to any old banquet to-night."

"I don't? Why don't I?"

"Because I met Lawrence downstairs a few minutes ago. He was looking for you."

"Wh-what for?" asked Tom faintly.

"Robey says you're not to break training, Tom! You're to report at the 'varsity table to-night for supper!" Whereupon Steve, his eyes dancing, jumped from the bed and pulled Tom to his feet. "What do you say to that, old Tommikins?" he exulted.

Tom, dazed, smiled weakly. "Do you mean--do you mean they want me to _play_?" he murmured.

"Oh, no," scoffed Steve, pus.h.i.+ng him toward the bed on which he subsided in a heap. "They want you to carry the footb.a.l.l.s and sweep the gridiron!

Of course they want you to play, you old sobersides! Don't you see that with Sawyer on pro there's a big hole in the line? I suppose they'll give Churchill the first chance at it, but he won't last the game through. Think of both you and I making the 'varsity, Tom! How's that for luck, eh? Not bad for the old Tannersville High School, is it? I guess we've gone and put Tannersville on the map, Tom!"

"Gee, I'm scared!" muttered Tom, looking up at Steve with wide eyes.

"I--I don't believe I'll do it!"

"You don't, eh? Well, you're going to do it! Get your old duds on and hurry up. It's after six."

"I'll have to tell Brownell I'm not going to the feast." Tom gazed fascinatedly at his best trousers draped across the chair back. "Anyway, I wasn't keen on going--without you," he murmured.

"There's only one drawback," said Steve a few minutes later, when they were on their way to supper. "And that is that I promised Durkin to buy a rug from him."

"A rug? We don't need any rug, do we?" asked Tom.

"Not a bit. But this is a genuine Begorra; Durkin says so himself. And I agreed to buy it if he'd tell 'Horace' about Sawyer. Unless--unless you'd rather have the shoe-blacking stand, Tom?"

"I would. If we had that, perhaps you'd keep your shoes decent!"

Steve tipped Tom's cap over his eyes. "Rude ruffian!" he growled affectionately.

There was no practice at Brimfield Friday, for as soon as the last recitation of the day was over the 'varsity team and subst.i.tutes piled into two of Hoskins' barges in front of Main Hall to be driven over to Oakdale, some five miles distant. The school a.s.sembled to see them off, and there was much hilarity and noise. Joe Lawrence, note-book in hand, fl.u.s.tered and anxious, mounted the steps and called the names of the squad members.

"Benson!"

"Here," responded Benson from where, at the far end of one of the barges, he sat, crutches in hand, looking a bit disconsolate.

"Churchill, Corcoran, Edwards, Fowler, Gleason, Guild, Hall, Harris, Innes--Innes?"

"Coming fast!" shouted a voice from the edge of the throng, and the big centre, suit-case in hand, pushed his way toward the barges.

"Right through!" laughed the fellows. "Hit the line, Innes! A-a-ay!"

"Kendall," continued Lawrence. "Lacey, Marvin, Miller, Milton, McClure, Norton, Roberts, Still, Thursby, Williams!"

"All present and accounted for," announced a voice in the crowd. "Home, James!"

Coach Robey and "Boots" appeared. Danny Moore, who with Gus, the rubber, sat on the driver's seat surrounded with suit-cases, took the bags, Joe Lawrence and Tracey Black, a.s.sistant manager, squeezed into the already overcrowded barges, Blaisdell, baseball captain, called for a cheer and, amidst a thunderous farewell, the squad, grinning and waving, disappeared down the drive, through the gate and out on to the road.

Oakdale was fairly deserted at this time of year. Most of the summer cottages were closed, but the little hotel kept open the year around, and when, at four o'clock, the barges pulled up in front of it, fires were snapping in the open fireplaces and everything was in readiness for the squad's reception. Followed a very merry and rather boisterous time while the fellows, bags in hand, sought their rooms to don their togs and report for light practice on the lawn. There was only signal drill to-day, and that was brief. Afterwards the centres practised pa.s.sing and the kickers limbered up a little, but by five the work was over and the fellows were free to do what they liked. Some gathered around the two big fireplaces in the hotel, others went for strolls along the road, and still others, Steve and Tom amongst the number, sought the little cove nearby where a diminutive and rather pebbly beach curved from point to point and a boat-landing stuck out into the quiet water. The trees and gra.s.s went almost to the edge and there were comfortable benches along the bank from which one might look across the Sound to the Long Island sh.o.r.e or watch the boats pa.s.s. It had been a fair, mild day and the light still held. Steve and Tom sauntered down to the float and Steve dipped an inquiring hand into the water.

"Say, that isn't a bit cold," he announced. "What do you say to a swim, Tom?"

"Fine, only we haven't any suits."

"Maybe they've got some at the hotel. Let's ask." On the way up they met Norton, Williams and Marvin. "Come on in swimming, fellows," called Steve.

"Can we?" asked Norton. "Who says so?"

"Why not? We're going to see if we can find some trunks or something."

"All right. You'd better ask the coach, though." This from Marvin. "He's in the office, I think. If you find any trunks bring some for us, Edwards."

The clerk was rather dubious at first, but eventually returned with a miscellaneous collection of bathing togs from which the boys finally evolved three pairs of trunks and two suits. Meanwhile Mr. Robey had given hesitant permission.

"If the water's very cold, Edwards, don't try it, please. And, in any case, don't stay in more than ten minutes. That goes for all of you."

There was a bathing pavilion farther along, reached from the little beach by a flight of wooden steps, and to this the five boys proceeded, examining the attire the clerk had provided with much amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I won't be able to swim a stroke," declared Norton. "I'll just be doubled up laughing at Hath in that blue-striped thing he has there."

"Huh," growled Williams, "I don't think you'll get any prizes for beauty yourself!"

By this time the news of their exploit had gone out and other fellows were hurrying to the hotel to seek bathing suits. A few secured them and the rest followed down to watch. When they met outside, dressed for the plunge, the five went off into gales of laughter. Hatherton Williams in a blue-and-white-striped suit many sizes too small for him cut a ridiculous figure, while Norton, whose faded red trunks had lost their gathering string, held his attire frantically with one hand and implored a pin! Tom's trunks were strained to the bursting point and Steve's were inches too large for him. Only Marvin had fared well, being dressed in what he called "a real cla.s.sy two-piece suit." The two pieces didn't match in either colour or material, but they nearly fitted and, unlike Hatherton Williams' regalia, were innocent of holes. Norton declared that he was extremely glad it was getting dark, since otherwise if the pin one of the onlookers had supplied him with gave way, he'd have to stay in the water.

Steve and Marvin led the way to the float and they all plunged in. Tom, shaking the water from his head, faced Steve accusingly when he had regained his breath. "Thought you said it wasn't cold!" he shrieked.

"It's freezing! Br-r-r!"

"Move around and get warm," advised Norton, striking out. "It isn't bad when you get used to it."

But Tom, accustomed to the tempered water of the school tank, groaned and refused to be optimistic. "Bet it isn't a bit over forty-five," he muttered.