CHAPTER XXVIII

  A FRESHMAN PLOT

  Tom stood staring at the door which closed after Sid--staring as if hecould not believe what he had heard. He was roused from his reverie byPhil's voice.

  "I'm afraid you've only made matters worse, Tom."

  "Made 'em worse? They can't be any worse," was the testy reply. "Hang itall! We're about as bad off now as we well can be. I wanted to get Sidback on the team, and--and----"

  "There's something we can't get at," declared Phil. "It is somethingpretty strong, or Sid would never keep quiet and see the college lose."

  "Not unless he's altogether different from what he was last term,"agreed Tom, with a puzzled air. "He once said he hoped he would beable to tell us what his secret was--soon--I only wish the time wouldcome--soon--we need Sid's stick work on the team. I wonder if it hasanything to do with a girl--Miss Harrison?"

  "She's only one factor in the game. I fancy that was what Sid meantwhen he said he wanted to get back on the team more than we realized--hemeant that it was so Miss Harrison would be friends with him again, forthe same thing that caused the disagreement between them, got Sid intotrouble with the proctor. And, if what Ruth says is true, Miss Harrisoncares a lot for Sid."

  "Oh, you can't tell much about girls," retorted Tom, with an air of ayouth who was past-master in the art of knowing the feminine mind. "Ofcourse that's not saying that Ruth doesn't mean what she says," he addedhastily, for Phil was her brother. "But look at how Miss Harrison wentwith Langridge."

  "Only a couple of times, and I fancy she didn't know his true character.She gave him his quietus soon enough after the trick he tried to playwith the mirror."

  "That's so. Well, I wish this tangle would be straightened out somehow.It's getting on my nerves."

  "A baseball 'varsity captain shouldn't have nerves."

  "I know it, but I can't help it. Hello, some one's coming. Maybe it'sSid."

  "No, it's Dutch Housenlager, by his tread," and Phil's guess was right.

  "Glad I found somebody in," remarked Dutch, as he was about to throwhimself with considerable force on the old sofa. Tom grabbed thecatcher, and shunted him off to one side so violently that Dutch satdown on the floor, with a jar that shook the room.

  "Here, what's that for?" he demanded, somewhat dazed.

  "It was to save our sofa," Tom explained. "You were coming down on it asif you were making a flying tackle. It would have been broken like ahalf-sawed-through goal post if you had landed. I side-tracked you,that's all."

  "Oh," answered Dutch, as he slowly arose. "Next time I wish you'd servenotice on me when you're going to do a thing like that, and I'll wear myfootball suit," and he rubbed his back gingerly.

  "Would you mind translating your remark about being glad you foundsomebody in?" requested Phil.

  "With pleasure, son. I've been to about sixteen different domiciles thisevening, and every one was vacant. I've got something to talk about.Where's Sid?"

  "He went out a while ago," answered Tom, uneasily.

  "Seems to me you fellows aren't as chummy as you once were," remarkedDutch, taking a seat in the old armchair, after a questioning look atTom, who nodded a permission.

  "Oh, yes, we are," exclaimed Phil quickly. "Isn't it fierce that Sid'soff the team."

  "Rotten--simply rotten," agreed Dutch. "Just when we need him most. Whydidn't you chaps keep him in the straight and narrow path that leads tobaseball victories?"

  "We tried," came quickly from Phil. "But Sid----"

  "Oh, it'll be all right," interrupted Tom. "I think things willstraighten themselves out." In his heart he did not believe this, but hedid not want Dutch to go away with the idea that there was a cloudhanging over the "inseparables." That would never do. "I have an ideathat the faculty will relent at the last minute," went on the captain."Especially when they know that the championship depends on it. Thenthey'll let Sid play. If they don't we'll get up another petition, andmake Bascome and his crowd sign, or we'll run 'em out of college."

  "Speaking of the freshmen brings me to what I came here for," declaredDutch, and Tom gave a sigh of relief, that their visitor was away fromthe delicate subject. "What are we going to do to fool the first years,and keep 'em away from our spring dinner?" demanded Dutch. "That's whatI called about. The dinner is to be held next week, a few days beforeour game with Fairview, and, naturally, the freshies will try to breakit up."

  "I've been so busy with getting ready for the exams and baseball, that Ihaven't given the dinner much thought," declared Tom. "Of course we'vegot to have it, and we must fool the freshies."

  "Sure," agreed Phil. "Let's go have a talk with Holly Cross. He may beable to suggest something."

  "Come on!" called Dutch. "We'll call on Holly."

  As the three strolled down the corridor, out on the campus, and in thedirection of Holly's room, the genial center fielder having an apartmentin one of the college club houses, Dutch nudged his companions.

  "Look," he remarked, "there go Ford Fenton and Bert Bascome, withseveral freshies. I don't like to see one of the sophs mixing it up soclose with the first years."

  "Me either," agreed Tom. "Ford ought to stick to his own class. Thetrouble is few of our fellows like him, on account of his ways and his'uncle,' whereas the freshmen will stand for them. That's why Ford hangsout in their camp. But with our annual spring dinner coming off, I don'tlike it."

  "Oh, Ford wouldn't dare betray us," was Phil's opinion. They kept onacross the campus, and were soon in Holly's room, where plans for thedinner were eagerly discussed.

  If they could have seen what took place a little later in the room ofBert Bascome, the four sophomores would have had more cause than ever toregret the intimacy between Ford Fenton and some of the first-yearcrowd.

  "It's your best chance to get even with them for making fun of you,Ford," Bascome was urging the lad whose uncle had once been a coach atRandall. "It will serve them right."

  "But I hate to give their plans away," objected Ford. "I'm a sophomore,and----"

  "They don't treat you as one," urged Henry Delfield, Bascome's crony."It will be a fine chance to get back at them."

  "Suppose they find out that I told?" asked Ford.

  "They never will. We'll see to that," promised Bert eagerly. "All wewant you to do is to tell us where the dinner is going to be held. We'lldo the rest. There'll be a fight, of course, when we arrive, to break itup, and, just so Parsons, Clinton, Henderson and that crowd won't besuspicious, you can pitch into me--make believe knock me down, you know,and all that. Then they won't have any suspicion of you."

  "Think not?" inquired Ford.

  "Sure not. All we want is a tip, and when you've given it you'll be in aposition to laugh at those fellows who are laughing at you so often."

  "That's right, they do make a lot of fun of me," said Ford weakly. "Allright, I'll let you know, as soon as I find out where the dinner's goingto be held. But don't squeal on me," and the prospective traitor lookedapprehensively at the plotting freshmen.

  "Not for worlds," Bascome assured him solemnly, and Ford left, promisingto deliver his classmates into the hands of their traditional enemies.

 
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