The Crimson Sweater

  CHAPTER XXIV

  SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST"--AND WHAT FOLLOWED

  Harry and Jack played one set of tennis, which resulted, owing largelyto Harry's evident preoccupation, in an easy win for Jack, 6--3.

  "Look here, Harry, you don't really want to play tennis, do you?" askedJack.

  Harry started and flushed guiltily.

  "Do you mind?" she asked.

  "Not a bit," he answered. "What's bothering you? Methuselah got aheadache? Or has Lady Grey eaten one of the white mice?"

  Harry shook her head.

  "I wish I could tell you, Jack, but it's not my secret," she answeredregretfully and a trifle importantly. "Do you--would you mind taking awalk?"

  "No; where to?"

  "Over to the Mercers'."

  Jack thought he could guess then what Harry was troubled about, but hesaid nothing, and they cut across the orchard, in which a few trees ofearly apples were already beginning to ripen their fruit, and headed forFarmer Mercer's.

  Harry was a great favorite with Mrs. Mercer and was cordially greeted.They had root beer and vanilla cookies on the front porch, and then,leaving Jack and Mrs. Mercer to entertain each other, Harry ran off tothe barn to find the farmer. She was back again in a few minutes and sheand Jack took their leave.

  "Well, did you discover anything?" asked Jack when they were once moreon the road hurrying homeward. Harry shot a startled glance at him. Jackwas smiling.

  "No," she answered disappointedly. "How'd you know?"

  "Oh, I just guessed."

  "He insists that it was Roy, but he didn't see him near to at all, so Idon't see how he can tell."

  "Don't you think it was Roy?" asked Jack.

  Harry's indignant look was eloquent.

  "Of course it wasn't! He says so!"

  There was a mysterious exodus of Middle and Junior Class boys from thecampus to the boat-house that evening after supper. And, when, an hourlater, they came straggling back every face bore the impress of a highand noble resolution. It had been unanimously resolved--after a gooddeal of pow-wow--that they should proceed in a body on the followingafternoon to Farmer Mercer's grounds and fish in Wissick Creek.

  Behold them, then, at the time appointed, marching across the fields andthrough the woods for all the world like a band of young crusaders, eacharmed with a fishing pole and line! There were not enough "truly" polesto go around, so many of the party were forced to cut branches from thewillows. On to prohibited territory they marched, eighteen strong,Sidney Welch, having sought and received permission to absent himselffrom practice, in command. In full view of the white farm-house theylined the bank of the stream and threw in their lines. To be sure, manyof the lines were guiltless of flies or even worms, but that was adetail. The minutes passed. One boy actually hooked a trout, but was sosurprised that the prey escaped before he could land it. And still theminutes passed, and the irate voice of the tyrant sounded not. Thesportsmen began to tire and grew bored. Many of them had never fishedbefore and didn't care about it. A few tossed aside their rods and fellto playing stick-knife. And then, just when Sid had decided to give upand lead his defeated hosts back to school, a figure ambled toward themacross the meadow.

  "He's coming!" whispered Sid hoarsely.

  Fully half of the group exhibited unmistakable signs of alarm; half adozen edged toward home and were summoned back by the stauncher members.

  "He can't do anything to us," said Sid nervously. "We're too many forhim--even if he is big!"

  "Well, boys, what you doin'?" inquired the farmer amiably.

  There was a moment of constrained silence. Then,

  "Fishing," answered Sid bravely.

  "Caught anything?" asked the farmer as he joined the group and lookedcuriously at the huddled poles.

  "Not yet, sir," answered Sid.

  "Too sunny, I guess," was the reply.

  The trespassers darted bewildered glances along their front. This awfulcalm was worse than the expected storm.

  "Didn't take you long to get here, by gum!" said Farmer Mercerpresently. "I didn't just bargain for having the whole school turn outto once, but I don't know as it matters. A bargain's a bargain. I givemy word, and there it is. 'Let 'em come once a week, then,' says I, 'butno more 'n that.' The way that gal sassed me was a caution!" Thefarmer's face relaxed into something very like a smile. "'If you gave'em permission to come,' says she, 'they wouldn't care about it so much.It's the temptation that leads 'em,' says she. 'Tell 'em they can comeand they won't want to.' Looks like she was mistaken there, though."

  "Who--o?" stammered Sid.

  "Why, Harry Emery. That's the way she talked, like a regular book. Saidit was all my fault you boys got in trouble!" He chuckled hoarsely."What do you think of that, eh? My fault, by gum! Called me a--a'perverter of youth,' or somethin' like that, too! Couldn't do nothin'but give in to her after that! 'Let 'em come and fish once a week,then,' says I, 'an' as long as they behaves themselves I won't sayanything to 'em.' Well, you ain't had much luck, to be sure, but I guessyou're clustered kind o' close together. Guess what fish you fellerscatch won't hurt much of any!"

  "'The way that gal sassed me was a caution!'"]

  And Farmer Mercer turned and ambled off, chuckling to himself.

  The trespassers looked from one to another; then, with scarcely a wordspoken, they wound up their lines and, with poles trailing, creptcrestfallenly home. And in such fashion ended Sid's "popular protest!"

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile events marched rapidly. School came to an end the followingWednesday. In four days, that is on Saturday, came the boat-race, in theforenoon; and the final baseball game, at three o'clock. Examinationswould end the day before. It was a breathless, exciting week. On theriver the finishing touches were being put to what the school fondlybelieved was the finest four-oared crew ever destined to carry the Brownand White to victory. On the diamond Mr. Cobb and Captain Chub Eatonwere working like beavers with a nine which, at the best, could becalled only fairly good. Tappen at first was doing his level best, buthis best was far below the standard set by Roy. The nine, discouraged atfirst by the loss of Roy, was, however, fast regaining its form, andChub began to feel again that he had at least a fighting chance.

  It was a hard week for Roy, for there was always the hope that Fatewould intervene and deliver him from his durance. But Wednesday came andThursday came, and still the crimson sweater, upon the discovery ofwhich so much hinged, did not turn up. Roy vetoed Chub's plea to beallowed to rip open Horace's trunk, and Harry's assistance, from which,for some reason, Roy had hoped a good deal, had so far worked no relief.There were moments when Roy was strongly tempted to accuse Horace to hisface and dare him to display the contents of that battered trunk of hisin the Senior Dormitory. But there was always the lack of certainty inthe other's guilt to deter him.

  Of Harry, Roy caught but fleeting glimpses. But although she had no goodnews for him, no brilliant plans to suggest, she was by no means idle.She very nearly thought herself into brain fever. So absorbed was she inRoy's dilemma that the permission wrung from Farmer Mercer to allow theboys to fish his stream passed entirely out of her mind until afterschool had closed. None of the members of the poaching expedition caredto talk about it, and so Harry remained in ignorance of it for the timebeing.

  Roy finished the last of his examinations on Thursday afternoon, and,while he would not learn the results until next week, he was hopeful ofhaving made a better showing than in the winter. Afterwards he went tothe limit of his prison on the river side and watched from a distancethe placing of the course flags for the race.

  Presently from down the river the brown-shirted crews swept into sight,rowing strongly in spite of their weariness. They had finished the lastwork before the race, although in the morning there would be a half-hourof paddling. Number 2 in the first boat was splashing a good deal as theslim craft headed toward the landing, but it probably came fromweariness rather than from poor form. The secon
d crew looked pretty welldone up and the coxswain's "Let her run!" floated up to Roy long beforethe landing was in sight. After that they paddled slowly in and liftedtheir shell from the darkening water as though it weighed a thousandpounds.

  From behind Fox Island, well over toward the farther shore, a row ofwhite shirts caught a shaft of afternoon sunlight and Roy watched therise and fall of the oars as the Hammond four returned home at a goodclip closely pursued by the second crew. Then, on his own side of theriver, a single scull crept into view around the point and Mr. Buckman,handling the long sweeps with an ease and rhythm that seemed the poetryof motion, his little brown megaphone bobbing from the cord about hisneck in time to his movements, shot his craft up to the landing. Then,save for the launch gliding across to the Hammond side, the river wasempty and long lanes of sunlight were disappearing, one by one, as thesun sank behind the purple hills.

  Roy had not watched baseball practice since that first afternoon.Brother Laurence's advice might be very excellent, but a chap couldn'talways follow it; there were moments when the grins wouldn't come. And,somehow, when Chub confided to him that evening that things were lookingup, and couldn't help showing some of the cheerfulness he felt, Roy wasmore lonesome and out of it than ever.

  The next morning after breakfast Doctor Emery announced that everystudent must be in the dormitories at ten o'clock and have his trunk andcupboard open for inspection; Mrs. Emery would examine the boys'clothing and take away for repairs such garments as needed them. Theannouncement was something of a surprise to the older boys, for neverbefore had such an examination been made. It was the custom for the boysto lay aside each week whatever clothing needed mending, cleansing orpressing, but a general inspection was something unprecedented. Manyfellows made up their minds to get upstairs as soon as possible andremove certain things from their trunks; firearms and sensationalliterature, for instance, were prohibited and subject to confiscation ifdiscovered.

  Roy's heart leapt when he heard the announcement and he couldn't helpglancing at Horace. The latter youth, however, had apparently not heardit, for he was talking away with Whitcomb at a great rate and hiscountenance showed no sign of dismay or uneasiness. But Roy made up hismind to be near Horace's trunk when Mrs. Emery looked through it! As hehad nothing in his trunk he was unwilling for the authorities to see, hedidn't go to the dormitory after breakfast. Instead, he crossed over tothe gymnasium in the hope of finding Chub there. But Chub wasn't to bediscovered, and Roy mooned about the campus for the better part of anhour and then went up to the dormitory. It was pretty well filled andthe fellows were getting a good deal of fun out of the occasion. JackRogers called across and told him he wanted to see him afterinspection. Horace Burlen had his trunk open and was sittingnonchalantly on the side of his cot. Mrs. Emery soon appeared and, withMr. Cobb in attendance, began her rounds. The whole thing looked ratherperfunctory to Roy. Perhaps the fellows' garments were in goodcondition; at least, few of them were laid aside for mending. When Mrs.Emery reached Horace's trunk Roy sauntered carelessly over and lookedon. He imagined that Horace looked a bit uneasy when Mrs. Emery begantaking his clothing out of the till.

  "Your things are in nice condition, Horace," she said. "Now what'sunderneath?"

  "There's nothing much there," answered Horace. "Everything's all right,Mrs. Emery."

  "Well, I guess we'd better look at them and make sure," was the pleasantreply. "Just lift out the till, please."

  Horace obeyed with ill-grace, and Roy, his heart beating hard, edgednearer. Garment after garment came out to be piled neatly on the floorand finally the last one appeared. The trunk was empty and the crimsonsweater was nowhere in sight!

  Roy's eyes darted here and there in search of other recesses, but beyonda doubt he had seen everything the trunk contained. Mrs. Emery began toplace the things back very carefully, one by one, as though even shewere looking for that sweater. Roy wondered. Perhaps--Of course that wasit! Harry had taken her mother into her confidence and the unusualproceedings had been instituted on his account! He felt very grateful toMrs. Emery, but he was terribly disappointed. There was only one thingto suppose now, and that was that Horace had thrown the sweater awayinstead of bringing it back to school with him. Of course red sweatersweren't scarce, but that particular one had been very precious to Royand he felt its loss keenly. He went back to his own side of the roomand dolefully locked his trunk. One by one the fellows went out. Mrs.Emery, having completed her task, collected a half-dozen garments and,still escorted by Mr. Cobb, took her departure. Horace, too, followed,and only Roy and Jack were left.

  "Did you want to see me, Jack?" asked Roy indifferently.

  "Er--yes. Just wait a minute."

  He went to the door and called:

  "O Chub!"

  "Coming!" bawled Chub's voice from downstairs, and in a moment he camein. He was beaming like the cat that ate the canary. Roy sighed. It wasall well enough for Chub and Jack to stand there and grin at him, hereflected sadly; they hadn't lost a priceless crimson sweater andweren't on inner bounds.

  "Have you told him?" asked Chub breathlessly.

  Jack shook his head.

  "Told me what?" asked Roy resentfully.

  For answer the two boys bade him rise from his cot. Wondering, Royobeyed. Then, between them, they lifted bedding and mattress.

  "Look underneath," said Chub.

  Roy looked.

  And the next instant he had his crimson sweater in his hands and waslooking bewilderedly from it to Chub and from Chub to Jack and so backagain at the sweater. Chub and Jack were grinning like satyrs andenjoying hugely his bewilderment.

  "How--how'd it get there?" whispered Roy finally.

  "Put it into your trunk and come on out," said Chub. "We've gotsomething to tell you."

  Roy found his key and unlocked the trunk. But in the act of laying thesweater away he paused and drew back. Under one shoulder was a long ripwhere the stitches had given way.

  "I--I think I'll take it over to Mrs. Emery," he said, "and get her tomend it. That's a beast of a hole!"

  "All right," said Jack. "Come on."

  So they took the precious garment over to the Cottage, and as they wentChub--Jack assisting--explained.

  "It was Harry's scheme, Roy. She told her mother and Mrs. Emery got theDoctor to issue that order about having the fellows unlock their trunks.But Harry knew that if Horace had the sweater he'd try and get rid of itbefore the examination. So she told Jack and me to come up here rightafter breakfast and hide where we could see what was doing. Well, wedid. We got under Gallup's bed where he couldn't see us and waited. Wehadn't been there five minutes before up comes little Horace. He lookedaround mighty carefully, you bet, and then he unlocked his trunk, dugdown to the bottom of it and pulled out the sweater. Jack nearlywhooped when he saw it!"

  "That's right," agreed Jack. "I came near spoiling the whole show!"

  "So Horace tiptoed over to your bed, lifted up the mattress and stuckthe sweater underneath. Then he lit out. And he doesn't know yet that wesaw the whole thing!"

  "I knew he had it!" muttered Roy. "Gee! I'm awfully much obliged to youchaps."

  "You want to thank Harry, I guess," said Jack. "It was her scheme."

  "That's so," said Roy. "Harry's a wonder! I suppose she's at school now.Too bad, for she was dying to know what was going to happen and Ipromised to come over as soon as I could and tell her."

  Mrs. Emery smiled knowingly when she came to the door and Roy handed thesweater to her, but she only said that she'd be very glad to draw thehole together for him and that Harry would be delighted to hear that itwas found.

  "I'll tell her as soon as she gets home from school," she added.

  "And--and please thank her for me," said Roy.

  "Is the Doctor in?" asked Chub

  "No, he's gone to town," was the reply. "But he'll be back very shortly.Will you come in and wait?"

  "No 'm, thanks. We'll come back again at noon," answered Chub. And whenthey had left the C
ottage he turned and thumped Roy triumphantly on theback. "Practice at three, old chap!" he cried.

  Roy smiled happily. Then,

  "I suppose he will let me off?" he asked doubtfully.

  "Who? Emmy? Course he will! What's he got against you now? Both Jack andI saw Horace put the sweater there, and we know that he was away fromschool Sunday afternoon. What more proof is wanted?"

  "We've got Horace done brown," said Jack. "Emmy won't do a thing tohim!"

  "Kind of hard luck, too," said Chub, "with the race coming off in themorning; for of course Emmy will yank him out of the boat the firstthing."

  "Then we'll lose the race, won't we?" asked Roy.

  Chub shrugged his shoulders.

  "Sure to," he answered. "I'm kind of sorry for Horace, but he deservesevery bit of it. It was a mean trick to work."

  Roy was silent a moment. Finally,

  "Well, I don't care so much now that I've got my sweater back," he saidthoughtfully.

  "Care about what?" asked Jack.

  "Oh, the rest of it; being on bounds and--and not playing to-morrow,"answered Roy. "You see, I'd just about made up my mind that I wasn'tgoing to play, anyhow."

  "Well, you're _going_ to play," answered Chub cheerfully. "And I'mpleased purple. A few of those nice long hits of yours to-morrow will doa heap of good, Roy."

  But Roy didn't seem to hear.

  "No one knows about this but you and Jack and me?" he asked.

  "That's all," replied Chub.

  "And if we don't say anything about it, then, no one else will know."

  "Don't say anything about it!" cried Chub. "Are you crazy?"

  "No, but there's the boat race to think of, Chub; we don't want to losethat, I guess. And if they take Horace out--"

  "Now don't you be a silly ass!" interrupted Chub in alarm. "Let themlose the old race! I reckon we don't want to lose the ball game either,do we? Now don't get sentimental and sloppy; Horace deserves all that'scoming to him!"

  "Maybe," answered Roy, "but I guess we'll just keep this to ourselves,if you fellows don't mind."

  "But you won't be able to play!"

  "I know," Roy replied, "but I wasn't expecting to, you see. And--and,anyhow, I've got my sweater back!"

  "Sweater be blowed!" exploded Chub. "Don't be a fool, Roy! You're justfooling, aren't you, eh?"

  "No, Chub, I'm not. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but--but I don't thinkit would be fair to the school to tell on Horace and lose the race. I'dlike to play mighty well, but--I guess we'll just keep this toourselves, fellows!"