CHAPTER XI
MYRON MISSES AN ENGAGEMENT
"Well, I've got his number," announced Joe, discarding his cap anddropping into a chair. "He's a scrapper. He's had three or four mix-upssince he has been here, usually, as near as I can make out, with fellowswho didn't know much fighting. He's got a quick temper and is ugly whenhe's started. He's a second class fellow and plays hockey and baseball.Had a fuss with the baseball coach last spring and was laid off forawhile. Apologised and got back again finally. I didn't hear any one sayhe was liked much. The main thing, though, is that he can scrap. Keithsays he's quite a foxy youth with his fists; says he thinks he's takenlessons. So now we know where we are, eh?"
"Yes, it seems so," answered Myron. "Well, there's no use talking aboutit, is there? Did you find out where this brickyard is?"
"Yeah, it's just across the street at the far side of the campus, backfrom the road a bit. I've been thinking, Foster. There's no sense in yougoing up against a fellow who knows how to fight, is there?"
"No, but it doesn't seem to be a question of sense," replied Myron,smiling.
"What I mean is, it isn't a fair proposition for a chap who can't evenkeep his guard up to try to fight a guy who knows all the ropes. Mightas well expect one of Merriman's puppies to fight a bull-dog. That's so,ain't it?"
"Well, it isn't quite that bad," said Myron. "At least, I hope not!"
"Mighty near. So here's my plan, kiddo. You stay right in your downycouch tomorrow morning and I'll see this guy Eldredge myself."
"_What?_"
"Sure! Why not? He wants a scrap, don't he? Well, he wouldn't get any ifyou were to go. It wouldn't be worth his trouble getting out of bed. Butme, I can show him a real good time, likely. I don't say I can lick him,for they tell me he's a right shifty guy and has some punch, but I cankeep him interested until he's ready to call it a day. Besides, I ain'thad a real good scrap since last winter and I'm getting soft. So that'swhat we'll do, eh?"
Myron laughed. Then, perplexedly, he asked: "You aren't in earnest,Dobbins?"
"Sure, I'm in earnest? What's the joke?"
"I guess it would be on Eldredge," chuckled Myron.
"That's so." Joe smiled too. "He will be a bit surprised, won't he?Maybe he will be peeved, too. I wouldn't wonder. Well, that's nothing inour young lives, eh? We're doing the best we can for him."
"But--but do you really think I'd agree to that?" asked Myron. "You'rejoking, of course!"
"What do you mean, joking?" demanded the other indignantly. "And whywouldn't you agree? Ain't it the sensible thing to do?"
"Maybe, but I can't do it, of course, Dobbins. You must see that. Why,hang it, if I challenge another fellow to fight I don't expect him tosend a substitute!"
"What you expect don't cut any ice, kiddo. If the guy you challengecan't fight a little bit he's a plain idiot to let you whang him around,ain't he? And if he knows another guy who doesn't mind taking his placewhy ain't it all right and fair for him to send him along? Tell methose!"
"Why, because--because it isn't!" answered Myron impatiently. "Eldredgehasn't anything against you. His quarrel is with me. What would he sayabout me if I stayed away and let you go instead?"
"Him? What could he say? I'll tell him you're no scrapper. That'll fixthat in his mind, won't it? Mind you, Foster, I ain't saying he's goingto be pleased at running up against a guy who knows a thing or two aboutthe game, but it don't seem to me that we need to worry about whetherhe's pleased or not. He wants a scrap and we're giving him one. That'senough, ain't it?"
"It's the craziest thing I ever heard of," said Myron. "Of course, I'mawfully much obliged, Dobbins. I appreciate it, honest. I don't knowwhy you should offer to do it, either. But it's absolutely out of thequestion. So let's not talk about it any more."
Joe frowned, opened his mouth, closed it again without speaking and fellto studying his hands. After a moment Myron asked: "What do I do when Iget there, Dobbins? Do we shake hands or--or just start in?"
"Start in," answered the other absently. "Look here, Foster," hecontinued earnestly, "you're going to act like a plumb fool. Why, thatguy'll paste you all over your face and leave you looking like a rawbeefsteak! Then faculty'll want to know what you've been doing andthere'll be all sorts of trouble on tap. What you going to do when hebegins lamming you?"
Myron shrugged. "Stand him off the best way I can. Lamm him back ifI can. Maybe I'll get on to the game after awhile. I'm going to try.I thought maybe you could show me a few things tonight, just so's Iwouldn't look too green tomorrow. It isn't late, is it?"
"No, it isn't late." Joe brightened perceptibly for an instant, butthen his face fell again and he shook his head. "It wouldn't be anyuse, kiddo. You'd forget it all in the morning. I guess if you won't dolike I said the best thing'll be to let him knock you down as soon aspossible. When you're down, stay down. If he asks have you had enough,you tell him yes. Then you can shake hands and get through withoutgetting all beat up."
"Is that what you'd do?" asked Myron sharply.
"Me? Well, I--I don't know as I would, just."
"Then why should you think I'd do it? Who told you I was a coward? Ican't fight, and I know it, but I don't intend to lie down!"
"Whoa, Bill! I ain't said you were a coward. I know better, of course.If you were a coward you'd try to squirm out of meeting the fellow,wouldn't you? All right, have it your own way, kiddo. Only don't worryabout it, see? You get a good sleep and leave tomorrow look afteritself."
"Thanks. I'm going to do that, Dobbins. Guess I'll turn in now and dreamI'm Jess Willard or one of those guys--fellows. Are you going to studysome more?"
Joe nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to study some. Good night."
"Good night," answered Myron. A few minutes later he spoke again fromthe bedroom. "I say, Dobbins!"
"Yeah?"
"I'm awfully much obliged. You've been mighty kind, you know."
"That's all right, kiddo," growled Dobbins. "Go to sleep."
Whether Myron dreamed that he was a prizefighter, or dreamed at all, hedidn't remember when he awoke. That he had slept restfully, however,he realised the instant he was in possession of his faculties. He toldhimself that he felt fine. And when, a second later, he remembered theengagement at the brickyard the empty feeling at the pit of his stomachlasted but a moment. He turned his head and glanced at the clock ontop of his dresser. Then he stared at it. It said twenty-eight minutesafter six! It wasn't like that clock to go wrong. It had been all rightlast evening when he had wound it, too. Suppose it was still right!Suppose he had overslept! He looked quickly at Joe's bed. It was empty.Great Scott! He'd have to hurry if he was to get to that brickyard inseventeen minutes! He started to throw the covers aside, but he didn't.He couldn't! He couldn't move his arm! Why, he couldn't move any part ofhim except his head! Something awful had happened to him! Fright grippedhim and in a panic he strove to get command of his limbs. Horriblethoughts of paralysis came to him. The bed creaked, but he remained flaton his back! And then it dawned on him that the reason he couldn't movewas because he was tied down!
For a moment he was so relieved to discover that the fault was not withhim that he didn't realise his situation. It was only when he rememberedthe time again that he understood. This was Joe Dobbins' doing! Joe hadtied him down to his bed, though how he had done it without awakeninghim Myron couldn't imagine, and had himself gone to meet Eldredge!Surprise gave way to anger and mortification. What would Eldredge thinkof him? All Joe's explanations would fail to convince Eldredge thatMyron had not purposely stayed away. Of all the crazy, meddlesome foolsin the world, Dobbins was the craziest! Wait until he found him! Waituntil he told him what he thought of him! Wait----
But just then Myron realised that waiting was the one thing he couldn'tafford. The clock had ticked off two minutes of the precious timeremaining to him and the long hand was moving past the half-houralready. He studied his predicament. Joe had, it appeared, used his ownsheets and quilt and, probably, other things as well,
and Myron wasas securely fastened down as Gulliver by the Lilliputians! He couldmove each leg about an inch and each arm the same. By arching his backhe could lift his body just off the bed: something, possibly a sheet,crossed his chest and was tied fast to the side rails. He squirmed untilhe was exhausted, and the only apparent result was to give himself thefraction of an inch more freedom. He subsided, panting, and his angerfound room for grudging admiration of Joe's work. How that idiot hadmanaged to swathe and bind him as he had done without waking him up wasboth a marvel and a mystery!
"Gee," muttered Myron, "I knew I was a sound sleeper, but----"
Words failed him. Presently, despairing of success, he tried tofree his right hand. Something that felt like a strap--he discoveredafterwards that it was one of his neckties--was wound about the wrist,and his efforts were of no avail. The other hand was quite as securelytied. Tugging his feet against similar bonds was equally unprofitable.When the hands of the clock on the dresser indicated seventeen minutesto seven he gave up and tried to find consolation in arranging theeloquent remarks he meant to deliver to Joe Dobbins when that offensiveyouth returned.
Meanwhile, history was in the making on the trampled field of battle.
At a few minutes before the half-hour after six, a large, wide-shoulderedyouth attired in a pair of old trousers, a faded brown sweater thatlacked part of one sleeve and a cloth cap of a violent green-and-brownplaid might have been seen ambling leisurely across the campus in thedirection of the West Gate. In fact, he was seen, for from an open windowon the front of Leonard Hall a pyjama-clad boy thrust his head forth andhailed softly.
"Hi, Joe! Joe Dobbins!" he called.
Joe paused and searched the front of the building until a spot of palelavender against the expanse of sunlit brick supplied the clue. Then:"Hello, Keith," he answered. "Can't you sleep?"
Leighton Keith chuckled. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"Just for a stroll," replied Joe carelessly.
"Wait a minute and I'll come along."
Joe shook his head. "Got a date, Keith, with a guy named Eldredge."
Keith nodded and waved, but, after Joe had passed from sight aroundthe corner of the building, he pursed his lips thoughtfully and staredout into the early morning world. Gradually a smile curved his mouth."Paul Eldredge," he murmured. "Guess we'll look into this." He donned adressing-gown and passed into the corridor and along it until he reacheda window that overlooked Linden Street. Joe was just sauntering throughthe gate, hands in pockets, nonchalance expressed in every motion.But Keith noted with satisfaction that he turned to the right intoApple Street and presently crossed that thoroughfare and disappearedinto the lane that led toward the abandoned brickyard. Keith whistledexpressively if subduedly and went quickly back to his room and arousedHarry Cater by the simple method of pulling the clothes from him."Katie," as he was called, groaned, clutched ineffectually for thebedding and opened one eye.
"Wake up, Katie," said Keith. "Joe Dobbins has a scrap on with Eldredgeat the brickyard. Come on!"
"Howjuno?" muttered Katie.
"He just told me." That was near enough the truth, Keith considered.Katie opened the other eye, stared around the room and slung one footover the edge of the bed. "All right," he said briskly. "Wait till I geta shower and I'll be with you."
"Shower? Nothing doing!" Keith was piling rapidly into his clothes."There isn't time. This is something a little bit choice, old man, andwe don't want to miss it. Get a move on!"