The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football

  CHAPTER XI

  A NEW COMPLICATION

  "Oh, hang it all!" burst out Phil Clinton, as he tossed aside histrigonometry.

  "What's the matter?" inquired Tom, looking up from his Latin prose.

  "Have you got the dink-bots?" was Sid's gentle question, as he kept oncarefully mounting a butterfly, one of the specimens he had capturedduring the summer, and had laid aside until a leisure moment to care forproperly.

  "I don't know what it is, but I can't get my mind down to study," wenton the quarter-back.

  "You never could," declared Tom, fortifying himself behind the sofa incase Phil should turn violent.

  It was the evening after the Freshman game, and the three chums werein their study, after the meeting with the big Californian, as FrankSimpson had at once been dubbed. He had been directed to his room, whichwas on the floor above the apartment of our heroes, and he had gone offthanking them warmly.

  "What's the main trouble?" asked Tom.

  "Oh, nothing in particular; but I guess I'm thinking of too many otherthings. There's that little run-in I had with Langridge, seeing the gameto-day, worrying about the clock and chair mystery, and wondering howour eleven is going to make out."

  "It's enough to drive you to--cigarettes," admitted Tom. "But I----"

  "Say, I'll tell you what let's do," broke in Sid. "Let's invite thatSimpson chap down here. He must be sort of lonesome, being a strangerhere. I saw him going off to his room after grub, and none of thefellows spoke to him. Now, Randall isn't that kind of a college. True,we don't know much about him, but he looks the right sort. It won't doany harm to have him down here and talk to him."

  "Sure not," agreed Phil at once.

  "Good idea," declared Tom. "Shall we all go and invite him down, as acommittee of three, or will one be enough?"

  "Oh, one," replied Phil. "You go, Tom, you're the homeliest. Have it asinformal as possible."

  "I like your nerve!" exclaimed the end. "However, I will go, for I likeSimpson. I wish he was on the eleven. Wonder if he was any good atStanford?"

  "Never heard of him setting the goal posts on fire," came from Sid,"but you never can tell. If he has any football stuff in him Lightonwill bring it out. We can tell Simpson to get into practice, anyhow."

  "Randall needs just such material as he looks to be," went on Tom, as hearose to go to the room of the Californian. "I rather hope he makes the'varsity."

  Frank Simpson very much appreciated the invitation he received, and alittle later he was accorded a seat of honor on the sofa, and made tofeel at home by our heroes, who plied him with questions about hisnative State, and what sort of a college Leland Stanford was. Thenewcomer at Randall answered genially, and, in turn, wanted to know manythings. Particularly he was interested in football, and in response toTom's urging that he practice, he said that he would.

  "You fellows have quite a place here," went on Frank, as his gaze rovedadmiringly about the room. "Quite a tidy shack."

  "You don't see the best part of it," spoke Sid.

  "How's that?" inquired Frank.

  "Our old easy chair was mysteriously taken, and in place of a clockwhose tick, while an aggravation, made us all feel at home, that timerwas left in its place," remarked Phil, before his chum had a chance toanswer. And then the story of the queer happenings was told again.

  "Somebody's rigging you, I guess," was the opinion of the lad fromStanford. "I wouldn't let 'em see that I was worried."

  "Oh, we're not, but we'd like to get our chair back," replied Tom.

  "Something like that happened out in our college, when I was a freshman,"went on the newcomer, who, it developed, was in the Randall sophomoreclass. "We fellows missed things from our rooms and made quite a rowabout it, thinking a thief was busy. But it developed that there was asecret society of seniors whose sworn duty it was to furnish up theirmeeting-room with something taken from every fellow's apartment in thecollege. Jove! But those fellows had a raft of stuff, every bit of itpilfered, and when we got next to it we stripped their meeting place asbare as a bone, and got our things back. Maybe that's what's happenedhere."

  "It's possible," admitted Phil, "but we haven't heard of any seniorsecret society like that. It's worth looking up."

  There was a knock on the door, and Holly Cross and Dutch Housenlagerentered. They were introduced to Frank, and the congenial little partyof lads talked of various matters, mostly football, until the strikingof the new clock warned them that it was time for the proctor to beginhis nightly rounds of discovery.

  Frank Simpson began football practice with the scrub eleven the nextday, and though he was sneered at by some, Tom and his friends on the'varsity at once saw that the Californian knew the game. Mr. Lighton didnot have to have his attention called to the work of the newcomer, forhe picked him out at once, and kept his eyes on him during the warm-upplay.

  "I shouldn't wonder but what there'd be 'varsity material there," thecoach confided to the captain after the practice game was over, when thescrub had rolled up two touchdowns against their mates.

  "The land knows we need something to brace us up," replied Kindlings,somewhat despondently. "Sam Looper is getting worse instead of better.They tore big holes through him to-day."

  "I know it," admitted Mr. Lighton. "And what will happen when Boxer Halltackles us can be more than imagined, unless there's a big improvement.But I'm going to watch Simpson."

  The big Californian was of a genial temperament, and he endeavored tomake friends with his fellows on the scrub, but, somehow or other, theyrather resented his advances, and turned the cold shoulder to him. Hurt,but not despairing, Frank "flocked by himself" for a few days. He wasbecoming known as a "dig," for he did well in the classroom.

  Then Tom, and his two mates, seeing how the wind was blowing, made aspecial point to invite the newcomer to their room more frequently. Theytook him to their bosoms, and their warm welcome more than made up forthe coldness on the part of some of the others.

  It was not an intentional slight by those who did not welcome Simpson.Don't get that impression, for there was a warm school spirit atRandall. Only, somehow, it took a little longer for a stranger to makefriends, coming in after the term had started, than it did before. Then,too, the fact that he had not passed his freshman year there was a bitagainst him. But Tom, Phil and Sid minded this not in the least, andsoon Frank was made to feel quite at home, for which he was dulygrateful.

  "It's mighty white of you fellows, to treat me this way, like a friendand a brother," he said, feelingly, one night, after a session in theroom.

  "Oh, get out! Why shouldn't we?" demanded Sid.

  "Of course," spoke Tom.

  "Well, lots of fellows wouldn't go to the trouble, and I appreciate it,"went on the lad from the Golden Gate. "All I want now is to make the'varsity, and I'll be happy!"

  "You may be nearer getting on than you think," murmured Phil, for inpractice that day Snail Looper had done worse than ever, while Frank wasa tower of strength to the scrub, which had almost beaten the firstteam.

  In spite of their work on the gridiron, our heroes did not forget tolook for clews to the missing chair and clock. Only none developed,search and pry about as they did. The big Californian helped themby suggestions, but there proved to be nothing in his theory of apurloining secret society, and Tom and his chums did not know which wayto turn next.

  The date for the game with Newkirk was drawing closer, and practice wascorrespondingly harder. It was one afternoon, following a gruelling houron the field, that as Tom, his two chums, and Frank were walking towardthe gymnasium, they saw several members of the faculty entering thehouse of President Churchill.

  "Hello! What's up?" exclaimed Tom.

  "Something, evidently," answered Phil.

  "Have any of you fellows been cutting up?" asked Sid, with suspiciouslooks at his companions. They quickly entered denials.

  Clearly there was something extraordinary in the meeting that hadevidently been called, for the profess
ors wore grave looks as theyentered the residence of the head.

  "I hope none of the 'varsity crowd has been misbehaving himself, andwill get laid off the team," went on Phil, who felt that he carried theweight of the eleven on his shoulders. "We're in bad enough shape now."

  "Here comes Wallops, let's ask him," suggested Tom, and when themessenger approached they plied him with questions.

  "I don't rightly know what it is," answered Wallops, "but it is somethingimportant and serious, so I heard Mr. Zane saying to Professor Tines,when he gave him word about the meeting. It has something to do with thetitle to the land on which the college is built. I believe some one haslaid claim to it, on account of a cloud on the title, but I really don'tunderstand legal terms."

  "Do you mean that Randall College is in danger of losing some of theproperty?" gasped Phil, as he looked around at the fine campus, theathletic field, and the group of buildings.

  "It's something like that," went on the messenger. "I heard Mr. Zane saythe land might be taken by the heirs of some old man who once had aclaim on it."

  "Well, what would happen if he could make good his claim?" asked Sid.

  "I don't know, but I suppose the heirs could say the college was theirs,being built on their ground, or they could tear it down. But I don'trightly know," concluded Wallops. "Probably it will be known after themeeting."

  "More trouble for old Randall!" groaned Tom, as he and his chums watchedthe gathering of the solemn professors.