The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron Part 7

CHAPTER VI

AT THE SINGING SCHOOL

Frank did not hesitate a minute. He believed that it was his duty, if possible, to overtake the spy, and not only learn his ident.i.ty, but in some fas.h.i.+on make him promise not to reveal what he had seen and heard.

He started as fast as he could, making allowances for the fact that he did not wish to alarm the fellow too soon. The shades of evening were not far away, since night comes early in mid-November, and try as he would, he found it impossible to decide as to whether the other was someone he knew or a stranger.

As he ran quickly over in his mind the list of those who would come under the head of suspicion, he put them aside, one after another. It was certainly not Lef Seller or Bill Klemm; another look, and he was just as positive that it could not be either Asa Barnes or Tony Gilpin.

Perhaps, after all, this cunning spy might be some enthusiast from Clifford, who, believing that his team had suffered through treachery on the preceding Sat.u.r.day, when Bellport overwhelmed them, wished to even matters by picking up Columbia's signals.

"As if two wrongs ever yet made a right," said Frank bitterly, as he continued to chase after the unknown.

He was gaining rapidly. Still, in order to do so, he had to keep his eyes fixed for the most part on the moving figure ahead, and in this way was unable to properly watch his footsteps.

Consequently, it was not at all surprising when he suddenly stepped on a stick that broke with a sharp tw.a.n.g. And, before he could dodge behind a tree, the fellow beyond had turned his head.

Frank knew instantly that he was discovered. He had stood perfectly still, in the hope that he might escape observation; but when he saw the other take to his heels, he realized that it was now destined to be a stern chase. So he, too, started to run at top speed, which meant a hot pace, since Frank was something of a sprinter on the cinder path.

At least, that turn on the part of the other had told him one thing--it was no Columbia fellow who had played this miserable trick upon the football squad; so undoubtedly he must belong in Clifford.

Despite the efforts of the school authorities, there was always more or less laying of wagers on these games. Driven away from the racetracks by recent strict State legislation, it seemed that those who made books were seeking all manner of sports, in order to carry on their games of chance.

So Frank consoled himself in the belief that this might be some agent of these gamesters, rather than a Clifford schoolboy intending to take a mean advantage of the rival team.

He was outrunning the fugitive, and it looked as though, if the chase were continued five minutes more, Frank was sure to overtake him.

Then the road leading north toward the river was reached. To Frank's disgust, he saw the other drag a bicycle out of some bushes, and, while he made a swift rush, hoping to yet come upon the fellow before he got away, it was only to see his intended quarry spin off along the road.

Frank followed a short distance, still cheris.h.i.+ng a faint hope that something might happen to upset the other, but gradually the figure of the fleeing spy began to vanish, and he had to give it up.

The last he heard from the fellow was a sharp howl of derision.

Evidently his sudden coming on the scene had given the coward a great scare, and he was now rejoicing over his narrow escape.

"Too bad that he got away," thought Frank, as he started across a field to take a short-cut that would save him considerable in his walk home. "I don't even know who he is. But, at any rate, this settles the question of signals. We wouldn't dare use the old ones now."

He made direct for the home of Buster Billings, where Coach Willoughby was stopping, he being an old friend of the family.

"h.e.l.lo, how did you make out?" was the way he greeted Frank when the football captain was ushered into his room, where he was dressing for dinner.

"You guessed right, sir," answered Frank, gloomily.

"Then there _was_ a spy around to pick up our signals?" asked the coach, smiling.

"He was hidden up in that big dense pine tree, and I guess he could see everything we did, as well as hear my signals. It's a shame that we have to go up against such trickery as that, sir,"

declared Frank, warmly.

"That's all right. Remember what we concluded would come out of this thing. If those Clifford players are small enough to take advantage of this find, let them, that's all. We'll fix it so that they'll make some tremendous blunders before they decide that honesty is the best policy. But I'm glad you found out. Now, tell me all about it, Frank," and the coach put both hands on the shoulders of the young athlete, in whom he had taken great interest.

Frank made a wry face.

"There isn't much to tell. No _veni, vidi, vici,_ about this, for, while I came, and saw, I didn't conquer by a long shot. The fellow dropped down out of the tree, and made off, with me tagging behind. Then he discovered me, and ran. I followed suit, and was rapidly overtaking him, when we reached the road that turns toward the one along the river bank leading to the Clifford bridge."

"Yes, and then?" continued the coach, expectantly.

"I lost him! He had a wheel hidden in the bushes, and pedaled away, giving me the laugh as he went out of sight. That's all, sir," concluded Frank.

"Did you get a square look at the fellow?" inquired Mr.

Willoughby.

"Enough to make sure that he didn't belong in Columbia, so far as I could tell. I guess he came from Clifford, all right, sir."

"Well, it makes little difference, so long as we know the signals are off. Forewarned is forearmed, they say. Forget all about it, my boy, and we'll fix matters so that we can profit from our seeming misfortunes."

So Frank went home to clean himself, and eat his supper. The consolation given by Coach Willoughby did much to cheer him up, and he managed to put the ugly business out of his mind.

Indeed, he had a host of other things to bother him. The game on the morrow, of course, meant much to an enthusiast like Frank.

Then, again, there was that strange matter in connection with Minnie Cuthbert. Frank thought a good deal of Minnie, and they had been great friends for a long time. To have her cut him dead was bad enough, but to act as she did toward his sister Helen seemed outrageous.

"There is something wrong about it," Frank said, as he dressed.

"Minnie isn't the kind of a girl to do such a thing unless she believes she has a mighty good excuse. Well, I can't do anything to bridge the gap. It must go on until something happens to bring about an explanation. Until then it is my policy to simply leave matters alone, and pay attention to my own affairs."

But when he got to thinking of how Lef Seller had on one other occasion played a trick that, for a time, made trouble between Minnie and himself, he shook his head wrath fully, and muttered threats that boded no good to that prank-lover, should he prove to be guilty in this present instance.

Helen, being a girl, knew how to disguise her feelings. She seemed quite herself, and Frank could not help wondering if, after all, she had cared more for Minnie than she did for Flo Dempsey, with whom she intended seeing the great game on the morrow.

"Going to the meeting of the glee club to-night, Helen?" he asked, after supper.

She looked at him with a smile.

"Why not? I'm just as fond of singing as ever. I hope you don't mean to stay away for any reason, Frank?" came her quick reply.

That decided Frank. Any hesitation on the part of his sister, and he meant to remain at home; for, somehow, he felt that he hardly cared to mingle with the crowd, where Minnie must a.s.suredly be, since she was one of the leading singers.

"Why, sure. I guess a little relaxation from the strain will do all of the team good. Some of the other fellows are going to come in a bunch, with Ralph and Bones."

"What is that for?" asked Helen, who could see from the smile that crossed his face that there was a reason.

"Oh, it's just like the cla.s.s spreads, where they want to break the jollification up by kidnapping the president; some fellows are after our two new recruits, that's all," he replied.

"But this is different. Why should any Columbia boy want to kidnap Ralph? It would spoil the game to-morrow, and perhaps defeat our school."

"And that's just what these fellows would like to see. A case of sour grapes with them. But we're going to protect our men to the limit," declared Frank.