CHAPTER XII

Out of the Game

All of Garry Grayson's thinking promised to be of little use at this juncture. The net of circumstantial evidence closed tightly about him and his friends, and try as he did he could find no way out of it.

Their friends--and they were many--were loyally with them, but since they could not explain away the strong evidence of those hip flasks, their friendship was of little practical assistance.

Mr. Allen, put on his mettle by that article in the morning paper and furious to find the unpleasant insinuations in it substantiated by what seemed substantial proof, permitted the full weight of his wrath to fall upon the helpless lads.

He listened grimly to their protestations of innocence. Then he announced his verdict. The three were to be suspended, summarily barred from Lenox High for three months, as a warning to the other students of the school.

It was a terrible blow to the boys. Naturally it was very disturbing to their parents, who were firmly convinced that their sons were being wronged. They went to Mr. Allen and urged that the sentence be modified, at least until the boys could have a chance to unravel the plot they felt had been woven about them.

More than this, most of the teachers of the school in conference with their superior privately advised leniency, especially in view of the unspotted records of the boys up to that time. Mr. Phillips was especially urgent in asking for a lighter sentence. He admitted the weight of the evidence was against them, but assured Mr. Allen that nevertheless he was convinced that the boys were innocent and that in due time that innocence would be established.

By this time the principal's wrath had cooled somewhat; his certainty of their wrongdoing was wavering; his own liking for the accused boys reasserted itself; and he finally agreed to revoke his order of suspension.

However--and this was almost as much a blow to the boys as actual suspension--the final punishment meted out by Mr. Allen barred the lads from all participation in athletic games for the rest of the term.

"I'd rather be suspended!" burst out Rooster savagely. "Can you imagine sitting on the sub bench and watching Lenox lose?"

"Wake up, feller, you're dreaming," growled Bill. "You don't suppose we'll get as far as the sub bench, do you? We've been barred from the field altogether, except as spectators in the stands."

"Even the humble sub has it all over us," muttered Garry bitterly. "I've tried to be cheerful about this, but it certainly looks as though we were licked at last."

"Say, Garry, where do you get that stuff?" said Nick Danter, in an attempt to cheer up his chum. "You won't be licked until you're dead. We'll find a way to get you and Bill and Rooster back on the gridiron some way! Suffering cats!" he added angrily, "I wish old Allen were further. How does he expect we're going to win against Thomaston and the game only a few days off? Without you, we're sure to lose."

"Oh, no, you're not." With difficulty Garry raised himself from the depths of gloom. "You're not beaten till you think you are, Nick. It's your job and the job of the other fellows on the team to go in and win despite the handicap. You see, Rooster and I are conceited enough to call it a handicap," he added, with a sorry attempt at a grin.

"Can't be done, Garry! Can't be done!" declared Nick moodily. "Not at such short notice, anyhow. You know we expect a hard fight against Thomaston under any conditions. Their team is mighty strong. They've lost hardly any of their old stars through graduation. And as far as our team is concerned, with you and Rooster counted out, the boys are in for an awful slump. I don't believe that anything Mr. Phillips can do will pull them out of it."

"Just the same, if any one can, Mr. Phillips will!" exclaimed Garry, brightening at mention of the English teacher. "There's one fine man! He doesn't believe we did any of the things charged against us."

"Neither does any one else in the school, if the truth were told," asserted Ted. "I don't think Mr. Allen himself really believes it. He has to keep discipline though, and in the face of the circumstantial evidence against you he had to do something."

When the day came for the game with Thomaston, which was to take place on the Lenox grounds, Garry, Rooster, and Bill thought at first that they would not go at all. But the call of the gridiron was too strong to be resisted. They could at least cheer for the old team, even if they could not play on it.

Their entrance into the stands was attended with an ovation on the part of their fellow students that warmed their hearts. Hands were thrust out to grasp theirs and many were the words of sympathy spoken. Most of the students were almost as sore as Garry himself at his banishment from the game, and with him out they could see nothing but defeat for Lenox.

Their gloomy anticipations were fulfilled to the uttermost, for that afternoon Lenox went down to the worst defeat it had experienced since it had been a member of the league.

With Garry gone, his former mates were like a ship without a rudder. Mr. Phillips had done the best he could to strengthen the team. Pete Maddern had been put in Rooster's place and Benny Knapp had taken Garry's, while Rankin had been called on to fill Knapp's place in the backfield. It was the best that could be done under the circumstances, but it was not good enough to avert an overwhelming defeat.

For Benny got mixed in his signals, often with fatal results. The whole team became confused, not knowing what to expect from their leader. Thomaston took full advantage of the mistakes and made the game a massacre.

Only once did Lenox score, when the Thomaston fullback fumbled and Nick scooped up the ball and went over the line for a touchdown. But Thomaston scored almost at will. They rode easily to victory while Lenox was smothered at every turn.

Six times Thomaston battered its way through the line for touchdowns. When they wearied of this, they resorted to the aerial game, while the Lenox overhead defense collapsed. Four times Thomaston scored through the air on two passes of fifty yards each, one of fifty-four and a fourth of twenty-seven.

Under this fierce attack the entire Lenox team became like a mass of huddled sheep. The game had become a joke. When at last the referee's whistle sounded an end to the slaughter, Thomaston had triumphed by a score of 63 to 6.

The Lenox rooters sat through it all, glum and dumbfounded, while the Thomaston supporters chortled with glee. Lenox had taken a shameful beating.

Sick at heart, Garry watched his chance, and when his comrades were not looking slipped away by himself. He was in no mood for conversation. He wanted to be alone in his misery until he could get a grip on himself. To have to sit there and watch his team lose! To feel without conceit that in ten minutes on the field he could have turned the tide of battle! To know this, and yet to sit there in silent agony seeing the team disgraced! It was more than he could bear.

Wandering along blindly, his head full of unhappy thoughts, Garry heard himself suddenly accosted. The voice was a familiar one and, looking up, Garry saw Cal Yates' car parked at the curb. Cal was grinning at him amiably. "What's the matter that you can't recognize an old friend," chirped Cal. "Come on, jump in and we'll go for a ride."

Garry hesitated, was about to refuse, then suddenly acquiesced. He liked Cal Yates and hardly cared to offend him by refusing the invitation. Then, too, it would be a change and might drive away some of the gloom that enwrapped him.

As Garry put a leg over the car door and slumped down in the seat beside him, Cal regarded him slyly out of the corner of his eye.

"Think I can guess the reason for your doleful dumps," Cal said with a jerk of his head back toward the field. "I was at the game. Thomaston certain walked all over you."

Garry nodded glumly.

"My hands were tied," he said. "Rooster and I had to sit there and watch them get licked."

"Pretty tough!" murmured Cal sympathetically.

There was a moment of silence while the car purred rhythmically along the road. Then Cal spoke suddenly and with a resolution not familiar to him.

"See here," he blurted out. "I like you, and I've reason to be grateful to you for what you did for my dad when he needed help. Besides, I don't like to see a fellow framed."

Garry looked at him curiously.

Cal was silent again as he manipulated the car about a corner and swung off on a road leading into the country. Here he slowed the car to an ambling pace and turned half about to face Garry.

"Because that's what you've been," he said, continuing from the point where he had left off. "Framed!"

"Don't I know it?" Garry spoke bitterly. "We fellows never had hip flasks, never even thought of them until they were found in our desks. If that isn't framing, what is?"

Cal pondered a moment.

"I don't like to mix in any one else's business," he said slowly. "But--" He paused.

"If you know anything, spill it," urged Garry eagerly.

"I will," said Cal briskly. "I'll tell you when and where you were framed and who did it!"