CHAPTER XVI

A Plot in the Making

There was a gasp of surprise and a buzzing as of innumerable bees as Mr. Allen uttered the last fateful words and intimated with a wave of the hand that assembly was dismissed.

Once out of the building, Garry, Bill, and Rooster became the center of an excited throng of schoolmates, who congratulated them and mauled them as they laughingly milled about them.

None were more enthusiastic than the members of the football team, who had been terribly depressed since the Waterloo they had received at the hands of Thomaston. The drubbing they had then suffered had largely taken the heart out of them, and all hope of another championship had been resigned.

Nor had they been at a loss as to the reason for the defeat. Thomaston had been no stronger than Pawling, and yet Lenox had beaten Pawling. But Garry Grayson had led them in the Pawling game, and in the Thomaston game he had been absent. That spelled all the difference between victory and defeat.

But their joy in Garry's vindication, which of course carried reinstatement on the football team along with it, was tempered somewhat by the loss of Aleck Anderson. Whatever his faults, he had been a strong player at tackle, and his dismissal from the school created a hole that it would be hard to fill.

As for Sandy Podder and Lent Stewart, no sympathy at all was felt for them, except perhaps by a few of their own ilk, of whom some specimens were left in the school.

After the tumult had subsided and most of the boys had dispersed, Mr. Phillips approached Garry, where he stood with a group of his friends, and heartily shook his hand.

"I am more delighted than I can say by your vindication, Grayson, and yours as well, Long and Sherwood," he said. "It simply shows that in the long run right is bound to win. I want to say that never for a moment, even when things looked blackest, have I believed you guilty."

"Thank you, Mr. Phillips," said Garry, while his comrades echoed him. "I've heard how hard you fought to lift my sentence of suspension or have it changed to a lighter one. Even at that, it's been pretty tough to be barred from athletics."

"Tough on the team too," returned Mr. Phillips, with a smile. "But that's all in the past now. The team will take on new life now with you and the others back in their places. We've missed you, Long, at fullback. The only one who won't go back to his position is Sherwood."

There was a moment of consternation at this announcement, and Bill was appalled.

"Why, Bill's been cleared of the charges too!" put in Garry anxiously.

"All the same," said Mr. Phillips soberly, though his eyes twinkled, "he isn't going back to his old place on the scrubs. I want him on the regulars."

"What?" cried Bill, hardly able to believe his ears.

"That's right," rejoined Mr. Phillips. "You'll take Anderson's place at right tackle."

"Glory hallelujah!" cried Garry, fairly hugging big Bill in his delight.

"Think you can fill the place, Sherwood?" asked the coach.

"Gee, I'll try to, Mr. Phillips, and thanks for the chance!" replied Bill. "I'll work my head off, you can bet on that!"

"I believe you," replied Mr. Phillips. "But we'll all have to work our heads off, if we win our next game with Greenfield. Those boys are going great guns this year, from all I hear. Be out on the field for practice to-morrow afternoon, and we'll do our best to redeem ourselves for that defeat by Thomaston."

There was immense jubilation on the part of Garry and his chums after Mr. Phillips had left them.

"Gee, but this is my lucky day!" exulted Bill. "To be freed from those charges and then, as if that wasn't enough, to get a place on the regulars!"

"Was I right in saying that when the thing did break you fellows wouldn't be sorry?" beamed Garry.

"You had the goods!" admitted Nick. "Though how you got them beats me," he added. "I'm still all in a daze. Mr. Allen said that those skunks had confessed. But why did they confess? We know that they didn't do it of their own accord. They'd have lied out of it if they could. He must have had them so dead to rights that lying wouldn't do them any good."

"That's what's been puzzling me too," put in Rooster. "You must know the reason, Garry. What was it?"

"Yes, you had the advance information," declared Ted. "Out with it, old boy. Spill it!"

"I can't," replied Garry. "Cross my heart and hope to die, fellows, I can't. It would bring others in that we've promised should be kept out of it. A clue was given me by a fellow that we all know. He and I followed it up, and the whole thing came out. It was a dead open and shut certainty, and Sandy and his bunch couldn't get out of it. The only thing I didn't know was that Anderson was mixed up in it. That came out later. I suppose Sandy, likely enough, peached on him with the hope of saving his own skin. But all that doesn't matter. The only thing that counts is that we've been reinstated and that bunch has got what was coming to them."

The practice the next day was such as to fill Mr. Phillips with satisfaction. With Garry and Rooster back on the team it played as though inspired. And Bill Sherwood outdid himself at his new position. His tackling was savage and spectacular, and before the play was half over it was evident that Aleck Anderson would not be missed.

The game with Greenfield was coming on apace. It was the third game on the Lenox schedule, and it promised to be one of the hardest ones.

Thus far Lenox had played two of the five games with the teams that, besides themselves, constituted the High School League. They had beaten Pawling and been defeated by Thomaston. Greenfield was next, and then would follow the games with Bass Lake and Wimbledon in that order.

That they could beat Bass Lake, Lenox felt reasonably certain. Greenfield would be a harder nut to crack. And harder yet probably would be the final game with Wimbledon, the team that had given Lenox its only defeat the year before and this year was reported to be stronger than ever. Wimbledon had already won both games it had played, and by impressive scores. So, while Lenox held none of its opponents cheap, it had the feeling that Wimbledon was the team it would have to beat if it again carried off the championship.

Practice went on unremittingly under the driving force of Mr. Phillips. A weakness was lopped off here, a crudity there, until the team developed into a smoothly working, hard-fighting one that no opponent could beat without putting up a tremendous battle.

"No more sixty-three to six scores this season!" chuckled Nick after a day of sparkling practice.

"Not unless we're on the big end of the score," returned Garry. "I guess we got all the bad football out of our systems in that Thomaston game."

"No more traitors on the team, anyway," stated Rooster.

"N-no," replied Bill hesitatingly. "That is, I hope not."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Garry quickly. "You hope not! Don't you know there aren't!"

"I'm sure there are none on the regulars," replied Bill. "But I feel a little leary about one fellow on the scrubs."

"Who is that?" demanded Garry.

"Well, perhaps I ought not to say it," responded Bill. "Mind, fellows, this is in strict confidence. I may be all wrong. But haven't you noticed something a little queer about Ed Bixby at right tackle?"

Garry pondered for a moment.

"Not especially," he replied slowly, "except that he seems to forget himself sometimes and resorts to dirty football. He's roughed me a good deal lately when I've come in contact with him, but I laid that to his eagerness to win."

"Maybe," admitted Bill. "As I say, I may be wrong. But what struck me is that he doesn't resort to those tricks except when he's up against you. He's all right with the other fellows, plays hard but plays fair. But he gives you the knee whenever he can. And when he tackles you he slams you to the ground as hard as he can. Looks as though he were trying to put you out."

"I remember he slugged me yesterday," replied Garry. "But I thought he had lost his temper in the excitement of the game and I let it go at that."

"By itself, it might not prove anything," replied Bill. "But he was a great pal of Anderson's, and several times lately I've seen Ed with him in the street, their heads together and both talking earnestly. Of course, that may mean nothing. Then again, it may mean a good deal. Anderson, of course, is as sore as a boil at you, and if you could be put out of the game it would be pie for him and the bunch he trains with, Sandy Podder, Lent Stewart, and Chat Johns. I just wanted to put a flea in your ear, old boy, so that you'd be on your guard."

That afternoon on their way home Bill and Garry met Frank Sherwood, Bill's brother.

The change in Frank since he had been cleared of the charge of theft, falsely brought against him by Gyp Mooney and Sandy Podder, was amazing. He had learned his lesson and had cut loose entirely from his former wild associates. He had recovered all of his old pep and ambition and was making remarkable advance in his studies in the medical school, from which he had run down to spend the week end with his family.

"How are you, Garry?" Frank greeted him.

"Fine," replied Garry as they shook hands. "I needn't ask how you are. You look like a million dollars."

"I'm feeling fit and studying hard," smiled Frank. "I'm mighty glad to learn that you and Bill have got out of your trouble at the school. It was a dirty trick those fellows played on you, and I'm glad they got what was coming to them. I've no more reason to love Sandy Podder than you have."

"I know you haven't," replied Garry, with a smile.

"All the same," went on Frank, "you want to keep your eyes peeled. Those fellows will do you mischief if they can."

"On general principles I suppose they would," replied Garry.

"But I've got something more specific than general principles to go on," warned Frank. "I saw Sandy and a pal of his on the train by which I came in this morning."

"You did?" returned Garry, with a quickening of interest.

"Yes," replied Frank. "They got on at a way station, came in at the back of the car I was in, went past me and took the seat right in front of me. They didn't notice me, but I knew Sandy at once. I ought to know him," he added grimly. "But what I'm getting at is this. They got to talking together earnestly. I didn't pay any attention until I heard them speak your name, Garry. That interested me, especially as they were calling you all the names in the calendar."

"I can imagine some of them," laughed Garry.

"Swellhead was the mildest of them," stated Frank. "I put my paper up in front of me so if they turned around they wouldn't know who I was. They were talking rather low, and what with that and the rattle of the train I couldn't get many connected sentences. But I got enough to know that they were trying to put a raw deal over on you."

"That's their favorite outdoor sport," said Garry dryly. "Did you get any dope on what it was this time?"

"Not clearly," replied Frank. "But I caught certain phrases. 'Big bets' was one of them. 'The Wimbledon game' was another. Then there were 'sure thing,' 'all fixed,' 'can't lose.' And I heard the names of Anderson and Bixby. I don't know who they are. Do you?"

Bill and Garry looked at each other significantly.

"We know them," replied Bill. "Anderson was fired from Lenox High along with Sandy Podder and Lent Stewart. Bixby is still there."

"Well, that's about all I heard," went on Frank. "But Garry's name came in so often that I felt sure they were cooking up something especially against him. I made up my mind I'd give you the tip. Those fellows are bad medicine."

"Thanks very much, Frank," said Garry warmly. "I'll sure be on the watch."

They changed the subject then, and after a little more conversation Frank went on, leaving Bill and Garry in an especially thoughtful mood.

"So, maybe after all it wasn't a mare's nest that I uncovered this morning," remarked Bill, as they walked on.

"Looks that way," admitted Garry. "There may be some one else in the school that'll have to be thrown overboard. Why can't fellows be decent? Why should there be such things as traitors?"

"Why should there be such things as skunks and snakes and mosquitoes?" Bill answered. "But there are, just the same. We've just got to grin and bear them."

"Not on your life!" cried Garry, clenching his fists. "We've got to fight them!"