CHAPTER XXIII

Almost a Tragedy

The shock of the blow from the runaway car was so great that Joe Brench was rendered unconscious. If Garry had not acted as swiftly as he had, there was little doubt that the boy would have been instantly killed.

A crowd was already following the car, and in response to Garry's shouts others came running from all directions. Some one called up the hospital, and in a few minutes an ambulance came tearing up.

The surgeon knelt down and examined the injured boy, whose head Garry was holding on his knee.

"Leg broken and a bad gash in the head, received when he fell," he announced after a moment. "Don't think the skull is fractured though. Can't tell yet whether he has any internal injuries. We'll get him to the hospital at once."

He administered what immediate aid was necessary, and then, with the help of the bystanders, got the boy into the ambulance and was off.

The car in its wild gyrations had come up against a tree, and now lay in the street, almost a wreck.

"Whose car is it?" asked one of the crowd.

"It's Sandy Podder's," answered a small boy who had seen the car start on its wild journey and now came up breathless. "He left it in front of Bagley's store at the top of the hill while he went inside."

"H'm! I'd rather it was his car than mine that hit that boy," remarked a bystander. "He'll have a pretty penny to pay for damages."

"Damages, nothing!" snarled Sandy himself, who at that moment arrived, wild-eyed and pale from his run down the hill. "Some boys must have started the car. Could I help that? You're talking through your hat."

But this was contradicted a minute later when the storekeeper himself came running up. He had seen the whole affair from start to finish.

"Young Podder can say what he likes," the storekeeper said to a group that gathered about him. "No boy touched the car. It began to move before Sandy got ten feet away from it. It was standing on an incline, and it must have been that he hadn't set his brakes right. It's lucky Mr. Podder is rich. He'll have to shell out something before he gets quit of this business."

The accident had been a great shock to Garry. One moment he had been talking to Joe, who was as vital and vigorous as himself. The next moment that boy had been stricken down--fatally, for all Garry knew. Garry's head was swimming and his nerves were in a jangle. But he had saved Joe from instant death, anyway. For that he was profoundly thankful.

As Garry gradually acquired control of himself his thought recurred to what Joe had been saying when the accident happened. What had the boy meant when he spoke of his wanting to beat Lenox, but do it "fairly and squarely--on the level"?

Had he learned that some of the Wimbledon team had the Lenox signals and had he revolted at the thought and determined that Lenox should have a fair chance to win or lose on the merits of the game it played? Was that the explanation of his queer errand?

Garry's heart warmed toward the boy. He was square, at any rate, an honest foe. Of course, thought Garry to himself, Wimbledon, if it had any of the Lenox signals at all, had only the old ones that had now been discarded. Joe's errand, however well intentioned, had been needless. There was nothing to worry about as far as the signals were concerned. How lucky it was that Mr. Phillips had changed the old ones for the new! And how disconcerted the conspirators would be when they found that all their trickery had availed nothing!

In the evening Garry called up the hospital and inquired about Joe Brench. He was infinitely relieved when he learned that the injuries, though serious, were not fatal. The broken leg was the principal damage. There appeared to be no internal injuries. The boy had been delirious for a time, but was now resting quietly. Yes, Garry could probably see him for a few minutes the next morning. But he must not stay long and must not say anything to excite him.

So about eight o'clock the next morning Garry called at the hospital and was led by a nurse to the bed on which Joe Brench lay.

The sick boy smiled up at Garry gratefully as the latter sat down in a chair at the side of the bed.

"You're a bully scout," he murmured. "They tell me if you hadn't snatched me out of the way as quickly as you did, I'd have been killed, sure."

"I wish I'd been able, Joe, to pull you out of the way altogether," replied Garry. "But you'll be all right now, they tell me here. It's only a matter of patience till your leg mends."

"Remember what I was saying to you when the car came along?" asked Joe.

"Oh, something about the game between Wimbledon and Lenox," replied Garry lightly. "But let that go now. You can tell me some other time."

"But some other time will be too late," replied Joe. "I want that game to be an honest one. And it won't be as it stands now."

"Why not?" asked Garry.

"Because," said Joe, "Wimbledon has got your signals. Two or three of the fellows are going to profit by them. They tried to get me to go in with them, but I put them off. But the more I thought of it the crookeder it seemed, and I couldn't stand for it. I want Wimbledon to win, but win honestly. I hate dirty football."

"So do I," replied Garry. "Now, Brench," he added, with a smile, "let me tell you something. Those signals that Wimbledon has are old ones. They're no good. We've thrown them into the junk heap and have taken up a complete new system. So we shan't worry. It's the crooks that will get left."

"No, no!" exclaimed Joe. "You're all wrong! They've got the new ones!"

"What?" cried Garry, hardly able to believe his ears. "They can't have! It's impossible!"

"Sure as shooting!" affirmed Joe. "Listen! I heard Bill Sykes telling one of the fellows about it. Those fellows who did this dirty work did intend to give away the old signals, but they got a tip that they were suspected. They guessed you'd call in the old ones and get new ones. So two of them hid in a closet in the gymnasium the day your coach went over the new signals, and they heard every word he said. They copied the new signals and--wait! What's your hurry?"

But Garry had already bolted from the room and was going down the stairs four steps at a time.