The Crimson Sweater Part 34

SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST"--AND WHAT FOLLOWED

Harry and Jack played one set of tennis, which resulted, owing largely to Harry's evident preoccupation, in an easy win for Jack, 6--3.

"Look here, Harry, you don't really want to play tennis, do you?" asked Jack.

Harry started and flushed guiltily.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

"Not a bit," he answered. "What's bothering you? Methuselah got a headache? Or has Lady Grey eaten one of the white mice?"

Harry shook her head.

"I wish I could tell you, Jack, but it's not my secret," she answered regretfully and a trifle importantly. "Do you--would you mind taking a walk?"

"No; where to?"

"Over to the Mercers'."

Jack thought he could guess then what Harry was troubled about, but he said nothing, and they cut across the orchard, in which a few trees of early apples were already beginning to ripen their fruit, and headed for Farmer Mercer's.

Harry was a great favorite with Mrs. Mercer and was cordially greeted.

They had root beer and vanilla cookies on the front porch, and then, leaving Jack and Mrs. Mercer to entertain each other, Harry ran off to the barn to find the farmer. She was back again in a few minutes and she and Jack took their leave.

"Well, did you discover anything?" asked Jack when they were once more on the road hurrying homeward. Harry shot a startled glance at him. Jack was smiling.

"No," she answered disappointedly. "How'd you know?"

"Oh, I just guessed."

"He insists that it was Roy, but he didn't see him near to at all, so I don't see how he can tell."

"Don't you think it was Roy?" asked Jack.

Harry's indignant look was eloquent.

"Of course it wasn't! He says so!"

There was a mysterious exodus of Middle and Junior Cla.s.s boys from the campus to the boat-house that evening after supper. And, when, an hour later, they came straggling back every face bore the impress of a high and n.o.ble resolution. It had been unanimously resolved--after a good deal of pow-wow--that they should proceed in a body on the following afternoon to Farmer Mercer's grounds and fish in Wissick Creek.

Behold them, then, at the time appointed, marching across the fields and through the woods for all the world like a band of young crusaders, each armed with a fis.h.i.+ng pole and line! There were not enough "truly" poles to go around, so many of the party were forced to cut branches from the willows. On to prohibited territory they marched, eighteen strong, Sidney Welch, having sought and received permission to absent himself from practice, in command. In full view of the white farm-house they lined the bank of the stream and threw in their lines. To be sure, many of the lines were guiltless of flies or even worms, but that was a detail. The minutes pa.s.sed. One boy actually hooked a trout, but was so surprised that the prey escaped before he could land it. And still the minutes pa.s.sed, and the irate voice of the tyrant sounded not. The sportsmen began to tire and grew bored. Many of them had never fished before and didn't care about it. A few tossed aside their rods and fell to playing stick-knife. And then, just when Sid had decided to give up and lead his defeated hosts back to school, a figure ambled toward them across the meadow.

"He's coming!" whispered Sid hoa.r.s.ely.

Fully half of the group exhibited unmistakable signs of alarm; half a dozen edged toward home and were summoned back by the stauncher members.

"He can't do anything to us," said Sid nervously. "We're too many for him--even if he is big!"

"Well, boys, what you doin'?" inquired the farmer amiably.

There was a moment of constrained silence. Then,

"Fis.h.i.+ng," answered Sid bravely.

"Caught anything?" asked the farmer as he joined the group and looked curiously at the huddled poles.

"Not yet, sir," answered Sid.

"Too sunny, I guess," was the reply.

The trespa.s.sers darted bewildered glances along their front. This awful calm was worse than the expected storm.

"Didn't take you long to get here, by gum!" said Farmer Mercer presently. "I didn't just bargain for having the whole school turn out to once, but I don't know as it matters. A bargain's a bargain. I give my word, and there it is. 'Let 'em come once a week, then,' says I, 'but no more 'n that.' The way that gal sa.s.sed me was a caution!" The farmer's face relaxed into something very like a smile. "'If you gave 'em permission to come,' says she, 'they wouldn't care about it so much.

It's the temptation that leads 'em,' says she. 'Tell 'em they can come and they won't want to.' Looks like she was mistaken there, though."

"Who--o?" stammered Sid.

"Why, Harry Emery. That's the way she talked, like a regular book. Said it was all my fault you boys got in trouble!" He chuckled hoa.r.s.ely.

"What do you think of that, eh? My fault, by gum! Called me a--a 'perverter of youth,' or somethin' like that, too! Couldn't do nothin'

but give in to her after that! 'Let 'em come and fish once a week, then,' says I, 'an' as long as they behaves themselves I won't say anything to 'em.' Well, you ain't had much luck, to be sure, but I guess you're cl.u.s.tered kind o' close together. Guess what fish you fellers catch won't hurt much of any!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'The way that gal sa.s.sed me was a caution!'"]

And Farmer Mercer turned and ambled off, chuckling to himself.

The trespa.s.sers looked from one to another; then, with scarcely a word spoken, they wound up their lines and, with poles trailing, crept crestfallenly home. And in such fas.h.i.+on ended Sid's "popular protest!"

Meanwhile events marched rapidly. School came to an end the following Wednesday. In four days, that is on Sat.u.r.day, came the boat-race, in the forenoon; and the final baseball game, at three o'clock. Examinations would end the day before. It was a breathless, exciting week. On the river the finis.h.i.+ng touches were being put to what the school fondly believed was the finest four-oared crew ever destined to carry the Brown and White to victory. On the diamond Mr. Cobb and Captain Chub Eaton were working like beavers with a nine which, at the best, could be called only fairly good. Tappen at first was doing his level best, but his best was far below the standard set by Roy. The nine, discouraged at first by the loss of Roy, was, however, fast regaining its form, and Chub began to feel again that he had at least a fighting chance.

It was a hard week for Roy, for there was always the hope that Fate would intervene and deliver him from his durance. But Wednesday came and Thursday came, and still the crimson sweater, upon the discovery of which so much hinged, did not turn up. Roy vetoed Chub's plea to be allowed to rip open Horace's trunk, and Harry's a.s.sistance, from which, for some reason, Roy had hoped a good deal, had so far worked no relief.

There were moments when Roy was strongly tempted to accuse Horace to his face and dare him to display the contents of that battered trunk of his in the Senior Dormitory. But there was always the lack of certainty in the other's guilt to deter him.

Of Harry, Roy caught but fleeting glimpses. But although she had no good news for him, no brilliant plans to suggest, she was by no means idle.

She very nearly thought herself into brain fever. So absorbed was she in Roy's dilemma that the permission wrung from Farmer Mercer to allow the boys to fish his stream pa.s.sed entirely out of her mind until after school had closed. None of the members of the poaching expedition cared to talk about it, and so Harry remained in ignorance of it for the time being.

Roy finished the last of his examinations on Thursday afternoon, and, while he would not learn the results until next week, he was hopeful of having made a better showing than in the winter. Afterwards he went to the limit of his prison on the river side and watched from a distance the placing of the course flags for the race.

Presently from down the river the brown-s.h.i.+rted crews swept into sight, rowing strongly in spite of their weariness. They had finished the last work before the race, although in the morning there would be a half-hour of paddling. Number 2 in the first boat was splas.h.i.+ng a good deal as the slim craft headed toward the landing, but it probably came from weariness rather than from poor form. The second crew looked pretty well done up and the c.o.xswain's "Let her run!" floated up to Roy long before the landing was in sight. After that they paddled slowly in and lifted their sh.e.l.l from the darkening water as though it weighed a thousand pounds.

From behind Fox Island, well over toward the farther sh.o.r.e, a row of white s.h.i.+rts caught a shaft of afternoon sunlight and Roy watched the rise and fall of the oars as the Hammond four returned home at a good clip closely pursued by the second crew. Then, on his own side of the river, a single scull crept into view around the point and Mr. Buckman, handling the long sweeps with an ease and rhythm that seemed the poetry of motion, his little brown megaphone bobbing from the cord about his neck in time to his movements, shot his craft up to the landing. Then, save for the launch gliding across to the Hammond side, the river was empty and long lanes of sunlight were disappearing, one by one, as the sun sank behind the purple hills.

Roy had not watched baseball practice since that first afternoon.

Brother Laurence's advice might be very excellent, but a chap couldn't always follow it; there were moments when the grins wouldn't come. And, somehow, when Chub confided to him that evening that things were looking up, and couldn't help showing some of the cheerfulness he felt, Roy was more lonesome and out of it than ever.

The next morning after breakfast Doctor Emery announced that every student must be in the dormitories at ten o'clock and have his trunk and cupboard open for inspection; Mrs. Emery would examine the boys'

clothing and take away for repairs such garments as needed them. The announcement was something of a surprise to the older boys, for never before had such an examination been made. It was the custom for the boys to lay aside each week whatever clothing needed mending, cleansing or pressing, but a general inspection was something unprecedented. Many fellows made up their minds to get upstairs as soon as possible and remove certain things from their trunks; firearms and sensational literature, for instance, were prohibited and subject to confiscation if discovered.