The Half-Back Part 12

But, here, I'll shy your book through the transom."

This was done, and the sound of ascending feet on the stairway reaching Sproule's ears at that moment, he grabbed his book and took himself off, muttering vengeance.

"Have you looked?" asked West.

"Yes; it's not there. But there are no others missing. Who could have taken it?"

"Any one, my boy; Bartlett Cloud, for preference. Your door is unlocked, he comes in when he knows you are out, looks on the table, sees nothing there that will serve, goes to the bureau, opens the top drawer, and finds a pile of letters. He takes the first one, which is, of course, the last received, and sneaks out. Then he climbs into the bell tower at night, cuts the rope through all but one small strand, and puts your letter on the floor where it will be found in the morning.

Isn't that plain enough?" Joel nodded forlornly. "But cheer up, Joel.

Your Uncle Out will see your innocence established, firmly and beyond all question. And now come on. It's one o'clock, and you've got to go back to the office, while I've got a cla.s.s. Come over to my room at four, Joel, and tell me what happens."

Remsen and the secretary were no longer in the office when Joel returned. Professor Durkee was standing with his hat in his hand, apparently about to leave.

"March," began the princ.i.p.al, "Mr. Remsen tells us that you were struck at by Bartlett Cloud on the football field one day at practice. Is that so?" Joel replied affirmatively.

"Does he speak to you, or you to him?"

"No, sir; but then I've never been acquainted with him."

"Do you believe that he could have stolen that letter from your room?"

"I know that he could have done so, sir, but I don't like to think--"

"That he did? Well, possibly he did and possibly he didn't. I shall endeavor to find out. Meanwhile I must ask you to let this go no further. You will go on as though this conversation had never occurred.

If I find that you are unjustly suspected I will summon you and ask your pardon, and the guilty one will be punished. Professor Durkee here has pointed out to me that such conduct is totally foreign to his conception of your character, and has reminded me that your standing in cla.s.s has been of the best since the beginning of the term. I agree with him in all this, but duty in the affair is very plain and I have been performing it, unpleasant as it is. You may go now, March; and kindly remember that this affair must be kept quiet,"

Joel turned with a surprised but grateful look toward Professor Durkee, but was met with a wrathful scowl. Joel hurried to his recitation, and later, before West's fireplace, the friends discussed the unfortunate affair in all its phases, and resolved, with vehemence, to know the truth sooner or later.

But Joel's cup was not yet filled. When he returned to the dormitory after supper, he found two missives awaiting him. The first was from Wesley Blair:

"DEAR MARCH" (it read): "Please show up in the morning at Burke's for breakfast with the first eleven. You are to take the place of Post at L.H.B. It will be necessary for you to report at the gym at eleven each day for noon signals; please arrange your recitations to this end. I am writing this because I couldn't see you this afternoon; hope you are all right. Yours,

"WESLEY BLAIR."

Joel read this with a loudly beating heart and flus.h.i.+ng cheeks. It was as unexpected as it was welcome, that news; he _had_ hoped for an occasional chance to subst.i.tute Post or Blair or Clausen on the first team in some minor game, but to be taken on as a member was more than he had even thought of since he had found how very far from perfect was his playing. He seized his cap with the intention of racing across to Hampton and informing West of his luck; then he remembered the other note. It was from the office, and it was with a sinking heart that he tore it open and read:

"You are placed upon probation until further notice from the Faculty.

The rules and regulations require that pupils on probation abstain from all sports and keep their rooms in the evenings except upon permission from the Princ.i.p.al. Respectfully,

"CURTIS GORDON, Secretary."

CHAPTER XI.

TWO HEROES.

One afternoon a week later Outfield West and Joel March were seated on the ledge where, nearly two months before, they had begun their friends.h.i.+p. The sun beat warmly down and the hill at their backs kept off the east wind. Below them the river was brightly blue, and a skiff dipping its way up stream caught the sunlight on sail and hull until, as it danced from sight around the headland, it looked like a white gull hovering over the water. Above, on the campus, the football field was noisy with voices and the pipe of the referee's whistle; and farther up the river at the boathouse moving figures showed that some of the boys were about to take advantage of the pleasant afternoon.

"Some one's going rowing," observed Outfield. "Can you row, Joel?"

"I guess so; I never tried." West laughed.

"Then I guess you can't. I've tried. It's like trying to write with both hands. While you're looking after one the other has fits and runs all over the paper. If you pull with the left oar the right oar goes up in the air or tries to throw you out of the boat by getting caught in the water. Paddling suits me better. Say, you'll see a bully race next spring when we meet Eustace. Last spring they walked away from us. But the crew is to have a new boat next year. Look! those two fellows row well, don't they? Remsen says a chap can never learn to row unless he has been born near the water. That lets me out. In Iowa we haven't any water nearer than the Mississippi--except the Red Cedar, and that doesn't count. By the way, Joel, what did Remsen say to you last night about playing again?"

"He said to keep in condition, so that in case I got off probation I could go right back to work. He says he'll do all he can to help me, and I know he will. But it won't do any good. 'Wheels' won't let me play until he's found out who did that trick. It's bad enough, Out, to be blamed for the thing when I didn't do it, but to lose the football team like this is a hundred times worse. I almost wish I _had_ cut that old rope!" continued Joel savagely; "then I'd at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I was only getting what I deserved." West looked properly sympathetic.

"It's a beastly shame, that's what I think. What's the good of 'believing you innocent,' as 'Wheels' says, if he goes ahead and punishes you for the affair? What? Why, there isn't any, of course! If it was me I'd cut the pesky rope every chance I got until they let up on me!" Joel smiled despite his ill humor.

"And I've lost half my interest in lessons, Out. I try not to, but I can't help it. I guess my chance at the scholars.h.i.+p is gone higher than a kite."

"Oh, hang the scholars.h.i.+p!" exclaimed West. "But there's the St. Eustace game in three weeks. If you don't play in that, Joel, I'll go to 'Wheels' and tell him what I think about it!"

"It's awfully rough on a fellow, Out, but Professor Wheeler is only doing what is right, I suppose. He can't let the thing go unnoticed, you see, and as long as I can't prove my innocence I guess he's right to hold me to blame for it."

"Tommyrot!" answered West explosively. "The faculty's just trying to have us beaten! Why--Say, don't tell a soul, Joel, but Blair's worried half crazy. They had him up yesterday, and 'Wheels' told him that if he didn't get better marks from now on he couldn't play. What do you think of that? They're not _decent_ about it. They're trying to put us _all_ on probation. Why, how do I know but what they'll put _me_ on?"

Outfield hit his shoe violently with the driver he held until it hurt him. For although Joel was debarred from playing golf there was nothing to keep him from watching West play, and this afternoon the two had been half over the course together, West explaining the game, and Joel listening intently, and all the while longing to take a club in hand and have a whack at the ball himself.

"That's bad," answered Joel thoughtfully. "It would be all up with us if Blair shouldn't play."

"And that's just what's going to happen if 'Wheels' keeps up his present game," responded Outfield. "Who are those chaps in that sh.e.l.l, Joel? One looks like Cloud, the fellow in front." Joel watched the approaching craft for a moment.

"It is Cloud," he answered. "And that looks like Clausen with him. Why isn't he practicing, I wonder?"

"Haven't you heard? He was dropped from the team yesterday. Wills has his place. Post says, by the way, that he's sorry you're in such a fix, but he's mighty glad to get back on the first. He's an awfully decent chap, is Post. Did you see that thing he has in this month's Hilltonian about Cooke? Says the Fac's going to establish a cla.s.s in bakery and put Cooke in as teacher because he's such a fine _loafer_! Say, what's the matter down there?"

The sh.e.l.l containing Cloud and Clausen had reached a point almost opposite to where West and Joel were perched, and as the latter looked toward it at West's exclamation he saw Cloud throw aside his oars and stand upright in the boat. Clausen had turned and was looking at his friend, but still held his oars.

"By Jove, Joel, she's sinking!" cried Outfield. "Look! Why doesn't Clausen get out? There goes Cloud over. I wonder if Clausen can swim?

swim? Come on!"

And half tumbling, half climbing, West sped down the bank on to the tiny strip of rocks and gravel that lay along the water. Joel followed.

Cloud now was in the water at a little distance from the sh.e.l.l, which had settled to the gunwales. Clausen, plainly in a state of terror, was kneeling in the sinking boat and crying to the other lad for help. The next moment he was in the water, and his shouts reached the two lads on the beach. Cloud swam toward him, but before he could reach him Clausen had gone from sight.

"What shall we do?" cried West. "He's drowning! Can you swim?" For Joel had already divested himself of his coat and vest, and was cutting the lacings of his shoes. West hesitated an instant only, then followed suit.

"Yes." Off went the last shoe, and Joel ran into the water. West, pale of face, but with a determined look in his blue eyes, followed a moment later, a yard or two behind, and the two set out with desperate strokes to reach the scene of the disaster. As he had taken the water Joel had cast a hurried glance toward the spot where Clausen had sunk, and had seen nothing of that youth; only Cloud was in sight, and he seemed to be swimming hurriedly toward sh.o.r.e.

Joel went at the task hand over hand and heard behind him West, laboring greatly at his swimming. Presently Joel heard his name cried in an exhausted voice.

"I--can't make--it--Joel!" shouted West. "I'll--have to--turn--back."

"All right," Joel called. "Go up to the field and send some one for help." Then he turned his attention again to his strokes, and raising his head once, saw an open river before him with nothing in sight between him and the opposite bank save, farther down stream, a floating oar. He had made some allowance for the current, and when in another moment he had reached what seemed to him to be near the scene of the catastrophe, yet a little farther down stream, he trod water and looked about. Under the bluff to the right Cloud was crawling from the river.

West was gone from sight. About him ran the stream, and save for its noise no sound came to him, and nothing rewarded his eager, searching gaze save a branch that floated slowly by. With despair at his heart, he threw up his arms and sank with wide-open eyes, peering about him in the hazy depths. Above him the surface water bubbled and eddied; below him was darkness; around him was only green twilight. For a moment he tarried there, and then arose to the surface and dashed the water from his eyes and face. And suddenly, some thirty feet away, an arm clad in a white sweater sleeve came slowly into sight.

With a frantic leap through the water Joel sped toward it. A bare head followed the upstretched arm; two wild, terror-stricken eyes opened and looked despairingly at the peaceful blue heavens; the white lips moved, but no sound came from them. And then, just as the eyes closed and just as the body began to sink, as slowly as it had arisen, and for the last time, Joel reached it.