CHAPTER VII
A NEW TIMEPIECE
"Anything on for to-night fellows," asked Tom Parsons, as he limpedalong with Sid and Phil.
"No. Why?" inquired the quarter-back. "Are you going to see a girl? Ifyou are, I heard Ruth say that she and Madge had a date at some Fairviewaffair, or something like that."
"No, I'm not going to see a girl," retorted Tom somewhat savagely, and aspasm of pain shot over his face. "I'll leave that for you and Sid thistime. I'm going to lay off and bone."
"What's the matter?" asked Phil, anxiously. "Sick?"
"No, but I'm tired, and some one stepped on my ankle in that lastmix-up."
"By Hannibal! I hope you don't go lame," put in Sid. "The team iscrippled enough as it is."
"Oh, I'll be all right," asserted Tom. "All it needs is a rest and someliniment."
"I wrenched my knee a bit," spoke Phil, "but it doesn't bother me now."
"And I'd like to get hold of the fellow who rubbed my nose in the dirt,"came wrathfully from Sid. "I must have chewed up about an ounce of it."
"It's good for your digestion," asserted Tom, with a wry face. "But say,fellows, doesn't it strike you as rather queer that we didn't get a hintabout our missing chair and clock?"
"It is sort of so-so," admitted Phil.
"You'd have thought," went on Tom, as he stopped for a moment in theshadow of biology hall to favor his bruised ankle, "you'd have thoughtthat if it was some of the boys putting up a job on us that they'd havegiven it away."
"Yes, such as asking what time it was, or if we rested well in our room,or something like that," added Sid. "But there wasn't even a look togive us a clew."
"Which means," declared the 'varsity left end, as he limped on, "thateither none of our fellows have had a hand in it, or that they can keepa secret better than we fellows could. If this bunch had done anythinglike that we'd be wanting to rig the victim. But I can't understand thissilence."
"It means something," declared Phil. "There's some mystery about thisthat's deeper than we have any idea of."
And there was a curious mystery which was destined to have quite aneffect on Randall College.
"Well, let's forget all about it for a while," suggested Sid. "Maybe ifwe do, it will be like one of those problems in solid geometry, and thesolution will come to us when we least expect it. Many a time I'vestared at the figures and letters until they did the Blue Danube waltzesup and down the pages. Then I've just chucked it aside, taken upsomething else, and, all at once, it's as plain as----"
"The nose on Tom's face," interrupted Phil, for Tom was well blessed inthat feature.
"Go ahead. Have all the fun you like," the pitcher invited, for hisankle was beginning to pain him more severely, and he did not feel equalto skylarking with his chums. "But as to forgetting about our chair, Ican't do it. Queer, isn't it, how you'll get attached to an ordinarypiece of furniture like that?"
"It wasn't an _ordinary_ piece, you sacrilegious vandal!" exploded Sid."There isn't another chair like that in college. I have it on goodauthority that it was a family heirloom before we bought it of Hatterly,the big senior. It belonged in the Hess family, which was quite somepumpkins around here about the time of the wreck of the _Mayflower_."
"The _Mayflower_ wasn't wrecked, you chump!" cried Tom.
"Well, what of it? Something happened to it, anyhow. It was stranded, orran ashore, or else people landed from it. I never can keep those thingsstraight in my head. At any rate, the chair is quite a relic, and I wishwe had it back."
"I'm with you," declared Tom, feelingly. "I could just curl up in it incomfort to-night."
"Only you won't," retorted Phil.
"Nor yet listen to the clock tick," added Sid. "Now, let's talk ofsomething else."
"Football," suggested Phil, quickly. "What do you fellows think aboutour chances, anyhow?"
"Not much," asserted the end. "Sam and Pete aren't doing as well as theyused to do on the scrub."
"Stage fright, maybe," came from Sid.
"It's likely," admitted the quarter-back. "I remember when I firstplayed on the 'varsity, I couldn't seem to see straight, I thought I wasgoing to miss every tackle I tried for, and I was mortally afraid ofdropping the ball. They'll get over it."
"I hope so," spoke Tom. "I wish Bascome wasn't playing on my end."
"Why?" asked Phil, quickly.
"Well, you know he rather stood in with Langridge and Gerhart when theywere here, and, though he isn't as mean as they were, he isn't exactlyin our crowd. I can't play with him the same way I can go into a gamewith the other fellows. I think I'll ask Kindlings to let me shift tothe other end."
"Don't you do it!" cried Sid, quickly. "Look here, Tom Parsons, thesurest way to have a team go to pieces is to have personal feelings cropout among the players. We've got to play together, or----"
"'Play separately,' as one of the signers of the Declaration ofIndependence said," interrupted Phil, with a laugh.
"No, I'm serious," protested Sid. "If we're going to act that way, Tom,we might as well give up the team now, and also all hopes of everwinning the championship this year. It's bad enough to have Bricktop andEd off, without having you kicking up a fuss about Bascome."
"Who's kicking up a fuss, you old misogynist?" demanded the end, limpingalong. "I only said I couldn't play with Bascome as well as I could withDan, and I'd like to shift."
"And if you do that it means that some one else will have to shift, andthat will throw the whole team into confusion. No, you stick it out,Tom."
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, each busy with his ownthoughts. The sun slanted across the campus, and glinted through thestained glass windows of Booker chapel, coloring the sward with awonderful combination of violet and red. Back of the main college was abank of purplish and olive tinted clouds, which Tom paused to gaze at inadmiration.
"Look, fellows!" he exclaimed, softly. "It's just like one of thosepictures of Venice, painted by what's his name."
"Yes, great artist," put in Phil. "Second cousin to 'who's this.'"
"No, but look at those colorings," protested Tom. "Did you ever see suchcloud masses? The only thing about them is that they tell of fall comingon, and winter and leafless trees, and----"
"Oh, for cats' sake cut it out!" groaned Sid. "You must be in loveagain. Got a new girl?"
"Shut up!" ordered Tom, peremptorily, as he started toward theirdormitory. "The next time I try to elevate the minds of you fellows bypointing out the beauties of nature you'll know it!"
"All right, old chap," came in soothing accents from Phil. "Those clouds_are_ worth looking at, for a fact. Sid has no soul for anything abovethe commonplace."
"Neither would you have, if you'd been chewing on mud," declared theother. "It strikes me that we are getting silly, or sentimental, in ourold age. Come on up and get into a bathrobe and we'll take it easy. Ihave some imported ginger ale, and some prime cheese in the closet."
"You rat! And you never spoke of it before!" cried Phil, clapping hischum on the back. "Come on, let's see who'll get there first, as thewolf said to Red Riding Hood," and he started up the stairs on the run,followed by Sid, while Tom limped on more slowly.
When the end reached their apartment he found the door open, and his twochums standing on the threshold as though afraid to enter. It was darkinside, for the shades were drawn. Tom looked at his two companions insome surprise.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Snake in there? Why don't you go on in?"
"Listen!" exclaimed Phil, softly.
They stood expectantly. Through the stillness there came to them arhythmetic tick-tick, which floated out of their room and into thecorridor.
"The clock!" gasped Tom.
"Our clock!" whispered Phil, as though to speak aloud would break themagic spell.
"It's come back," went on Sid, taking a step forward in a stealthymanner, as if he expected to surprise a burglar in the act. "Fellows, toall the gods that on Olympus dwell most everlast
ing praises be! Ourclock's come back!"
The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football Page 7
