CHAPTER VIII
ANOTHER IDEA
Making ready as though to greet an old friend who had long been absent,the three lads advanced to the middle of the room in the semi-darkness.Louder ticked the clock, and it was like music to their ears. Tomsnapped on the electric lights, and the gaze of our three heroes wenttogether toward the mantle shelf.
Then there came three simultaneous gasps of astonishment, a startingback in surprise, a catching of breaths.
"The clock!" spoke Tom, aghast.
"It isn't ours!" added Phil, gaspingly.
"They've brought back the wrong one!" exclaimed Sid.
Then, as they looked at the new timepiece, a smart one in a new anddull-polished mahogany case--an expensive clock--one they never wouldhave thought of possessing, as they looked at it, there was a musicaltinkle of a bell, and five strokes rang out as if in welcome.
"A new clock!" went on Phil, in accents of horror. "A clock thatstrikes!"
"'Come plump, head-waiter of the cock, to which I most resort. How goesthe time? 'Tis five o'clock? Go fetch a pint of port!'" quoted Sid.
"Oh, what are we up against?" cried Tom. "The plot thickens! There ismore of the direful mystery here! Talk about the Arabian Nights' tale ofnew lamps for old! Some one has taken our old clock and left in itsplace this new choice specimen of the art of the horologiographer."
"The art of whom?" asked Phil, in wonder.
"Clock-maker," translated Tom. "They say a fair exchange is no robbery,but this was an unfair exchange. We don't want a striking clock."
"No, give us back our own fussy little alarm," begged Sid. "I say,though, fellows, this is no slouch of a piece of horologiographic work,though. It must have cost eight or ten bones, and it's brand new. Do youguess some one's conscience smote 'em, after they'd made away with ourticker, and they wanted to make amends?"
"I don't know what to think," admitted Phil.
"Me either," came from Tom. "But if they bring back one of thosenew-fangled Turkish rockers in place of our old chair, I'll fire it outof the window. We can stand the clock, though I'll be hanged if I likethat striking arrangement."
"Me, either," agreed Sid. "But maybe we can get some clew from thisclock. Let's have a look."
He turned the clock around on the shelf, thereby disturbing itsmechanism and stopping the ticking, but he little minded that. He waslooking for the maker's name.
"Say, was our door locked when you fellows got here?" asked Tom, who hadbeen a little in the rear of his companions, due to his injured ankle.
"Sure it was locked," asserted Phil. "I opened it with my key. Whoeversneaked in here and left the new clock while we were at footballpractice must have had a duplicate key. How are you making out, Sid?"
"The clock, according to a card pasted on back, was made or sold by AmosHarding, of Chicago."
"Chicago!" cried Tom, in some excitement. "That's where Langridge camefrom! Is it possible that he could have come over from Boxer Hall, andplayed this joke?"
"It's possible, but not probable," declared Sid. "But we could write toChicago, and see if Mr. Harding could give us any clew."
"Oh, what's the use?" asked Phil. "Chicago is a big place, and it'shardly likely that a dealer there would remember to whom he sold aparticular clock, when there are a whole lot like it. This clock is offairly common pattern, though it's rather expensive. I'm inclined tothink that we'll never get on to the game that way."
"What have you got to suggest?" asked Tom, as he prepared to bathe hisankle, while Sid set the clock going again.
"I was going to say that we might post a notice on the bulletin board,stating that we'd had enough of the joke, and would exchange clocks backagain."
"Say, I've just thought of something!" exclaimed Sid. "Maybe there's athief in college, and he's been going around snibbying things from thefellows' rooms. He's been found out, and made to put the things back. Hegot our clock mixed up with another, and the other chap has got ourticker."
"Not a bad idea," assented Phil. "In that case a notice on the bulletinboard would be all right, and we'll wait about writing to Chicago. ButLangridge is out of it, I think."
"Well, I don't," declared Tom, half savagely, for his ankle hurt himwhen he rubbed it vigorously. "You'll find that he's been mixed up inthis somehow. The clock is from Chicago, he comes from Chicago, andthere's some connection there, you can depend on it!"
"Well, maybe," admitted Phil. "But let's get at the notice, and then itwill be grub time. Might as well say something about our chair whilewe're at it; eh, fellows?"
"No," came from Tom, "let that go. I think the clock and chair were twodifferent propositions. We'll work the chair ourselves."
After some talk his chums were inclined to agree with Tom, so Phil wroteout a notice about the timepiece, while Sid interestedly examined theclock, making various speculations concerning it, while Tom doctored hisankle.
"There, I guess that will do for a while," he announced, with a wryface, as he pulled on his shoe. "I hope I'm not lame for practiceto-morrow."
"Well, here's the notice," exclaimed Phil, a little later. "I'll readit. 'For exchange: one mahogany-case clock, new; striking the hours andhalf hours----'"
"Hold on!" interrupted Sid. "_Does_ it strike the half hours?"
"Sure, they all do," asserted Phil, and as if in confirmation of hiswords, there tinkled out a silvery stroke at five-thirty. "What'd I tellyou?" he asked, in triumph. "Where was I?" as he looked at the piece ofpaper. "Oh, yes: 'strikes the hours and half-hours. The undersignedwill give it back for their small nickel-plated alarm clock, ratherbattered, but still in the ring. Doesn't strike at all.' How's that,fellows?"
"All right," said the end, as he laced his shoe loosely, for he hadbandaged his ankle. "Let's have it, and I'll put my name down, then youfellows can go down and stick it up. I'm going to stretch out;" and,scribbling his name on the notice, Tom threw himself on the couch, withdue regard for its age and weakness.
"I'll fix it up," volunteered Phil.
The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football Page 8
