The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXXII

  "THIS ISN'T OURS!"

  Half an hour later Tom Parsons and his chums left the antiqueupholstering shop, richer in the possession of an old warming pan, whichthey did not want, poorer in the sum of six dollars, but also possessingmore information than they at first had regarding the Hebrew to whom hadbeen traded their old chair--or, at least, the chair they hoped wouldprove to be theirs.

  "His name is a common Hebrew one," the dealer told them, when he hadbeen thawed out by the trade, "but I don't believe it was Cohen. Anyhow,he lives on the Medford Road, just beyond the village of Rosevale. Iremember that, because he told me how long it took him to drive in fromthere. But if he shouldn't have the chair on which you fellows seem sobent, I can fix you up. I've got an ancient Colonial one that----"

  "I guess we've got all we need to-day," said Phil, as he and his chumswalked out. "Whew!" he exclaimed, as he stood on the sidewalk. "If wehadn't made a break when we did, he'd have sold us a Spanish sideboardor a Holland tiled fireplace. Come on, fellows, we must get on the trailof this Hebrew gentleman."

  "I'm afraid we can't to-day," spoke Tom.

  "Why not?"

  "Kindlings will want us to get into our football togs as soon as weget back, and jump out at practice. No chance to chase off around thecountry, looking for an unknown furniture dealer out Rosevale way."

  "That's so," agreed Sid. "Well, we can go to-morrow."

  "I'm full up with lectures to-morrow," objected Phil.

  "Well, some of us can go," declared Frank. "We mustn't let that chairget away again." For, though he was a new chum, he felt the sameinterest in the recovery of the missing piece of furniture as did hisfriends. "I can stand a few more cuts, and I can get off right afterpractice."

  "Maybe I can go with you," suggested Tom.

  The two did manage to get away the next day, taking a trolley caras far as it went, and hiring a farmer to drive them to the villageof Rosevale, a quaint little place. The farmer said he knew of nosecond-hand furniture dealers in that vicinity, but the boys had hopefulvisions, and, dismissing their rig, as they intended to hire another inwhich to drive back, they tramped along the country roads, makinginquiries wherever they could.

  But fate was against them. Late that afternoon, having covered manymiles, they gave up, and made arrangements to be driven back to wherethey could get a trolley car to Randall.

  They had called on many men who dealt in old furniture, and some whomade a specialty of upholstering. Some were Hebrews, and some were not.But none had the chair they sought.

  "I wonder if that Yankee was fooling us?" asked Tom.

  "No, I guess he meant all right, but he couldn't tell us any better thanhe did," replied Frank.

  "And we're out six bones for that warming pan," went on Tom,regretfully. "We'll have to see him again."

  They did, but the dealer insisted that he had told them to the best ofhis ability. He offered to get the man's name and correct address thenext time he saw him, but this was not likely to be soon.

  In the meanwhile our friends were without their chair, and theirspasmodic efforts to discover the mystery of the clocks had amounted tonothing.

  "I tell you what it is," said Kindlings to them one day. "If you chapsdon't perk up, and come to practice a little oftener, you'll findyourselves on the side lines when the Boxer game comes off."

  That put more "ginger" into Tom and his chums, for they had been ratherneglecting practice of late in their efforts to locate their chair. Theyhad, however, almost given up ever seeing the ancient piece of furnitureagain.

  In the meanwhile matters concerning the lawsuit were not going any toosmoothly. A most careful search had been made for the missing quit-claimdeed, and without it, it was rumored, the court proceedings must sooncome to an end, with the eviction of the college authorities from theground in dispute.

  There were dark days for Randall, and only the hope of winning thefootball championship kept up the hearts of the students. Nor was thishope any too strong, for there were whispers as to the prowess of BoxerHall. Randall had won her final game before the big struggle, and nowwas devoting all her energies to playing off the championship tie.

  New plays were tried and rejected. A different code of signals was putin vogue, for it was rumored that Boxer Hall was "on" to those in use.

  "They say Langridge is playing his head off this year," declared Tom onenight, when a crowd of the football boys had gathered in the room of ourfriends.

  "Maybe he'll go stale," suggested Holly Cross.

  "He won't if he can help it," was Sid's opinion. "He's been waiting allseason to get a whack at us fellows."

  "Well, it will make the game lively," declared Kindlings. "We'll giveBoxer Hall all she wants."

  Jerry Jackson, who was sitting on the old couch with Sid, moved to amore comfortable position.

  "I say," he drawled, "it's a wonder you fellows wouldn't either renovateyour furniture, or else get some new. Joe and I got some swell stuff theother day from an old Shylock of a chap that has a joint out Rosedaleway."

  "Out where?" asked Tom, quickly, catching at the name.

  "Out in a little place called Rosedale," repeated Jerry.

  "I guess you mean Rose_vale_, don't you?" asked Sid. "We heard of thatfellow, but we couldn't find him."

  "No, I mean Rose_dale_--d-a-l-e," spelled Jerry. "He's an ancientHebrew--rather a decent chap, too, and he had a lot of antique stuff.Joe and I bought a fine sofa."

  "A peach!" declared the twin brother. "You can go to sleep on itstanding up."

  "What's this fellow's name?" asked Phil, quickly.

  "Rosenkranz," replied Jerry. "But he hasn't got any more sofas. Webought the last one."

  "Has he any chairs?" inquired Sid.

  "A raft of them."

  "And his place is in Rose_dale_, and not Rose_vale_?" spoke Tom.

  "That's it," the Jersey twin asserted. "The two places are in oppositedirections. I guess we ought to know. Joe and I were out on a walk oneday, and we saw the sofa in his window. He has his shop in one side ofhis house--a queer old place with a lot of Russian brasses. He had onesamovar that was a pippin, but he wanted eight dollars for it, and thesofa broke us."

  "Fellows!" cried Tom, excitedly, "I believe we are on the right track atlast!"

  "Track of what?" demanded Jerry.

  "Our chair," and Tom quickly told what little was known. "It's evident,"he said, "that the Yankee dealer got twisted between Rose_vale_ andRose_dale_. They're as alike as two peas."

  "Then it's Rose_dale_ for ours as soon as we can get there in themorning!" cried Phil. "This time I hope we're on the right trail."

  "Yes, we've been in the right church, but the wrong pew, so often thatit's getting to be monotonous," commented Sid.

  Mr. Rosenkranz proved to be a Hebrew gentleman of the old-fashionedtype--venerable, with a long, straggly beard. He greeted the boyscourteously when they called on him two days later, as that was thefirst chance they had to make the trip.

  With a voice that trembled with hope, Tom asked about an old-fashionedeasy chair.

  "Sure I have him," declared the Hebrew, eagerly, scenting a trade. "Veneffer you vants an easy chair, comes you to Isaac Rosenkranz, und youget him. I show you!"

  The boys followed him to the rear of the store. There, amid a pile ofbroken furniture, old stoves, odds and ends that seemed utterlyworthless, but which seemed to constitute the entire stock-in-trade ofthe dealer, they saw a big chair.

  "That's it!" cried Phil, eagerly.

  "Ours--ours!" gasped Sid.

  "No mistake this time," murmured Tom. "Chair, allow me to present you toour new member, Frank Simpson; this is the chair you have heard so muchabout."

  "Are you sure of it?" asked the big Californian, as he pretended to makea bow to the article of furniture.

  "Sure, we can't be mistaken," declared Phil. "There are the claw feet,lions on the arms, and all that. That's our chair."

  "Your chair?" asked
the dealer, quickly. "Ha, yes, I see, if you _buys_him!"

  The boys looked at each other. What was to be done? At length Tom hitupon the simplest plan. It was no doubt their chair, he explained, andhe told how it had disappeared. They could recover it by process of law,he went on, when Mr. Rosenkranz evinced a desire to hold it, but theywould pay a reasonable price for it.

  "Mind you, only to get it back in a hurry, though," declared Tom,"for it's ours by right. But I think it will be a lucky hunch forthe football team, if we get it before the big game with Boxer HallSaturday. So, Mr. Rosenkranz, how much do you want for it?"

  The dealer named a preposterous sum, but the boys were shrewd, and beathim down. Finally, when he had admitted that the chair was not likely tosell soon, because it was in poor repair, he consented to part with itfor a reasonable sum. He confirmed what the Yankee dealer had said, thathe had acquired it in a trade.

  "Well, we'll take it," said Tom, passing over the money. "Now, how canwe get it home?"

  It was rather a problem, as the chair was big and clumsy, and they werequite a distance from Randall. But finally, on payment of a furthersmall sum, the dealer offered to deliver it to the college.

  "It doesn't seem possible that we've got it," said Tom, as they were ontheir way back that afternoon, the Hebrew promising to bring the chairto them on the morrow. "We'll have a celebration in honor of itsreturn."

  "Nothing in the fancy eats line until after the big game, I'm afraid,"objected Sid. "Kindlings and Lighton will sit down on that. But we'llhave a double celebration after we do up Boxer Hall."

  "I wish it was to-morrow--I mean, so we could sit in the old chair,"went on Phil, almost as eager as a child.

  But the chair did not come the next day, and after fretting and worrying,the boys received a badly written, and worse spelled, postal from Mr.Rosenkranz, explaining that his horse was sick, but that he would deliverthe chair as soon as the animal was well.

  "Say, there's a hoodoo about that chair," declared Tom, as he went outto football practice with his mates.

  It was on the morning of the big game with Boxer Hall that an ancientwagon, drawn by a decrepit horse, drove up to Randall College. At firstthe students were inclined to make game of the outfit, but when Phil andTom discovered that it was Mr. Rosenkranz with their chair, there was achange of heart. For the belief that the chair might prove to be amascot or "lucky" hunch had grown.

  "There she is!" cried Sid, seeing the old piece of furniture on thewagon. "Now, up into our room with her, fellows."

  "Yes, and don't stop to admire it all day, either," called Kindlings. "Iwant you in practice right away."

  The chums promised, but they could hardly tear themselves away from theroom where, once more, reposed the old chair. It looked as natural as itever had, and its sojourn "in the land of the Philistines," as Tomdeclared, had apparently not harmed it any.

  "I declare, the old clock seems glad to see it back," declared Phil.

  "It sure does," agreed Sid, sinking down on the sofa. That piece offurniture seemed to creak and groan out a welcome to its fellow.

  "We'll draw lots to see who has the honor of first sitting in the oldchair, and then we'll get out on the field," suggested Tom.

  He himself drew the lucky number. With something of a little ceremony hemade ready to sink down into the depths of the chair. Slowly he lethimself back.

  A cloud of dust, as of yore, arose around him, making Phil, Sid andFrank sneeze.

  "They're greeting you, old chap!" cried Tom to the chair.

  He leaned back. His chums, watching him, saw a look of wonder come overhis face. Then his hand went under the seat, and began feeling there.Tom leaped up, raising more dust--a regular cloud.

  "What's the matter? A pin stick you?" asked Sid.

  "A pin? No. But, say, fellows, this isn't our chair!"

  "Not our chair?" echoed Phil.

  "Not--not----" faltered Sid.

  "Not our chair!" exclaimed Tom, decidedly, as he sat down in it again."Here, Phil, you try it. It looks like our chair, and it's built likeit--upholstery and all--it's a dead ringer, in fact, but it's not_ours_!" and Tom moved aside while Phil got ready to make the test.