CHAPTER IX
ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE
Anthony returned to his room after the first recitation. He haddiscovered while in his class that he had forgotten his watch, andremembered that he had left it lying on his study table. The firstthing that caught his eyes when he entered his room was an envelopebearing the inscription in a round, boyish hand, "Anthony Tidball.Present." Wondering, he tore it open. Something fell from it and rolledto the floor. When found it proved to be a brown Florida bean with alittle gold-plated swivel at one end. Anthony stared from the bean tothe envelope; then the thought that the latter probably held a notecame to him and he went back to it.
He read the note very slowly, a frown deepening the while on his face.He read it the second time and then carefully restored it to theenvelope, thrust his big hands into his trousers pockets and lurchedto the dormer-window. For a minute or two he stood there looking outacross the Common into a tender green mist of quickening branches.Finally he sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the room.
"Poor kid," he muttered.
But perhaps, he reflected, it was not too late to intercept him.When did the trains leave? He pulled out a table drawer and found atime-card. There was one at 9.22; that had gone. There was another,an express, at 10.16. If Jack had missed the first it was possible,thought Anthony, to reach the station in time to bring him back. It wasnow----
He felt for his watch, and for the first time since finding the noterecollected the reason of his return. He glanced quickly over thetable. The watch was not in sight. He distinctly remembered placingit on the blotting-pad while he changed the rather heavy vest he hadbeen wearing all winter for a lighter one. He pushed aside books andpapers and searched the table from end to end. Then he went through hisdrawers and finally, while realizing the uselessness of it, unlockedand searched his trunk. After he had felt in the pockets of what fewclothes he possessed he accepted the fact that the watch was gone. Butwhere? Who could have taken it? Who had been in the room--besides Jack?Jack----!
He sat down in the rocker and stared blankly, frowningly, at thewindow. It was the stupidest thing in the world to suspect Jack. Andyet--! With a mutter of disgust at himself for the entertainment ofsuch a wild suspicion, he jumped up and surveyed the room. But the bedwas still unmade and the momentary hope that Mrs. Dorlon might havecome across the watch and put it away for him had to be relinquished.He hurried down-stairs and found his hostess in the kitchen. No, shetold him, she hadn't been up-stairs yet and hadn't seen the watch. Hadany one been up there? Well, she didn't know of any one. Still, thedoor had been open all the morning and-- Why, yes, come to think of it,she had thought once that she heard footsteps up-stairs and presumedthat they were Mr. Weatherby's, though to be sure she hadn't seen himcome in or go out. Could she help Mr. Tidball look for it?
Anthony politely declined her proffered assistance and returned tohis room. He searched again about the table, striving to convincehimself that he had not left the watch there; that he had worn it torecitation, that the chain had become detached from his buttonholeand that the watch had fallen from his pocket. But it wouldn't do.He remembered clearly just how the timepiece had looked lying in itschamois case upon the blotter, with the heavy gold chain curling awaytoward the ink-bottle. Perhaps Jack had come in to find out the timeand had unconsciously taken the watch back to his room with him? Ofcourse, that must be it!
He strode across the hall and into the other chamber. There wereevidences of hurried flight; the little steamer trunk stood in themiddle of the floor and a few odds and ends of rubbish lay about thebed and table. But the watch was not in sight. The latest explanationof its disappearance had seemed so plausible that Anthony experiencedkeen disappointment. Turning, he retraced his steps toward the door.Half-way there he stopped and stared as though fascinated at somethinglying at his feet. Stooping, he picked it up and looked at it carefullyin the forlorn hope that it would prove to be other than what it was, alittle chamois watch-pouch.
Finally he dropped it into his pocket and went back to his room,stepping very quietly, as though leaving a chamber of sickness. Hestared aimlessly about for a moment, and then, with a start, took uphis note-books and descended the stairs. Mrs. Dorlon, blacking thekitchen stove, heard the door open and looked up to see the lean,spectacled face of her new lodger peering through. He looked ratherpale and sickly that morning, she thought.
"Just wanted to tell you that it's all right," he said. "I found mywatch. It was in the--the washstand."
After he had gone she suddenly paused and sniffed perplexedly. "Nowthat's funny," she thought. "How could he have found it in thewashstand when the washstand hasn't any drawer nor nothin'?"
At the luncheon-table Jack was conspicuous by his absence. The story ofGilberth's action at breakfast had filtered through college in a dozenvaried forms until by noon it was pretty widely known. The generalopinion was that Gilberth had acted brutally; there were even somefew who flatly called his behavior contemptible; there were others,fewer still, who thought that he had "given Weatherby just what hedeserved." There was considerable relief felt by the more charitablydisposed members of the training-table when Jack failed to appear, forhis suffering at the breakfast-table had not been a pleasant thingto watch. Gilberth, however, was in high feather. He believed Jack'sabsence was a result of his treatment in the morning, and was quiteproud of his abilities as a public prosecutor. But the rest of thetable somehow did not appear to be quite so pleased with him. Thisfact was shown by a disposition to avoid entering into conversationwith him. His remarks were received in silence, and after a while hegave up the attempt to entertain the company and finished his meal inruffled dignity.
When luncheon was over "Baldy" Simson, the trainer, who occupied theseat at the foot of the board, called Joe Perkins's attention to thefact of Jack's absence.
"I know," Joe answered, looking rather worried. "I'm going to look himup; you needn't bother. By the way, Tracy, just wait a minute, willyou? I want to see you." Gilberth, in the act of leaving the room,returned and tilting a chair toward him slid into it over the back witha fine appearance of unconcern.
"Fire away, Joe," he said. "But I've got a two-o'clock, and it'sgetting late."
Simson went out and left the two together and alone, save for thewaitress who had begun clearing off the table. Joe pushed his plateaway and looked gravely across at his friend.
"Look here, Tracy, this thing has simply got to stop, you know."
"What thing?" asked the other, raising his eyebrows.
"Why, you know what I mean. I won't have Weatherby persecuted the wayyou're doing. I can't turn out a decent team unless you fellows gettogether and work in harmony. You know that as well as I do. Whateveryour sentiments toward Weatherby may be, you've got to treat himpolitely in his position as a member of the varsity nine. I won't haveany more scenes like the one you brought about this morning. You'reworrying Weatherby half sick. He may be what you think he is; I'm notin position to know; but it's all nonsense for you to take on yourselfthe duties of judge, jury, and hangman. You attend to yourself and letWeatherby attend to himself. That's what I want you to do."
Joe's voice had been getting sharper and sharper as he proceeded andwhen he had finished his eyes were sparkling dangerously. As always,when Joe's temper threatened to get the better of him, Tracy's usualaggressiveness disappeared and gave place to a sullen stubbornness. Nowhe traced figures on the stained cloth with a fork and was silent aminute before he made reply. Then:
"There's no use in your lecturing me like that," he muttered. "You canstick up for Weatherby if you want to, but you needn't think you canmake me coddle him too. The fellow's a coward and a cad, and you've nobusiness asking decent fellows to sit at table with him."
"You'll sit at table with him or you'll get out," cried Joe hotly.
"Then I'll get out!"
There was silence for a moment, during which Tracy continued to mark upthe cloth and Joe struggled more or less successfully to get com
mand ofhis temper. Finally he asked, almost calmly:
"Do you mean that you'll leave the team, that you'll throw me over andthreaten the college with defeat for a mere whim?"
"It isn't a whim," growled Tracy. "It--it's a principle."
Joe smiled in spite of himself and the last of his ill-humor vanished.
"Oh, don't talk poppycock, Tracy," he said. "Look here, you mustsee how difficult you're making it for Hanson and me. We can't dowhat we want to do if there are dissensions among you chaps. Like agood fellow, promise me to leave Weatherby alone. He isn't going tointerfere with you; you know that. The other fellows aren't kicking upa row about having him at table, so why should you? Besides, Tracy,consider what a thundering hard row the chap has to hoe. Maybe he actedthe coward; I didn't see it and don't know; but even if he did it'smore than likely that he's a lot worse ashamed of it than you are,and probably wants to make up for it. Give him a show, can't you? Begenerous, Tracy!"
"Well, let him keep away from me, then," Tracy growled.
"How can he when you're both on the team?" asked Joe impatiently. "Wewant him because he's got the making of a good player; he's sure,quick, and--honest."
"Huh!"
"Yes, honest! We've watched him just as we've watched all youfellows--perhaps a bit more, because he's under suspicion, as itwere--and he's played us fair every time. He's done as he's been toldand done it just as hard as he knew how. And it's all wrong to call aman dishonest until he's done something dishonest."
"How about that affair at the river?" asked the other sneeringly.
"A man may be a coward at a--a crisis and a brave man all the rest ofhis life. Physical cowardice isn't dishonesty. For that matter, I canimagine a chap running from bullets and yet standing up like a littleman in front of bayonets. I'm not sure I wouldn't run away from bulletsmyself, and if I were you I wouldn't be too sure, either."
"I'm not a coward," cried Tracy.
"I don't say you are; I don't think you are. And yet you're not braveenough to let public opinion go hang and give that poor duffer,Weatherby, a fighting chance!"
Gilberth received this in silence, staring moodily at the table. Thebell in the tower of College Hall began its imperative summons and Joepushed back his chair and arose. Tracy followed his example.
"I didn't mean to keep you so long," said the former. He overtook theother at the door and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Don't mindmy ill-temper, old man. There's no use in having a friend if you can'tbully him a little now and then. And--er--think over what I said, willyou?"
"Oh, that's all right," answered Tracy grudgingly. "No harm done. Seeyou later."
Joe stood on the porch and watched him cross the road and disappear upthe broad gravel-path toward the laboratories. Then Joe passed down thesteps and through the gate with a little smile of satisfaction on hisface.
"Yes, it is all right," he told himself. "He'll do as I want him to.But I wish--I do wish I hadn't lost my pesky temper!"
He turned to the left toward Washington Street and as he neared thecorner he caught sight of a tall fellow crossing the Common with longawkward strides. The ill-fitting clothes and the little stoop of theshoulders were sufficient to reveal the man's identity at first glance,and Joe hailed him:
"O _Tid_-ball! O Tid-_ba-a-all_!"
Anthony paused, looked, waved a note-book responsively, and stumblingover a "Keep off the grass" sign, crossed the turf and clambered overthe fence.
"How are you, Tidball?" asked Joe, shaking hands. For some reasonfellows usually did shake hands with Anthony when they met him, justas they thumped other acquaintances on the back or punched them inthe ribs or pulled their caps over their eyes. "You're just the man Iwanted to see," Joe went on. "As usual, we're just about stone broke;the Baseball Association, I mean. We've got to have a lot of money forthe nine and we've got to raise it by subscription. The schedule hasthe team down for five games away from home, and that means a heap ofexpense. The Athletic Association has given us all they could affordto, about one hundred and fifty dollars, but that won't last us anytime. So we're going to get up a mass meeting in about a week or so andtry and raise the dust. And we want you to speak for us; whoop thingsup a bit, you know. Can you do it?"
"S'pose so," answered Anthony doubtfully. "But I don't know a blamedthing about baseball."
"You won't have to. We've got plenty of chaps who can talk baseball;what we want is some one who can open their pockets. We're depending onyou, Tidball, so say yes, like a good chap. Hanson is going to speak,and so is Professor Nast, and so am I. And we're trying to get the deanto hem and haw a bit for us. But we need you like anything. What do yousay?"
"I'll do what I can," said Anthony. "You let me know when it's to beand tell me what you want me to say. Don't believe, though, Perkins,the fellows will pay much attention to what I've got to say aboutbaseball. 'Tisn't as though I knew a ball from a--a----"
"From another ball, eh? Don't let that bother you. I'm awfully muchobliged; it's very nice of you. And I'll let you know all about it in aday or two. By the way, though, where are you living now? Some one saidyou'd left the old joint."
"Yes, I had to when Gooch went home. I'm at Mrs. Dorlon's, down the rowthere."
"Oh, are you? I was just going there. Doesn't young Weatherby roomthere?"
"Yes."
"Is he in now, do you know?"
Anthony settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose before hereplied.
"No, he's not in just now." He hesitated a moment. Then, "Guess youmight as well know about it," he said musingly.
"About what?"
"'Bout Weatherby."
"What's he done?"
"Gone home."
"Gone home?"
"Yes, left college."
"But what for? When did he go?" asked Joe in surprise.
"This morning. He left a note for me. Don't know whether it's my placeto tell folks or not. Maybe you'd better keep it quiet. He might changehis mind, you know."
"I see," replied Joe thoughtfully. "Do you--do you happen to know whyhe left?"
"Yes, and I guess you do, too."
"You mean----?"
"Yes. He stuck it out as long as he could, but I guess things got toohot for him. His note made mention of something that happened thismorning at training-table."
"By Jove!" muttered the other. "It's a blamed shame! You know,Tidball, I never quite believed him the--er--coward they say he is.What do you think?"
"Me? Oh, I don't know," answered Anthony uneasily, puckering his lipstogether. "Maybe he isn't."
Joe looked a little surprised.
"I don't know just why," he said, "but I had an idea you'd supportmy judgment of him. Well, perhaps it's just as well that he's gone.Although he had the making of----"
"No, no," cried Anthony in sudden contrition, the blood rushing intohis thin face. "I didn't mean that! I shouldn't have said it, Perkins!I think he's--I don't believe he's a coward!" He pressed the other'sarm convulsively with his long fingers as though seeking to give addedweight to the emphatic assertion and hurried away. "Come and see me,"he called back.
Joe stared after him in bewilderment.
"Strange duffer, Tidball," he reflected. "Wonder if he and Weatherbyhad a row? Sounds like it. Poor old Weatherby! I'm sorry he's gone;by Jove, I am sorry! And I fancy I might have prevented it if I'd gotafter Tracy sooner. Hang him, he ought to be licked!"
Weatherby's Inning: A Story of College Life and Baseball Page 9
