CHAPTER XIV
A PLOT THAT FAILED
ALTHOUGH Reddy, in common with everyone else in the college, feltjubilant over the gallant victory of the Blues, he relaxed not one jotof his vigilance. Two days' rest was all that he allowed. By that timeBoyd had recovered from the injury to his knee, the strain of thecontest had largely abated, and the team was once more in a condition toface the final test--the battle with the redoubtable "Greys" in New Yorkon Thanksgiving Day.
But other and more baleful eyes were fixed on the condition of the team.
Football is one of the cleanest games in existence, and few sports aremore free of gambling of every kind. Nevertheless, it is impossible tocontrol the actions of a few professional gamblers who grasp eagerly atevery chance to ply their trade. Naturally, the conditions of thedifferent teams are of vital importance to them, and they make it theirbusiness, through spies and in every possible way, to be well informedon the subject. And the big football games of this season were noexception to the rule. The condition of every player was carefullynoted and kept track of, and it is safe to say that the gambling cliquehad almost as accurate a line on these points as the different trainersthemselves.
During the practice games in the earlier part of the season the "Greys"had seemed to have the "edge" on the other members of the "Big Three."Consequently, they were picked by the poolmakers as the eventualwinners, and large bets, amounting in some cases to practically theentire "bank roll" of the plungers, were placed on them to win.
But the "Blues" had of late been going at such a terrific pace that theyhad a most excellent chance of winning the pennant. And when this wasaccentuated by the splendid victory of the "Blues" over the "Maroons" itthrew the "sports" into a condition closely bordering on panic.
A week before the final game on Thanksgiving Day one of the mostunscrupulous of the gamblers decided that if he could not win as mattersthen stood, he would have to resort to underhand methods to change them.Accordingly, one evening he called a number of his henchmen about him,and when they and other plungers of his own stamp had assembled at adesignated rendezvous, he broached his plan.
"Boys," he said, glancing from one to the other of the hard faces turnedtoward him, "there's no use telling you of the hole we're in. You knowjust as well as I do, I guess, that we stand in a fair way to lose aboutall we've got on account of the 'Blue' team coming up the way it haslately. And according to Donovan here, it's not just a flash in the pan,either. It looks as though they had hit their stride and meant to keepit up until the end of the season."
"You can lay a stack of blues on dat," here spoke up the individualreferred to as "Donovan." "Dose guys has got more pepper in dem dan aMexican stew. De way dey practice an' de way dey play sure has got mescared stiff. I knows a snappy football team when I sees one, an' youcan take it from me dem guys has de goods, and plenty of dem."
"Well, you see how things stand," said their leader, when Donovan hadfinished. "If we don't do something, and do it pretty quick, we'll becooked--hashed--done brown on both sides."
There were significant looks exchanged among his auditors, and at lastone of them said:
"Well, what's your plan? Do you think we could buy one of the 'Blue'players? It would be worth our while to ante up something handsome, ifyou think it could be done."
"No chanct in de world," spoke up Donovan disgustedly, "dey're allstraighter'n a string, an' I tink any guy what made a proposition likedat to one o' them would need a ambulance mighty quick."
"That leaves us only one thing to do, then," spoke the leader; "if wecan't buy one of them, we'll have to steal one, that's all. We'll haveto pinch one of the players some way, and keep him until the big game isover. Then we can let him go, and if we play our cards right nobody willever get on to who turned the trick."
If, as is altogether unlikely, there existed any lingering scruple amongthose present at taking part in any such project, the thought of theruin impending over their heads quickly banished such thoughts. All thatremained to be discussed was which player should be kidnapped, and therewere various opinions on this point. But the voice of Donovan decidedthe question.
"De best man we can crimp," he said, "is Henderson, de quarterback. He'sde guy what gives de signals, an' it will stand de whole bunch on deirheads. Besides," with a crafty grin, "he ain't quite as big as some ofde other huskies, an' dere's no use makin' ourselves any more troubledan we got to."
"I'll provide a good safe place to keep him in," said Bloom, the leader."There's a place over Mike's saloon, on the outskirts of the town, thatwill be just the thing, and there won't be any questions asked, either."
So the plans for kidnapping the unconscious Tom were finally settled anddisposed of.
Bloom immediately set about perfecting his plans. He realized that hewas confronted with a difficult problem. He knew that it would benecessary for him to capture Tom at some time when he was not in thecompany of his two comrades, and from what his spy, Donovan, had toldhim, he knew that the three were seldom separated for any length oftime. But he finally evolved a plan, and without loss of time set aboutputting it in action.
He secured the use of a powerful automobile, and put it in charge of oneof his trusted lieutenants. The man was carefully instructed in the parthe was to play, and was intrusted with a note that he was to deliver toTom at a certain time. Thus the trap was laid, and Bloom settled back towait for the proper time to spring it.
And fate seemed to play into his hands. Toward dusk of the Tuesdayimmediately preceding Thanksgiving Day Bert and Dick had occasion to goto town, and as Tom had some studying to do, they left him in his roomand set out on their errand.
This was the time for which the gambler had been waiting. His spiesimmediately sent him word of the favorable condition of affairs.Excitedly he slammed the receiver of the telephone on its hook and sentword to the man in charge of the automobile. The latter immediatelycranked up his car, and a few minutes later the big limousine rolledquietly up to Tom's dormitory. The driver, who was dressed in ordinarychauffeur's garb, mounted the stairs to the entrance, and when his ringwas answered by the appearance of an attendant, requested him to delivera letter that he handed him to "Mr. Tom Henderson."
A few moments later Tom was interrupted in his studies by a knock on thedoor of his room, and on opening it was handed an unstamped envelope.Somewhat surprised, he drew forth a yellow slip of paper that proved tobe a telegraph blank. Tom read the words scrawled across it, incareless, hasty writing.
"Dear Tom," the message read, "am in town just for one evening, and wantyou to drop in and see me. I would visit you if possible, but have somefriends with me, and so cannot. Just to make sure of your coming I'msending my car for you. Please don't disappoint me." The letter wassigned "Dave."
"Why," thought Tom, "that must be Dave Rutgers. I should say I would goto see him. I haven't laid eyes on the old sinner since I came tocollege."
Crumpling the yellow slip into a ball, he flung it into a corner of theroom and hastily donned his coat and hat. As he was about to leave theroom he hesitated a moment, and started back. But after a second hestarted out again, and slammed the door after him. "I'll be back in acouple of hours," he thought. "Bert and Dick probably won't return muchbefore that, so there's no use writing a note telling them where I'vegone." With this thought he dismissed the matter from his mind, andhurried down to the waiting auto. He stepped in, the chauffeur slammedthe door, and the big machine glided noiselessly away, at a rapid gait.
About ten o'clock that evening Bert and Dick returned, and on their wayto their room pounded on Tom's door. They received no reply, soconcluded that he must be asleep, and passed on.
But when they stopped at his room the next morning, as was theirinvariable custom, and received no answer to repeated summons, theybegan to feel uneasy.
"Perhaps he's stolen a march on us and gone down early," suggested Dick.
"Possible," answered Bert, "but more likely he's just 'playing possum.'"As he spoke
he seized the knob to rattle the door, and the door swungopen!
"Why, he's not in here," exclaimed Bert, as he gazed about the room;"and what's more," he continued excitedly, "he hasn't been here allnight, either. It's easy to see that the bed hasn't been slept in."
"That mighty queer," said Dick uneasily. "Where do you suppose he canhave gone?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, I'm sure," said Bert. "He didn't sayanything to you about going anywhere, did he?"
"Not a word," said Dick, "and I think if he had expected to be away anylength of time he would have told one of us about it."
"Something might have come up unexpectedly," said Bert; "but then he'dhave left a note for us. I--but what's that over in the corner!" hesuddenly exclaimed, "looks as though it might be a telegram."
As he spoke he pounced on the crumpled ball that Tom had tossed therethe evening before, and hastily smoothed it out. Then he and Dick readthe words written on it.
"That explains why he went," said Bert when they had mastered itscontents. "But it doesn't explain where he went or why he didn't getback before this." They gazed at each other a few seconds, and each sawhis own fears mirrored in the eyes of his friend.
"There's something wrong somewhere," declared Dick at length, "and it'sup to us to find out what."
"It looks that way," said Bert. Then he continued, "this isn't a regulartelegram, you see. It looks as though the person writing it had justscribbled the message on the handiest scrap of paper he could find,which happened to be this."
"It may give us a clue to the writer," said Dick, as a sudden thoughtflashed across his mind; "there are several telegraph offices in thetown, and probably if we showed that slip in any of them we could learnwhat office it came from. There must be some identifying mark on it.Then the people in that office might be able to give us some clue as towho wrote it."
"It's worth trying, anyway," said Bert after a brief consideration. "Andthe sooner we start the better. I'm getting more worried every minute."
With all thoughts of breakfast forgotten, they hurried from the college,and were not long in reaching the railroad depot where the maintelegraph office was located. They showed the slip to the operator,asking him if he could tell them from what station it had been taken.
"Sure," he said, looking at a figure in the upper left-hand corner,"that came from station 'D,' on the corner of Spruce and Elm Streets."
The boys thanked him and hurried out. The address the operator had giventhem was nearly a mile away, and they broke into a run. As they wentalong they noticed that the houses lining the streets began to wear avery tumble-down aspect, and to thin out more and more.
"This is a rotten neighborhood," panted Bert; "we must be getting prettynear the edge of the town."
They had almost reached their destination when, as they passed aparticularly ramshackle building with a saloon on the ground floor, theybecame conscious of a terrific hubbub going on within. There was a soundof shouting and blows, and every once in a while the whole crazybuilding would fairly rock as some heavy body crashed against the wallsfrom within.
Even as Bert and Dick stood watching in amazement, a muffled shout aroseabove the general uproar that they both recognized. "That was Tom'svoice for a million!" yelled Bert, and without another word the twofriends made a dash for the door that evidently led to the floor above.Without hesitating to find out whether or not it was locked they crashedagainst it. Their combined weight acted like a battering ram and thedoor, torn from its hinges, fell inward. They rushed up the ricketystairs in great bounds and, crashing through another door that barredtheir way, found themselves precipitated into the midst of a fiercestruggle.
On the floor four men were locked in a deadly grapple. The meagerfurniture of the room was splintered and broken, and the whole placelooked as though a cyclone had struck it. With a yell Bert and Dickplunged into the struggle.
And now the odds were more even. Instead of three to one they were nowthree to three, and the tide of battle began to turn. Bert and Dick toreTom's assailants away from him and he staggered to his feet. He wasbattered and bruised, but still full of fight. "Come on, fellows, wadeinto them," he shouted hoarsely. His tried and true comrades needed nosecond bidding, and now began a battle compared to which the otherseemed mild. The three thugs who had been trying to overpower Tom werebrutal fighters, and withal were men of muscle. But it did not take longto decide which side would win. The three friends, every fightinginstinct in them aroused, and the lust of battle hot within them, foughtwith a fury and concentrated power that nothing could withstand.
Slowly they forced the thugs across the room, planting blow after blowwith deadly effect. Their opponents gave ground steadily, unable towithstand the terrific punishment meted out to them. Suddenly the onenearest the door made a dash for it, and the others followed suit. Thethree comrades started in hot pursuit, but reached the street only tosee the last of their erstwhile antagonists disappearing around thenearest corner, and Bert called a halt.
"No use chasing them," he said, when they had gotten their breath alittle. "They know the neighborhood and we don't, and the chances arewe'd never catch them. We licked 'em good and proper though, didn't we?"
"That was _some_ scrap, all right," said Dick with a long whistle, "andwe didn't get off scot free, either. My left eye feels as though a coalwagon had fallen on it."
"It looks it, too," said Bert with a wry grin; "we're all marked up alittle, but I'll bet that bunch of roughnecks will remember us for alittle while to come. But how did they come to get you, Tom? Tell us allabout it."
Tom then told them about receiving the note, and getting into theautomobile. "After that," he said, "there's not much to tell. It wasdark, and I didn't notice what kind of a neighborhood that rascallychauffeur was taking me into. After a while he stopped and opened thedoor, telling me we had arrived at Dave's house. As I stepped out thosethree 'bad men' jumped on me. One of them pressed a rag soaked inchloroform over my face, and I went to sleep almost before I had achance to fight. When I came to I found myself in that room, with onelowbrow on guard. I waited until my head cleared a little, and then Isailed into him. The noise of the shindy brought up the other two, andthen the argument got pretty hot. There's no doubt but what they'd havewon the decision soon, too, if you fellows hadn't happened to butt injust as you did. I couldn't have held out much longer against odds likethat."
"Yes, it is rather lucky," agreed Bert; "we weren't a minute too soon."
"How did you learn where I was?" inquired Tom.
Bert then told him how they had discovered the slip of paper containingthe note to him, and gave a brief outline of his and Dick's actionsafter discovering it.
"Pretty good detective work," said Tom admiringly. "Sherlock Holmeswould better look out for his laurels."
Meanwhile they had been walking back toward the college, and with theaid of a street car were not long in reaching it.
As they were crossing the campus, they met Reddy.
"For the love of Hivin," exclaimed the trainer, as he caught sight oftheir swollen faces, "what in the world have you been doin' anyway? Youhaven't been lambastin' each other, have ye?"
"Not exactly," said Bert, and then proceeded to give the trainer adetailed account of the recent happenings. Reddy listened attentively,and when Bert finished made no reply at once. After a thoughtfulsilence, he said: "Well, it's something of a mystery, Wilson, but onething is certain--without Henderson the team would have been so crippledthat we wouldn't have had a chance in the world of winning, and I havean idea that the bunch connected with Mike's place, where he was heldprisoner, have a pretty big interest in our winning or losing, in amoney way. And the two facts put together may come pretty near givingthe correct answer."
"I imagined it might be something of the kind," said Bert; "I wonderwhat chance there is of bringing the scoundrels to justice."
"You'll bet we'll do everything possible," said Reddy grimly, "but now,you'd better pack Henderson off to bed,
and Trent had better put a bito' beefsteak on that damaged 'lamp' of his! This afternoon we start forNew York, and we want everybody fit."
Bert Wilson on the Gridiron Page 14
