CHAPTER XI
THE FIRST BREAK
"Say, where in the name of Diogenes's lantern have you been, Tom?"
"Yes, come in you musty old deserter, and give an account of yourself.You've been away so long that you must have forgotten the counter-sign."
"It was a girl, fellows--I can smell the perfumery!"
Thus Sid, Phil and Frank greeted the advent of our hero into the commonroom, soon after he had left Boswell. Tom's brain had been so busy withso many thoughts, after the sight of that torn handkerchief, that he hadeaten scarcely any supper, though his appetite just before that had beenof the best.
"Shove over; can't you?" was all Tom said to Phil, who was stretched outon the old sofa.
"Sure I can. What's the matter? Got a grouch!"
"No, but I'm dead tired."
"Be careful how you flop," warned Sid, as he watched with anxiety Tom'spreparations to sit down. "That sofa doesn't gain strength with age--itisn't like cheese in that respect."
"Where were you?" asked Phil, as Tom managed to find a resting placewithout bringing forth from the sofa more than a protesting groan, and aseries of squeaks.
"Ruth and I were out for a row," said Tom shortly, knowing that thetruth would out sooner or later, and having nothing to conceal.
"Oh, ho!" exclaimed Sid.
"Where'd you go?" asked Phil, with brotherly interest.
"Crest Island. That's what kept me so long. I got her home in goodseason though, and rowed slow the rest of the way."
"Crest Island!" exclaimed Frank. "Did you find any more clues, Tom?"
The tall pitcher hesitated. He was in two minds about what had takenplace that afternoon. Should he tell his chums the secret he thoughthe had discovered, and get their opinions in working it out? Or shouldhe play a lone hand? A moment's thought convinced him. He would tellall--that is, all save Ruth's secret. That he had no right to divulge.
"Well?" asked Frank, as his chum hesitated. "Did you find anything,Tom?"
"I sure did, fellows," and he tossed on the table the card of Boswell,and the strands of silk.
For a moment no one spoke, and then Sid, picking up the card remarked:
"This looks suspicious, Tom. Did you and Bossy quarrel over a girl,and go to Crest Island to have a duel? It begins to look thatway--exchanging cards and all that."
"We didn't exchange cards," said Tom shortly. "I found that card near ashack where a caretaker lives. And, by the way, fellows, we're going tocamp on Crest Island this Summer."
"We are?" cried Phil.
"I like the nice, easy way he has of laying out our vacation plans forus," remarked Sid.
"Just as if he was our manager," added Frank.
"Well, I only thought it would be handy if we want to practice rowing,"went on Tom, holding back the other reason. "We could get a boat, anddrop down to college here every day or so, take out the shell and have aspin. If we want to beat Boxer Hall we've got to do some tall hustling,and practice like all get-out!"
"Oh, I fancy I can practice rowing on Crystal Lake, where our folksintend taking a cottage," said Sid. "No Crest Island for mine!"
"The girls are going to cottage there," went on Tom, with a fineappearance of indifference. "Madge Tyler's folks have a neat littleshack there, and Ruth, Helen and Mabel are going to spend some timewith her."
"They are!" cried Frank.
"Why didn't you say so at first?" asked Sid, indignantly.
"I--er--I guess I can fix it to camp there," spoke Phil, just as if hehad never intended spending his vacation at any other place.
"Oh, you fellows were so sure you knew your own business that I didn'twant to butt in," went on the pitcher. "But, boys, what do you think ofthat?" and he indicated the card and silk.
"It's the same material," spoke Frank after a bit, as he compared theshreds Tom had pulled from the window-sill of the shack on the island,with the torn strip found near the looted jewelry box.
"And what would you say if I told you that Bossy had a handkerchief ofthat same pattern, with a strip torn off?" asked Tom, slowly.
"Has he?" asked Frank, looking sharply at his chum.
"He has."
"Then, by crimps! He's the fellow who has the cups and jewelry!" criedSid.
"Go easy," advised Phil. "That's the worst of you--always jumping toconclusions."
"And why shouldn't I, when I can land on 'em as easily as I can on thisone? Isn't it as plain as can be?"
"Not altogether. We'd make fine specimens of ourselves if we went andaccused him on this evidence. You say, Tom, that you found this cardnear the Mexican's shack?"
"Yes. And the shreds of silk there, too. It looks to me as if Bossy hadbeen there to buy a handkerchief. Two of 'em, if we're to believe him.The Mexican probably has them as well as his 'push-work' as he callsit," and he told all the circumstances of the visit to the island,omitting only the search for Ruth's brooch.
"I guess that part is right," admitted Frank. "I mean about Bossy goingthere to buy one of these gay handkerchiefs. But just because he diddoesn't make him guilty. In fact, what object would he have in takingsome trophy cups that he could get very little for if they were meltedup, and nothing for, if he tried to sell them as they were? No onewould buy them, for on the face of them they show what they are. Somewere engraved with the Boxer Hall fellows' names. And the other jewelrywasn't so very valuable. Bossy wouldn't have any object in taking that.He's got more money now, than is good for him."
"He might have been gambling, and gotten short of cash, and been afraidof asking his folks," suggested Sid, remembering an ordeal he had gonethrough in having a relative under similar circumstances, as I relatedin "Batting to Win."
"I don't believe it," declared Frank. "To my mind I'd sooner suspectthis Mendez. He seems a fishy sort of character."
"Oh, I think he's straight," declared Tom. "I made some inquiries abouthim while I was having grub. It seems some of the fellows here have beenbuying stuff of him--last year when he was traveling around the country.He bears a good reputation, and Hendell's father, who owns part of CrestIsland, was telling me that the property owners looked up his recordwell before they let him succeed old Jake Blasdell as caretaker."
"Hum!" mused Frank. "It doesn't look as easy as it did at first, inspite of these clues, Tom."
"That's right. Say, I'm not as much of a detective as I thought. Iwonder if that jeweler could be double-crossing us?"
"What do you mean?" asked Sid.
"I mean could he have lost the box of jewelry overboard before his boatwas carried away by the flood? If he did, he could make up the storythat he left it in the locker, and that someone else got it when theboat was wrecked."
"That's possible, though not probable," admitted Frank. "Fellows, myadvice is that we put these things away, and forget all about themto-night. In the morning we may see matters clearer. I've got to dosome boning anyhow. Put 'em away, Tom."
Soon only the ticking of the fussy, little alarm clock was heard,mingled with the rattle of paper as books were leafed or as the ladswrote out their lessons. Even the clock stopped after a bit, and thesudden silence was so startling that Phil exclaimed:
"She's run down! Hope nothing's the matter with her," and he picked upthe timepiece with an anxious face.
"Probably got toothpickitis," suggested Tom. "Give it a shake."
Phil did so, with the result that a piece of toothpick did fall out, andthen the clock went on ticking again.
"That's better," sighed Phil, though often he had objected to theincessant noise. "It would be like losing an old friend if that wentback on us."
He settled into the depths of one of the old armchairs, Sid being inanother, while Frank, who had succeeded to the sofa stretched outluxuriously on that, having ousted Tom, who, on a stool drawn up to thetable, was making an ancient war map that was to be used in class thenext day.
Morning brought no clearer view to the puzzling problem of the clues tothe missing jewelry, and, having all agr
eed to keep silent about thematter, the lads laid aside the articles and hurried to chapel. In theseveral days that followed nothing new in that line developed.
There came several baseball contests, in which Tom and his chumsdistinguished themselves. The long vacation was approaching, and moreor less "boning" had to be done if the lads intended to pass theirexaminations. All these things, with the rowing practice, kept them busyso that Tom, as was the case with the others, had little chance to seethe girls.
The other second-hand rowing craft were made good use of, and those whowere to go in the four were practically picked. So were the singles anddoubles, though of course a change might be made in the Fall, when newmaterial would come to Randall.
All eyes, and most of the interest, however, was on and in the eight.On this Randall built her hopes of becoming champion of the river andlake league. Though when word came of the fast time made by Boxer Halland Fairview in their practice spins, there were doubtful shakes of thehead, for Randall was nowhere near as good.
Then came the annual Boxer Hall-Fairview races. It was about an eventhing between the two colleges, until it came time for the eight-oaredcontest. There was even a tub race, and the boys at Randall decided tohave one when it came time for them to take part in the regatta.
But Boxer won the eight with ease over Fairview, and when Mr. Lighton,who with most of those who had practiced in Randall's big shell,witnessed the exciting finish, he shook his head.
"We've got to do some tall hustling," he remarked, "and make somechanges. I'll start in on them to-morrow."
There was a larger number than usual at practice on Sunny River the nextday. All Randall seemed to be at the boathouse. Adjoining the old one astart had already been made on erecting the new structure, presented bythe alumni. Word had been received that the new shells would be ready inample time for the Fall races.
"Young men!" exclaimed Coach Lighton, as the eight was slipped into thewater, "I'm going to make some radical changes in the crew, and I wantnone of you to feel sore, because, you know, it is for the good of thecollege. We have not been rowing well, of late, and there are severalfaults to correct. The boat hangs a bit, and is a trifle heavy by thestern. She drags. I know one reason for this, it is my own weight, andso I am going to suggest that you now try one of yourselves as coxswain.I am a little too 'beefy' for the place.
"Jerry Jackson, you take the tiller ropes. You've had more practice thanany of the others, and you're too light to hope to be at the oars."
"All right," agreed Jerry, cheerfully. After all it was an honor tosteer the eight.
"Simpson, you'll stay at stroke, and, Parsons, I'm going to send youback a bit. No offense, but you're not quite quick enough in picking upthe stroke. I think it's your baseball arm that's at fault. Molloy, youtake Parsons' place, and Tom will go number three. From three, Hendersonwill go to bow. He's about the right weight for there when we getJackson in as coxswain. And, Jerry, you'll want to shift your seat a bitaft, to make up for the extra weight they've been carrying in me. Thatwill make a good change, I think."
There was some murmuring over the changes, and obviously nearly all werepleased. Molloy especially, for he had been fretting lest he be kept outof the eight. As for Tom he was rather glad, on the whole, that he didnot have the responsibility of picking up Frank's stroke, for it was aresponsibility, and it was telling on him. He had begun to realize thathis baseball pitching had made him a bit awkward in one arm.
"Say, where do I come in?" suddenly asked Boswell. "I was at bow, andnow--I'm nowhere, Mr. Lighton."
"I'll work you in another crew, Boswell," said the coach, sharply.
"But I want to be in the varsity."
"This isn't the varsity any more than any other collection of eightrowers is. The varsity isn't picked yet, and won't be until the Fall."
"Well, this looks very much like the varsity to me," sneered Boswell."All the fellows in it are on the varsity nine----"
"That'll do you!" said the coach, snappily.
"Then I'm not to row at bow?"
"Not in this eight."
"Then I don't row at all!" and, with a fierce glance at the selectedrowers, the rich lad turned sharply and walked off to the dressing rooms.
"The first break," murmured Tom.
"Take your places," spoke the coach, quietly. "I'm going to follow youin the launch. Jackson, make 'em do as you tell 'em!"
The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sports Page 12
