For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXX

  JUST A CHANCE

  "Who you suppose could have sent that stuff?"

  "We'll have to look into it."

  "Yes, we ought to tell Dr. Churchill, and have him help us."

  Phil, Sid and Frank thus expressed themselves in whispers, as they satin their room. Tom had been moved to the infirmary, and Dr. Marshall wasworking over him with the assistance of Professor Langley, who, asphysics instructor, knew something of medicine.

  The three chums had just received word that Tom was practically out ofdanger, and would be all right in a day or so, but that he was stillquite ill, and suffered much discomfort.

  "Well, I don't know how you fellows feel about it," spoke Sid, "but I'vegot my own opinion as to how that stuff came to be fixed, so as to makeTom ill."

  "How?" demanded Frank.

  "You mean----" began Phil.

  "I mean Shambler, and I don't care who knows it," went on Sid, raisinghis voice. "He's a cad--and he'll never be anything else. He and Tomwere on the outs from the first, partly over Miss Tyler, and for otherreasons.

  "Then came the charge against Shambler, and, though Tom had nothing todo with that, Shambler has probably heard that Tom has taken his placefor the mile run. He hates Randall, and he wants to see her lose afterwhat happened to him, and, he wants to make Tom, by slumping, bring itabout. That's why he tried to 'dope' him. Oh, if I had Shambler here!"and Sid clenched his fists with fierce energy.

  "Do you really think Shambler did it?" asked Frank.

  "I'm sure of it!" declared Sid. "He is the only one who would have anobject."

  "What about Exter--or some of our enemies from Boxer Hall--or evenFairview?" asked Phil. "You know the bottle came from Fairview."

  "It might have come from there, but no one from Fairview Institute sentit," declared Sid confidently. "I'm going to look into this."

  "But we ought to keep it quiet," suggested Frank. "I don't see that anygood can come of raising a row about it."

  "Me either," agreed Phil. "Let's work it out ourselves, with Dr.Marshall to help us."

  Sid finally agreed with this view. The night wore on, and Tom, byenergetic measures, was soon brought out of danger. In fact he neverreally was in what could be called "danger," the only effect of thestuff that had been put in the tonic, Dr. Marshall said, being to makehim ill and weak. This, in all likelihood, was the object of the personwho had fixed the dose. He hoped that Tom would be incapacitated for aweek or more.

  For it developed that the original bottle, of what was a standardremedy, had been opened, and a certain chemical oil added, that wouldneutralize the good effects, and make the stuff positively harmful.

  "Say, but it was a scare all right, though," remarked Sid, as the threesat talking about it, too engrossed to go to bed. And, in their case theusual rule of "lights out," was not enforced on this occasion. "I sortof think it was 'up to me,' for recommending Tom to take the stuff."

  "Nonsense," exclaimed Phil. "You meant all right. It was that cadShambler who ought to be pummeled."

  "It'll be hard to fix it on him," was Frank's opinion; and so it proved.

  The next morning the three friends arranged with Dr. Marshall and thecollege authorities to keep the real reason of Tom's illness secret fromthe students. It was given out that he was overtired from training. Thenthey set to work to unravel the mystery.

  But it was hard work. In the first place they learned that the girls atFairview knew nothing about the matter. Then Wallops was interviewed.

  He gave a good description of the boy who had brought the bottle, andthis personage developed, later, into a young employee of a localexpress company. The boy was sought out.

  All that he knew was that the bottle had been given him at the Fairviewoffice to take to Randall, and at the office a clerk had only a dimrecollection of the person who brought it in to be dispatched.

  Shambler was described to him, and he said that youth might have beenthe one. But it was flimsy evidence, and though Phil and his chums werewell enough satisfied in their own minds that Shambler was the guiltyone, there was no way of proving it.

  So the matter was dropped, as much "for the honor of Randall," as forany other reason. For, as Phil said:

  "Fellows, we don't want it to get out that any lad who once attendedhere could be guilty of such a thing."

  And so the affair rested.

  It was two days before Tom was on his feet again, and though he had awretched time he was, in a measure, even better off than before he tookthe unfortunate dose. For the rest had done him good, and when he gotback to practice, rather pale and uncertain, he soon picked up hisspeed.

  Sid, meanwhile, had been doing hard work, and the other candidates wereup to the difficult standard set by Holly and Kindlings.

  It was two days before the postponed games. All the difficulties causedby the change of date had been overcome, and there was every prospect ofa successful meet.

  "Now, Tom, do you feel like letting yourself go?" asked Holly, as thepitcher came out for a trial on the track.

  "Yes, I'm all right again," was the answer. "In fact I think I'm betterthan I was. Shall I do the whole distance?"

  "No, try a half at first. Then, after you warm up, go the limit. We'll'clock' you."

  As Tom sped over the cinder track for the half mile run, he felt withinhimself a confidence that he had not been conscious of before.

  "I believe that fit of sickness did me good," he reflected. "It restedme up, at any rate." When he had come to the finish mark, and the timewas announced, it was two seconds better than he had ever done before.

  "Now for the mile," suggested Kindlings. "But take a little rest."

  "No, I'll go at something else," decided Tom. "I don't want to getstiff." So he did a little work at putting the shot, jumped over a fewhurdles, tried some high and broad leaping, and then announced that hewas ready for the mile test.

  Quite a throng gathered about the track to watch Tom at his practice,and he felt not a little nervousness as he got on his mark.

  "Go," shouted Kindlings, as he fired the pistol, and Tom was off withsome of the other candidates, who were in more to fill up, and make ashowing for Randall than because they, or their friends, hoped theywould win. And yet there was always the one chance.

  Tom got off in good shape on the half mile track, two circuits of whichwere necessary to make the required distance.

  "He certainly can go," observed Holly Cross, who, with Kindlings, andsome other kindred spirits, was watching the test.

  "Come on! Come on!" yelled Bean Perkins, who was getting his voice inshape for the strain that would be put on it when the games werecalled. "Oh you, Tom Parsons! Come on!"

  And Tom came. Running freely and well, he covered yard after yard, doingthe half just a shade better than his other performance.

  "Now for the real test," murmured Kindlings, as our hero swung aroundthe track on the final lap.

  There were many eager faces lining the rail, and hands that held stopwatches trembled a bit. On and on ran Tom, until he breasted the tape atthe finish.

  "Time! Time! What's the time?" shouted the eager students who knew thatfifths of seconds counted in a championship meet.

  "Four minutes, forty-one and two-fifth seconds," announced Holly. "Tom,that's the best yet!"

  "We'll win! We'll win!" screamed Bean. "Come on, boys!" he called to hiscrowd of shouters, "let's practice that new song, 'We'll cross the linea winner, or we'll never cross at all.' All on the job, now."

  "Tom, old man, you're all right," cried Phil, as his chum slipped asweater over his shoulders. "You're going to win!"

  "I hope--so," was the panting answer.

  There was a comparison of records, and it was found that while Tom's wasa little behind some mile run performances, it was better than that ofa number of former champions.

  "I think he can cut down a second or two when the games are run off,"said Kindlings, discussing the matter with Holly. "There'll be a ba
ndthen, and that always helps a lot, and big crowds, to say nothing ofBean and his shouters."

  "And the girls," added wise Holly. "Tom's got a girl in Fairview, Iunderstand, and if she's on hand he'll run his head off."

  "Then we'll have to have her on hand, if we've got to bribe her,"declared Kindlings.

  "Oh, I guess she won't need any bribing," went on his chum. "Now let'ssee what Sid can do."

  Sid, on whom the hopes of Randall rested to win the broad jump, was onhis mettle. He could easily cover twenty feet, without straininghimself, and to-day, in what all regarded as among the last of theimportant practices, he had several times, gone an inch or two over.

  "I don't hope to equal Bowers who, in 1899, did twenty-one feet, eightand one-half inches," said Sid, "but I do want to do twenty foot, six,and I'm going to make it, too."

  "Sheran, in 1909, only made twenty feet, seven and a half inches," Philreminded his chum.

  "Don't make me envious," begged Sid. "If I do twenty feet, six, I'll besatisfied."

  "Don't be satisfied with anything but the limit," suggested Kindlings.But then he always was a hard trainer.

  And so the practice went on, until Holly and Kindlings, seeing thedanger of weariness, called a halt.

  "I think we're coming on all right," was Holly's opinion as he and hisfellow coach left the field. "I'd like to get a line, though, on whatBoxer Hall and the others are doing."

  "So would I, and I believe we ought to. Is there anything in thepapers?"

  "Yes, a lot of surmises, and some stuff that I believe is faked onpurpose to deceive us."

  "Well, we'll see if we can get a line on their form."

  Accordingly certain "spies" were sent out to see if they could get anyinformation. It was regarded as legitimate then, for no underhandmethods were used. It was "all in the game," and there was a sort offriendly rivalry among the colleges.

  A day later some of the lads whom Kindlings had sent out made a report.On the receipt of it the young coach did some figuring on the back of anenvelope. Holly came upon him engaged in this occupation.

  "What's up?" he demanded.

  "Well, I'm trying to 'dope out,' where we stand," was the reply.

  "Got any line?"

  "Yes, if I can depend on it. The way I figure out is this. We've fairlygot 'em all on some things. But not the mile run and the broad jump. Ofcourse something might go wrong with the dash, or the hammer and weightthrows, but I don't think so."

  "What's the matter with the run and jump?"

  "Well, if these figures from Exter are true, they've got Tom by aboutthree seconds, and Sid by two inches. But I think Exter has been toooptimistic in giving the 'dope.'"

  "Maybe they've gone under their records to get better odds in betting."

  "No, I don't think so. The only one I'm really afraid of is Exter. Ithink we can clean up Boxer Hall and Fairview. They can't come near uson anything except the weight throw and pole vault, and I know Phil willmake good on the vault, and if Dutch doesn't get the fifty-six over thetwenty-five foot mark I'll punch his head."

  "Then the way you figure it out, we've got our work cut out for us?"

  "We always had, but I think now that we've got just a chance to win. Achance, and nothing more, for the championship. If Shambler and Frankhad stayed in it would have been different, but as it is, and not todisparage Tom or Sid, we've got a fair chance and nothing more."

  "To quote the raven," said Holly with a smile. "'Nevermore,' Mr. Poe.But I think we'll do it, Kindlings."

  "I'm sure I hope so," was the grave answer. "I hope so."