“It must be,” Don admitted, dazed at his success. “But you needn’t regret the fact that you saw Gates come out of that room. If you hadn’t, we would never have found out that Arthur Gates took the cup, and Long would never have been cleared. As it is now we can clear him.”
“How about me?” demanded the man. “Am I to be dragged into the light at this late day? Can’t you cover me up some way?”
“I don’t know,” said Don, frankly. “I think that before we ever clear Long we’ll make a great effort to find out why Gates took his own cup. If we don’t things will be pretty cloudy. Tell me this, have you ever heard of or from Gates since?”
“No, and I never made any effort to. When he paid me my money and got me the job I had nothing further to do with him. As I told you before, I was in pressing need of both the money and the job, but now, as I look back, I’d sooner have been poor and at the same time honest. That is all I can tell you about it, Mr. Mercer, but I’m glad to get that off of my chest.”
Don rose to go. “I sincerely thank you, Mr. Mulford. I think I can see how we can clear up everything without involving you any further. I guess if we go to Gates and tell him what we know he will be glad to confess without allowing any such disgraceful story to get into the newspapers. He is a very prosperous businessman now, and he would be willing to keep things quiet.” He extended his hand and Mulford shook it.
“Good luck to you, Mr. Mercer, and whatever you do in life, keep away from anything shady,” the former janitor said, in parting.
The daughter of the man came in at that moment and at her father’s command she showed Don to the door. He went directly to a restaurant and ate a hearty supper, turning the amazing disclosure over and over in his mind. Before very long he was again on the train.
“Well, this is turning into a royal mystery,” he reflected on the way back to school, “I certainly would like to know why Arthur Gates should have taken the trouble to steal the very cup which was to be turned over to him!”
Don allowed Sunday to go by without saying anything to the colonel about the cup and the story attached to it. He had already told it all to his brother and Terry, and they spent fruitless hours trying to figure out why Gates had stolen his own cup.
“Beats me,” Jim finally confessed, giving it up in despair.
“It is something like that old story of the man who stole his own wedding present,” suggested Terry. “Only, that fellow had some plan in mind when he did it. He wanted to stop the wedding.”
“Arthur Gates had some scheme in mind, don’t doubt that,” Don said, seriously. “But what was it?”
On Monday he told his story to the colonel. The headmaster was astonished and in one sense pleased.
“Then Long is innocent!” he exclaimed. “That’s splendid! My former cadet comes out with flying colors!”
“But another one does not!” Don reminded him.
“Well, yes, that is so,” admitted the colonel. “But still I would rather see it the way it is than to have to think George Long is guilty. Not that I wish to see either or any of my boys guilty of dishonor, but what I mean is this: Long was such a fine clean fellow that it hurt to think that anything was wrong with him. Gates, on the other hand, was not so straightforward. I can’t even say that he was dishonest, but he was less frank than the cadet captain.”
“I see what you mean.” Don nodded. “But now we will have to admit that Gates was dishonest, for he allowed the blame to settle on Long and never said anything about it at all.”
“That is so,” the colonel said. “What do you propose next? Shall Long be told of the story?”
“Privately, yes,” Don replied. “But suppose we keep it rather quiet for a time? We do want to find out just why Gates took it, and a significant story may underlie his reason. My plan is to have a regular committee go and call on Mr. Long!”
“To see if he can add anything to the facts gathered?” the colonel asked.
“Yes, just that. It may be that he has since found out something that will help. It won’t do any harm to try. Do you know where he is living?”
“The last time I wrote to him he was living in White Plains. I’ll give you his address and you can write and ask for an appointment.”
“Do you think that is wise?” Don asked.
“Why not?”
“Well, he may still be hurt at the way the whole thing was received years ago and tell us very briefly but politely that he will not be at home to us. My plan is to drop in on him some evening and then he will have to receive us.”
After thinking it over the colonel agreed that Don’s plan was best and they decided on a committee. As they desired to keep the thing as quiet as possible it was finally agreed that Don, Jim and Senior Cadet Captain Hudson should do the calling on George Long. As soon as lessons were over Don hunted up the cadet captain and told him what was in the wind.
He was deeply interested and when Jim found that he was to be part of the committee his joy was great. Terry was slightly disappointed, but felt that he would eventually have some part in things. At least, he would hear how things turned out, and that in itself served to comfort him.
It was one night during the following week that the three cadets composing the committee arrived in White Plains. They started early in the afternoon and it was nearly eight o’clock when they arrived in the city. Their first step was to go into a drugstore and look up the name of George Long.
“Here it is,” the tall senior captain said, pointing the name out to his companions. “He is still living at the address that the colonel gave us. Now, if he is at home we’ll be in luck.”
After some inquiry they found the street and half way down it a neat white house. There was a light in the living room and sounds of a radio could be heard as they stood on the front porch. Hudson touched the bell and they waited.
“Here’s hoping he won’t throw us out,” whispered Jim.
“He won’t,” Don promised. “Not when I tell him what I have learned.”
A very pleasant looking man in his early thirties opened the front door and turned on the front porch light. His face was thoughtful and he carried himself with an erect carriage that revealed his military training. In unconcealed astonishment he surveyed the three trim-looking cadets in their gray uniforms and gray overcoats. Quickly his eyes flashed to the W. M. I. on their hats and he knew that they came from Woodcrest Military Institute. His face was a study.
“Are you Mr. George Long?” asked Don, whom the others had agreed would be the spokesman of the party.
“Yes, I am,” the man responded. “Won’t you step in?”
The three cadets stepped inside a comfortable hall, removing their hats and loosening their overcoats as they did so. Long continued to look fixedly at them.
“We have come to see you on some very important business, Mr. Long,” said Hudson, as there was a slight pause.
“Come in the living room,” Long invited, leading the way. It was evident that he was deeply puzzled and fighting to get a grip on himself.
As they entered the living room, a neat, vigorous lady of about the same age as Long got up quickly from an easy chair in which she had been sitting. She looked from the cadets to her husband.
“If it is on business, George, I’ll leave you to yourselves,” she began, but Don quickly interrupted her.
“Please do not go,” he said. “I am sure you will be quite anxious to hear what we have to say to Mr. Long. Before we go any further I want to introduce my companions and myself. This is Senior Cadet Captain Hudson, and this is my brother, Mr. Mercer. I am Donald Mercer, of the third class at Woodcrest.”
“I’m glad to know you,” Long said, having regained some of his composure by this time. “This is Mrs. Long. Won’t you be seated?”
He turned off the radio music and they all sat down, the Longs expectant and the cadets cool. Don spoke slowly and calmly.
“Mr. Long, we have come to ask you to tell us what you know about that unfortunate affair of the Gates trophy of 1933.”
A sudden dark look passed over the man’s face and his eyes blazed. His voice had lost its friendliness when he spoke again.
“I had hoped you weren’t here to talk about that,” he said, excitement in his tone. “I won’t answer a single question. I never was a thief!”
The three cadets sat unmoved and Don went on unevenly. “It was thought by a great many that you were, and it is still thought. There are very few persons in the world who know that you never were, but before very long everyone will know it. I think you will answer questions, Mr. Long, and willingly so, since it will help us to solve the whole mystery of that cup.”
Mrs. Long was sitting up eagerly in her chair and her husband was staring. “Do you mean to say that you have found out anything about that cup?” Long asked, eagerly.
“I found out several things,” Don answered. “But I think the wisest thing would be to hear what you have to say first. It may help us a lot, and then we’ll tell you what we know. You may save yourself most of the details, for Colonel Morrell, who has always believed in you, has told us most of them.”
“I know that the colonel has always believed in me, and I’m mighty proud of the fact,” Long said. “Well, gentlemen, I must first beg your pardon for my outburst. The subject has long been a deep hurt to me, so you can understand just how I felt.”
“Perfectly,” nodded Hudson, the others assenting.
“Well, you know that the Gates cup was turned over to me and that it disappeared on the day of the presentation. I’m afraid that is all there is to it. I was accused by the senior Gates, but generously protected by Arthur.”
A swift glance passed between the cadets, a glance which the Longs noticed and wondered at. Don again took the lead.
“Are you sure you have told us everything, Mr. Long?” he asked, looking directly into the former cadet captain’s eyes. “Can’t you tell us why you went around so glumly after Gates won the chance to compete against Roxberry, and again in the same manner after he had won against that school and had claimed the highest honors? It looked to everyone then as though you were jealous, but we have a feeling that there was something else. Suppose you tell us now.”
Long hesitated, and his wife reached over and touched his arm. “George, you must tell everything to these boys. I know that you consider it honorable to keep quiet, and that you have done so for all of these years during which you have been cruelly misjudged, but I think it is high time you made some effort to clear yourself.”
Long came to a decision. “Very well, boys. I’ll tell you everything. Perhaps I’ve been foolish to keep it all to myself in this way, but I’ve thought it the honorable thing to do. The reason I looked so glum at the time Arthur Gates won in the competition examinations and later again Roxberry, is simply because Gates won them dishonestly!”
“Both of them?” asked Jim sharply.
“Yes, both of them! Copied his answers out of textbooks for the elimination and later bribed a professor from Roxberry on the big examination! His money did it, and the professor mentioned gave him a complete list of the questions to be answered before the interscholastic contest. No wonder he won hands down!”
“How did you learn this?” Don asked.
“I knew, judging by our class records, that I should have defeated Gates in the eliminations. But I didn’t say anything until he won the big event with one hundred per cent. Then, on the night that I first placed that cup on my dresser, I pinned him down to the facts and made him confess that he had stolen the entire thing. Gates was always rather weak and he admitted it readily, even telling me the methods employed.
“As you can imagine, I was utterly appalled. We were always a school noted for our cadet spirit and our honor, and it had been literally smeared by Gates’ hideous act. The next day he was to step up on the platform and take a cup that belonged to another school, or at least one which he had not won cleanly, and he was going to do it with a smile on his face. Boys, I’m no cry-baby, but I did cry a bit then for the utter hopelessness of a man who would do that. Now I know where I was wrong. I should have dragged him to the colonel or have beaten the life out of him, but I thought I knew of a better way. I talked for two solid hours to him about honor and then left him alone in my room, after he had promised to write down a confession and stand clean. It wasn’t an easy thing to do on his part, but he agreed, and he said he’d write it where it would be eternal and there would be no mistake about it. I didn’t understand that, but I went outside for a walk, to cool off in the fresh air.
“And on the next morning the cup was there, but it later disappeared. He stepped up to the platform and took all the honors, and that knocked the theory I had held in the head. I thought that he had had the trophy stolen in order that he wouldn’t have to accept it, thinking that he’d back out altogether. But he didn’t. As I said before, he was mighty generous about it all, but of course, he had to be. He knew I was in a position to grind him to powder with a word, and he acted accordingly. I think that is the only reason his father didn’t prosecute me.”
“The story gets blacker each time we hear it,” murmured Hudson.
“That explains a whole lot,” Don said. “Now, I’ll tell you what we know.” He began at the point where he had read the notice of the resigning janitor in the issue of theBombardmentand told it to the finish. “So you can see, Mr. Long, that Gates stole his own cup. I guess he did it so as not to have to accept it.”
“Perhaps he was brazen enough to accept all of the praise, but the cup was too much for him, and he knew he could not face that,” Mrs. Long suggested.
“And yet that doesn’t make it any the less dishonorable,” Jim interposed.
“You still think there is some other reason for taking his own cup?” asked Long.
“I’m afraid so,” confessed Jim. “Simply taking the cup, and still accepting all of the honors doesn’t seem logical.”
They talked on for some time, the Longs delighted at the good fortune which had come to them. It had grown so late that the cadets knew they could not return to the school that night. They talked of going to a hotel but the Longs promptly vetoed the suggestion, declaring that they could and would put them up for the night.
The cadets gladly accepted the invitation, and knowing that they were in no hurry, spent a happy evening with the Longs. Now that some of the bitterness was lifted from his mind George Long talked freely of the days during which he had been in the school.
“For the time being nothing will be said publicly,” Don told Long, as they were leaving the next day. “We are not yet satisfied as to why Gates took the cup and we mean to make an effort to find out. In time, however, you will be completely cleared.”
“With as many of them as are still alive,” said Long quietly. “Some of them were killed in the war. I was in the war, too, and it is just by the mercy of the Almighty that I am not resting there now.”
With the thanks and good wishes of the Longs echoing in their ears, the three cadets left and were soon on the way back to Woodcrest.
“I don’t know whether this case gets better or worse as it goes on,” remarked the colonel, after Hudson, Don and Jim had told him Long’s story.
“As far as the proposition of clearing Long is concerned, it’s turning out just right,” Hudson remarked.
“That’s right,” the colonel agreed. “But now I find that Woodcrest didn’t win the interscholastic scholarship contest at all. In time the truth will have to be made known and then we will receive an additional black eye.”
“Perhaps not, sir,” Don put in. “When the professor from Roxberry who sold the examination to Gates is known they may wish to keep it quiet. There is no way of telling just how it will all turn out.”
“Maybe so,” the colonel replied. “Now, let me tell you what I plan to do. In about three weeks I am going to have the first alumni dinner in Clanhammer Hall, when we will change the name of the place to Alumni Hall. I am going to write to Arthur Gates to attend that affair and while he is here we’ll see if there is anything to be learned about the events of the past. Gates has never attended an alumni dinner before, possibly because he has feared to meet Long at one.”
“Then how will you get him to attend this one?” Jim asked.
“I’m going to write and tell him that as this is the most important meeting that we have ever had it is absolutely necessary that we have the winner of the interscholastic contest with us.” The colonel’s face became suddenly red and his gray eyes glinted dangerously. “I’m sorry to think that I’ll have to shake hands with him and pretend that he is the same as any other man, but that is the only thing I can do under the circumstances. It is all important that George Long be cleared and that we find out why Gates took that cup. That is as much as we can do right now, and I’ll let you know when something new turns up.”
They left the colonel then and for the next week very nearly forgot the affair of the cup. They were now in the full swing of their school life, enjoying it as never before. Both Don and Jim were on the football squad, and although they were not permitted to play in every game they did get some part in most games. The red-headed boy was still with the track, rapidly making a name for himself as a fast and steady runner.
At the end of a week the colonel called Don and the senior cadet into his office. He had a letter in his hand.
“I just received a reply to my letter,” he stated. “Arthur Gates will be here on the night of our alumni dinner. He writes to say that he has never had the opportunity to come before, but that he’ll be very glad to come and help open Clanhammer as the new Alumni Hall. That’s very nice of him, I’m sure. If he knew what we know, he wouldn’t come near the school.”
“That’s true,” nodded Don. “What are your plans for the evening?”
“I haven’t decided as yet,” the headmaster admitted. “But I shall want you and Hudson and Jim to be in the room and watching Gates. I am going to ask most of the seniors to act as waiters, and I’ll see to it that you and Jim are on the table with Gates.”
On Monday of the following week a corps of carpenters and painters swooped down on old Clanhammer Hall and went to work. In between periods and after school the cadets watched them with interest. Old and rotting boards were ripped off and new ones put in their places, old paint was scraped and in a short time the old building stood out in glowing splendor. Leaves were raked up and broken windows replaced. The hall was completely transformed.
On the inside the work was even more thorough. Old benches were torn out, one or two old partitions followed, and the entire left side of the original school was turned into a huge dining hall. In the days of its infancy Clanhammer had had a small dining room, because enrollment had been small there. Now two classrooms joined with that original room made up the new and spacious alumni dining room.
Upstairs was left pretty much as it had been and then the new furniture was moved in. Long tables and plenty of chairs composed the new equipment, and in a few days the new sign, Alumni Hall, was painted over the front door.
A number of seniors had been chosen as waiters and Don and Jim had been told to join them. On the night of the dinner they assembled early in the kitchen of the hall and began preparations. The kitchen had been refitted and at present was full of steam and the odors of half a dozen foods. The cooks had their hands full watching the restless cadets, who sampled the food at every opportunity.
“I’m warning you,” shouted Pat Donohue, the chief cook, as he wiped the perspiration from his red face. “The next fellow I see dipping bread in the gravy will catch a frying pan back of his ears! Don’t you boys never get fed during meal times?”
“No, Pat,” said one of the seniors, gravely. “Your food is so good that we never get enough of it! Don’t blame us for snitching a little now and then, for it is out of this world!”
“Humph,” snorted the cook, suspiciously. “That sounds fine, but I got a sneaking suspicion you just said it to make me feel good. Get your fingers out of that salad!”
“Isn’t there anything we can have without being jumped on for it?” demanded Hudson.
There were a half dozen rolls which had fallen into some heavy grease earlier in the evening. They were now on a plate nearby and the grease did not show. Pat pointed to them.
“There’s some fine rolls that you can have,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. A dozen hands reached for the rolls and the lucky ones began to eat hastily. But in a minute there came a chorus of protesting cries.
“What in the world did you put in these rolls?” gasped a senior, as he tasted the grease.
“Who, me?” asked Pat, innocently. “I didn’t put nothing in ’em. I guess they was that way when they came. I dunno, I haven’t tasted ’em.”
After that the cadets let the food alone. By this time they could hear the old graduates coming in, and soon the old hall echoed and re-echoed to the talk and laughter of the old students. From time to time the alumni wandered within sight of the busy corps of waiters, and then the cadets got a glimpse of them.
Working busily the cadets soon had the supper on the table and then the graduates marched in, the old-timers in the lead and the others following.
Just before they sat down the colonel beckoned to Hudson and spoke to him in a low tone. “The man at my right is Arthur Gates,” he said. “Not on this table, but on the second table. Just watch him closely and see what his reaction is to any announcement about class trophies.”
Hudson nodded and carried the message to Don and Jim. The meeting opened with a word of thanks by the colonel and then with a noisy scraping of chairs the old cadets sat down. It was now a busy period for the young waiters. They walked rapidly from the kitchen to the dining room, putting on the food, replenishing the supply of rolls, and seeing to it that everyone was well served.
It was during a pause between courses that Don and Jim got their first real look at Arthur Gates. He was sitting at the end of the second table, conversing with some of his old classmates. He was stout and pale, wore glasses and had very little hair on his head. His eyes were shifty and they decided, even discounting what they knew about him, that they did not like him.
After the final coffee cups had been cleared away several speeches were made. They recalled the earlier days of the school, when the colonel was a very young man, and one of them told of mistaking him for the janitor.
Eventually Gates was called upon and the three boys listened to him in amazement. He spoke of the glorious year in which the school had won the cup and seemed not in the least abashed.
Jim whispered to Don, “I’ll be doggone glad when we can produce proof and show that fellow up. Can you imagine a guy like that taking credit while Long is in disgrace?”
“I won’t mind spiking his guns,” whispered Don indignantly, in return.
Gates concluded his speech in a burst of handclapping, in which the colonel did not take part. The headmaster rose slowly and addressed the gathering.
“I have a very pleasant surprise for you, gentlemen. During the last few months I have had a committee of my boys look through the school for the trophies of former years. They have recovered every one of them, and in a very short time I shall show them to you. Every one, gentlemen.”
The three cadets looked quickly at Gates. He was paying strict attention to Colonel Morrell and his face had become very pale. Nervously his hands crumpled the tablecloth.
“I have made over one room into a trophy room,” continued Colonel Morrell. “In that room you will find the walls lined with the emblems which speak of the glories of the past, the standards for the winning of which you gave so much courage and loyalty. Cups, flags, banners, shields—all are there and in looking at them I am sure you will find many a stirring memory. I propose that we now go directly to the trophy room and look over the collection, and I challenge any of you to show me wherein we of the present day have left a single historic trophy out.”
There was a pushing back of chairs and the graduates followed the colonel out of the dining room into a smaller room which had been beautifully decorated. The last glimpse that the three cadets had of Gates he was close on the heels of the colonel.
“I guess I see the colonel’s point,” whispered Hudson, as they prepared to clear the tables. “Wait until you hear what he has to say.”
The next two hours were busy ones, as the cadets were compelled to clear all the tables, eat, and help stack away the piles of dishes. When they returned to the empty dining room they found that most of the guests had left the hall. After a time the colonel sought them.
“Did you observe anything?” he asked guardedly.
“Mr. Gates looked ill at ease when you said you had all of the trophies,” Don answered.
The colonel nodded. “I watched him closely when we got into the Trophy Room,” he said. “His eyes eagerly swept the room, and after that he seemed ill at ease no more. He saw that the class of 1933 cup was not there. But he must have known that it was not there in the first place.”
“He must have the cup at home somewhere,” said Jim.
“I believe he has. But listen while I tell you what happened. One of the graduates said, ‘Too bad we haven’t the interscholastic cup of 1933.’ There was a dead silence and then Gates said, ‘Let’s forget that altogether, fellows.’ I guess he would like everyone to forget about that cup.”
“No doubt,” agreed Hudson. “Well, what is the next move?”
“Let’s wait awhile,” answered the colonel. “I had a talk with Gates and he told me that he and his family were about to move here to Portville to live! That may mean something definite in the future.”
A number of cadets, clad in the regulation football pants, and blue and white jerseys of Woodcrest football team ran swiftly around the track back of the school. It was the custom of Coach Briar to give his men a single lap around the field after a strenuous workout, and the team was winding up for the day. Don and Jim held their place well in the front with the leaders.
The lap completed they rushed down the steps that led into the basement and with a series of wild whoops piled into the locker rooms. A hissing sound announced that the showers had been turned on, and a film of steam vapor spread rapidly over the room. Jerseys came off on the double and more than one helmet rolled unheeded across the dusty floor.
Coach Brier walked in slowly and looked with approval at his charges. They were in fine condition and had won every game of the season. At no time in the year had they been in any danger of losing, and the fighting spirit was more than gratifying to the athletic coach.
The tumult in the locker room increased with each passing moment. Half a dozen young huskies had found themselves stripped at the same time and a wild rush for the showers resulted. There was pushing and shoving and shouting, which would have disturbed the nerves of someone less stout in that respect than the popular coach. But he merely smiled and looked on, wisely confining his talk to football subjects.
“Only one more team to play, coach,” shouted Quarterback Vench, of the third class. “We ought to be able to take them.”
“Don’t be too sure,” warned the coach.
“We’ll sure take one healthy crack at them,” put in Douglas, who ran in the backfield for Woodcrest.
“Is there any chance of playing Dimsdale this year, coach?” cried Hudson, from the back of the room.
A look of gravity spread over the genial face of the coach. As if by magic the uproar in the room ceased. Hudson had struck a sore point.
In the past Woodcrest had played an annual game with Dimsdale, a preparatory school close by. The contest had been the big event of the whole fall season and the rivalry had been keen. But in recent years there had been no games between the two schools, owing to an unfortunate affair that took place after one of the games on the Woodcrest home field. At that time Woodcrest had defeated Dimsdale for five years straight, and in the game that followed the preparatory school had won. The fact went to the heads of the students of the rival school, and besides painting the 12 to 0 score on the side of the school with white paint they had ruthlessly broken windows and wrecked some school furniture. The cadets’ battalion had formed and had given the rioters a severe beating, although they were supposed to merely chase them off the grounds. From that time forward there had been no games.
However, that had happened years ago and there was no thought that it would happen again. Each year the cadets clamored to play against Dimsdale and each year they were refused. As the years went on the situation became harder. Insolent Dimsdale scholars openly booed the cadets and the boast was common with Dimsdale students that the Woodcrest school was afraid to play them. In large bodies the Dimsdale rooters came to the cadet games and openly cheered for the rivals of the cadets, no matter who or what they were. It was as much as flesh and blood could stand, and to old veterans like Hudson and Barnes and Berry, the flashing backfield men, it was especially bitter to think that they must graduate without a chance to play their detested foes.
To Hudson’s question the coach looked troubled. “I don’t know, Hudson,” he said. “You know what the attitude of Melvin Gates is.”
Don stopped tying his shoe to look up. “What has Melvin Gates to do with it, coach?” he asked.
“Everything,” responded the coach, gloomily. “It so happens that he is the chief trustee and that he donates the most money to the school. Although Colonel Morrell owns the school it is really run by a board of trustees, and the head trustee is Melvin Gates. He has never gotten over the affair of the last Dimsdale game, and he positively refuses to allow the school to play the other outfit. As he holds most of the power I suppose the colonel can’t risk losing his support, so we have to go without our game each year.”
“Is he the only one against it?” Jim asked.
“Yes,” nodded the coach. “The only one.”
Vench snorted in disgust. “Can you beat that? Just because something happened long ago he has to act like a spoiled baby about it! That’s what I call fine, noble sportsmanship!”
“You don’t know much about it,” grumbled Hudson. “This is only your second year. Wait until you have had to swallow their insults for four years. Why, look at the Roxberry game, and what those guys did. Started yelling every time the signals were called, so that we couldn’t get them. If I had my way I’d turn the whole corps loose to clean ’em off the field.”
Young Major Rhodes, former cadet captain of the senior class and now chief drill instructor, drifted in just then. “I agree with Hudson,” he said, quietly. “I had to put up with it for four years and then finally graduated without getting a chance to play against them. I think we’ve been wrong about the whole thing from start to finish. Suppose a delegation of you fellows go and see the colonel and tell him that the whole school wants to play Dimsdale.”
“What good will that do?” asked Coach Brier.
“I don’t know that it will,” confessed Rhodes. “But I do know that there will be a meeting of the trustees on Friday and at that time the colonel can put it up to them again.”
“And get turned down once more,” snapped Berry, to whom Dimsdale was a nightmare.
Rhodes shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know, but you can at least try. Someday the break has got to be made, and the sooner the better.”
“Do you think this year would be a good one to play Dimsdale?” inquired a substitute, timidly. “They are Class A champions, you know, and they have a powerful team.”
“I wouldn’t care how big their team is,” declared halfback Barnes. “Just put me where I can rip holes in their line, that’s all!”
The coach looked at the boys silently for a time. “All right, boys,” he said. “I guess there is no harm in trying out Rhodes’ suggestion. Suppose you three veteran backfield men consider yourselves a committee and approach the colonel on the subject. Let’s see if we can get any action this year.”
That night Don consulted earnestly with Jim and the result was a letter which he wrote to his father. After that they waited, with the rest of the school, for the decision of the trustees.
What the young substitute had said about Dimsdale was true. They were at present occupying the exalted position of champions of the Class A divisions, and they boasted a powerful, line-smashing team. In one sense it was not a wise year to start playing the old rivals again, for the Woodcrest team was small and fast, but in no way compared with the other school as far as bulk of players was concerned. But the cadets were mad clean through and did not hesitate to take on the other school, in anticipation at least.
The colonel received the committee of three and expressed with them the desire of renewing relations with the preparatory school. He promised to take the matter up with his board of trustees and see what he could do with the one obstinate member.
“It is time that Mr. Gates got over his prejudice,” he admitted. “We’ll see what we can do.”
On the day of the trustee meeting Don received a letter from home and he and Jim read it over with satisfaction. Don nodded across the table to Jim as he finished it.
“I guess it won’t make any difference which way the meeting goes now,” he stated.
On the following day when the team finished their workout, the coach was not with them. He had gone into the school building to find out the result of the trustee meeting. The players stood around with sweaters and coats as protection against the sharp November wind. Before long they saw the coach come from the main hall and walk slowly toward them.
“Walks very slowly, something like a funeral march,” observed Hudson, with a gloomy shake of his head.
When Brier reached them he did not waste any words. He shook his head and spread out his hands with a gesture that told the whole story.
“Same as ever, boys,” he announced briefly. “Gates refuses to allow us to play Dimsdale.”
Barnes and Berry took off their helmets at the same moment and slammed them on the ground viciously. Hudson turned away, a lump in his throat. His last ambition, that of playing against Dimsdale, was frustrated, and the fact hurt. Growls came from the rest of the squad. Vench gritted his teeth and sneered at the narrow-minded attitude of the chief trustee. Only Don and Jim kept silent, and as they were new members on the football team the fact was not noticed.
“That means giving it up for at least another year, I suppose,” shrugged Rhodes.
“Maybe until Gates dies, I don’t know,” returned the coach.
“Blessings on him and all his money!” murmured Barnes, sarcastically.
After the customary lap around the field the boys went back to dress, annoyed and growling at the situation. It was not until they were in their own room that Don spoke his mind.
“Jim, I believe that there’s something more to this than we can see on the surface,” he said.
“What do you mean?” his brother asked.
“I mean that I don’t think Melvin Gates is keeping us from playing Dimsdale simply because of the after-game riot of years ago. Why in the world should he be so particular? Every student wants to play and every trustee wants to let us, but still he holds out. I think there is some added mystery in it all, and that he has some deep and secret reason for not wanting us to play Dimsdale!”
On the following morning Don sought out the colonel and asked for a few minutes to talk over an important matter. At the colonel’s invitation he sat down and came at once to the point.
“Colonel Morrell,” he began. “You only tolerate Mr. Gates’ attitude because he is the senior trustee and actually controls the school by his money, isn’t that so?”
The colonel was astonished but he nodded frankly. “Yes, that is so. Of course, Mr. Gates has been a trustee for a good many years and there is something else to consider besides his money, but I’ll admit that plays a big part. It costs something to run the school and his generosity has made a lot of things possible that we would otherwise have done without.”
“Of course,” responded Don. “Is his obstinate attitude confined simply to this matter of football, or does he make things unpleasant for you in other ways, Colonel Morrell?”
“In some other things he is very disagreeable, too,” the headmaster said. “But in the matter of the football game he is unusually so. What makes you ask?”
“If you had someone else to take his place, who would advance as much money as he does, and with not nearly as much trouble, would you consider running directly against Mr. Gates?” Don went on, ignoring the colonel’s question.
The colonel thought for a moment. “Yes, I think I would,” he admitted, slowly. “As I told you before, Mr. Gates has made things pretty disagreeable for me on several occasions. He has a sort of stranglehold on the school simply because of his wealth and that makes it hard for the rest of the trustees and myself. In other words, if he wants a thing done his way he has only to say so and tap his pocketbook and we all have to do as he wants us to.”
“That’s just about what I thought,” nodded Don. “Now, I’ll tell you what I have in mind, Colonel Morrell. When I was home last summer I talked to my father quite a bit about the school and he shares my enthusiasm for it. When I heard of the trouble you had with Mr. Gates about the football situation I wrote to him and asked him if Mr. Gates ever got disgusted and left the trustee body would he consider becoming a trustee in Gates’ place, providing he was elected to the body. He wrote back and said that he would.”
The colonel digested the news slowly. “That is very nice of your father and I certainly appreciate it,” he said at last. “But of course I could not simply ask the senior Gates to resign so that I could put another man in his place.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” answered Don, quietly. “But this is what I mean. You know that the entire student body wants to play Dimsdale and that one man alone is holding us back. What I propose is this. Suppose a committee consisting of two representatives from each class waits on Mr. Gates and tells him plainly that the school is determined to play our rival? If he is unruly and threatens to resign we’ll just allow him to resign and my father will take his place.”
“I see now what you are getting at,” cried the colonel. “We won’t be driving him out, but he will be driving himself out! It will give us an opportunity to see if he is simply bluffing and at the same time you boys will get your game. Personally, nothing would suit me better than to see that game played. I think it is high time that the unfriendliness of years standing is done away with and that athletic and other relations be restored between this school and Dimsdale.”
“Then you approve of my plan?” asked Don.
“I certainly do. The issue will then be squarely up to Mr. Gates and it will be up to him to decide what course to pursue. I won’t have anything to say about it, nor will the other trustees, and if he wishes to resign your father will take his place. Nothing could be more clear-cut than that.”