CHAPTER XXIVGERALD WATCHES
There was a sensation the next morning when Mr. Collins announced after Chapel that the hockey cup had disappeared from No. 28 Clarke. “It is only to be supposed,” said the assistant principal, “that whoever took the cup out of the room did so as a joke. If the person will return the cup this morning, before dinner-time, I shall consider it a joke, too, although a joke in rather poor taste. If the cup is not returned by that time I shall see that the offender is punished. The Pennimore Cup is school property and there is, as you all know, a severe penalty for damaging or removing property belonging to the school. Aside from this consideration, the cup is needed to-morrow when Broadwood comes here to play hockey, and it should be the effort of every fellow to see that it is returned promptly to the office or to the manager or captain of the hockey team.”
The school in general accepted the disappearanceof the cup as a very excellent jest, and fellows begged each other playfully to “give it up. We know you’ve got it. Be good and hand it back!” But when, in the afternoon, it was learned that the missing trophy had not been returned the amusement changed to indignation. By that time Alf was thoroughly worried, and the short practice went somewhat listlessly. Gerald had seen Harry Merrow and had learned from that youth, first swearing him to secrecy, that Jake Hiltz had been on the river for at least half an hour after Gerald had stopped on the bridge. After that Harry knew nothing of Hiltz’s whereabouts. Gerald reported this to Dan and Alf and Tom after practice.
“I say let’s find Hiltz and put it up to him,” said Dan impatiently. “We could say that he was seen in the building yesterday afternoon.”
“That would be a lie, wouldn’t it?” asked Tom mildly.
“Well, isn’t a lie excusable in a case of this sort?” retorted Dan.
“I don’t think so. You don’t, either, Dan. A lie’s a lie, no matter when you tell it.”
“Well, what in thundercanwe do?” Dan demanded, yielding the point without argument.
“We can’t do anything,” said Alf bitterly,“except wait in the hope that whoever took the cup will bring it back before the game to-morrow.”
“But that’s poppycock,” said Dan. “If he had been going to return it he would have done it to-day before dinner and got off without trouble. Now he knows that Collins will make it hot for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if we never saw that cup again!”
“Nonsense!” said Tom.
“Of course,” said Gerald, “if it didn’t come back dad could have another made; he’d be glad to, I know. But——”
“Meanwhile we’ve got to tell Broadwood that we’ve lost it!” interrupted Alf.
“We haven’t lost it; it’s been stolen,” Tom corrected.
“It amounts to the same thing. We haven’t got it, have we? They’ll think it’s a fine joke and have the laugh on us.”
“Let them,” said Tom. “If we beat them to-morrow I guess they can laugh all they want to.”
“Maybe we won’t beat them,” muttered Alf discouragedly.
“Oh, buck up, Alf! Of course we’ll beat them!” said Dan heartily. “Let’s forget about the cup until to-morrow. There’s nothing more we can do. Don’t let it get on your nerves, Alf;you want to be able to play your best game, you know.”
“I’m afraid it’s got on my nerves already,” replied Alf with an attempt at a smile. “Well, you’re right, though; we’ve done all we can do, that’s certain. Unless we find Hiltz and choke him until he ’fesses up.”
“I don’t believe he has it—somehow,” mused Dan.
“I know he has!” said Gerald positively.
“How do you know it?” Tom demanded. But Gerald only shook his head.
“I just do,” he answered. “I—I feel it!”
“I wish you could see it instead of feeling it,” said Alf, with a laugh, as he got up. “Hang that cup, anyway! I’m going to supper. A fellow has to eat, I guess.”
“I’m sure I have to,” said Tom, following his example. “I’ve got an appetite to-night, too. I suppose that under the unfortunate circumstances I ought not to be hungry, but I am.”
“So am I,” said Dan quite cheerfully. “Anyway, we won’t find the cup by sitting here and talking about it. I’m not going to think any more about the pesky thing. Perhaps it will show up in the morning somehow. Come on, Gerald.”
“I’m not hungry,” answered his roommate dolefully.
“Oh, yes, you are,” said Dan laughingly. “Or you will be when you get to commons. Think of the nice hot biscuits, Gerald!”
Gerald, however, refused to be comforted and followed the others over to Whitson with lugubrious countenance. Truth, though, compels me to state that ten minutes later Gerald was doing quite well with those same hot biscuits!
Saturday morning came and the mystery of the Pennimore Cup was still unexplained. Mr. Collins made another plea for its return and threatened to expel the one who had taken it if it was not forthcoming at once. The students listened in respectful silence, but no one arose dramatically and produced the missing cup. All sorts of theories were going the rounds by now. The most popular one was to the effect that a professional thief had seen the cup in the window in Greenburg and had followed Gerald back to school and had later sneaked up to his room and stolen it. It was quite plausible and there was a general sentiment to the effect that Gerald had had a lucky escape from being robbed on the way from Greenburg, in which case he might have been killed by the desperate burglar. Few any longerbelieved that the cup had been taken as a practical joke, and, when dinner-time arrived and it had not appeared, even Alf and Dan and Tom abandoned their first suspicions. Only Gerald was obdurate.
“Hiltz took it,” he affirmed stoutly, “and he’s got it now.”
And nothing any of the others could say in any way affected his conviction.
Alf gave up hoping. His dejection, however, had turned to anger, and Dan was glad to see it, since it promised better results on the rink than the captain’s half-hearted, down-in-the-mouth condition of yesterday.
“As soon as the game is over,” declared Alf wrathfully, “I’m going straight to the police. That’s what we ought to have done yesterday morning instead of letting Collins sputter about it all this time. Maybe if we had we’d have the cup now.”
“I guess we’d better tell Collins first, though,” said Dan. “If the police are to be called in I suppose he’d better do it.”
“Well, I’ll tell him. But if he doesn’t get the police I will. The whole thing’s a disgrace to the school!”
The hockey game was to start at three, andan hour before that time the advance guard began to arrive from Broadwood and Greenburg. It was a glorious day, cold enough to keep the ice hard and mild enough to allow spectators to watch the game in comfort. There was scarcely a ripple of air, and what there was blew softly out of the southwest and was too kindly to bite ears or nip noses. At half past two three big coaches climbed the hill containing the Broadwood team and as many of its loyal supporters as had been able to crowd into the vehicles. Others had already arrived on foot and more followed. As it was Saturday afternoon many Greenburg enthusiasts swelled the throng of students, and long before either team appeared on the ice the rink was fringed four deep with spectators and all sorts of contrivances had been fashioned by late arrivals from which to look over the heads of those in front. French had requisitioned as many settees as he could find, and these were supplemented with boxes and planks, and finally the locker room in the gymnasium was almost denuded of its benches and would have been quite cleared had not Mr. Bendix happened along and forbidden farther spoliation.
Gerald accompanied Dan to the gymnasium when it came time to get dressed. Gerald’s workwas over for the season and to-day, like the members of the Second Team and its substitutes, he was only a member of the audience. He hung around while the others got into their playing togs, good-naturedly helping here and there. Broadwood was dressing upstairs. When the team were ready Alf spoke to them quietly and confidently, begging them to keep together and not to sacrifice team work for individual effort. Then, clad in coats or dressing gowns, with their skates, shoes, and sticks in hand, they filed out of the gymnasium and walked down to the rink.
Their appearance was the signal for an outburst of cheers that lasted for several moments. A minute or two later they took possession of the rink and began warming up. The ice was in fine shape, hard and smooth, and the skates rang merrily as they charged up and down. Sticks clashed and pucks flew back and forth, often whizzing into the crowd and causing heads to duck. Broadwood appeared soon and received her meed of acclaim. Then for some ten minutes the teams practiced. Yardley wore white running trunks over dark blue tights, white shirts and blue knitted caps. Broadwood was attired in dark-green stockings, khaki knickerbockers, green shirts and green caps. The shirts bore, asa rule, a white B intersected by crossed hockey sticks. Of the Yardley players, five flaunted on their shirts a blue Y with a smaller H and T at right and left. At a minute or so after three the referee called the teams together and read them the usual lecture in regard to tripping, body checking, and so on. Then he tossed a coin, Alf called it, and the Blue took the north goal. The line-up was as follows:
Silence fell as the referee held his whistle to his lips in the center of the rink and prepared to drop the puck.
“Now, get your men, fellows, and play fast!” called Alf.
The whistle blew and the puck dropped to the ice. There was a moment’s clashing of sticks and then it went back to Durfee who started along the boards with it. The enemy was on him in amoment, though, and Graham, captain of the Green, stole away with it, Durfee slashing wildly at his feet and stick.
“Cut that out, Durf!” shouted Alf. “Play the puck! Get in there, Felder, and break that up!”
Broadwood had managed to get into formation, her four big forwards strung out across the rink and skating hard, with the puck sidling back and forth from one to another. But it is one thing to reach the threshold and quite another to enter the door. Felder sent a Broadwood player spinning and Goodyear, close behind, whipped the puck away and started back with it. In a twinkling the attacked were the attackers and Yardley swung up the ice with Broadwood in hot pursuit. Across went the disk to Hanley. Took, of Broadwood, challenged unsuccessfully and Hanley passed back to Roeder, who shot. But his aim was poor and the puck banged against the boards to left of goal. There was a spirited scrimmage for its possession and finally Broadwood got away with it. After that the play stayed close to the center of the rink, neither one side nor the other being able to get by the opposing defense. Time was called frequently for off-side playing, which slowed the game up considerably.
The first score was made by Broadwood at the end of eight minutes. She had carried the puck down along the boards on the left, and Yardley had foiled her attempts to uncover long enough to shoot until the puck was past the front of the goal. Then Took evaded Goodyear and Felder and slipped the disk out in front of the cage. There was a wild mix-up for an instant and then the Broadwood sticks waved and Broadwood sympathizers shouted. The Green had drawn first blood, the puck getting past Dan’s skate and lodging against the net just inside of goal.
“Never mind that!” called Alf. “Get after them. And play together, fellows!”
Yardley evened things up shortly afterwards, and there was no fluke about that score. The forwards worked the puck down to within six yards of goal and Hanley made a difficult shot from the side. In less than a minute more the Blue had scored again, Goodyear slamming the disk through from a scrimmage. Then Broadwood stiffened, and for awhile Yardley was kept busy defending her goal. Dan made some remarkable stops that wrought the audience up to a high pitch of excitement and enthusiasm, but with only a few moments to play the Green evened things up with its second tally, the puck going by Daninto the cage knee high and at such a clip that, as he said afterwards, he scarcely saw it from the time it left the ice until it was reposing coyly at the back of the net. So the first half ended with the score 2 to 2, and it was anybody’s game.
The two teams seemed to be pretty evenly matched, for, although Broadwood outskated her opponent, Yardley had the better of the argument when it came to stick work. At passing Broadwood was more adept and at shooting Yardley appeared to excel, although so far she had had fewer opportunities to prove it. As the teams went off the ice Alf called to Gerald, who was standing near by:
“Say, Gerald, will you do something for me?” he asked. “I told Tom to bring that leather wristlet of mine from the room and he forgot it. Would you mind running up and getting it? You’ll find it somewhere around; on the mantel, I think, or maybe on the table. This wrist of mine is as weak as anything.”
“Yes, glad to,” answered Gerald. “On the mantel or table, you say? And if not there, look for it, I suppose?” he added laughingly.
“Well, it’s there some old place. I saw it this morning. You might look on top of the bureau. Thanks, Gerald.”
Gerald hurried off up the path toward the gymnasium. He didn’t want to miss any of the game, and wouldn’t if he could find the wristlet and get back within the ten minutes allowed for intermission. At the gymnasium corner he cut through between that building and Merle Hall and crossed the Yard toward Dudley. He didn’t meet a soul, nor was there anyone in sight. Yard and buildings were alike deserted and all the school was down at the rink.
The object of his journey wasn’t found at once, for it was in none of the places mentioned by Alf. But after a minute Gerald discovered it on the floor, where it had probably dropped from the top of the bureau. He thrust it into his pocket, closed the door behind him and hurried back along the corridor. But at the entrance he stopped short and, after a moment, drew cautiously into the shadow. For across the corner of the Yard, at the farther entrance of Whitson, stood Jake Hiltz.
“What’s he doing up here?” muttered Gerald to himself. “Why isn’t he down at the rink? I’m sure I saw him there before the game.”
Hiltz wore a long, loose ulster and appeared to be deep in a study of the sky. He stood there fully two minutes, while Gerald watched from his concealment.But while he was ostensibly regarding the heavens as though trying to decide whether it was wise to venture out without an umbrella, Gerald thought that his gaze frequently roamed to the buildings around the Yard as though to make certain that there were no eyes regarding him from the windows. At last his mind seemed to be set at rest, as far as the weather was concerned, for, with his hands thrust into his coat pockets, he stepped down from the doorway and started briskly along the path toward Dudley, whistling carelessly. And between his body and his left arm the big ulster appeared to Gerald to bulge suspiciously.
With a fast-beating heart Gerald turned and sped back and down the corridor to No. 7. Once inside he closed the door without quite latching it, crossed the room and dropped out of sight of door or windows between the two narrow beds. Then he waited.