Chapter 21

OFF TO COLLEGETOWN

Ere Professor White had finished Anthony was on his feet with hands stretching forth for the paper. The look of delight which he had flashed across at Jack and which still illumined his face caused that youth much wonderment.

�Guess it�s mine, all right,� Anthony cried. The professor yielded the paper, and Anthony read the article through in silence. When he handed it back his eyes were dancing behind the lenses of his spectacles. �It�s mine, sir; no doubt about it! The paper says all I need do is prove my ownership, and I can do that easily enough, for I have the number of the watch!�

�But, Anthony,� Jack objected, �you said that you�d——�

�I�ll go over to Gerrydale in the morning,� Anthony interrupted hurriedly, shooting a warning glance at his friend. �I�m much obliged to you, sir; if you hadn�t seen that and told me I don�t believe I�d ever have got it back; I don�t read the papers very often myself.�

�Well, I�m glad I saw it, Tidball. When was it stolen?�

�About a month ago,� answered Anthony somewhat vaguely. �I left it in my room, and when I came back for it it was gone. Of course I never knew who�d taken it. But—I�m plaguy glad to find it again.�

�Of course, especially since it was presented to you. What is the story, Tidball?�

So Anthony told the professor about the rescue at Jonesboro, making it sound very casual and far from thrilling. But neither of his hearers was deceived, and insistent questioning and cross-examining finally gave the incident a different aspect.

�Well, yes,� Anthony acknowledged, �there was quite a sea running— Danger? Nothing to speak of if you knew how to manage a dory— The kid? Oh, he came round all right after a while; pretty near thing, though; another second or two would have finished him, likely. Father of the boy wanted me to take some money, but I wouldn�t; a fellow doesn�t take money for saving a life. So after he got home he sent me the watch. That�s all. Good deal of fuss about it.�

After the professor had taken his departure, insisting, for some reason, on shaking hands with the tall, ungainly junior, Jack turned upon Anthony and began his questions.

�I didn�t come right out, Jack, and say I�d pawned the watch,� Anthony explained, �but I gave you to understand that. The fact is I didn�t know what had become of it, and there wasn�t any use saying it had been stolen as long as I wasn�t certain about it. I left it in the room one morning when I went to recitation. I missed it in class, and came back, and couldn�t find it. I guess the tramp found the door open and walked in.�

�When was it?� asked Jack.

�Oh, well, about a month ago.�

Jack looked thoughtful, and Anthony eyed him uneasily. At last Jack brought one fist into the palm of his other hand and jumped up.

�Anthony! Was it the morning I went off?�

Anthony hesitated; but the boy�s face showed that he had no suspicion that Anthony had for a while connected him with the missing article.

�Why, yes, it was,� replied Anthony.

�I thought so!� Jack cried. �I remember now that I saw a trampish-looking fellow on the street when I came from breakfast. I passed him. I didn�t pay much attention, though, because I was—feeling sort of knocked out. But once I heard a noise in the entry here while I was packing. I�ll bet it was the tramp. And I remember seeing your watch on the table in your room, Anthony, when I took that note in there, and—why, come to think of it, I put the note under the watch!�

�He followed you in, I guess,� said Anthony.

�That�s just what he did. And when I went out he was in your room, I�ll bet. And—and he took my money, too, don�t you suppose? I must have left it out somewhere!�

�That�s about what happened,� Anthony replied, grinning jovially. �I wish you could get your money back; but I guess that�s too much to hope for.�

�I suppose so. Oh, I don�t care now. But I am glad you�re going to recover your watch, Anthony. Wouldn�t it have been funny if I�d gone back into your room again and found him there?�

�Yes, but you might have got laid out!�

�Laid out nothing! I�ll bet I could have whipped that chap. And I would have saved your watch, and——�

�Missed your train!�

�Yes, so I would have. I wonder if it would have made any difference? I fancy it�s best the way it all happened.� He considered the subject for a moment in silence. Anthony beamed across at him happily. He was glad he was to get his watch back, but gladder still that the last doubt as to Jack�s honesty was dispelled; and, oh, so very glad that Jack knew nothing of his idiotic suspicions!

�There�s something I ought to tell you, Anthony,� said Jack suddenly. He looked rather ashamed and apologetic and very serious. �I�ve thought of owning up several times, but—I never did,� he continued.

�Owning up? Well—what is it, Jack? Murder?�

�No, it�s—it�s robbery!� Anthony stared.

�That morning I went away,� he continued, �I—I took something of yours with me. It wasn�t much, but I shouldn�t have taken it.�

�Why, what was it?� Anthony asked wonderingly. �I haven�t missed anything.�

�No; but then, I put it back afterward. It was a pencil.�

�A pencil!�

�Yes, the green one with the rubber tip; the one you used to have on your desk. I—I wanted something to remember you by,� he added shamefacedly. �And so I took that. I thought you wouldn�t care. I was going to write and tell you when I got home.�

�Well, I�ll be jiggered!� exclaimed Anthony. �I missed that pencil for two or three days, and then one morning it turned up again on the desk. But, hang it, Jack, you were welcome to the old thing, of course! I�m glad you took it—glad you cared to remember such a silly old codger as I! Why, that was nothing; not worth mentioning. Besides, you gave me that charm, and fair exchange is no robbery!�

�I�m glad you don�t mind now that you know,� said Jack simply. And, after a moment: �When you get your watch back again you can wear that bean, can�t you?� he asked.

�Well, I should say so!� replied Anthony with much decision. �And what�s more, Jack, I�ll wear it as long as the chain holds together!�

There was no difficulty the next day in recovering the watch. Anthony gave a detailed description of it, and explained the circumstances of the robbery, and his property was handed over to him at once. But it is needless to say that Jack�s roll of money was not among the objects recovered from the pawn-shop, nor was it found on the prisoner. Anthony was told that it might become necessary for him to attend the trial and give evidence. But he begged off very eloquently, and in the end the police decided that perhaps there would be evidence enough to convict the thief without calling upon Anthony. And, as it turned out, the decision was correct.

Jack never learned that Anthony had for a while suspected him of the theft of the watch; and it was better so. For while Anthony�s suspicions were certainly justified by circumstances, yet Jack could never have seen the matter in the same light, and would have been greatly hurt had he ever learned of it.

In the second week of June two things began simultaneously, final examinations and morning baseball practise. Naturally, the first seriously interfered with the second, and it was only by the most complicated arrangement on the part of Hanson that the players were able to report at the nets during the forenoons for batting practise. Three assistant coaches had put in appearance in response to his telegrams, among them the captain of the unsuccessful nine of the year before. Higgins was a good player and turned out to be as good a coach. His heart was set on witnessing a victory over the Brown and he worked enthusiastically and tirelessly. Afternoon practise began every day at three-thirty, and never let up as long as there was a ray of light left. The slump was a thing of the past, and every man responded well to the demands of the coaches. Stiles gradually recovered his form, and in the last game before the final contest—played on Thursday with Harwich Academy—he superseded Jack at second, and Jack, his hopes dead, sat on the bench and tried to be philosophic.

That Thursday game attracted the biggest audience of any thus far played; not because the Academy team was strong enough to promise a hard-fought battle, but for the reason that it was given out that the Erskine nine was to play just as it would in the game at Collegetown the next day but one. The batting list was as follows:

Perkins, catcher.
Gilberth, pitcher.
Motter, first base.
Bissell, center-field.
Stiles, second base.
Knox, shortstop.
Billings, third base.
King, left-field.
Northup, right-field.

Allowing for the fact that every man had been worked hard all the week up to the very beginning of the game, and that examinations were in progress, the exhibition of ball-playing made by them was decidedly encouraging. The cheering was a notable part of the contest. Led by the senior class president and five assistants, the stands did heroic work, and cheers and songs thundered forth unceasingly.

Jack, sitting forlornly on the bench, wedged in between other substitutes quite as forlorn, found balm for his disappointed hopes in the fact that the song that went the best of any, and the one which was most often sung, was his. The way in which the throng emphasized the �Poor old Robinson!� was good to hear.

When the game was at an end—it was almost dark by then—the spectators marched back down William Street to the college, cheering and singing all the way. Jack, trotting over to the locker-house in the wake of the other players, heard from down the street the refrain arising splendidly to the summer sky:

�Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;
Purple are the banners that the conq�ring heroes wave;
Purple are the violets above the lonely grave
Of poor old Robinson!
Glory, glory to the Purple!
Glory, glory to the Purple!
Glory, glory to the Purple!
And down with Robinson!�

The enthusiasm didn�t cease until late at night. After dinner the fellows thronged the yard in front of Walton and the cheers and songs were gone through with again and again.

There was little work the following day for the players. Morning practise was omitted, and in the afternoon a little running and throwing to bases constituted the program. In the evening there was a reception to the nine and substitutes in Brown Hall, and again enthusiasm was rampant. The Glee Club sang, the college band played, the fellows cheered, the dean and Professor Nast and the coaches and Captain Joseph Perkins made speeches, and there was a grand hullabaloo until half past nine.

Jack bade good-by to Anthony that night, for the nine and substitutes were to go to Collegetown in the morning on a train that left at half past six. The supporters were to follow on a later train, but Anthony was not to be among them.

�I wish I were going,� he said, �but I just can�t afford it, Jack. But I�ll be down on the street in the afternoon, and while you�re knocking base runs and such things you�ll know that I�m flinging my cap for you here at home.�

�It�s little chance I�ve got,� said Jack sadly. �But I may get on for a while, Anthony. Anyhow, I wish you were going along.�

�So do I. Good night, Jack, and good luck to you and the nine and old Erskine. You�ll play, of course; they can�t win without you, Jack! Good night!�