CHAPTER XXIV

GERHART HAS AN IDEA

Phil's sister hurried down from the grandstand to greet him.

"Oh, Phil!" she cried. "Did you get hurt?" for she saw him limping, and she held out her hands to him.

"Just a little twist," he explained. "Not worth mentioning. How are you, Madge?" he went on, after patting his sister on the shoulder, and he held his hands eagerly out to Miss Tyler.

"Fine!" she exclaimed. "Oh, wasn't it a great game?"

"For us," put in Tom, who had greeted Ruth, and now turned to the other girl.

"Good afternoon, Tom," spoke Madge, and Tom fancied there was just a tinge of coldness in her voice. She continued talking to Phil.

"Did you think you would win?" asked Phil's sister of Tom as she looked eagerly up into his face.

"Well, not all the while," replied the left-end. "Once or twice I began to think we'd lose. But you can't down Randall."

"No; it takes Fairview to do that, not Boxer Hall," put in Madge quickly.

"Now, be nice--be nice!" pleaded Phil with a laugh. "I thought you were a friend of mine, Madge."

"So I am," she replied gaily; "but I can't help saying that."

"We'll beat you next time," went on Phil, and he dodged back to escape a little blow which Madge aimed at him with her small flag. Then the two laughed. Tom, who was chatting with Ruth, heard them, and he half turned to see what was going on. He was just in time to see Phil grasp both Madge's hands, and his face turned red. Ruth noticed it, and she said:

"Phil and Madge seem to get on well together."

"Almost too well," was Tom's thought, but he said nothing and changed the subject.

"Well, Tom," said Phil at length, "I suppose we'd better go dress like respectable citizens. You've got a spot of mud on your nose."

"And you have one on your ear," added Ruth. "I think Tom--I mean Mr. Parsons--looks quite artistic with that beauty spot."

"We can dispense with the 'Mister,' if you like, Ruth," said Tom boldly.

"Oh!" laughed Ruth. "I don't know what my brother will say. Eh, Phil?"

"Oh, I guess it's safe to call 'Dominie' Parsons by his front handle," said Phil. "He's warranted not to bite. Go ahead, sis."

"All right," she agreed with a laugh. "There--Tom"--and she hesitated prettily at the name--"better run along and wash up."

"Will you wait here for us?" asked Tom. "We'll take you over to Fairview, then, eh, Phil?"

"Surest thing you know!" exclaimed the quarter-back. "That is, if Madge is agreeable."

He looked at her. She blushed just a trifle, and, with a little gesture, answered:

"If Ruth insists on having her brother, why----"

"But I don't want my brother!" cried Ruth gaily. "Whoever heard of a sister walking with her own brother? I'm going to let you have him, and I--er--I----" She paused, blushing.

"I'll fill in!" cried Tom quickly.

Madge looked at him, but said nothing.

A little later on Tom, beside Ruth, and Phil, walking with Madge, started for the trolley to Fairview. As they were crossing the campus, which was thronged with players, visitors and some of the Boxer Hall team and its supporters, Wallops, the messenger, came along with a telegram in his hand.

"Is that for me?" asked Phil eagerly, and his face was pale, while his voice trembled. His sister looked quickly at him. Evidently she feared the same thing he did.

"No; it's for Professor Tines," replied the messenger, and Phil breathed a sigh of relief as Wallops passed on.

Garvey Gerhart, who, with Langridge, was standing near Phil at the time, started. Then a curious look came over his face.

"Langridge," he asked the sophomore, "have you anything to do?"

"Nothing special. Why?"

"Well, if you haven't, come along with me. I've just thought of an idea."

"They're mighty scarce," retorted the former pitcher. "Don't let it get away."

"Take a walk over by the chapel, and I'll tell you," went on Gerhart. "There isn't such a crowd there."

Phil and Tom, with the two girls, were soon on the way to the co-educational college. The trip was enlivened by laughter and jokes. Madge and Phil seemed very good friends, and, as for Tom, though he wondered at the sudden companionship that had sprung up between the quarter-back and the pretty girl he had once been so anxious to get away from Langridge, he could not help but congratulate himself on knowing Ruth. Still, he could not altogether understand Madge. He had been fond of her--he was still--and he knew that she had liked him. The slender tie of relationship between them was no bar to an affection that differed in degree from cousinly. Yet Madge plainly showed her liking for Phil. Could it be, Tom thought, that she was jealous of him, and took this method of showing it? He did not think Madge would do such a thing, yet he felt that part of her gaiety and good spirits, when in company with the handsome quarter-back, were assumed for some purpose.

"If it wasn't that Ruth is such a nice girl, and that Phil and I are such friends, I'd almost think that he and I were--well--rivals," thought Tom. "Oh, hang it all! What's the use of getting sentimental? They're both nice girls--very nice--the--the only trouble is I don't know which I think the nicer."

The two chums left the girls at the Fairview College campus, for it was getting late. Tom shook hands with Ruth, and then walked over to Madge to say good-by. She had just finished speaking to Phil.

"Well, when can your 'cousin' come over to see you again, Madge?" asked Tom with a smile.

He held out his hand, but Madge affected not to see it. Tom felt uncomfortable, and then, as if she realized it, she said to him:

"Well, 'Cousin' Tom, I don't know that you'll _care_ to come over to see me again," and with that she turned and walked away.

Tom remained staring after her for a moment. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he wheeled and joined Phil, who had been a silent witness to the little scene.

"Say, aren't girls odd?" asked Tom.

"Very," agreed his chum. "But you said that once before, you know."

"No; did I?" asked Tom, and he was rather silent on the way back to Randall.

Meanwhile, Langridge and Gerhart had spent much time strolling about the chapel walk. It was getting dusk, and the fading light of the perfect fall day was shining through the wonderful, stained-glass windows of the little church. The long casements, with representations of biblical scenes, were a soft glow of delicate hues. But the two lads had no eyes for these beauties.

"I think that will put a crimp in his playing!" Gerhart remarked, as he paused to light an oriental cigarette, or, rather, something that passed for one.

"But it's risky," expostulated Langridge. "If it's found out, and it's sure to be, you'll have to leave college."

"I don't care. I'd be willing to, if I could have my revenge on him for keeping me off the team. I don't like it here, anyhow. The other game I put up on him didn't work, but this one will."

"And when will you try it?"

"At the last and deciding game. The way I figure it is that the final tussle will come between Randall and Boxer Hall. I'll be ready with it then. It will certainly knock him out."

"But it may lose us the game and the championship."

"What do I care! I'll be square with Clinton, and that's what I want. I got the idea when I saw how frightened he was when Wallops had that telegram. Don't you think it will work?"

"Sure it will work. It's a great idea, but--but----" and Langridge hesitated. "It's a brutal trick, just the same."

"Oh, you're too chicken-hearted. Come on and I'll buy you a drink. That will put some life in you."

"All right," said Langridge weakly, and he went.