CHAPTER XIX

_“Paw” Lattiser to the Rescue_

The meeting of the Board of Athletic Control of Cascade College had been uneventful. The two faculty members, the two student representatives, and Coach Haxton, comprising the board, had transacted the routine business, discussed informally the plans for the baseball campaign, and were preparing to adjourn when a request was received from “Paw” Lattiser that he be permitted to present a matter of importance to the board when unfinished business was reached. After a brief consultation the board invited Lattiser to appear and state his business.

The veteran student, peering owl-like above the rims of his glasses, entered, his inevitable book under one arm and a bundle of impressive-looking papers under the other. He bowed awkwardly to each of the professors, advanced to the center of the room and stood there as if embarrassed.

“What’s the case, Paw?” inquired Shelley, one of the “sporty” crowd, who was regarded as the representative of the fraternities on the Athletic Board. “Hustle up—I’ve got some boning to do.”

“Gentlemen,” said Lattiser quietly, “I have here, under my arm, the papers in the case of James Lawrence Kirkland, who, as you will recall, was suspended and barred from participating in athletic sports on the ground that he is a professional.”

“Oh, that was settled last spring,” said Shelley lightly. “Professor Terbush decided Kirkland didn’t belong.”

“Mr. Shelley is correct,” remarked Professor Terbush pompously. “As I recall it, the young man was found to have played ball for money.”

“Your recollection is a bit at fault,” retorted Lattiser. “You probably will recall that you said you would be glad to reopen the case, and expressed a hope that Kirkland could produce proof of what he said. Here is the proof.”

He passed a sheaf of folded documents to Professor Terbush, who received them, and held them while hesitating.

“What’s it all about, Lattiser?” asked Shelley. “I haven’t got time to spend all night here reading documents.”

“I have there,” replied Lattiser, “the affidavit of Mr. James Lawrence Kirkland, denying each and all of the charges made against him by—or rather through—(he stopped and glanced over the top of his glasses at the circle about him)—the athletic authorities of Golden University. I have the affidavit of his guardian, Mr. James Lawrence, denying utterly each and every charge. I have the affidavit of Mr. William Krag, denying having had any part in the matter, as charged.”

“Ahem—m,” said Professor Terbush. “You are sure, are you, Lattiser, that this is not a scheme to whitewash the young man?”

“That is what I am trying to avoid,” replied Lattiser easily. “We do not want any whitewashing—nor do we want any fortune dictating the Cascade.”

The others nodded approval.

“Professor Terbush appears to consider Kirkland guilty,” Lattiser continued. “Naturally he fears that Mr. James Lawrence, being rich, will strive to overcome all objections by using money, or the power his money gives him. Isn’t that the situation?”

“Exactly,” said Professor Terbush, nodding. “No fortune I hope, is large enough to dominate this institution.”

“I’m glad you take that view,” said Lattiser, grinning. “If you gentlemen have studied those affadavits, I have more to offer.”

He fumbled through the papers under his arm a moment and brought forth another folded sheet.

“I was convinced last spring,” he remarked, as he unfolded the paper, “that injustice had been done. I decided to take an interest in the case. Knowing that Wallace was quitting Golden University, I sought him, and secured from him this confession.”

“What’s this all about?” demanded Haxton, who had maintained silence. “You seem to have proved Kirkland innocent—let him try for the team if he wants to.”

“The confession of Wallace,” continued Lattiser, refusing to notice the interruption, “bears upon the case. Wallace has written and signed this statement. Briefly, he admits that more than a week before the game between Golden and Cascade, he received a letter from a member of the Cascade team containing the charges against Kirkland, asserting they were true. The letter further stated that although the charges were true, Kirkland’s guardian was extremely wealthy and would use his wealth and power to keep Kirkland on the team. It therefore suggested that the protest be filed at the last minute.”

“Is it possible?” inquired Professor Terbush, horrified. “Can such things be?”

“They not only can, but be,” replied Lattiser, grinning; “but that is not the worst—I have proof that Mr. Haxton, a member of this board, and athletic director and coach, knew of the plan to protest Kirkland”——

“I was told he was a professional—I believed he had no right”—— Haxton, flushing scarlet, had half arisen—“I still believe he got money for playing.”

The members of the board gasped.

“I have learned also,” said Lattiser, suddenly arousing and shaking his finger at the confused coach, “that you at first threatened to expose the entire thing; but that when told you needn’t pay the $300, you had borrowed, if you kept still—you kept still.”

“It’s a lie!” shouted Haxton. “Baldwin lies if he”——

He stopped, realizing that Baldwin’s name had not been mentioned, and that he had betrayed himself.

“The money had nothing to do with it,” he shouted angrily. “I thought Kirkland had no right on the team”——

“Gentlemen,” said Professor Terbush severely, “gentlemen—let us not indulge in personalities, but continue the business. As chairman of the board, I now call for a vote on the acceptance of Mr. Haxton’s resignation.”

“But I haven’t resigned”—— Haxton turned, amazed and confounded by the sudden change of front by the professor.

“All in favor of accepting Mr. Haxton’s resignation say aye,” persisted the professor.

“Aye,” said Moulton.

“Aye,” quickly echoed Clark.

“No,” shouted Haxton.

“No,” screamed Shelley, who had been striving to get an opportunity to protest. “I object to this sort of thing—you have no right.”

Rap, rap, rap went Professor Terbush’s gavel.

“The gentleman is out of order,” he ruled. “The chair votes aye. The ayes have it. Mr. Haxton, having resigned and his resignation being accepted, automatically ceases to be a member of this board. Mr. Haxton will please retire. Is there any further business?”

Professor Terbush had risen to the occasion and his rulings seemed to take the breath away from Haxton and his ally. Haxton, protesting and angry, seized his hat and departed; and a few moments later adjournment was taken.

Half an hour afterward Larry Kirkland and Winans were engaged in the highly intellectual sport of striving to put Big Trumbull under his bed. The sounds of their terrific struggle had brought youths in all stages of semi-undress, racing from their rooms to witness the long-delayed battle, which had been threatened if Trumbull persisted in practicing on his piccolo during study hours. Paw Lattiser’s entrance was unnoticed and he stood grinning silently until Trumbull, exhausted, surrendered and was pushed, a limp and helpless mass, under his own bed; while Winans and Kirkland danced a war dance of victory.

“Hello, Paw, what’s the good word?” demanded Winans, still breathing heavily.

“Big news,” said the veteran. “Kirkland is reinstated and exonerated from the charges of professionalism by the Athletic Board.”

“Whoop, hurray,” yelled Winans, leaping to shake Larry’s hand.

“Wake up, you boob and thank Paw for restoring your good name.”

Larry, stunned by the unexpected news, stammered his thanks. “That’s only part of it,” said Lattiser, who was enjoying the sensation he was creating, although maintaining his careless drawl. “Haxton has resigned as coach”——

“Whoopee-e-e,” yelled Winans, leaping onto a table. “Three cheers for Paw Lattiser.”

The cheers were given with a spirit that aroused the matron and startled the students.

“Come on, all of you,” yelled Winans. “I’m going to drag Paw down to Bob’s and buy all the best seats in the house, while he tells us about it.”

“Hold on, you fellows,” came a muffled voice from under the bed. “Half a dozen of you drag me out of here, so I can join the celebration.”