Part 38 (2/2)

”Some one was out there,” declared Dutch as he came back, ”but I couldn't catch him. Maybe it was only one of our boys, though. Now I'll tell you the plans,” and he proceeded to go into them into detail, telling Tom and Sid where to join the other freshmen the next night, in order to steal away to Haddonfield and hold their banquet undisturbed by the soph.o.m.ores.

Tom and Sid promised to be on hand, and the two members of the committee departed, Ford Fenton being unable to tell what it was his uncle had said. As Tom saw their guests to the door, something bright and s.h.i.+ning in the hall attracted his attention.

”It's a matchbox,” he remarked as he picked it up. ”It's got initials on, too.”

”What are they?”

”Hum--look like H. E. G.”

”Horace E. Gladdus,” said Sid. ”I wonder if he was sneaking around here trying to catch on about the dinner?”

CHAPTER XXVII

TOM IS KIDNAPPED

For a moment Tom looked at Sid. The same thought was in both their minds.

”Had we better tell Dutch?” asked Tom.

”It wouldn't be a bad plan.”

”All right, I'll let him know. If Gladdus and his crowd find out our plans they'll spoil 'em.”

So Tom hastened after Dutch Housenlager and related the finding of the matchbox and the suspicion engendered by it--that Gladdus had been listening in the hall.

”All right,” remarked Dutch. ”We'll change our plans a bit. I'll see you later.”

Tom and Sid did not feel like resuming their studies after what had happened. Instead they sat talking of the prospective dinner, Sid stretched lazily at full length on the sofa, while Tom luxuriously sprawled in the easy chair.

”I tell you what it is, old man,” said Sid, ”it's mighty comfortable here, don't you think?”

”It sure is.”

”And to think that next term we'll have to go into the west dormitory,”

went on Sid. ”We'll be bloomin' sophs then. At least you will.”

”That's very nice of you to say so, but what about yourself?”

”I'm not so sure,” and Sid spoke dubiously. ”That confounded Latin will be the death of me. I tell you what it is. I was never cut out for a cla.s.sical scholar. Now, if they had a course of what to do on first base, I'd be able to master it in, say, a four years' stretch. But I'm afraid I'll go the way of our mutual acquaintance Langridge, and spend two years as a freshman, at which rate I'll be eight years getting through college.”

”Oh, I hope not. You stand better than Langridge. He's smart--not that you aren't--but he doesn't get down to it. It's just like his baseball practice, if he would only----”

Then Tom stopped. He didn't want to talk about the player whom he was trying to supplant on the nine. ”Well,” he finished, ”I guess I'll turn in. We'll have to see Dutch in the morning and learn what the new plans are.”

Housenlager and his fellow members of the freshman dinner committee found it advisable to make a change after what Sid and Tom had discovered.

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