Part 24 (2/2)
The players and most of the coaches tumbled into carriages and were taken out to Erskine Field for a short practise, and the balance of the arrivals started on foot toward the hotel. The three friends retraced their steps. Luckily, the proprietor of the bicycle repair-shop was so busy looking over the strangers that they pa.s.sed unseen in the little stream. There remained the better part of an hour before lunch-time, and they found themselves at a loss for a way to spend the time. Foster finally went off to his room, as he explained airily, ”to dash off a letter on his typewriter,” a statement that was greeted with howls of derision from the others, who, for want of a better place, went into Butler's bookstore and aimlessly looked over the magazines and papers.
It was while thus engaged that Paul heard his name spoken, and turned to find Mr. Brill smilingly holding out his hand.
”I thought I wasn't mistaken,” the Robinson coach said as they shook hands. ”And isn't that your friend Fletcher over there?”
Neil heard and came over, and the three stood and talked for a few minutes. Mr. Brill seemed well pleased with the football outlook.
”I'll wager you gentlemen will regret not coming to us after to-day's game is over,” he laughed. ”I hear you've got something up your sleeve.”
”We have,” said Neil.
”So I heard. What's the nature of it?”
”It's muscle,” answered Neil gravely.
The coach laughed. ”Of course, if it's a secret, I don't want to hear it. But I think you're safe to get beaten, secret or no secret, eh?”
”Nonsense!” said Paul. ”You won't know what struck you when we get through with you.”
Mr. Brill laughed good-naturedly but didn't look alarmed.
”By the way,” he said, ”I saw one of your players a while ago--Cowan--the fellow we protested. He seemed rather sore.”
”Where was he?” asked Paul eagerly.
”In a drug-store down there toward the next corner. Have your coaches found a good man for his place?”
”Oh, yes, it wasn't hard to fill,” answered Neil. ”Witter's got it.”
”Witter? I don't think I've heard of him.”
”No, he's not famous--yet; you'll know him better later on.”
Paul was plainly anxious to go in search of Cowan, and so they bade the Robinson coach good-by. Out on the sidewalk Neil turned a troubled face toward his friend.
”Say, Paul, Cowan knows all about the 'antidote,' doesn't he?”
”Why, yes, I suppose so; he's seen it played.”
”And he knows the signals, too, eh?”
”Of course. Why?”
”Well, I've been wondering whether--You heard what Brill said--that Cowan was feeling sore? Well, do you suppose he'd be mean enough to--to--”
”By thunder!” muttered Paul. Then: ”No, I don't believe that Cowan would do a thing like that. I don't think he's a--a traitor!”
<script>