CHAPTER XVI
TOM SEEKS CLEWS
"Well, Tom, what's the answer; anyhow?"
"Don't talk about it if you don't want to."
Thus Jack and Bert spoke as they entered their room with their chum shortly before luncheon on the day of the sensational disclosures in chapel.
Tom looked at his two friends, and then sank down rather wearily in a chair.
"I don't mind talking about it," he said, with an attempt at a smile. "In fact I was going to propose it myself. I've got some hard work ahead of me."
"What kind?" asked Jack quickly. "Let us help you."
"Sure," chimed in Bert. "Count on us, Tom. What are you going to do?"
"Clear my name, that's what I going to do. And I've got a hard job ahead of me."
"Not with us to help you!" exclaimed Jack.
"That's the worst of it," spoke Tom ruefully. "You fellows can't help me."
"Why not, I'd like to know," came from Bert quickly.
"Well, there are certain reasons. Look here, fellows, I'd tell you in a minute, if I could, but I can't. I'm bound to silence in a way, and I can't speak as I'd like to."
"But surely it oughtn't to be so hard for you to clear your name," insisted Jack. "All you've got to do is to prove that you weren't near the farm at the time the horses were poisoned, nor were you when the stacks caught fire. That ought to be easy."
"And surely you can show that if it wasn't you wearing that sweater, at the time the farmer saw you, it was someone else," went on Bert. "It was someone else; wasn't it, Tom?"
"Say, don't ask me any more questions," begged Tom. "I can't answer 'em all, and I don't want to get tangled up. All I can say is that I didn't have the first thing to do with those crimes, and I'm going to work to prove that I didn't. It's harder than it seems, but I'll do it."
"That's right!" exclaimed Jack. "You've got pluck enough Tom, old man."
"And I may need some luck, too," added our hero. "If I have that I think I'll be all right."
"Not a bad combination," commented Bert. "Pluck and luck. With 'em both you can do a heap."
"That's right," admitted Tom. "And now I'm going to do some boning, and get ahead with my work so I'll have a little time to hunt for clews."
"Clews?" murmured Jack.
"Yes, clews as to who poisoned these horses and set the hay on fire. You see it's not enough to say that I didn't do it. I've got to find the person who did."
"Well, I wish you luck," murmured Jack.
"And if there's anything we can do, don't hesitate to let us know," added Bert, at which his chum nodded.
"Don't let this get on your nerves so you can't play football
Saturday," suggested Jack.
"I guess it won't," laughed Tom.
But whether it was the suspicion hanging over him, or because he was nervous, certainly he did not play well in that first gridiron match of the season. Nor was he the only one of the eleven who did poorly.
From the very first it was seen that Elmwood Hall had met her match. Her opponents scored a touchdown in the first five minutes of play, and this rather took the heart out of Tom and his chums.
True they braced, and prevented any more scoring for the next two periods. Then came a chance fer them to rush the ball over the line. Tom worked to his limit and managed to gain much ground. Then came a fatal fumble, just when he might have been shoved over for the tieing of the score.
In his own heart Tom felt that Sam had deliberately passed the ball to him short. Tom had to lean forward to grab it, his foot slipped, and the coveted pigskin was grabbed by an opposing player. It was run out of danger before the man was downed, and then it was too late to make good the loss. Tom groaned in anguish, and for one wild moment he felt like accusing Sam openly.
"No, that would never do," he reasoned. "They would all say I did it for spite, and because he gave that information against me. I've got to grin and bear it."
Nor was Tom much surprised when he was shifted to the scrub at the next practice.
"I hate to do it, old man," said the coach, "but you seem to have gone a bit stale. You aren't overtrained; are you?"
"I don't think so," said Tom bitterly.
"Well, maybe a change will do you good. I'll give you a game later on, if you pick up."
And, deeply regretting what he felt he had to do, the coach went off to talk to the captain about some other changes.
"Say, this is sure tough!" complained Jack to Bert, that night in their room. "Tom off the team!"
"And with this cloud hanging over him," added his chum. "Where is Tom now, anyhow?"
"Give it up. He said he was going for a walk."
"He feels bad I guess. I don't blame him. Say, what do you think of this thing, anyhow, Jack?"
"I don't know, Bert, it—well, hang it all, it looks mighty queer. I might as well say it as think it."
"What! You don't believe Tom guilty; do you?"
"Of course not, and yet he's so plagued stiff he won't say anything, or let us help him. Who do you suppose he's shielding, anyhow?"
"Give it up. If he would only tell a fellow," and Bert stalked about the room in something of a rage against his absent chum.
"While I don't for a second believe Tom had anything to do with this business," went on Jack, "it's up to us, as his friends, to look the thing squarely in the face."
"Yes, I suppose so. But what do you mean?"
"I mean we ought to consider the evidence against him as well as in his favor."
"I suppose so. Well, what's the worst?"
"There are some things we know, that other people don't know," said Jack slowly. "For instance, we know he was out on the night the hay stacks burned."
"Yes, that's right," admitted Bert.
"And he came in, smelling horribly of smoke."
"So he did, but the hay wasn't ablaze until long after he was in, Jack."
"Hay would smoulder a long time. Mind!" Jack added quickly, "I'm not for a minute hinting that Tom did it. I'm only considering what his enemies would say."
"That's right. Well, what else?"
"Well, he was out on the night the horses were poisoned, and he wore that horribly-colored sweater. I don't see what possessed him to buy such a scream of a thing."
"Me either."
"He went out with it," went on Jack slowly, "and he came in without it."
"By Jove! So he did!" cried Bert. "I'd forgotten about that. It begins to look bad."
"Not at all!" cried Jack quickly. "I'm only considering a possible case, mind you. And there's one other point."
"Out with it. We might as well have the worst and then we can begin to work to help him."
"Well, you know that day we came in, and found him doing some experiments?"
"Yes. He was monkeying with———"
"Cyanide," broke in Jack. "The very stuff the horses were poisoned with."
"So he was!" whispered Bert In tense tones. "But for the love of heaven don't tell anyone!"
"No danger. I'm only saying this to show how bad it might be made to look for Tom in case anyone put all these things together."
"But no one will."
"I hope not. And now let's see how we can help him."
"Say, what about the school pin?" asked Bert. "Have you really lost yours?"
"No, I haven't."
"Then why———"
"It's this way," went on Jack. "I saw that Tom's was gone, and, fearing that it might look bad for him, I pretended it was a common thing for us to lose or mislay our emblems."
"You did?"
"Sure. I wasn't going to make it look too bad for Tom."
"That's right. But are you going to mention it to him?"
"I am not—not until this thing is cleared up, anyhow."
"Jove! It looks bad!" murmured Bert.
The two chums talked the matter over from several different standpoints, and the only conclusion they arrived at was that unless Tom gave them more information as to who, if anyone other than himself, wore the sweater on the night in question, they could do nothing.
"Except keep still," suggested Bert.
"Sure," assented Jack.
Several days went by. The first excitement over the implied charges against Tom had died away. Farmer Appleby had wanted to cause the arrest of the lad against whom his suspicions were directed, but his lawyer pointed out that he had such slight evidence that it would be a dangerous proceeding.
But Jack, Bert, George, Bruce Bennington and several of Tom's closest friends stuck to him most loyally. Of course Sam Heller was against our hero, but that was to be expected, and many sided with Sam.
"Fairfield ought to be run out of Elmwood Hall!" exclaimed the bully.
"That's what!" added his crony. "And if he doesn't withdraw soon we'll run him out."
"Will you?" cried Sam. "I'm with you. How can we do it?" and the two went off by themselves to plot.
As Bruce Bennington had feared, there were now two factions in the school, those who were for and against Tom. And it seriously interfered with the work of the eleven. For there were some who hated Sam cordially, and as he was the quarterback of the team there were internal dissensions, and such ragged playing, in consequence, that Elmwood lost many games she should have won.
"Say, this is getting fierce!" cried the coach after a disastrous gridiron battle. "What's to be done? We're in bad shape back of the line."
"Maybe we ought to put Tom back."
"We ought to, and yet I'm afraid if we do it will cause more trouble.
But I've a notion to," and they discussed the matter in all its phases.
Meanwhile Tom went on seeking clews, wandering off by himself, lonely at times, but never giving up.
"I'll clear my name yet!" he said to himself, fiercely.