Thorne and Talbot were old friends, although their position now seemed to Pete more like that of enemies approaching the battlefield. Their summer houses stood within a mile of each other on Buzzard’s Bay, and even now their boats lay housed side by side. It was a pity that a naturally decent fellow like Thorne could be so blinded by rabid partisanship as to lend himself as an abettor to the scheme of a John Smith!
So Talbot was thinking, more in sorrow than in wrath, when President John mounted the platform—a recitation room was their council chamber—and called the meeting to order. They separated now to three benches, Newbold and Thorne on the left wing, Mr. Snyder and Frost in the centre, Talbot and Sumner on the right. “It’s like a court,” whispered Pete, “with Trowbridge for judge. We’re no good except to pair with Newbold and Thorne.”
The chairman introduced the business of the hour with all solemnity. The committee had met to consider the charge made by Newbury that Westcott’s had won the game of Saturday by unfair and dishonorable methods. It had been to him a great disappointment that the first contest in the new league, to which he had devoted so much time and thought, should have been darkened by scandal. He felt, however, and he was confident that the majority of the committee agreed with him, that there could be no turning back upon the ideals of the league—again those ideals!—The mere winning or losing of a game was of slight consequence compared with the supreme importance of holding unswervingly to the highest conceptions of honor and gentlemanly conduct.
“The old hypocrite!” whispered Pete in Sumner’s ear.
“Hush!” and a warning hand clutched the offender’s knee.
The chairman now read the protest,—which wound up with a demand that the game be declared forfeited to Newbury,—and complacently asked what should be done with it, addressing presumably the whole committee, but looking straight before him at the two members from Trowbridge.
“I think we ought to consider first the grounds for the protest, and afterwards, if the protest is sustained, the penalty,” said Mr. Snyder.
“Very well,” agreed the chairman; “we will hear the Newbury statements first.”
If the protest is sustained! Why should they mention the penalty at all unless they meant to sustain the protest? Talbot became more than ever convinced that the whole affair was prejudged and that the proceedings would be merely the carrying out of a prearranged plan.
He listened closely to Newbold, none the less, when the latter, in the capacity of prosecuting attorney, presented his case. Newbury had been unfortunate this year in the selection of Callahan as coach. A week before the game with Westcott’s, for certain reasons unnecessary to state, he had been discharged. Callahan was very “sore” and declared in presence of witnesses—Newbold held up a paper which he said contained their statements—that he’d “get even.” A few days afterward, Callahan had been observed at the Westcott field in long conversation with a Westcott player—another display of papers. Later this player was seen conferring with Harrison and others of the football men. In the course of this conference, one of the Westcott men dropped a paper which the witness secured; on it was written the address of the discharged coach. Suspecting an attempt to steal a knowledge of their game, Newbury had changed certain plays and signals, but because the time was too short to master an entirely new set they had been compelled to use a large number of the old ones. In the game Westcott’s had often understood the Newbury signals as soon as they were given out, and it was the old signals which they understood. Through a knowledge of the signals, Westcott’s spoiled Newbury’s play and won.