“All right. Thankee,” said the boy, and he hurried away.
A feeling of satisfaction had come to Dick.
“I was right,” he exclaimed, with a short laugh. “It is the work of June’s mother. But how can I get out of giving up the locket and the picture? June told me to keep it, but if her mother demands it of me I’ll be placed in an awkward position.”
He was soon given other things to think of, however. The Franklin team arrived in town before noon, and Buckhart, who was at the station to see them, came hustling back to the academy and sought Dick, whom he found in the gym.
“There’s no mistake about it,” said the Westerner excitedly. “One of their players is Plover, the chap who was barred from the Exeter team because he was a professional. Why, he’s nineteen years old, and he’s played the game for three or four years. He got into some kind of a mess at Exeter and left school to avoid a disgrace. He’s one of the ‘ringers.’”
“How do you know this?” asked Dick. “You do not know Plover personally, do you?”
“No, but there was a chap at the station who knew him and spoke to him.”
“Well?”
“Plover didn’t seem to like it much. He pretended not to know the fellow who spoke to him.”
“Who was the fellow?”