“This belongs to the club,” he said, “for it was paid for out of the general funds. I won’t keep it another hour. My clothes are in the dressing-room under the grand-stand, but I have a key to the lock. I’ll take this old suit back and get my own clothes.”
He made a bundle of the football suit, and, with it under his arm, slipped downstairs and out of the house.
Hurrying up the street, he climbed Academy Hill once more that day. The night was quite dark, for the moon had not yet risen. It was rather cool, too; but the boy minded this not, for his blood was running swiftly in his body.
Reaching the ball ground, he opened the gate and entered. With noiseless steps, he advanced toward the grand-stand. As he approached it, he suddenly stopped, fancying he heard a strange sound. After a moment, however, he advanced to the door of the dressing-room.
To his surprise, the door was standing wide open. He paused again, wondering at this, for it was a rule to keep the door locked.
“A piece of carelessness!” he thought. “Somebody ought to be shot for it! Why, there’s plenty of stuff here that might be stolen. Somebody might have taken my clothes.”
He was startled by the thought. Perhaps somebody had been there and carried away his clothes, leaving the door standing open. With a little cry of dismay, he sprang into the dressing-room, intending to light a match and look about.
In the darkness he collided violently against a human form, which caused him to reel backward.
Some one was in the dressing-room!
Don heard a smothered exclamation, and then the unknown attempted to dart past him and escape by the open door.