“I don’t like the signal for it,” said Phil. “It’s too complicated, and the other fellows may get on to it. I think I can work out a better combination. I’ll use some of the old signal letters and numbers that we discarded. I’ve got a copy of them in my room.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea,” commented Tom. “I think, myself, that the signal takes too long to understand. It ought to be snappier.”
“That’s my idea. We’ll see if we can’t work out a better one.”
Hurrying from the gymnasium, where they had changed their clothes, Tom and Phil went to their room. Sid was there studying. Phil went over to the wall, where he had placed the new picture of Madge Tyler she had given him, and took it down.
“That’s right!” exclaimed Sid. “It’s about time you removed some of these flags, banners, ribbons and other effeminate decorations. Start in, Tom, on your share. We’ll get this room to looking right, after a bit.”
“Oh, I’m not taking it down,” declared Phil as he removed the photograph from the wall. He had had it placed in rather a heavy and deep gold frame. “I want to get my copy of the football signals—the ones we discarded—from behind it,” he explained. “I hid them there, as being the place least likely to be disturbed. I’m going to frame up a new signal——”
He stopped suddenly, and looked first from the picture to the floor, and then from the floor to the picture.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom.
“The copy of the signals—it’s gone,” he said quickly. “I had it fastened to the back of the picture by a bit of wire.”
“Are you sure?” inquired Sid, getting up from the old easy chair, and making a cloud of dust in the operation.