Ten minutes later and Toby gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
“Here comes Jack!” he told his companion, and immediately both glued their eyes on the clean-limbed and bright-faced young fellow who was swinging toward them, waving a hand as he caught their signals.
There was nothing remarkable about Jack Winters, save that he seemed a born athlete, had a cheery, winning way about him, and seemed to have a magnetism such as all born leaders, from Napoleon down, possess, that drew others to him, and made them believe in his power for extracting victory from seeming defeat.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting so long, fellows,” Jack remarked, as he joined them, “but a man stopped me on the street, and his business was of such importance that I couldn’t break away in a hurry. But let’s adjourn to a quieter place; over there in the little park under the trees I can see a bench that’s empty. I’ve got something to tell you that nobody must hear except you two.”
“Does it have a bearing on the great game with Harmony, Jack?” begged Toby, who was a bit impatient after his way.
“It may mean everything to us in that battle!” Jack admitted, as he headed for the bench in the small park.
CHAPTER II
A WEAK LINK IN THE CHAIN
When Jack dropped down on the bench, the others crowded as close up on either side as they could possibly get. No one was near by, save a couple of nursemaids chatting and gossiping while they trundled their baby carriages back and forth; and they were too much engrossed in exchanging views of the gallant policeman on the block to notice three boys with their heads close together, “plotting mischief,” as they would doubtless believe.
“Now break loose and give us a hint what it’s all about, please, Jack!” urged Toby.