“Blessed if I know. I know he isn’t here now, but there’s no telling how long he’s going to stay away. Tell you what, Perky. I’ll stand at the entrance and keep watch. If I see him coming back I’ll pass the word to you and you can tell Payson.”
“All right. I’ll tell Payson that. Don’t miss him, though.”
“Nary a miss, Perky!”
The Duke, followed by Gerald and Harry, went to take up a position at the corner of the grand stand and Davis scurried off to the gymnasium in the wake of the team. The Duke, hands in pockets, wandered outside and viewed the path. But save for the players trotting up the steps of the gymnasium and Davis speeding to overtake them no one was in sight.
“Look here,” said Gerald, who had been studying the situation in his mind, “what that fellow will do is to tell Central that he’s locked up in the booth. Then Central will telephone to Merle or Clarke and they’ll let him out. We didn’t think of that.”
The Duke frowned. “That’s so,” he acknowledged. “And it’s dollars to doughnuts Central will get Collins on the ’phone and then there will be the dickens to pay!”
“Thunder!” breathed Harry.
“Just so,” agreed The Duke. “Well, I’m in for it now, so there’s no use worrying and getting a wrinkle. After all, it was a patriotic deed and my conscience is at peace. I done it for the good of my fellow critters.”
“I don’t see how Collins will know it was you,” said Harry hopefully. The Duke viewed him with a pitying eye.
“Merely because I paraded up and down in front of the grand stand yelling my little heart out for Mr. Gibson, Harry. Collins may be dense, but I think he will be able to follow that clue; what?”