“I’d like it a good deal better,” he said, “if Charley had come out in the open and talked about it. It just proves that Rumford is doing some of his gum-shoe work, and doesn’t want to—to frighten the criminals. ‘Jimmy’ is all right, but he fancies himself a bit as a ‘detecative.’ Still, he doesn’t always make good. Last year, for instance. Remember how he sleuthed around to find out who started that Junior Meeting Riot, Dud?” Dud nodded. “Well, he fell down hard on that.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Dud. “Most fellows thought the reason faculty didn’t jump someone was because it was afraid it would have to jump half the school. Some fellows did get pro, didn’t they? Hobo Ordway——”
“Oh, Ordway got caught trying to sneak into hall after lock-up. Some lower middlers shut him up in a room in School Hall, and he had to climb down a rain-spout or something, and Wallace Cathcart, who was proctor then, nabbed him. That wasn’t any feather in ‘Jimmy’s’ cap. Just the same, I wish they’d come out, and say things and not scare us to death with this Secret Service stunt. I met ‘Jimmy’ in the corridor this morning, and he looked too blamed innocent and sweet for anything! Bet you he’s got a clue—or thinks he has!”
“Well, what’s the good of letting it spoil your entire day?” asked Monty, snuggling down into the neck of his sweater philosophically. “I didn’t do anything much, after all. It was a perfectly harmless joke. If Jimmy wants to be nasty, why, that’s up to him. I’m enjoying a perfectly clear conscience.”
“If only you hadn’t let that pig of Standart get wise,” mourned Leon. “Couldn’t we get him into a canoe and spill him out in the river? He doesn’t look like a chap who knows how to swim.”
“I’ll stake my claim he doesn’t,” agreed Monty. “He hates water too much ever to learn swimming! Well, I’m going to breakfast. See you later, fellows. I’ll be up at eleven, Leon.”
They parted in front of Lothrop, Jimmy, Dud and Leon entering the building to seek the dining hall, and Monty setting out briskly for Morris. It was a cold, nippy morning, and he thought pleasantly of the cup of coffee that awaited him, and hoped that he would not be too late to get his full share of Mother Morris’s hot biscuits or muffins. That affair of the keys dwindled into insignificance beside the far more important matter of breakfasting.
That afternoon there was a lay-off for the first team men, and, in consequence, the substitutes held the middle of the stage. Monty ought to have been so depressed and anxious as to have no heart for football, but just the opposite was true. After Williams had played against the second team for one twelve-minute period, Monty was summoned to take his place at right guard, and proved the nearest thing to a sensation that the afternoon developed.
It wasn’t that Monty played a dazzling game, exactly, for he didn’t. But he showed such an improvement over his previous efforts that even Coach Bonner was surprised. Monty was still lacking the finer points of the position, but today he went on a regular rampage, and inside of two minutes from the blowing of the whistle had Luderus, playing opposite him on the second, putting in the hardest afternoon of his experience. Luderus was a big, beetle-browed, tow-haired youth of eighteen, as strong as an ox, and much better natured. He was very generally known as “Old Ludicrous,” and today Monty nearly succeeded in making the nickname fit him! The day was an ideal football day, windless, gray and cold, and Monty felt particularly good. As a result, Coach Crowley was forever hovering around Luderus and berating him.
“Get into him, Luderus! He’s making you look like a fool! Get the jump on him, man! Watch his arms! Don’t let him swing you like that! Now, then, hold!”