CHAPTER XXIII
Jerry Intervenes
At the same moment that Garry struck Sandy Podder, Bill tackled Lent Stewart and gave him a blow that sent him staggering.
The bullies recovered themselves in a moment, and, with Chat, were about to rush on their opponents when a voice close at hand startled them.
"Three to two," said the voice of Jerry Cox, who had come around a corner. "That doesn't seem exactly square. Count me in on this."
"You keep out of this, Jerry Cox," snarled Sandy.
"It's none of your funeral," growled Lent, sourly.
"Seems to me that there'd have been flowers at your funeral, Lent Stewart, if Garry Grayson hadn't saved your life," returned Jerry coolly. "And now here you are trying to beat him up. Nothing doing, Lent. You know I can lick you and perhaps help a bit in licking your pals. So come along if you're ready."
But the bullies were not at all ready. What had seemed easy had suddenly become hard. They stood growling and disconcerted for a moment, and then decided to move on.
"I'll get square with you yet, Garry Grayson," called back Sandy.
"Any time you like," replied Garry quickly. "Put a bit of arnica on that jaw of yours. It sometimes helps."
Jerry looked at Garry and Bill with a broad grin.
"They're yellow clear through," he remarked. "Didn't like the game at all when the chances were even. What was the trouble, anyway!"
"Oh, they made a dirty crack and we came back at them," replied Garry evasively. "It was mighty good of you to pitch in on our side."
"I thought they were friends of yours," said Bill, though with less of coldness in his tone than he had previously used in speaking to Jerry.
"I've cut 'em out," replied Jerry soberly. "No more of that poolroom gang for me. I was a fool for playing around with them as long as I did. But I've got the right slant on things now and I'm hunting for a real job, and when I get it, you bet I'm going to stick to it."
"Anything special in view?" asked Garry cordially.
"Not yet," answered Jerry. "But I'm looking for it with both eyes. I need it badly, too, because there's been sickness at home and my father's out of work. Well, so long, fellows, and good luck."
He went away with a friendly wave of the hand. Garry and Bill looked at each other.
"Seems to have the right stuff in him, after all," admitted Bill.
"Glad he's cut loose from that bunch," said Garry. "He sure proved a friend in need just now, and I think it's up to us to find him and his father jobs. I'll put it up to my dad and you speak to your father about it. They know almost everybody in town, and they ought to be able to help Jerry if any one can."
Bill agreed to do this and later both fathers promised to do what they could. The consequence was that within a week Jerry's father had secured a position in Mr. Sherwood's large manufacturing establishment, while Mr. Grayson got Jerry himself a place in a lumber concern down on the river front.
The young fellow was immensely grateful, and from that time on Garry had no firmer friend in Lenox, outside of his own immediate chums.
Lenox now had played three games on its football schedule and had but two remaining, those with Thomaston and Greenfield, which were to be played in that order. Like Lenox, the Greenfield team had lost but one game, and its victories had been by scores much more impressive than Lenox had been able to muster.
Lenox therefore feared Thomaston much less. It was a good team—in spots. And it also played well—in spots. It was an in-and-outer, sometimes rising to great heights and again playing football far below the high school standard.
None the less, Mr. Phillips drove his team hard for the Thomaston game, which was to be played on the enemy's grounds, and Lenox was in fine fettle when it went over, determined to bring back the scalps of the foe and fasten them on the Lenox wigwam.
It proved to be the only game of the season in which Lenox did not have to work hard to win. It was not a game. It was, rather, a massacre. The Thomaston boys had one of their bad days and played like a lot of dubs. Their passing was wild, their line bucking weak, their fumbles frequent.
Lenox scored almost at will, making two touchdowns in the first period and a touchdown and field goal in the second, while Thomaston never came within striking distance of the Lenox goal.
With the game securely stowed away, Mr. Phillips in the third period took out his first string men with the exception of Wynn, Dittler, and Knapp, and sent in substitutes from the scrubs.
Pete, Tom, Nick, Ted, Rooster, Bill, Hick Dabney, and Garry were those chosen, and they made the most of the opportunity. It was the first time that so many of them had been used in any one game, and they went in to play their heads off.
The first string men resting on the side lines looked on patronizingly. They told themselves that they had really won the game and it would do no harm to let the scrubs take up the burden. Of course, they would not do much, but it would give them exercise.
Garry sensed their feeling and caught their condescending smiles.
"Now, fellows," he exhorted, "let's show those first string boobs where they get off. They've made twenty-four points. They're counting on us to do not much more than hold Thomaston even. Let's give them the surprise of their lives."
This they promptly proceeded to do. They ran wild. Nothing could stop them. Under the delighted eyes of Mr. Phillips and the now sober looks of the first string men, they piled up touchdown after touchdown until, when the last period ended, they had added thirty-five points to the twenty-four already scored, making the final tally 59 to 0. It was the worst Waterloo that Thomaston had ever encountered.
The Lenox boys were filled with joy, and none more so than the once-despised scrubs.
"Just doormats, are we?" laughed Pete.
"We've given them something to think of," chortled Tom Allison. "Did you see their long faces while we were piling up the score?"
"We put a dent in that freshman tradition, anyway!" exulted Nick.
"And now for Greenfield!" exclaimed Garry, turning from the present to the future. "That's the only obstacle left. If we hurdle that, we win the championship."
"And it will take some hurdling," predicted Nick. "They won't be the pudding that Thomaston was to-day."
That seemed more likely than ever when the boys learned that on that same afternoon Greenfield had fairly smothered Bass Lake, the same team that Lenox had beaten by only a scanty margin.
The contest for the league pennant was now clearly defined. Lenox and Greenfield had each won three games and lost one. The other teams were out of the running. The Lenox-Greenfield game would decide the championship.
In the meantime Mr. Grayson was busy preparing to defend Frank Sherwood in his trial for theft, which had been put on the docket for an early date. The more the lawyer delved into it the more confident he felt that Frank was innocent. Yet there was the definite evidence of Mooney and Anson, each corroborating that of the other, and despite the bad character of the men there was no knowing what effect it might have on the jury.
Jerry Cox had several times met Garry on the street, but each time the latter had been accompanied by friends, so that Jerry had just spoken to him and passed on.
But one afternoon toward dusk Garry happened to be alone as he encountered Jerry at the intersection of two streets.
"Hello, Garry," Jerry greeted him. "How's tricks?"
"Everything fine," replied Garry. "How are things going with you?"
"Dandy," responded Jerry. "I like my work and the boss seems to like the way I do it. At least, he hasn't fired me yet," he added, with a grin.
"My dad saw your boss the other day, and he said you were doing good work," said Garry.
"I'm doing my best," declared Jerry, "and I'm tickled to death to get away from the poolroom gang. By the way, Garry, speaking of poolrooms—" He hesitated.
"Yes," said Garry encouragingly.
"It's about that Frank Sherwood matter," went on Jerry slowly. "I've been meaning to speak to you about it for some time, but have never been able to catch you alone."
Garry was all alert in an instant.
"Do you know anything about that case?" he asked eagerly.
"I know that Frank Sherwood didn't steal that money, and I can't stand by and see a fellow framed for something he didn't do," replied Jerry.
Jerry's words had the effect on Garry of an electric shock.
"What's that?" he cried excitedly. "Tell me all you know! For the love of Pete, Jerry, spill it! I was sure that Frank didn't take the money. But do you know who did take it?"
"Yes," replied Jerry. "It was Gyp Mooney himself."
"Gyp Mooney!" exclaimed Garry. "The dirty crook! But are you sure? How do you know?"
"Well," said Jerry, "it was this way. I saw Mooney hanging around Sandy's coat, but thought nothing of it. It was late and most of the fellows had gone. I was leaving myself when I saw Sandy put on his coat, feel in the pocket and turn pale. Then he called Mooney outside. I was taking a short cut through the lot where there were plenty of bushes, and it was dark. Sandy and Mooney were walking in the same direction. They were arguing so angrily I thought there might be a scrap coming, and I slowed up to see what might happen.
"They stopped nearly opposite me, but didn't see me. Sandy was accusing Mooney of having robbed him. Said he'd seen him taking something from his coat. Mooney denied it, but Sandy insisted. Then Mooney turned ugly. Seems he had a hold on Sandy. He knew of a barn that Sandy had set fire to. Mooney said he'd have Sandy sent to jail for that if he didn't keep quiet. Told Sandy that all he'd have to do would be to tell his father Mr. Long hadn't put the money in the envelope. Then Mr. Long would have to pay over again. Anyway, Podder was rich and could stand it. If Sandy kept his mouth shut, Mooney would see that Sandy would get a bit of the money for himself. If not, he'd tell about that barn fire and Sandy'd go to jail.
"So it ended that way. Sandy caved in. Mooney admitted he had taken the money and that just as soon as it was safe he'd see that Sandy had his bit. They went on then and I didn't hear anything further, but I suppose Sandy told his father the story that Mooney had coached him to tell."
"I know he did!" cried Garry. "But Podder didn't get the money again from Mr. Long! I suppose he's been trying to find out where the money went, and the thing got so hot that Mooney got scared and cooked up this thing about Frank Sherwood.
"That's it, as sure as shooting," went on Garry. "They picked on Frank as the goat, and Mooney got Piker Anson to back him up. That skunk would swear to anything for ten dollars!
"But come right along with me, Jerry, and see my father. He's in charge of Frank's case, you know. Gee, but I'm glad I met you!"
Jerry went along willingly. There was a long conference in the Grayson home that night. At its conclusion Jerry Cox went away with a strong injunction to keep tight-lipped till the trial.
And Mr. Grayson's face was beaming.