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Harmon answered his laugh and shook his head. “I’d like to, but I’m booked up the line. Is Lakeville the next stop?”
“Second after Alton,” answered Joe as he lifted the suitcases from the rack and handed them to Bob. “Look us up when you come over with the team some time. You’ll find Newhall and me in Lykes and Proctor in Haylow.” There was a warning blast from the locomotive and the train came slowly to a stop. The three Altonians shook hands with Harmon, taking, as it seemed, much time in the ceremony. Outside, on the station platform, a score or more of boys were hurrying toward the carriage stand. Bob had encumbered himself with Joe’s bag and his own and it was he who led the way to the door at last, Martin following with his suitcase and Joe still making his farewell to Harmon. Then the cry of “All aboard!” came and Joe gave Harmon’s hand a final clasp, picked up the kit-bag and fled down the aisle.
For a brief instant Harmon thought his sight had tricked him, but a swift glance showed that his bag was missing and in another instant he was on his feet and calling to Joe. “Hold on there! that’s my bag you’ve got!” he shouted. But Joe evidently didn’t hear, for he was through the door and down the steps before Harmon started after him. When Harmon reached the car platform Joe and his two companions were fifty feet distant, seeking a conveyance. The train was still motionless, although, further back, a trainman was holding his hand aloft. There was but one thing to do and Harmon did it. In an instant he was pushing his way through the luggage-laden throng about the carriages.
“You’ve got my bag, Myers,” he announced breathlessly as he laid hands on it.
Joe looked around in surprise, still holding tight to the bag. “What did you say?” he asked blankly.
Harmon tugged desperately. “My bag! Let go, will you? I’ll lose my train!”
Joe looked at the bag. “Well, what do you know?” he gasped. “By Jove, I am sorry, Harmon! I thought it was mine! Who’s got my bag? Here!” He thrust the bag at Harmon so energetically that the latter failed to grasp it. “Better hurry, old man! Your train’s going!”
“Thanks!” Harmon turned and started back. He would doubtlessly have swung himself to the platform of the rear car had it not been for Bob’s awkwardness. Bob was terribly sorry and apologetic about it afterwards! Just as Harmon was free of the group, a clear path across the station platform before him, Bob stepped directly in front of him! Of course you know what happened then. Harmon dodged to the right and at the same instant Bob stepped to the left, which didn’t better the situation the least bit. Bob looked most embarrassed, and you could see that he felt just like kicking himself. In fact, he assured them all afterwards that he felt that way. But meanwhile he made the mistake of stepping back to the right just as Harmon made a final despairing effort to get past him on that side, and again they collided!
Harmon set his bag down then, smiled rather a sickly smile and watched the train become smaller and smaller in the distance. Bob fairly revelled in self-reproach and abjected himself to such an extent that a heart of stone would have been moved to forgiveness. And as Harmon’s heart wasn’t made of any such material he gave his attention to assuring Bob that it didn’t really matter. Joe and Martin were most regretful, and Joe tried to take all the blame. But Bob wouldn’t allow that.
“No, if I hadn’t got in the way, like a blamed idiot, he’d have got it all right,” he insisted. “You see, I thought he was coming over here and so I stepped over there – like this – and he came the other way and I tried to side-step him and – ”
“It doesn’t matter a bit,” Harmon assured them, smiling quite cheerfully now. “There’ll be another train pretty soon.”
“That’s so!” Evidently the idea hadn’t occurred to Bob before and he welcomed it with enthusiasm. “Sure, there’s a train about six o’clock, fellows!”
“Well, that’s nearly two hours,” said Joe. “Let’s put our bags inside and find some seats. No use standing up all that time.”
“Oh, but you chaps needn’t wait around,” declared Harmon. “I wouldn’t think of having you do that!”
The three looked at each other inquiringly. Then: “Can’t let you wait around here all alone,” said Joe decidedly; “not after making you lose your train like that. Bob, you and Martin go on up and take my bag with you, and I’ll stay here.”
“Why not all go up?” asked Martin. “Harmon’s got nearly two hours to wait. He might as well come along and be comfortable.”
“That’s the ticket!” exclaimed Bob. “Leave your bag here and ride up to school with us, Harmon. We’ll show you around a bit and then we’ll go up to my room or Joe’s and rest until about a quarter of an hour before your train goes. And I’ll ride back with you!”
Harmon hesitated. “That’s very nice of you,” he said warmly, “but I wouldn’t want to miss another one. Maybe I’d better just sit in the station and – ”
“You’d die of the heat down here in this hole,” said Joe. “Come on! We’ll find out when the train is due, leave your bag with the agent and beat it.”
Harmon allowed himself to be persuaded. After all, it was decidedly warm there at the station, and an hour and fifty-one minutes – which was what the agent made it – would be a long time to wait. And Joe insisted on waiting with him, too, and that was the strongest argument presented, for Joe and his friends had treated him mighty nicely and Harmon felt that it would be a pretty low piece of business to make any of them suffer. So off they all went presently in one of the tumble-down, creaky carriages that still competed with the few taxi-cabs at Alton, and Harmon proved himself a thoroughly good sport by appearing to forget the regrettable incident and displaying much interest in the town and, finally, the school.
The others pointed out all points of interest on the way: the Congregational Church that had the tallest steeple in New England – none of them could remember the exact figures, however – the Town Hall and Library, the rival motion picture theaters, the Common with the statue of Nathan Hale in the center – at least Bob and Martin thought it was Nathan Hale and Joe was stoutly of the opinion that it was Lafayette – the ornate residence of Alton’s richest and most influential citizen, a brownstone monstrosity almost entirely surrounded by conservatories from which a very few sun-baked ferns and palms peered forth, and so on to the school entrance on Academy Street.
“On the left,” proclaimed Bob from the front seat, forming a megaphone of his hands, “the modest dwelling is the Principal’s residence. Behind it – you can see it now – is Haylow Hall. Next on the right you see Lykes, especially interesting as the home of Mr. Robert Newhall, one of Alton’s most prominent undergraduates. In the center of the row is Academy Hall. Directly back of it, if you look quick, you will discern Lawrence Hall. Lawrence is the most popular of all the buildings. It contains the dining hall. Further to the right is Upton, and then Borden. Behind Borden is the Carey Gymnasium. The building by itself at the further end of the Green is Memorial Hall. We are now entering the school grounds. Let me draw your attention to the German howitzer on the left, and, on the right, one of our own 25’s. Both guns saw service in the World War and were presented to the school – ”
“Oh, dry up, Bob!” protested Joe. “Harmon will think you’re an idiot.”
“Reckon he thinks so already,” responded Bob sadly, “after the way I acted at the station. Jimmy, you can dump us at Lykes.”
The driver of the vehicle nodded silently and turned to the left in front of Academy Hall, from the steps of which a group of boys shouted greetings, boisterous and even ribald, to the occupants of the carriage. Harmon found himself wishing that he had been included in that jovial and noisy welcome. This was his first sight of a preparatory school and he liked what he saw and hoped that Kenly would prove as attractive. Alton Academy occupied a tract of ground on the edge of the town apparently two blocks square. From the wide, well-shaded street the Green rose at a gentle grade to the row of brick and limestone buildings that fronted it, a smooth expanse of fine turf intersected by gravel roads and paths and shaded here and there by giant elms. There was no fence nor wall and from a little distance the Green seemed to run, right and left, into the flower-filled yards of the houses across the side streets. There was something very dignified, very lovely about the place, and the visitor’s heart warmed to it. He wanted to ask if Kenly was like this, but incipient loyalty to the school of his choice restrained him. Then the carriage pulled up at a dormitory building and everyone piled out. There was a squabble between Joe and Martin over who was to pay, Martin harking back to a similar occasion last spring when he had paid the bill and Joe’s memory failing him utterly. Harmon made a motion toward his pocket, but Bob edged him toward the steps.
“Leave it to them,” he chuckled. “Mart always pays in the end.”
This statement was speedily proved true and Joe and Bob conducted Harmon along the first floor corridor to the end of the building and there opened a door and ushered him into a cool, shadowy study. Martin had gone on to Haylow to dispose of his bag, but, before Harmon had got well settled in a comfortable chair where the faint afternoon breeze reached him from one of the windows, he was back.
They sat there awhile and talked. Once Joe and Bob absented themselves on some casual excuse that took them out of the room, and once Martin and Joe were gone for several minutes, but always one of the number was left to entertain the visitor. Harmon liked the study and the small alcove-bedroom that led from it and was much interested in the pictures and trophies that adorned the walls and the tops of the chiffoniers. Joe explained that his roommate, Don Harris, had not arrived and would probably not get there until the next morning. Harris came from Ohio and faculty allowed those who lived at a distance a day’s grace.
“I suppose you have to be at Kenly tonight, don’t you, Harmon?” he asked.
“I believe so. I understand that school begins in the morning. What time is it getting to be? I don’t want to miss that next train.”
“Oh, there’s an hour and twenty minutes yet,” said Bob. “How’d you like to take a look around? It doesn’t seem quite so warm now.”
The visitor was agreeable to the suggestion and the quartette set forth. They went first to Lawrence Hall and saw the big dining-room that accommodated four hundred. The forty-odd tables were already draped in white and set for supper, and, with the afternoon sunlight slanting through the high windows, the silent hall looked very pleasant. They climbed the stairs to the visitors’ gallery and then descended other stairs and looked into the big kitchen through the oval windows in the swinging doors. Then came the athletic field, where several of the tennis courts were already in use, and Harmon heard tales of hard-fought battles on gridiron and diamond and track, battles that were invariably won by Alton. He wanted to ask if Kenly had never scored a victory there, but he refrained.
They poked their heads into Upton and Borden Halls, the latter dormitory reserved for the freshman students, and then crossed to the gymnasium. Harmon could honestly and unaffectedly praise that, for it was just about the last cry in buildings of its kind. He looked longingly at the big swimming pool with its clear green water showing the white tiled floor below, and Bob regretted that there wasn’t time for a swim. Then came Memorial Hall, where the sunlight shone through the many-hued windows and cast wonderful designs of red and blue and gold and green on the marble tablets across the silent nave. The library was here, a book-lined, galleried hall whose arched ceiling was upheld by dark oak beams. Two great tables, each on a deep-crimson rug, stood at either end, and many comfortable chairs surrounded them. There was a stone fireplace with monstrous andirons, and the school seal above it. Facing the corridor door, a clock, set in the gallery railing, ticked loudly in the silence. Upstairs was the Auditorium on one side of the corridor, a large, many-windowed hall with a platform at one end, while, across from it, were four recitation rooms.
Outside again, they followed a path that took them under the shade of the elms back to Academy Hall. There was not much time left now, and after viewing the school offices from a respectful distance and peering into some of the classrooms on the first and second floors, Joe decided that their guest had better be thinking of getting back to the station. “You mustn’t go, though, without seeing the view from the cupola,” he added. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
Harmon looked doubtfully at his watch, but Joe was already leading the way toward a narrow flight of stairs at the end of the second-floor corridor and Bob had an urging grip on his shoulder.
“That’s right,” agreed Martin. “Everyone ought to see the view from the cupola. It – it’s one of the sights!” Perhaps he meant to add further persuasion, but a fit of coughing overtook him. Bob, over Harmon’s head, scowled ferociously back at him.
The stairway ended at a closed door and the procession halted while Joe shot back a heavy iron bolt and drew the portal outward. Then he stepped politely aside and the visitor entered a small apartment some eight feet square. It was quite bare and lighted by four tiny panes set one in each wall and just under the ceiling. Harmon’s gaze went questing for the stairs or ladder by which he was to reach the cupola, but there was nothing of that sort in sight. Indeed, there was no egress save by the door through which he had entered! He was on the point of calling polite attention to the fact when a sound behind him brought him quickly about. The sound had been made by the door as it closed, and while he stared, open-mouthed, a second sound reached him, and this time it was made by the bolt sliding harshly into place!
CHAPTER III
HELD BY THE ENEMY
A long moment of deep silence followed.
Harmon stared bewilderedly at the closed door. Of course, it was some sort of a silly joke, but it seemed so peculiarly at variance with all that had gone before that he couldn’t understand. Wondering, he waited for the door to reopen. Instead, however, came the voice of Joe Myers, subdued by the intervening portal but recognizable and distinct.
“Harmon, can you hear me?”
“Yes!”
“That’s good. Now listen. It’s too late to make that train, old man, and there isn’t another until about nine o’clock. That would get you to Lakeville pretty late and faculty wouldn’t like it, I guess. What’s the use of starting the term with a black eye, eh? No sense in getting in wrong right at the start, is there? It’s a sort of a handicap to a fellow – ”
“There’s plenty of time to get the train if you’ll open that door,” replied Harmon impatiently. “What’s the big idea, anyway? If it’s a joke it’s a mighty poor one, Myers!”
“It isn’t a joke,” came the answer. “You see, it’s like this. We hate to see a nice, decent chap like you spoiling his whole – er – his whole future career by making a mistake, Harmon. And you will make a mistake if you go to Kenly. Why, you say yourself that you’re not certain of making the team over there! What sort of a school is it, I ask you, where a fellow of your – your caliber has to get out and dig for a place on the eleven? Now, here you’re sure of it. All you’ll have to do will be just put your name down at the office. Of course we don’t know what arrangement Kenly has agreed to make, and maybe we can’t promise all they have. You see, faculty here’s sort of – sort of strait-laced. But I’ll promise you this much, anyhow, Harmon: Your first quarter won’t cost you a cent. We’ll see to that. All you need is to – ”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about!” protested the prisoner. “Open that door and let me out, or – or – ”
“Now don’t get peevish, please!” begged Joe. “Honest, we’re doing this for your own good, Harmon. Just think a minute and you’ll see it. We’re offering you a quarter’s tuition and the full-back position on the team. If Kenly can do any better, why, all I’ve got to say is that they’re a lot of low-down cheats, after the way they talk over there!”
“But I’m not going to Kenly to play football!” exploded Harmon. “I don’t care if I never play! I’m going to – to learn!”
“Sure! Well, that’s another reason why you ought to stay here. Everyone knows that Alton’s a better school for learning things than Kenly. You don’t have to take my word for that, either. It’s universally accepted. Why, gosh-ding-it, we’ve got a bigger faculty and a better one than Kenly ever thought of having! And we’ve got better buildings and a better plant generally! Why, say, you can learn more here in a month than you could learn at Kenly in a year!”
“Are you fellows crazy?” demanded Harmon. “Let me out or I’ll kick the door down!”
“You can’t do that,” replied Joe equably. “It’s two inches thick. And no one will hear you, no matter how much row you make, for there won’t be anyone on the next floor until tomorrow morning. So you might just as well get rid of that idea, old man. We need you right here at Alton, and we mean to have you. And you’ll be mighty glad some day that we did this. Of course, right now you’re feeling a bit peeved with us, but you’ll get over that when you calm down and think things over. Maybe you’d like to consider awhile. There’s no hurry. How about it?”
There was no reply for a long moment. Then Harmon said in quite a placid voice: “Will you please tell me again what you’re getting at? Maybe I’m kind of dense, but it’s all hodgepodge to me!”
“Sure! Here it is in a nutshell. We need you on the team – ”
“What team?” asked Harmon patiently.
“Why, the football team, man! We need you a heap more than Kenly does, and we’re willing to do anything in reason to get you. Maybe you won’t mind telling us what Kenly has offered you.”
“For what?”
“Why, for – well, for going there.”
“Kenly hasn’t offered me anything. Why should she? I’m entering like anyone else.”
There was a silence. Then Joe’s voice came again, somewhat more chilly. “All right. It’s your affair. If you don’t want to tell, you needn’t, but we wouldn’t ever speak of it. I suppose you mean that we haven’t offered enough. Well, I’ll have a talk with some of the fellows and see what they say. You understand, Harmon, that whatever we do we do without faculty getting wise. And, of course, whatever money we managed to raise would come out of a few pockets, because lots of fellows wouldn’t approve, and lots of ’em haven’t got the money. For that matter, I don’t altogether approve myself! If it was almost anyone else I’d tell him to go to thunder! Still, if Kenly can do this sort of thing and get away with it – ”
“Would you very much mind listening to me a minute?” begged the boy on the other side of the door. “Kenly isn’t paying me money for going there. She hasn’t offered to and I wouldn’t take it in any case. Is that plain?”
“Y-yes,” replied Joe, “but – ”
“Then why not stay here instead?” asked Bob eagerly. “You’re sure of making the team and it won’t cost you a cent for tuition the first quarter! We’ve got everything Kenly has and a lot she hasn’t. Besides, it’s a heap nicer playing on a winning team than on a losing one, and we’re going to lick Kenly this fall as sure as shooting!”
“That train’s gone, hasn’t it?” asked Harmon quietly.
“Just leaving the station,” answered Joe in relieved tones.
“Then you might as well let me out of here.”
“That means you’ve decided to stay?”
“No, it doesn’t. I haven’t any idea of staying. But – ”
“You think it over,” advised Joe. “We’ll be back in half an hour or so. What have you got against Alton, anyway?”
“Nothing against the place,” answered Harmon, “but a lot against the crazy idiots in it! Open the door and stop acting the fool!”
There was a low-voiced conference outside and then Joe announced: “We’ll let you think it over awhile, old man. There’s no use getting mad about it. We’re doing this for your sake as much as for our own, and you’d ought to see that. That offer still holds good, remember. Maybe I’ll be able to better it when I come back. I’ll see – ”
“Look here, you – you crazy loon! Do you mean that you’re going around telling the fellows that you’ve got me locked up here?”
“Well, I’ve got to tell them something, haven’t I? I can’t say – ”
“Don’t say anything! I don’t want your money! I wouldn’t stay here if you paid me a thousand dollars a week!”
“You mean that?” asked Joe dubiously.
“Of course I mean it! Now let me out!”
“Well, leaving money out of it altogether, Harmon, and all on the level: What’s the matter with going to school here instead of over there?”
“Why should I?” asked Harmon exasperatedly. “I started for Kenly and that’s where I’m going. You can keep me here all night and all tomorrow and all – ”
“But that’s not reasonable,” protested Joe mildly. “Here we’re giving you a chance to – ”
“Reasonable! Ha! Do you call what you’re doing reasonable?”
“It may not look so, but it sure is! Hang it, man, we’re trying to save you from making a perfectly rotten mistake! Look here, have you paid your first quarter over there?”
“I have not, but that’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Of course it has!” returned Joe in triumph. “You aren’t a student there until you’ve registered and paid your first quarter bill! All right! Just pay your money here, old man: the tuition’s the same! What do you say?”
“No!”
“Well, I’ve said all I can think of,” replied Joe despondently. “You think it over awhile, Harmon. There’s no hurry: you can register any time this evening before nine and tomorrow morning before twelve. We’ll be back after a bit. You sort of think it over, eh?”
“I don’t need to think it over! I haven’t the least idea of doing anything so crazy! Come on and open the door now, and let’s have an end to this – this silly nonsense!”
But there was no reply. Instead, there came to the captive the faint sounds of retreating footsteps. He listened suspiciously. Perhaps it was only a hoax, perhaps Myers was still outside. After a minute he called.
“That doesn’t fool me!” he said. “I know you’re still there!”
But there was no answer, and when another minute had gone by he realized that they had actually gone and left him there alone!
CHAPTER IV
HARMON COMES TO TERMS
The prisoner thrust his hands in his pockets and made a frowning survey of his cell. From the point of view of his captors it appeared an ideal apartment. There was but one door and that was firmly locked and plainly invulnerable. The windows were beyond reach and, in any case, too small to crawl through, and what had once been an opening admitting to the belfry above had been long since boarded up. He kicked tentatively at the door and might just as well have kicked at any other place in the four surrounding walls so far as results were concerned. There was no furniture, not even a chair. Listening, he heard nothing save, once, the distant shriek of a locomotive.
After a few minutes of hopeless inspection of the place, Harmon shrugged his shoulders and seated himself on the floor with his back to the wall and acted on Joe Myers’ advice to think it over. But thinking it over didn’t enlighten him much. That his captors really meant business was evident, but why they had gone to so much trouble was a mystery. None of the reasons they had given seemed sufficient. That they had proceeded to such lengths merely to save him from the direful fate of becoming a Kenly fellow was too improbable. That they seriously wanted his services on the football team was just as unlikely: or, at least, it was unlikely that they would value those services highly enough to indulge in kidnapping as a means of securing them! No, there was something else, something that didn’t appear. Perhaps Kenly had once enticed an Alton boy away and Alton was trying to get even. Or perhaps —
There was a sound beyond the door and Harmon stopped conjecturing and listened. A voice came to him that was not Joe Myers’.
“I say, Harmon!”
“Hello!” The prisoner tried to keep his tone hostile, but he wasn’t altogether successful, for he was becoming tired of isolation and silence.
“Joe sent me up to read something out of the school catalogue to you. Can you hear all right?”
“Yes, go ahead and read,” answered Harmon scornfully.
And Martin Proctor, sitting on the top step outside, read. He read at some length, too. He started in with a list of Alton Academy graduates who had attained national prominence. The list included a Secretary of State, two Chief Justices, three United States Senators, numerous congressmen and a wealth of smaller fry. When he had finished Harmon inquired: “No Presidents or Vice-Presidents?”
“I haven’t graduated yet,” replied Martin cheerfully. “Now I’ll read you something from the report of the Board of Overseers.”
