Part 24 (1/2)
”Fact!” a.s.serted Sid. ”We're five miles out of our way, on the wrong road, and the game starts in less than an hour. They'll call it a forfeit on us and never stop twitting us about this.”
”Ah, you must be wrong,” declared Holly Cross. ”Don't you s'pose the motorman knows the way? It isn't as if this was an auto.”
Sid pulled open the front door. The tramp, who had been talking to the motorman, had gone.
”I say,” began the first baseman, ”is this the road to Dodville? Aren't you on the wrong line?”
”Why, sir, I don't rightly know,” replied the motorman somewhat timidly.
”You don't know?” repeated Sid incredulously.
”No. I--I hope this is the right road.”
”You hope so!” cried Langridge. ”Well, I should say yes. Why don't you know?”
”Well, you see, I'm new on this section of the line. To-day is my first run. I took the turn back there where the gentleman told me to.”
”What gentleman?”
”The one who was out here on the platform with me. He said he was your manager.”
”Manager!” fairly yelled Langridge. ”Why, I'm the manager of this team.”
”Can't help it. That's what the gentleman said. He said he knew the road to Dodville, and when I got to the switch he told me to come this way.”
”What was his name?” demanded Langridge, who was beginning to ”scent a rodent,” as Holly Cross said.
”He gave me his card,” went on the motorman, who had halted his car in the midst of a lonely stretch of woods.
”Let's see!” cried Sid.
The trolley man fumbled in his pocket for it. Tom looked back, but could not see the other special car. That had probably been some distance behind the first one and had doubtless gone the right road, the motorman not suspecting that his predecessor was not ahead of him.
Sid took the bit of pasteboard which the man held out to him. He looked at it and then uttered an exclamation.
”It's a trick!” he cried, ”a soph trick! Listen to this, fellows. This is Fenmore's card, and he's written on it this message: 'This is only part of what we sophs owe you fres.h.i.+es for the pavilion game. There is more coming. Hope you have a nice picnic in the woods.' That fellow on the platform was Fenmore,” went on Sid. ”No wonder he kept his hat down.”
”And here we are--part of the team--out here in the wilderness, five miles from the game, which starts in half an hour!” cried Langridge in disgust. ”Say, those sophs got back at us all right. We're in a nice pickle!”
CHAPTER XVI
TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY
There was consternation among the freshmen and their supporters. With a divided team, part of it being so far away from the grounds that it was practically impossible to arrive on time, and on a wrong road at that, the situation was enough to discourage any nine.
”What made you let that fellow tell you where to go?” demanded Sid of the motorman.
”Well, he said he was your manager, and I believed him.”