The Great Oakdale Mystery

It was Barville’s kick-off, but Copley’s effort was somewhat weak, and Nelson ran the ball almost to the forty-five yard line before he bit the dirt. This made it especially favorable for the carrying out of Stone’s plans, and the Oakdale players lined up, eager to get the start on their antagonists then and there.

Tuttle, with the ball between his feet, took one quick backward glance, and, seeing the others springing into position, prepared to snap it. Just as he was on the point of doing so, he was astounded to hear Sage cry:

“Signal!” Following which, Fred rattled off some numbers which called for a play entirely different from that agreed upon.

A bit confused, Tuttle snapped the ball to Sage, who passed it instantly to Grant. The confusion of the center was likewise felt by every member of the team, which led to faltering and gave the enemy a chance to overwhelm them and bear them back for a loss of more than five yards.

In the midst of the untangling mass Stone reached Sage, grasped him by the shoulder and almost snarled into his ear:

“What’s the matter with you? What made you do that? You know we had arranged to work three plays without signals.”

“I – I forgot,” said Fred. “I’m sorry, but I forgot, captain.”

“Well, you messed things finely! It’s too late now. Get into action and see if you can make up for the blunder somehow.”

Apparently Sage tried hard to atone, and for a time he displayed a return to his best form. His blunder, however, had greatly disturbed the others, and the entire team betrayed such uncertainty and lack of cohesive, united action that the home crowd was dismayed. In a few moments Oakdale was compelled to surrender the ball on a kick.

After this the quarter was heartbreaking in many ways. Twice the visitors threatened Oakdale’s goal, and twice they were repulsed. In her turn Oakdale had an opportunity that set her supporters into a frenzy of hope and enthusiasm. An end run that netted thirty yards was followed by a trick play that yielded ten more, and then came a forward pass which placed the locals within striking distance of the enemy’s goal.

Right there Sage once more dashed Oakdale’s hopes. The team had two sets of signals. This was necessary to enable them to switch from one set to the other in case their opponents should get wise to the signals in use. Now, however, Sage put them all into confusion by mixing the signals himself in such a manner that it was impossible to tell which of two plays he had called for. Then he made a bad pass, which was followed by a fumble, and Barville, coming through Oakdale like water through a sieve, got the ball.

Immediately Stone ordered Sage out of the game. Nelson was placed at quarter, and his position was filled by a substitute.

CHAPTER XVI.

REMARKABLE BEHAVIOR OF SAGE

Crestfallen and deeply chagrined, Sage attempted to watch the game from the side line. He gave no heed to the substitutes, who stared at him and muttered among themselves. His face, at first flushed, gradually lost its color until it became almost ghastly and haggard. He saw the exultant, confident Barville team, with the ball in its possession, tearing to pieces the defence of the locals in a manner that promised disaster for Oakdale.

“They’ll seek explanations in the next intermission,” he whispered to himself. “I can’t answer their questions.”

Turning suddenly, he left the field. Having passed outside, he made a dash for the gymnasium, in which he began ripping off his sweat-soaked football togs in a manner that was almost frantic. He did not pause for a shower, knowing that there would be no time for it if he wished to get away before his teammates appeared. Dully he seemed to hear the cheering of the crowd upon the field, taking notice in a benumbed way that the Barville cry was swelling stronger and more triumphant.

Leaving his playing togs as he had dropped them, he dashed bareheaded from the gymnasium, flinging himself into his coat as he ran. Round the corner he darted, scudded down Lake Street until the entrance to the academy yard was reached, ran panting across the yard and settled into a rapid walk when his feet were presently on the path that led across lots between Middle and High Streets.

He had made his escape none too soon, for barely was he out of sight when the third quarter ended and the Oakdale players came hurrying toward the gymnasium. They were a soiled, battered, weary-looking band, and more than one seemed to totter in his stride. In the gym they flung themselves down upon benches and blankets, some even sprawling upon the floor.

“Cripes!” groaned Sile Crane. “Them fellers sartainly made us fight. We barely held ’em.”

“If they’d had another minute they’d have scored,” sighed Harry Hopper. “They’re better trained than we are. They’re like iron. That’s what a coach does for a team.”

Two chaps were rubbing Chipper Cooper’s left ankle, which he had wrenched in a scrimmage. The smell of witch hazel and arnica filled the room.

“Look at the confounded thing,” snapped Chipper, his face contorted by grimaces of pain. “You can almost see it swell. I’ll be as lively as a toad on that bum peg.”

“If Sage hadn’t messed things up!” muttered Rodney Grant, as if speaking to himself. “What was the matter with him, anyhow?”

“Where is Sage?” asked Stone, looking around. “I don’t believe he came in from the field. Here, Shea, go bring Sage.”

Piper touched Ben on the arm.

“Don’t bother to send for him, captain,” he advised.

“Why not?”

“You won’t find him out there. He’s gone.”

“Gone – where? Why – ”

“I don’t know where,” said Sleuth; “but he’s gone. Here are his field clothes just as he dropped them. He didn’t even stop to put them away.”

Astonishment was plainly revealed in Stone’s face.

“I don’t understand it,” he finally said in a low tone. “I can’t see why Fred should desert us like this. What will we do if – ” He checked himself abruptly.

“He’s run away! He’s quit!” cried Nelson. “What do you know about that, fellows?”

Hooker rose to the defence of his chum. “I’m dead sure Fred is sick,” he said. “There’s no other explanation for his actions. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, but he must be sick. You all know what a football enthusiast he is, and you never before saw him put up such a numb, bungling game.”

“At least,” said Stone, “if he had to quit, he might have let me know.”

The inexplicable action of Sage seemed to cast a heavier shadow upon the team. Desperately though Stone sought to rally his players, he could not help feeling that the effort was profitless. They returned to the game in a spiritless, almost sullen humor, which made them, although they fought stubbornly, quite unable to cope with the persistent, determined, undaunted visitors; and, with the opportunity in their grasp, the Barvilleites presently hammered out a touchdown and kicked the tying goal.

Oakdale made a mighty effort to hold the game to a draw, and for a time it seemed that such would be the result. In the very last minute of play, however, getting within the home team’s twenty-five yard line, the visitors made a field goal.

As the ball soared over the crossbar a groan of dismay came from the Oakdale spectators.

“That settles it,” declared a keenly disappointed man. “Our boys are beaten.”

He was right; the game ended with Barville victorious and jubilant.

It was a sore and disgruntled bunch of fellows who took their showers and rubdowns in the gymnasium. With scarcely an exception, they were disposed to place the blame of their defeat entirely upon Sage. Vainly Hooker tried to defend his friend.

“He ran away without a word,” reminded Grant. “There’s sure no excuse for that.”

“Nary bit,” agreed Crane. “He done us a dirty turn to-day, and it’ll take a whole lot of explainin’ to put him right with the bunch.”

Roy was the first to leave the gymnasium, and he started almost at a run for Sage’s home.

“I don’t understand it myself,” he muttered, as he hurried along. “I can’t imagine what threw Fred into such a pitiful condition. I hope he can explain.”

As he came within view of Fred’s home he discovered his chum and Mr. Sage standing near the open stable door, apparently engaged in conversation. At the same moment Fred seemed to espy Roy, and immediately, with a quick word to his father, he darted into the stable and disappeared.

Mr. Sage walked out to meet Hooker. There was a strange expression on the man’s face, and Roy fancied that he seemed somewhat nervous and distraught.

“I’d like to see Fred a minute,” said Hooker.

“I’m sorry,” was the answer, “but he’s not feeling well. He can’t see you.”

His perplexity greatly augmented, Roy stared at the man.

“Is he ill?”

Andrew Sage seemed to hesitate. Lifting a hand to his lips, he coughed behind it.

“Well, not – er – not exactly ill,” he answered; “but he isn’t feeling well enough to talk with anyone, Roy. I hope you don’t mind?”

This treatment from his comrade piqued Hooker. “I didn’t suppose,” he said, “that Fred would refuse to see me unless he was dangerously ill in bed – and I know he isn’t that. It’s all right, though. Will you please tell him that Barville won the game?”

Turning, he walked slowly away, his brow knitted with perplexity.

“I can’t understand it,” he told himself once more. “It’s too much for me. He isn’t sick, that’s sure; and still, his father says that he doesn’t feel well. Possibly,” he added resentfully, “the information that Barville trimmed us will make him feel better.”

CHAPTER XVII.

WORK OF THE YOUNG DETECTIVE

That evening a group of somewhat doleful-looking boys gathered in front of the Oakdale post-office and shivered as they discussed the game. Without a single dissenting voice they blamed Sage for their failure to win from Barville.

Sleuth Piper appeared, hurried into the post-office and presented himself at the delivery window.

“Look a’ the businesslike bustle of the great detective,” said Crane, watching Piper through the window. “Anyone would sorter s’pose he expected to receive about a bushel of important mail. I bet he don’t get a thing.”

“You lose,” said Hunk Rollins, as a letter was passed out to Sleuth. “He’s got something.”

Before opening the letter, Piper was seen eagerly scanning the postmark upon the envelope, and the watchers fancied there was an expression of mingled excitement and satisfaction upon his face. Coming forth, Sleuth paused in front of a lighted window a short distance from the others and tore his letter open. In a moment he was eagerly intent upon the contents.

“Hi! Who’s the girl, Sleuthy?” called Jack Nelson. “Let us read it, will you?”

“’Sh!” sibilated Chub Tuttle, spluttering forth munched peanuts with a hissing sound. “The great detective has a scent.”

“Huh!” grunted Cooper, with a forced laugh. “If that’s so, he’s better off than I am. I bet on the game, and I haven’t a cent.”

“Look,” urged Nelson – “look at Sleuthy’s face! He’s excited. By Jinks! that letter must be rather interesting.”

“I’ll get a peep at it,” said Harry Hopper. “I’ll tell you if it’s a girl’s writing.”

But, although he tiptoed forward with great caution, Sleuth detected his approach, and, having finished reading the letter, hastily folded the missive and thrust it into his pocket.

“Go chase yourself, Mr. Sly Boy,” he said, waving Hopper off. “Rubbering will give you a cramp in the neck sometime.”

Roy Hooker, looking decidedly glum, came slouching along, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. Immediately Sleuth pounced upon him.

“Just the man I’m looking for,” said Piper, in almost tragic tones.

Roy drew away, seeking to shake Sleuth’s hand from his shoulder.

“Well, I’m not looking for you,” he retorted. “I’ve no particular use for you, Piper.”

“Come now,” said Sleuth, “I wish to hold a private consultation with you on a matter of immense moment.”

“Run away and consult with yourself,” snapped Roy. “I don’t like your company, and you know the reason why.”

But Sleuth grabbed at him again as he made a move to pass on.

“Wait,” whispered Piper. “Perhaps you’d like to know what was the matter with Sage to-day? I can tell you.”

“The deuce you can!”

“I can,” insisted the other boy. “I’ve solved the mystery.”

“Well, if you know what ailed him, why don’t you tell? I’m sure I’m not the only one who would like to have the matter cleared up.”

“It’s not a subject for the public ear, Hooker; it’s something to be talked over privately and discreetly between ourselves. If you want to know what I know, you’ll just take a little walk with me to some spot where we’ll be all by our lonesomes. If you don’t want to know, if you haven’t got any interest in Sage and his affairs, you needn’t bother.”

To say the least, Roy’s curiosity was aroused.

“I’ll wager it will be a waste of time,” he said; “but I’ll listen. What have you done, concocted some sort of fool deduction about it?”

“I have the straight, solid, indisputable facts right in my inside pocket. I can tell you something about the Sages that will make your hair curl. Where shall we go?”

“You say.”

“Down to the bridge. There’s not likely to be anybody around there.”

It was somewhat chilly upon the bridge which spanned the river below Lake Woodrim, and Hooker’s teeth were inclined to chatter as he leaned against the railing and invited his companion to “divulge.”

“To begin with,” said Piper, “I want to ask you a question, and I hope you’ll give me an honest answer. You’ve been mighty chummy with Sage, and I have a notion that he gave me away by telling you that I was trying to make a ten-strike by capturing a certain criminal for whom a large reward is offered. Am I right, or not?”

“Whatever Fred has told me in confidence, I’ll not blow on him. If it was your object to pump me, Piper, you’re wasting your time – and mine.”

“You don’t have to answer,” said Sleuth instantly. “Your failure to give me a fair and square reply is sufficient. Sage told you. I knew he would. Well, I don’t care. I’ve got something to tell you now, and, as I said, it will make your hair curl.”

He paused impressively, apparently desiring Roy to urge him to go on; but Hooker, shrugging his shoulders a bit, waited the promised revelation.

“I want to ask one more question,” said Piper, “and you’ll not betray a confidence by giving me an answer. Saturday, one week ago, while out hunting with Sage, you encountered a certain mysterious stranger in the woods beyond Culver’s Bridge. You talked with the man face to face and had a fine opportunity to look him over thoroughly. Tell me, did he bear any personal resemblance to your friend, Sage?”

“Huh!” grunted Roy. “Resemblance? What do you mean?”

“Did he look as if he might be a relative?”

“Why, I – I don’t know. What in the world are you trying to get at, Pipe?”

“That man professed to know the Sages and made inquiries about them. Nevertheless, at the approach of Fred he ran away, and, although he pretended to you that he was looking for work hereabouts, as far as I can learn he has not attempted to obtain employment, and has not been publicly seen since that day.”

“If you have an idea that he was some relative of the Sages, the mere fact that he has not been seen seems to knock your theory into a cocked hat.”

“When I place you in full possession of the facts,” returned Piper, in a lofty and superior manner, “you’ll perceive that the man’s care not to attract public attention strengthens the foundations of my theory. You have not answered my question. Did he look like Fred Sage?”

“In some respects he may have borne a slight resemblance. He had blue eyes, and Fred’s eyes are blue. But that’s nothing. Come across with your dope that’s going to make my hair curl.”

“Doesn’t it occur to you as very singular that so little is really known about the past history of the Sages? This family, consisting of father, mother and one son, came to Oakdale something like three years ago and settled here. Yet who is there in this town that can tell where they came from and how they happened to come? You’re chummy with the before-mentioned son, Hooker. How much has he ever told you about his past?”

“Oh, say, Sleuth, if you’re trying to fasten a dark and terrible past upon Fred Sage, you’ll do nothing but make yourself ridiculous. Why, anybody knows that he’s been one of the openest, frankest fellows in the world.”

“Huh! Is that so?” sneered Piper. “Really, he may appear to be all that you claim, Hooker, but appearances, you should know, are often most deceptive. Mr. Andrew Sage has the bearing of a country gentleman in moderate circumstances. Mrs. Sage is apparently a most estimable lady. These people are regular churchgoers, and have the respect of their townsfolk. Nevertheless, since living here they have never become especially intimate with anyone, and you must admit that they are rather reserved.”

“Aw, rot!” exploded Roy in exasperation. “Simply because people don’t choose to go about telling everybody their business and all their past history, you get the notion that they must have some guilty secret they are trying to cover up. That comes from reading the kind of trash with which you stuff your mind, Piper.”

“In a very few minutes,” retorted Sleuth, “I’ll make it necessary for you to take back some of your slurs, Mr. Hooker. You know what country people are. You know that gossip is one of their chief delights. As a rule, let a strange family move into a town like Oakdale, and within thirty days more than fifty per cent of the inhabitants of that place are conversant with the history of those people as far back as it can be traced. When the Sages came here the usual curious gossips attempted to learn things about them. They failed. To me that’s a guarantee that the Sages, for good and sufficient reasons, desired to keep their family history from being probed. This thought has occurred to me more than once, and many a time I’ve told myself that a little investigation of the before-mentioned Sages might prove interesting to a sensational degree. Recently I decided to investigate.”

“In other words, you decided to pry into affairs which did not concern you in the least. Poor business, Piper. The fellow who persists in poking his nose into a crack is sure to get it pinched some day.”

Not the least ruffled, Sleuth retorted: “The person who puts himself to extreme trouble to hide his past must have a guilty secret. Sometimes there are wolves in sheep’s clothing, and for the public weal they should be exposed. In order to obtain information regarding the Sages, it was necessary to learn where they came from when they moved to this town.”

“And you found out?”

“Having decided on a course of action, I never permit anything to baffle me.”

“How did you do it?”

“Oh, one day I dropped in on Mrs. Sage for a little social call. Fred wasn’t home, so I waited for him; and, while waiting, I made myself comfortable, at the lady’s invitation, in the sitting-room. I knew there must be in that house something which would give me the clue I sought. It was not long before I discovered the very thing, a family photograph album. While seemingly amusing myself by looking at the pictures in that album, I slipped several of them from their places and looked for the imprint of the photographer. There were pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Sage, and also of Fred, taken some years ago. Those pictures, I found, bore the name of a photographer in the town of Rutledge, State of New York. I lost little time in writing a letter to the postmaster of Rutledge, New York, making inquiries concerning the Sages. I asked if they had ever lived in that town. In case they had, I politely requested information concerning the entire family. To insure an answer, I enclosed a stamped and addressed envelope.”

“And did you get an answer?”

“Sure,” exulted Piper. “I received it to-night. I have it in my pocket now. The information it contains is of the most sensational character. It clears up the mystery of the Sages, and also, I firmly believe, fixes the identity of the mysterious man you met beyond Culver’s Bridge.”

CHAPTER XVIII.

SLEUTH’S ASTONISHING THEORY

Curiosity is one of the most powerful traits in human nature, and in youth, being to some extent unrestrained, it often reaches its highest development. It was chiefly curiosity that had led Hooker to listen thus far to the words of Piper; but now, as if suddenly realizing the full significance of Sleuth’s self-confessed and shameless prying into the affairs of others, and remembering at the same time his familiar and friendly relations with Fred Sage, Roy suddenly seared his companion with the red-hot iron of contempt and wrath.

“You miserable, sneaking puppy!” he cried. “Under pretence of making a friendly call, you play a miserable trick like that, do you? I’ve a mind to give you the finest drubbing you ever had.”

Indeed, so savage and threatening was his attitude that Piper fell back precipitately, lifting his hands as if to ward off a blow.

“Now you hold on!” he cried. “You hold on, Hooker! You hadn’t better hit me. Perhaps you think that would be a good way to make me keep still about what I know concerning the Sages. I’m not going to blow this thing round to everybody. I chose you because you’re Fred’s chum.”

“Oh, is that so?” scoffed Roy incredulously. “You’ve begun blabbing with me, and it isn’t likely you’ll stop there. I don’t know what you’ve found out, but I do know that the way you’ve gone about it to obtain your information was dirty – just plain dirty.”

“It was thoroughly legitimate,” asserted Sleuth in self-defence. “These people are living here in our town and associating with our citizens. If they’re the right sort, there can be no harm in finding out about their past history. But perhaps you’ve misunderstood me, Hooker. I’m not making the claim that there’s anything wrong with the Sages we know.”

“Oh, aren’t you?” said Roy in surprise. “I thought you were. If you haven’t found out that there’s something wrong about them, what the dickens have you found out that was so wonderful? What is this sensational thing that’s going to make my hair curl?”

“If you’ll give me a chance and not get fighting mad over it, I’ll tell you. You know it’s often the case that there’s a black sheep in the most respectable family.”

“Huh! There are only three persons in this particular family. Where’s the black sheep?”

“Only three of the family are known at the present time to the people of Oakdale,” Piper said hastily. “Have you never thought that there might be at least one other member of this family?”

“Can’t say such a thought ever occurred to me.”

“Listen,” urged Sleuth, “and keep your temper under check until I’m through. The information I’ve obtained does not reflect upon Andrew Sage, his wife or his son Fred.”

“Well,” breathed Roy in relief, “there’s considerable satisfaction to be derived from that statement.”

“The postmaster of Rutledge states that Mr. and Mrs. Sage and their younger son, Fred, are most estimable people.”

“Whew!” whistled Hooker. “Their younger son, eh? Oh, do you mean that there’s another – another son we don’t know anything about?”

“There’s another son, of whom we’ve known nothing whatever up to the present date. I know something about him now, and he’s the black sheep. It was the criminal act of this elder son, Clarence Sage, that doubtless added many gray hairs to his mother’s head and led the family, weighted by the shame of it, to leave Rutledge and seek another home, where no one would know of their disgrace. Now if you don’t care to hear any more about the matter,” said Sleuth craftily, “I’ll close up.”

Roy’s aversion to hearing the information Piper had secured was completely swept away.

“Oh, go on,” he invited, once more leaning against the bridge rail. “What did this Clarence Sage do?”

“Robbed a bank.”

“In Rutledge?”

“Yes. He was employed in a bank there, and he pilfered fourteen thousand dollars from the institution.”

“Jove!” muttered Hooker. “I don’t wonder Fred never has mentioned his brother.”

“The crime was discovered, as such things always are, and Clarence Sage was arrested, tried, convicted and sent to Sing Sing for a term of years.”

“My hair curls!” exclaimed Roy. “So Fred has a brother in prison. That’s a shame!”