“Not if I can help it. There’s something important going on—something not down on the bills—and I can’t neglect it even for this football game.”
With that, Merry hurried from the gym. The first man he encountered on the field was Hawkins.
“Has Guffey come out of the Gold Hill dressing rooms yet?” he asked.
“Well, I reckon,” grinned the deputy. “He came out with Jode Lenning, an’ the two walked over to’rd the west end of the grand stand. There they are now, in a close confab.”
Frank sauntered carelessly in the direction of Guffey and Lenning.
Over their shoulders, Lenning and Guffey caught sight of Merriwell making his way toward them. They exchanged hurried words, and Guffey turned from Lenning and started to leave the field around the lower end of the grand stand.
Frank quickened his pace a little. Lenning walked hurriedly toward Frank. He was plainly nervous and worried, and his shifty eyes held a harassed look.
“Where’s Guffey going?” Merry inquired, when Lenning was close enough to hear.
“He’s sick and is going around back of the stand to lie down,” was the answer. “He’s subject to spells with his head, and he’s got a bad one coming on now. He’ll be back before the last half’s over.”
Merriwell went on. Lenning watched him with growing suspicion.
“Are you going after him, Merriwell?” he asked.
“I want to talk with him,” Frank replied indefinitely.
But Merriwell, by then, was out of earshot. The call for the second half was ringing down the field. Lenning hesitated, as though inclined to follow Merriwell; then, tossing his hands with a desperate gesture, he whirled and ran to take his place with the rest of the Gold Hill team.
When Frank had worked his way past the lower end of the grand stand, he half started toward the dressing rooms. But he checked the move, for Guffey, as he could see, was traveling north across the sandy stretch of ground on that side of the club premises.
Lenning had misstated the case. The Gold Hill coach may have been having “a spell with his head,” but he was not bound for the dressing rooms to lie down. On the contrary, he was striding briskly off into the open, apparently bent on getting as far away from the football field as possible.
Merriwell chuckled grimly. He had thought that a maneuver of this kind would be attempted.