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Tony Hunter had been down to Oakville a few days before my arrival, and while there had met Clint Dansdale, who was well acquainted with Quayle and Cotton. Clint, it appeared, had been in San Antonio and met our missing men, and the three had spent a week in the city chumming together.
He appealed politely to Clint. "Yes, sir, I I suppose so," Clint agreed. "That's so," said Amy, "but he is also under treatment for lapse of memory, sir, or perhaps I should say for hesitancy of speech. I am hoping that presently he will remember who did break the violin and tell us. Have we your permission to continue, sir?" "Hm."
Amy argued and stormed and threatened to go into Number 15 and knock Harmon Dreer into a cocked-hat, but in the end he had to subside. Penny insisted on taking his medicine. Clint was as sorry as possible for Penny, but he didn't have much time for sympathy. With practice on Monday afternoon football affairs at Brimfield started on their last lap.
When the laughter had ceased, Ruddie, who seemed a serious-minded youth, began a story of an uncle of his who had contracted blood-poisoning from the dye in his stockings. What ultimately happened to the uncle Clint never discovered, for the others very rudely broke in on Ruddie's reminiscences and the conversation became general and varied.
But Amy's further instructions were interrupted. A blue-coated policeman who had been observing their approach with keen interest hailed them from the curb at the corner. "Hello, boys!" he said. "Where'd you come from?" "We came from Thacher," replied Clint. "That is, we came from there this morning, or, rather, last night. We're from Brimfield, really." "Are, eh? Thought you said Thacher.
He was willing to exonerate Penny and Clint from the charge of throwing stones, but insisted that it always took two to make a quarrel and that if Penny had chosen to observe the rules of the school he could have done so. For his part, Clint left the inner office feeling that he had been extremely lucky to have escaped hanging or life imprisonment, to say nothing of probation!
"He won the singles championship this Fall, sir," explained Clint. "Really? That's fine. I'm a bit of a tennis enthusiast myself. Played on the team three years in college. Some before that. Tennis was about the only thing we specialised in when I was here. By the way, did you get into difficulties over the disciplining of that fellow, whatever his name is?"
Say, I thought you said you weren't taking chances, Amy." Amy grinned and doubling up the towel with which he had been wiping his face and hands let it drive. Clint caught it and draped it over his knees. "Go on and take your beating," he taunted. But it was quite a different Amy who started in on that third and deciding set. Holt never had a real chance after the first two games.
Finally it was decided that they should turn around and go back slowly in order that the boys could identify the spot where the automobile had met its mishap the afternoon before. Clint was not at all certain that he would know the place when he saw it again, but Amy stoutly asserted that he would recognise it at once. And he did.
"I picked them to meet Scannel and Boynton. And I'll bet they beat 'em, too." "Why didn't you enter the doubles?" asked Clint. "Oh, I had enough to do looking after the thing," replied Amy, "and getting through the singles." Clint smiled. "I reckon the real reason was that you didn't want to hog the show and take both prizes, eh?" "No fear of that, I guess," answered the other evasively.
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