along, and ordered them all out to light practice, in preparation for the game soon to be played.
Tom and his two chums were on their way from the gymnasium, refreshed by a shower bath, and were going to their room, to rest a bit before appearing on the gridiron with their team mates.
"Did you find out anything more about Lenton, Tom?" asked Phil, for it had been agreed that Tom was to do a little detective work concerning the queer lad and his files.
"No, nothing of any account," he answered. "I talked with some of the fellows who room next to him, and all they could tell me was that he is always tinkering on something or other. He's making some kind of an electrical machine, Perkins said, and he keeps buzzing away at it half the night. He's a queer Dick, all right, but I don't know that he had anything to do with the taking of our clock and chair."
"I've got my suspicions," declared Phil. "I'm mighty sure he made that false key to our room, anyhow, and I'm going to put it up to him some time soon."
"Oh, I wouldn't," advised Sid. "It might make trouble."
"Well, didn't he—or someone—make trouble for us?" asserted the quarter-back. "But I'll be pretty sure of my ground before I make any cracks. Now for a rest, and then"
