"Did you hear about Clinton?" "Yes; he's laid up with a bad shoulder. Well, it may be just the chance we want." "That's odd," thought Tom. "I wonder who they can be? Evidently college fellows. Yet how can Phil's injury give them the chance they want?" He kept on, and a moment later came in sight of the speakers. He saw that they were Fred Langridge and Garvey Gerhart. "Good evening," said Tom civily enough, for, though he and Langridge were not on the best of terms, they still spoke. "Off on a lark?" asked the former pitcher with a sneer. "I thought you athletic chaps didn't do any dissipating." "I'm not going to," said Tom shortly, as he passed on. "Do you suppose he heard what we said?" asked Gerhart, as the shadows swallowed up Tom. "No; but it doesn't make much difference. He wouldn't understand. Now, do you think you can do it?" "Of course. What I want to do is to keep him laid up for several weeks. That will give me an opportunity of getting back on the eleven. He was responsible for me being dropped, and now it's my turn." "But are you sure it will work?" "Of course. I know just how to make the stuff. A fellow told me. If we can substitute it for his regular liniment it will do the trick all right." "That part will be easy enough. I can think up a scheme for that. But will it do him any permanent harm? I shouldn't want to get into trouble." "No, it won't harm him any. It will make him so he can't use his arm for a while, but that's what we want. The effects will pass away in about a month, just too late to let him get on the eleven." "All right; if you know what you're doing, I'll help. Now then, where will we get the stuff?" "I know all about that part. But let's get off this bridge. It's too public. Come to a quieter place, where we can talk." "I know a good place. There's a quiet little joint in town, where we can get a glass of beer." "Will it be safe?" "Sure. Come on," and Langridge and his crony disappeared in the darkness, talking, meanwhile, of a dastardly plot they had evolved to disable Phil Clinton. Tom kept on his way to the trolley. "I wonder what Langridge and Gerhart meant?" he thought as he quickened his pace on hearing an approaching car. "Perhaps Gerhart thought he had a chance to get back on the team, because Phil is laid up. But I don't believe he has." But Tom's interpretation of the words he had heard was far from the truth. Phil Clinton was in grave danger. CHAPTER IX SOME GIRLS Tom thought the fifteen-mile trolley ride to Fairview was an unusually long one, but, as a matter of fact, it was soon accomplished, for he caught an express, and about eight o'clock that night arrived in the town where the co-educational institution was located. "Now to find Phil's sister," he said half aloud, as he headed for the college. He knew the way well, for he had been there several times before in the previous spring, when his team played baseball.