# The Eight-Oared Victors/Chapter 5
#### CHAPTER V
##### THE CLUE

Frank Simpson stared at the Boxer Hall lad for a moment, and then sank back in the chair which Sid Henderson had replaced for him. Harry seemed to breathe easier, and certainly there were looks of relief on the faces of his companions.
"A joke?" repeated Frank, grimly. "Well, if that is your idea of a joke, all I have to say is that your early education was sadly neglected. Fellows, I guess it's my treat. Some more of those seltzer lemonades, waiter," and turning his back, with studied indifference, on the Boxer Hall lads, Frank began to chat with his friends.
There was an uneasy movement among the students from Boxer Hall.
"I tell you he insulted me!" Harry could be heard to fiercely whisper, as he made an effort to rise.
"Now you sit right still!" said Dave Ogden, firmly. "If there was any insulting done, it was on your part first. I tell you to drop it. Randall is our rival, in more ways than one, but no one ever yet accused her of unfair tactics—least of all ​any of those fellows. You cut it out, Cedstrom, or you won't know what happened to you!"
"That's right," chimed in Pinky Davenport, another Boxer lad. "That was a raw thing for you to say, Cedstrom, and it might make trouble for us."
"I don't care!" exclaimed the other, defiantly. "I wanted to take those fellows down a peg. The idea of them thinking they can row us!"
"Well, we'll give them all the chance in the world," declared Dave, good-naturedly; "but I think they'll never see the bow of our shell in an eight-oared race. It takes more than one season to turn out champions."
"That's right," agreed Pinky. "But you go a bit slow, Cedstrom. Those fellows are good friends of ours, even if they are rivals."
"All right—no harm intended," said the other, seeing that he had gone too far.
Aside from uneasy glances from time to time toward their rivals, our friends showed no further interest in the unpleasant incident. It had not come to the notice of others in the restaurant, for the students were in a room that, by custom, was set aside for their exclusive use.
"You got his number all right, Frank," commented Phii.
"That's what," chimed in Sid.
"Well, I wasn't going to stand for any crack ​like that," declared Frank. "Especially from a Freshman. He may have meant it, and he may not, but the time to put the screws on is in the beginning."
The two parties broke up soon after that, most of the Boxer Hall boys nodding friendly goodnights to their rivals as they passed out.
"What's the matter, Frank?" asked Tom, a little later, as they gathered in their common study, and the tall pitcher "flopped" down beside his chum on the old sofa. At once there was a cracking, splintering sound, and Sid cried out in alarm.
"Cheese it, you fellows! Do you want to spoil that completely? Remember it's an invalid."
"I should say so!" cried Tom, getting off as carefully as a skater goes over thin ice, while Frank held his breath. "I didn't mean to come down so hard."
"Oh, student spare that couch, Touch not a single spring. In sleep it resteth me, As nice as anything!"
Thus Phil misquoted, adapting it to suit his needs.
"Punk!" commented Tom.
"Fierce!" cried Sid. "That's an old one."
"Say, you fellows don't know good poetry when it comes up and shakes hands with you," declared ​Phil, in disgusted tones. "I'm going to frame that."
"We'll have to have a new frame for the couch if Tom does any more of his gymnastic stunts," declared Frank, as he loked to see what damage had been done. "The back's nearly broken again," he added.
"Kindly forgive me," spoke the pitcher, in contrite tones. "But those two hulks have the armchairs, and I wanted some place to rest. I guess we'll have to invest in another chair, if that couch is only going to hold one."
"We will not, you vandal!" exclaimed Phil. "Sit on the alarm clock, if you want to, or flop down on the floor, or to go to bed; but you don't go getting any new, modern, ugly, incongruous furniture into this den."
"Oh, I didn't mean that," Tom hastened to explain. "I meant pick up a second-hand one somewhere."
"That mightn't be so bad," admitted Frank.
"But say, what ails you, anyhow?" went on Tom, turning to the Big Californian, as though to change the subject. "I was asking you that when they raised this row about the old couch."
"Don't you call that an 'old couch' unless in terms of the deepest respect!" cried Phil.
"I meant it strictly in the Pickwickian sense," Tom hastened to explain. "But, Frank, is there anything up?"
​"Well, yes, there is," admitted the other.
His chums looked at him curiously.
"I hope you didn't take that Boxer Hall puppy's remarks seriously," went on Tom.
"Not seriously, no; and yet what he said has set me to thinking."
"Hurray! Frank's thinking at last!" cried Sid. "Send word to Pitchfork, and he'll give you a double stunt in Latin."
"No, but seriously," went on the Big Californian, "you heard what he said. In a joking way, as I really think he meant It, he suggested that we might know something of the missing cups and jewelry, seeing that we were first on the scene—or, at least, as far as is known. Now if he thought that—even In a joke—and the jeweler thought It seriously—as I am convinced he did—though he soon passed It up—why shouldn't other people?"
"Do you think they do?" asked Sid.
"They might, and what I've been thinking is that we can't afford to have even the slightest suspicion hanging over us."
"But does there?" demanded Tom.
"I don't know—there's a possibility that there might. You see, fellows, we could have taken those things!"
"We could!" cried Phil.
"Certainly. Just figure it out for a moment," went on Frank. "We might as well look at this ​thing fairly and squarely. Say that box of jewelry was in the wrecked boat when we found it on the point of Crest Island. Say we found it to contain the Boxer Hall trophies. We could have taken them even for a joke; couldn't we?"
"Yes, but we didn't," declared Phil.
"No, but that won't stop people from thinking so. They may set it down as a college prank, but, even so, they'll think it just the same."
"Well?" asked Sid, as Frank paused.
"Well, that's what I was thinking of when Tom plumped down, and broke the sofa."
"I didn't break it."
"You came mighty near it," went on Frank. "I was turning that over in my mind after what happened in the restaurant, and I've got something to propose."
"What is it?" demanded Phil, leaning forward so interestedly and suddenly that the old armchair creaked and groaned dismally, and a cloud of dust arose from its ancient upholstery.
"I think we ought to go back to Crest Island, and make a search. We may find that box of cups and jewelry caught in some cleft of the rocks, or we may find——"
Again Frank paused.
"What?" asked Tom.
"A clue to who did take it—if it was taken."
​There was a moment of silence, and then Sid exclaimed:
"Frank's dead right! We'll go to Crest Island to-morrow and hunt for clues."
Eagerly the matter was discussed, and in the end all four agreed that they would make the search. Then came an hour of studying, and the lights went out.
"Oh, for the love of baked beans!" exclaimed Tom, as they were all settled comfortable in bed. "Somebody stop that clock, will you? I'll furnish the toothpick."
"Get up and do it yourself," directed Frank. "I'm too comfortable."
"So am I," said Sid.
"Same here," came from Phil.
"Then I suppose I've got to," groaned Tom, and in the end he did. Then, with the fussy, little alarmer quiet, the chums dropped off, their thoughts lasting longest on the prospective races, and on the queer muddle of the lost trophies.
"Well, here's where the boat was," said Tom, as they landed on Crest Island the next afternoon.
"But it's gone now," added Phil.
"Yes, probably Mr. Farson had it towed away on a barge to see if he could save any of it. My opinion is that it wasn't worth it," said Sid.
"Well, let's scatter, two going down one shore of the Island, and two on the other," suggested ​Frank. "When the boat struck on the rocks, and split, the things in the lockers may have floated one way or the other."
"If they didn't sink," put In Tom. "A box of jewelry would be pretty heavy."
"If it sank, so much the better," declared the Big Callfornlan. "Then it would lodge, and when the waters went down, as they did after the flood, it would still stay there. Scatter and hunt."
They took his advice, and for an hour or more searched. Then Tom, who was with Frank, on the eastern shore, sprang toward a clump of bushes in which was caught some driftwood.
"I've found something!" he cried. "It looks like the seat lockers of a motor-boat."
"It is," declared his chum, as he hurried to Tom's side. There, in the debris that had settled around the roots of the bush when the waters had subsided, was part of a boat locker. It was split and broken, but the cover was still on it. Eagerly Tom lifted it and, as he did so he uttered a cry of delight.
"Here it is!" he shouted. "The jeweler's box! It has his name on it!"
"Open it!" exclaimed Frank, as Sid and Phil came hurrying to join their two chums.
Tom lifted the cover.
"Empty!" he cried, blankly.