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diff --git a/1348-h/1348-h.htm b/1348-h/1348-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..217b8f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/1348-h/1348-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7766 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Master's Degree, by Margaret Hill Mccarter + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1348 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A MASTER'S DEGREE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Margaret Hill McCarter + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO THE KANSAS BOYS AND GIRLS + WHO HAVE NOT YET EARNED THEIR DEGREES; + AND TO THOSE OLDER IN YEARS, EVERYWHERE, + “CAPTAINS OVER HUNDREDS,” + WHO WOULD WIN TO THE LARGER MASTERY. + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the old days there were angels who came and + took men by the hand and led them away from the + city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels + now. But yet men are led away from threatening + destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads + them gently forth toward a calm and bright land, so + that they look no more backward; and the hand may + be a little child's. + + GEORGE ELIOT + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A MASTER'S DEGREE</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE MEETING </a> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + “DEAN FUNNYBONE” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + POTTER'S CLAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + PIGEON PLACE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE STORM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GAME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DAY OF RECKONING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + LOSS, OR GAIN? + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + GAIN, OR LOSS? + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SILVER PITCHER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DERELICTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MASTERY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + A MASTER'S DEGREE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MEETING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ...There is neither East nor West, Border, nor + Breed, nor Birth, + When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they + come from the ends of the earth! + KIPLING +</pre> + <p> + IT happened by mere chance that the September day on which Professor + Vincent Burgess, A.B., from Boston, first entered Sunrise College as + instructor in Greek, was the same day on which Vic Burleigh, overgrown + country boy from a Kansas claim out beyond the Walnut River, signed up + with the secretary of the College Board and paid the entrance fee for his + freshman year. And further, by chance, it happened that the two young men + had first met at the gateway to the campus, one coming from the East and + the other from the West, and having exchanged the courtesies of stranger + greeting, they had walked, side by side, up the long avenue to the foot of + the slope. Together, they had climbed the broad flight of steps leading up + to the imposing doorway of Sunrise, with the great letter S carved in + stone relief above it; and, after pausing a moment to take in the + matchless wonder of the landscape over which old Sunrise keeps watch, the + college portal had swung open, and the two had entered at the same time. + </p> + <p> + Inside the doorway the Professor and the country boy were impressed, + though in differing degrees, with the massive beauty of the rotunda over + which the stained glass of the dome hangs a halo of mellow radiance. + Involuntarily they lifted their eyes toward this crown of light and saw + far above them, wrought in dainty coloring, the design of the great State + Seal of Kansas, with its inscription They saw something more in that + upward glance. On the stairway of the rotunda, Elinor Wream, the niece of + the president of Sunrise College, was leaning over the balustrade, looking + at them with curious eyes. Her smile of recognition as she caught sight of + Professor Burgess, gave place to an expression of half-concealed ridicule, + as she glanced down at Vic Burleigh, the big, heavy-boned young fellow, so + grotesquely impossible to the harmony of the place. + </p> + <p> + As the two men dropped their eyes, they encountered the upturned face of a + plainly dressed girl coming up the stairs from the basement, with a big + feather duster in her hand. It was old Bond Saxon's daughter Dennie, who + was earning her tuition by keeping the library and offices in order. As if + to even matters, it was Vic Burleigh who caught a token of recognition + now, while the young Professor was surveyed with fearless disapproval. + </p> + <p> + All this took only a moment of time. Long afterward these two men knew + that in that moment an antagonism was born between them that must fight + itself out through the length of days. But now, Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, Dean + of Sunrise, known to students and alumni alike as “Dean Funnybone,” was + grasping each man's hand with a cordial grip and measuring each with a + keen glance from piercing black eyes, as he bade them equal welcome. + </p> + <p> + And here all likeness of conditions ends for these two. Days come and go, + moons wax and wane, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter + glide fourfold through their appointed seasons, before the two young men + stand side by side on a common level again. And the events of these + changing seasons ring in so rapidly, and in so inevitable a fashion, that + the whole cycle runs like a real story along the page. + </p> + <p> + STRIFE + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>With the first faint note out of distance flung, + From the moment man hears the siren call + Of Victory's bugle, which sounds for all, + To his inner self the promise is made + To weary not, rest not, but all unafraid + Press on—till for him the paean be sung. + + The song for the victor is sweet, is sweet— + Yet to the music a memory clings + Of trampled nestlings, of broken wings, + And of faces white with defeat!</i> + —ELIZABETH D. PRESTON +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. “DEAN FUNNYBONE” + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Nature they say, doth dote, + And cannot make a man + Save on some worn-out plan, + Repeating us by rote: + For him her Old-World moulds aside she threw, + ............................. + With stuff untainted, + shaped a hero new</i>.—LOWELL +</pre> + <p> + DR. LLOYD FENNEBEN, Dean of Sunrise College, had migrated to the Walnut + Valley with the founding of the school here. In fact, he had brought the + college with him when he came hither, and had set it, as a light not to be + hidden, on the crest of that high ridge that runs east of the little town + of Lagonda Ledge. And the town eagerly took the new school to itself; at + once its pride and profit. Yea, the town rises and sets with Sunrise. When + the first gleam of morning, hidden by the east ridge from the Walnut + Valley, glints redly from the south windows of the college dome in the + winter time, and from the north windows in the summer time, the town + bestirs; itself, and the factory whistles blow. And when the last crimson + glory of evening puts a halo of flame about the brow of Sunrise, the + people know that out beyond the Walnut River the day is passing, and the + pearl-gray mantle of twilight is deepening to velvety darkness on the + wide, quiet prairie lands. + </p> + <p> + Lagonda Ledge was a better place after the college settled permanently + above it. Some improvident citizens took a new hold on life, while some + undesirables who had lived in lawless infamy skulked across the Walnut and + disappeared in that rough picturesque region full of uncertainties that + lies behind the west bluffs of the stream. All this, after the college had + found an abiding place on the limestone ridge. For Sunrise had been a + migratory bird before reaching the outskirts of Lagonda Ledge. As a + fulfillment of prophecy, it had arisen from the visions and pockets of + some Boston scholars, and it had come to the West and was made flesh—or + stone—and dwelt among men on the outskirts of a booming young Kansas + town. + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben was just out of Harvard when Dr. Joshua Wream, his + step-brother, many years his senior, professor of all the dead languages + ever left unburied, had put a considerable fortune into his hands, and + into his brain the dream of a life-work—even the building of a great + university in the West. For the Wreams were a stubborn, self-willed, + bookish breed, who held that salvation of souls could come only through + possession of a college diploma. Young Fenneben had come to Kansas with + all his youth and health and money, with high ideals and culture and + ambition for success and dreams of honor—and, hidden deep down, the + memory of some sort of love affair, but that was his own business. With + this dream of a new Harvard on the western prairies, he had burned his + bridges behind him, and in an unbusiness-like way, relying too much upon a + board of trustees whom he had interested in his plans he had eagerly begun + his task, struggling to adapt the West to his university model, measuring + all men and means by the scholarly rule of his Alma Mater. Being a young + man, he took himself full seriously, and it was a tremendous blow to his + sense of dignity when the youthful Jayhawkers at the outset dubbed him + “Dean Funnybone”—a name he was never to lose. + </p> + <p> + His college flourished so amazingly that another boom town, farther + inland, came across the prairie one day, and before the eyes of the young + dean bought it of the money-loving trustees—body and soul and dean—and + packed it off as the Plains Indians would carry off a white captive, miles + away to the westward. Plumped down in a big frame barracks in the public + square of twenty acres in the middle of this new town, at once real estate + dealers advertised the place as the literary center of Kansas; while lots + in straggling additions far away across the prairie draws were boomed as + “college flats within walking distance of the university.” + </p> + <p> + In this new setting Lloyd Fenneben started again to build up what had been + so recklessly torn down. But it was slow doing, and in a downcast hour the + head of the board of trustees took council with the young dean. + </p> + <p> + “Funnybone, that's what the boys call you, ain't it?” The name had come + along over the prairie with the school. “Funnybone, you are as likely a + man as ever escaped from Boston. But you're never going to build the East + into the West, no more'n you could ram the West into the Atlantic seaboard + states. My advice to you is to get yourself into the West for good and + drop your higher learnin' notions, and be one of us, or beat it back to + where you came from quick.” + </p> + <p> + Dean Fenneben listened as a man who hears the reading of his own obituary. + </p> + <p> + “You've come out to Kansas with beautiful dreams,” the bluff trustee + continued. “Drop 'em! You're too late for the New England pioneers who + come West. They've had their day and passed on. The thing for you to do is + to commercialize yourself right away. Go to buyin' and sellin' dirt. It's + all a man can do for Kansas now. Just boom her real estate.” + </p> + <p> + “All a man can do for Kansas!” Fenneben repeated slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, and I'll tell you something more. This town is busted, absolutely + busted. I, and a few others, brought this college here as an investment + for ourselves. It ain't paid us, and we've throwed the thing over. I've + just closed a deal with a New Jersey syndicate that gets me rid of every + foot of ground I own here. The county-seat's goin' to be eighteen miles + south, and it will be kingdom come, a'most, before the railroad extension + is any nearer 'n that. Let your university go, and come with me. I can + make you rich in six months. In six weeks the coyotes will be howlin' + through your college halls, and the prairie dogs layin' out a townsite on + the campus, and the rattlesnakes coilin' round the doorsteps. Will you + come, Funnybone?” + </p> + <p> + The trustee waited for an answer. While he waited, the soul of the young + dean found itself. + </p> + <p> + “Funnybone!” Lloyd repeated. “I guess that's just what I need—a + funny bone in my anatomy to help me to see the humor of this thing. Go + with you and give up my college? Build up the prosperity of a commonwealth + by starving its mind! No, no; I'll go on with the thing I came here to do—so + help me God!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll soon go to the devil, you and your old school. Good-by!” And the + trustee left him. + </p> + <p> + A month later, Dean Fenneben sat alone in his university barracks and saw + the prairie dogs making the dust fly as they digged about what had been + intended for a flower bed on the campus. Then he packed up his meager + library and other college equipments and walked ten miles across the + plains to hire a man with a team to haul them away. The teamster had much + ado to drive his half-bridle-wise Indian ponies near enough to the + university doorway to load his wagon. Before the threshold a huge + rattlesnake lay coiled, already disputing any human claim to this kingdom + of the wild. + </p> + <p> + Discouraging as all this must have been to Fenneben, when he started away + from the deserted town he smiled joyously as a man who sees his road fair + before him. + </p> + <p> + “I might go back to Cambridge and poke about after the dead languages + until my brother passes on, and then drop into his chair in the + university,” he said to himself, “but the trustee was right. I can never + build the East into the West. But I can learn from the East how to bring + the West into its own kingdom. I can make the dead languages serve me the + better to speak the living words here. And if I can do that, I may earn a + Master's Degree from my Alma Mater without the writing of a learned thesis + to clinch it. But whether I win honor or I am forgotten, this shall be my + life-work—out on these Kansas prairies, to till a soil that shall + grow MEN AND WOMEN.” + </p> + <p> + For the next three years Dean Fenneben and his college flourished on the + borders of a little frontier town, if that can be called flourishing which + uses up time, and money, and energy, Christian patience, and dogged + persistence. Then an August prairie fire, sweeping up from the southwest, + leaped the narrow fire-guard about the one building and burned up + everything there, except Dean Fenneben. Six years, and nothing to show for + his work on the outside. Inside, the six years' stay in Kansas had seen + the making over of a scholarly dreamer into a hard-headed, far-seeing, + masterful man, who took the West as he found it, but did not leave it so. + Not he! All the power of higher learning he still held supreme. But by + days of hard work in the college halls, and nights of meditation out in + the silent sanctuary spaces of the prairies round about him, he had been + learning how to compute the needs of men as the angel with the golden reed + computed the walls and gates of the New Jerusalem—<i>according to + the measure of a man</i>. + </p> + <p> + Such was Dean Fenneben who came after six years of service to the little + town of Lagonda Ledge to plant Sunrise on the crest above the Walnut + Valley beyond reach of prairie fire or bursting boom. Firm set as the + limestone of its foundations, he reared here a college that should live, + for that its builder himself with his feet on the ground and his face + toward the light had learned the secret of living. + </p> + <p> + Miles away across the valley, the dome of Sunrise could be seen by day. By + night, the old college lantern at first, and later the studding of + electric lights, made a beacon for all the open countryside. But if the + wayfarer, by chance or choice, turned his footsteps to those rocky bluffs + and glens beyond the Walnut River, wherefrom the town of Lagonda Ledge + takes its name, he lost the guiding ray from the hilltop and groped in + black and dangerous ways where darkness rules. + </p> + <p> + Above the south turret hung the Sunrise bell, whose resonant voice filled + the whole valley, and what the sight of Sunrise failed to do for Lagonda + Ledge, the sound of the bell accomplished. The first class to enter the + school nicknamed its head “Dean Funnybone,” but this gave him no shock any + more. He had learned the humor of life now, the spirit of the open land + where the view is broad to broadening souls. + </p> + <p> + And it was to the hand of Dean Fenneben that Professor Vincent Burgess, + A.B., Greek instructor from Boston, and Vic Burleigh, the big country boy + from a claim beyond the Walnut, came on a September day; albeit, the one + had his head in the clouds, while the other's feet were clogged with the + grass roots. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. POTTER'S CLAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, + Follows the motion of my hand, + For some must follow and some command, + Though all are made of clay</i>. + —LONGFELLOW +</pre> + <p> + THE afternoon sunshine was flooding the September landscape with molten + gold, filling the valley with intense heat, and rippling back in warm + waves from the crest of the ridge. Dean Fenneben's study in the south + tower of Sunrise looked out on the new heaven and the new earth, every + day-dawn created afresh for his eyes; for truly, the Walnut Valley in any + mood needs only eyes that see to be called a goodly land. And it was + because of the magnificent vista, unfolding in woodland, and winding + river, and fertile field, and far golden prairie—it was because of + the unconscious power of all this upon the student mind, that Dr. Fenneben + had set his college up here. + </p> + <p> + On this September afternoon, the Dean sat looking out on this land of pure + delight a-quiver in the late summer sunshine. Nature had done well by + Lloyd Fenneben. His height was commanding, and he was slender, rather than + heavy, with ease of movement as if the play of every muscle was nerved to + harmony. His heavy black hair was worn a trifle long on the upper part of + his head and fell in masses above his forehead. His eyes were black and + keen under heavy black brows. Every feature was strong and massive, but + saved from sternness by a genial kindliness and sense of humor. Whoever + came into his presence felt that magnetic power only a king of his kind + can possess. + </p> + <p> + Long the Dean sat gazing at the gleaming landscape and the sleepy town + beyond the campus and the pigeons circling gracefully above a little + cottage, hidden by trees, up the river. + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful region!” he murmured. “If that old white-haired brother of + mine digging about the roots of Greek and Sanscrit back in Harvard could + only see all this, maybe he might understand why I choose to stay here + with my college instead of tying up with a university back East. But, + maybe not. We are only step-brothers. He is old enough to be my father, + and with all his knowledge of books he could never read men. However, he + sent me West with a fat pocketbook in the interest of higher education. I + hope I've invested well. And our magnificent group of buildings up here + and our broad-acred campus, together with our splendid enrollment of + students justify my hope. Strange, I have never known whose money I was + using. Not Joshua Wream's, I know that. Money is nothing to the Wreams + except as it endows libraries, builds colleges, and extends universities. + Too scholarly for these prairies, all of them! Too scholarly!” + </p> + <p> + The Dean's eyes were fixed on a tiny shaft of blue smoke rising steadily + from the rough country in the valley beyond Lagonda Ledge, but his mind + was still on his brother. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Joshua Wream, D.D., Litt.D., LL.D., etc.! He has taken all the + degrees conferable, except the degree of human insight.” Something behind + the strong face sent a line of pathos into it with the thought. “He has + piled up enough for me to look after this fall, anyhow. It was bad enough + for that niece of ours to be left a penniless orphan with only the two + uncles to look after her and both of us bachelors. And now, after he has + been shaping Elinor Wream's life until she is ready for college, he sends + her out here to me, frankly declaring that she is too much for him. She + always was.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to a letter lying on the table beside him, a smile playing about + the frown on his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “He hopes I can do better by Elinor than he has been able to do, because + he's never had a wife nor child to teach him,” he continued, giving word + to his thought. “A fine time for me to begin! No wife nor child has ever + taught me anything. He says she is a good girl, a beautiful girl with only + two great faults. Only two! She's lucky. 'One'”—Fenneben glanced + more closely at the letter—“'is her self-will.' I never knew a Wream + that didn't have that fault. 'And the other'”—the frown drove back + the smile now—“'is her notion of wealth. Nobody but a rich man could + ever win her hand.' She who has been simply reared, with all the Wream + creed that higher education is the final end of man, is set with a + Wream-like firmness in her hatred of poverty, her eagerness for riches and + luxury. And to add to all this responsibility he must send me his pet + Greek scholar, Vincent Burgess, to try out as a professor in Sunrise. A + Burgess, of all men in the world, to be sent to me! Of course this young + man knows nothing of my affairs but is my brother too old and too + scholarly to remember what I've tried a thousand times to forget? I + thought the old wound had healed by this time.” + </p> + <p> + A wave of sadness swept the strong man's face. “I've asked Burgess to come + up at three. I must find out what material is sent here for my shaping. It + is a president's business to shape well, and I must do my best, God help + me!” + </p> + <p> + A shadow darkened Lloyd Fenneben's face, and his black eyes held a strange + light. He stared vacantly at the landscape until he suddenly noted the + slender wavering pillar of smoke beyond the Walnut. + </p> + <p> + “There are no houses in those glens and hidden places,” he thought. “I + wonder what fire is under that smoke on a day like this. It is a far cry + from the top of this ridge to the bottom of that half-tamed region down + there. One may see into three counties here, but it is rough traveling + across the river by day, and worse by night.” + </p> + <p> + The bell above the south turret chimed the hour of three as Vincent + Burgess entered the study. + </p> + <p> + “Take this seat by the window,” Dr. Fenneben said with a genial smile and + a handclasp worth remembering. “You can see an Empire from this point, if + you care to look out.” + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess sat at ease in any presence. He had the face of a scholar, + and the manners of a gentleman. But he gave no sign that he cared to view + the empire that lay beyond the window. + </p> + <p> + “We are to be co-workers for some time, Burgess. May I ask you why you + chose to come to Kansas?” + </p> + <p> + Fenneben came straight to the purpose of the interview. This keen-eyed, + business-like man seemed to Burgess very unlike old Dr. Wream, whom + everybody at Harvard loved and anybody could deceive. But to the direct + question he answered directly and concisely. + </p> + <p> + “I came to study types, to acquire geographical breadth, to have + seclusion, that I may pursue more profound research.” + </p> + <p> + There was a play of light in Dr. Fenneben's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You must judge for yourself of the value of Sunrise and Lagonda Ledge for + seclusion. But we make a specialty of geographical breadth out here. As to + types, they assay fairly well to the ton, these Jayhawkers do.” + </p> + <p> + “What are Jayhawkers, Doctor?” Burgess queried. + </p> + <p> + “Yonder is one specimen,” Fenneben answered, pointing toward the window. + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess, looking out, saw Vic Burleigh leaping up the broad steps + from the level campus, a giant fellow, fully six feet tall. The swing of + strength, void of grace, was in his motion. His face was gypsy-brown under + a crop of sunburned auburn hair. A stiff new derby hat was set bashfully + on a head set unabashed on broad shoulders. The store-mark of the + ready-made was on his clothing, and it was clear that he was less + accustomed to cut stone steps than to springing prairie sod. Clearly he + was a real product of the soil. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that is the young bumpkin I came in with this morning. I thought I + was striding alongside an elephant in bulk and wild horse in speed,” + Burgess said with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “You will have a share in taming him, doubtless,” Dr. Fenneben replied. + “He looks hardly bridle-wise yet. Enter him among your types. I didn't get + his name this morning, but he interested me at once, as a fellow of good + blood if not of good manners, and I have asked him to come in here later. + Some boys must be met on the very threshold of a college if they are to + run safely along the four years.” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Burleigh, Victor Burleigh. I remember it because it is not a + new name to me. Picture him in a cap and gown at home in a library, or + standing up to receive a Master's Degree from a university! His kind leave + about the middle of the second semester and revert to the soil, don't + they?” + </p> + <p> + Burgess laughed pleasantly, and leaned forward to get one more look at the + country boy, disappearing behind a group of evergreens in the north angle + of the building. + </p> + <p> + “They do not always leave so soon as that. You can't tell the grade of + timber every time by the bark outside.” There was a deeper tone in Dr. + Fenneben's voice now. “But as to yourself, you had a motive in coming to + Kansas, I judge. You can study types anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Whether the young man liked this or not, he answered evenly: + </p> + <p> + “I am to give instruction in Greek here at Lagonda Ledge. Beastly name, + isn't it? Suggestive of rattlesnakes, somehow! I shall spend much time in + study, for I am preparing a comprehensive thesis for my Master's Degree. + The very barrenness of these dull prairies will keep me close to my + library for a couple of years.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you will do your work well anywhere,” Dr. Fenneben declared. “You + need not put walls of distances about you for that. I thought you might + have a more definite purpose in choosing this state, of all places.” + </p> + <p> + Fenneben's mind was running back to the days of his own first struggle for + existence in the West, and his heart went out in sympathy to the + undisciplined young professor. + </p> + <p> + “I have a reason, but it is entirely a personal matter.” Burgess was + looking at the floor now. “Did you know I had a sister once?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” Dr. Fenneben said. + </p> + <p> + “She was married and came to Kansas. That was after you left Cambridge, I + suppose. She and her husband are both dead, leaving no children. My father + was bitterly opposed to her coming out here, and never forgave her for it. + He died recently, making me his heir. I've always thought I'd like to see + the state where my sister lived. She died young. She could not have been + as old as you are, and you are a young man yet, Doctor. In addition, my + father left in my care some trust funds for a claimant who also lived in + Kansas. He is dead now, but I want to find out something more definite + concerning him. Outside of this, I hope to do well here and to succeed to + higher places elsewhere, soon. All this personal to myself, and worthy, I + hope.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at Fenneben, who was leaning forward with his elbow on the table + and his head bowed. His face was hidden and his white fingers were thrust + through the heavy masses of black hair. + </p> + <p> + “You will find a great field here in which to work out your success,” the + Dean said at length. “But I must give a word of warning. I tried once to + reproduce the eastern university here. I learned better. If Kansas is to + be your training ground, may I say that the man who opens his front door + for the first time on the green prairies of the West has no less to learn + than the man who first pitches his tent beside the blue Atlantic? Don't + say I didn't show you where to find the blazed trail if you get lost from + it for a little while.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben's face was charming when he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “One other thing I may mention. You know my niece, Elinor? I've been out + here so long, I may need your help in making her feel at home at first.” + </p> + <p> + There was a new light in Burgess's eyes at the mention of Elinor Wream's + name. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know Miss Elinor very well. I shall need her more to make me + feel at home than she will need me.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow the answer was a trifle too quick and smooth to ring right. Dr. + Fenneben forgot it in an instant, however, for Elinor Wream herself came + suddenly into the room, a tall, slender girl, with a face so full of + sunshiny charm that no great defect of character had yet made its mark + there. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Uncle Lloyd; I thought you were alone. How do you do, + Professor Burgess.” She came forward smilingly and offered her hand. + “Makes me homesick for old Cambridge and Uncle Joshua when I see you. I + want to go down to Lagonda Ledge, and I don't know the streets at all. + Don't you want to show me the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you wait for me to do that, Norrie? I have only one more engagement + for the afternoon, and Miss Saxon will be wanting to dust in here soon.” + Dr. Fenneben looked fondly at his niece, a man to make other men jealous, + if occasion offered. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't, Miss Elinor,” Vincent Burgess urged. “I shall be delighted + to explore darkest Kansas with you at any time.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no mistaking that look in a man's eyes,” Dr. Fenneben thought as + he watched the two pass through the rotunda and out of the great front + door. “I have guessed Joshua's plan easily enough, but I've only half + guessed him out. Why did he mention his money matters to me? There is + enough merit in him worth the shaping Sunrise will give him, however, and + I must do a man's part, anyhow. As for Elinor, there's a ready-made + missionary field in her, so Joshua warns me. But he is a poor judge + sometimes. I wish I might have begun with her sooner. I cannot think she + is quite as mercenary as he represents her to be.” + </p> + <p> + Through the window he saw a pretty picture. Outlined against the dark + green cedars of the north angle was Professor Burgess, tall, slender, fair + of face, faultless in dress. Beside him was Elinor Wream, all dainty and + sweet and white, from the broad-brimmed hat set jauntily on her dark hair + to the white bows on the instep of her neat little canvas shoes. A wave of + loneliness swept over Dr. Fenneben's soul as he looked. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a thousand years ago that I was in love and walked in + my Eden. There are no serpents here as there were in mine.” + </p> + <p> + Just then his eyes fell upon the wide stone landing of the campus steps. + At the same moment Elinor gave a scream of fright. A bull snake, big and + ugly, had crawled half out of the burned grasses of the slope and + stretched itself lazily in the sunshine along the warm stone. It roused + itself at the scream, emitting its hoarse hiss, after the manner of bull + snakes. Elinor clutched at her companion's arm, pale with fear. + </p> + <p> + “Kill it! Kill it!” she cried, trying to force her slender white parasol + into his hand. + </p> + <p> + Before he could move, Vic Burleigh leaped out from behind the cedars, and, + picking up a sharp-edged bit of limestone, tipped his hand dexterously and + sent it clean as a knife cut across the space. It struck the snake just + below the head, half severing it from the body. Another leap and Burleigh + had kicked the whole writhing mass—it would have measured five feet—off + the stone into the sunflower stalks and long grasses of the steep slope. + </p> + <p> + “How did you ever dare?” Elinor asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's not poison; he just doesn't belong up here.” + </p> + <p> + The bluntness of timidity was in Vic's answer, but the strength and + musical depth of his resonant voice was almost startling. + </p> + <p> + “There is no Eden without a serpent, Miss Elinor,” Professor Burgess said + lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Nor a serpent without some sort of Eden built around it. The thing's mate + will be along after it pretty soon. Look out for it down there. The best + place to catch it is right behind its ears,” came the boy's quick + response. + </p> + <p> + Burleigh looked back defiantly at Burgess as he disappeared indoors. And + the antagonism born in the meeting of these two men in the morning took on + a tiny degree of strength in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “What a wonderful voice, Vincent. It makes one want to hear it again,” + Elinor exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope never + to see it again,” her companion responded. + </p> + <p> + “But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me,” Elinor + insisted. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Elinor, he was probably born in some Kansas cabin and has + practiced killing snakes all his life. Not a very elevating feat. Let's go + down and explore Lagonda Ledge now before the other snake comes in for the + coroner's inquest.” + </p> + <p> + And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus and on + to the town beyond it. + </p> + <p> + “You are hard on snakes, Burleigh,” Dr. Fenneben said as he welcomed the + country boy into his study. “A bull snake is a harmless creature, and he + is the farmer's friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend of mine,” Vic + replied. + </p> + <p> + He was overflowing the chair recently graced by Professor Burgess and + clutching his derby as if it might escape and leave him bareheaded + forever. His face had a dogged expression and his glance was stern. Yet + his direct words and the deep richness of his voice put him outside of the + class of commonplace beginners. + </p> + <p> + “Are you fond of killing things?” the Dean asked. + </p> + <p> + The ruddy color deepened in Vic Burleigh's brown cheek, but the steadfast + gaze of his eyes and the firm lines of his mouth told the head of Sunrise + something of what he would find in the sturdy young Jayhawker. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” came the blunt answer. “I've always lived on a Kansas claim. + Unless you know what that means you might not understand—how hard a + life”—Vic stopped abruptly and squeezed the rim of his derby. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. We take only face value here. Fine view from that window,” + and Lloyd Fenneben's genial smile began to win the heart of the country + boy as most young hearts were won to him. + </p> + <p> + Burleigh leaned toward the window, forgetful of the chair arms he had + striven to subdue, the late afternoon sunlight falling on his brown face + and glinting in his auburn hair. + </p> + <p> + “It's as pretty as paradise,” he said, simply. “There's nothing like our + Kansas prairies.” + </p> + <p> + “You come from the plains out west, I hear. How long do you plan to stay + here, Burleigh?” Dr. Fenneben asked. + </p> + <p> + “Four years if I can make it go. I've got a little schooling and I know + how to herd cattle. I need more than this, if I am only a country boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Who pays for your schooling, yourself, or your father?” Fenneben queried. + </p> + <p> + “I have no father nor mother now.” + </p> + <p> + “You are willing to work four years to get a diploma from Sunrise? It is + hard work; all the harder if you have not had much schooling before it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm willing to work, and I'd like to have the diploma for it,” Vic + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Burleigh, did you notice the letter S carved in the stone above the + door?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I suppose it stands for Sunrise?” + </p> + <p> + “It does. But with the years it will take on new meanings for you. When + you have learned all these meanings you will be ready for your diploma—and + more. You will be far on your way to the winning of a Master's Degree.” + </p> + <p> + Vic's eyes widened with a sort of child-like simplicity. He forgot his hat + and the chair arms, and Dr. Fenneben noted for the first time that his + golden-brown eyes matching his auburn hair were shaded by long black + lashes, the kind artists rave about, and arched over with black brows. + </p> + <p> + “His eyes and voice are all right,” was the Dean's mental comment. + “There's good blood in his veins, I'll wager.” + </p> + <p> + But before he could speak further the shrill scream of a frightened child + came from the campus below the ridge. At the cry Vic Burleigh sprang to + his feet, upsetting his chair, and without stopping to pick it up, he + rushed from the building. + </p> + <p> + As he tore down the long flight of steps, Lloyd Fenneben caught sight of a + child on the level campus running toward him as fast as its fat little + legs could toddle. Two minutes later Vic Burleigh was back in the study, + panting and hot, with the little one clinging to his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, please,” Vic said as he lifted the fallen chair. “I forgot all + about Bug down there, and the widow Bull”—he gave a half-smile—“was + wriggling around trying to find her mate, and scared him. He's too little + to be left alone, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Bug was a sturdy, stubby three-year-old, or less, dimpled and brown, with + big dark eyes and a tangle of soft little red-brown ringlets. As Vic + seated himself, Bug perched on the arm of the chair inside of the big + boy's encircling arm. + </p> + <p> + “Who is your friend? Is he your brother?” asked the Dean. + </p> + <p> + “No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, except that his + name is Buler. Bug Buler, he says.” + </p> + <p> + Little Bug put up a chubby brown hand loving-wise to Vic Burleigh's brown + cheek, and, looking straight at Dr. Fenneben with wide serious eyes, he + asked, + </p> + <p> + “Is you dood to Vic?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” replied the Dean. + </p> + <p> + “Nen, I like you fornever,” Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightly + that his checks puffed. + </p> + <p> + “How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?” questioned + Fenneben. + </p> + <p> + “Because he's got nobody else to look after him,” answered Vic. + </p> + <p> + “How about an orphan asylum?” + </p> + <p> + Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, and every + feature of his stern face softened. + </p> + <p> + “Will it make any difference about him if I get my lessons, sir? I can't + let Bug go now. We are the limit for each other—neither of us got + anybody else. I take care of him, but he keeps me from getting too coarse + and rough. Every fellow needs something innocent and good about him + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Keep him if you want him. But would you mind telling me about + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather not now,” Burleigh said, quietly, and Lloyd Fenneben knew when + to drop a subject. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm through with you for today, Burleigh. I must let Miss Saxon have + my room now. Come here whenever you like, and bring Bug if you care to.” + </p> + <p> + Sunrise students always left Dr. Fenneben's study with a little more of + self-respect than when they entered it; richer, not so much from the word + as from the spirit of the head of Sunrise. Victor Burleigh with little Bug + Buler's fat fist clasped in his big, hard hand walked out of the college + door that afternoon with the unconscious baptism of the student upon him, + the dim sense of a fellowship with a scholarly master of books and of men. + </p> + <p> + Back in his study Lloyd Fenneben sat looking out once more at the Empire + that meant nothing but dreary distances to the scholarly professor of + Greek, and seemed a paradise to the untrained young fellow from the + prairies. + </p> + <p> + “I see my stint of cloth for the day,” he murmured. “A college professor + in the making who has much to unlearn; a crude young giant who is fond of + killing things, and cares for helpless children; and a beautiful, wilful, + characterless girl to be shown into her womanly heritage. The clay is + ready. It is the potter whose hands need skill. Victor Burleigh! Victor + Burleigh! There's my greatest problem of all three. He has the strength of + a Titan in those arms, and the passion of a tiger behind those innocent + yellow eyes. God keep me on the hilltop nor let my feet once get into the + dark and dangerous ways!” + </p> + <p> + He looked long at the landscape radiant under the level rays of splendor + streaming from the low afternoon sun. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder who built that fire, and what that pillar of smoke meant this + afternoon. The mystery of our lives hangs some token in each day.” + </p> + <p> + The shadows were gathering in the Walnut Valley, the pigeons about the + cottage up the river, were in their cotes now, the heat of the day was + over, and with one more look at the far peaceful prairies Dr. Lloyd + Fenneben closed his study door and passed out into the cool September air. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. PIGEON PLACE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Strange is the wind and the tide, + The heavens eternally wide; + Less fathomed, this life at my side</i>. + —W. H. SIMPSON +</pre> + <p> + THE Sunrise rotunda was ringing with a chorus from three hundred throats + as three hundred students poured out of doors, and over-flowed the ridge + and spilled down the broad steps, making a babel of musical tongues; while + fitting itself to every catchy college air known to Sunrise came the noisy + refrain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + <i>Rah!</i> RAH! RAH!!! +</pre> + <p> + Again it was repeated, swelling along the ridge and floating wide away + over the Walnut Valley. Nor was there a climax of exuberance until the + appearance of Dr. Lloyd Fenneben himself, with his tall figure and + striking presence outlined against the gray stone columns of the veranda. + All this because it was mid-October, a heaven-made autumn day in Kansas, + with its gracious warmth and bracing breath; with the Indian summer haze + in shimmering amethyst and gold overhanging the land; and the Walnut + Valley, gorgeous in the glow of the October frost-fires, winding down + between broad seas of rainbow-radiant prairies. And all this gladness and + grandeur, by the decree of Dr. Fenneben, was given in fee simple to these + three hundred young people for the hours of one perfect day—their + annual autumn holiday. No wonder they filled the air with shouts. And + before the singing had ceased the crowd broke into groups by natural + selection, and the holiday was begun. + </p> + <p> + Whatever bounds of time Nature may give to the seed in which to become a + plant, or to the grub to become a butterfly, there is no set limit wherein + the country-bred boy may bloom into a full-fledged college student. + </p> + <p> + Seven weeks after Vic Burleigh had come alongside the Greek Professor into + Sunrise, found the quick marvelous change from the timid, untrained, + overgrown young giant into a leader of his clan, the pride of the + Freshman, the terror of the Sophomores, the dramatic interest of the + classroom, and the hope of Sunrise on the football gridiron. His + store-made clothes had a jaunty carelessness of fit. The tan had left his + cheek. His auburn hair had lost its sun-burn. His powerful physique, the + charm of his deep voice, the singular beauty of his wide open golden-brown + eyes, with their long black lashes lighting up his rugged face, gave to + him an attractive personality. + </p> + <p> + Yet to Lloyd Fenneben, who saw below the surface, Victor Burleigh was only + at the beginning of things. Something of the tiger light in the brown + eyes, the pride in brute strength, the blunt justice lacking the finer + sense of mercy, showed how wide yet was the distance between the man and + the gentleman. + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Fenneben returned to his study after the hilarious demonstration + he found Dennie Saxon busy with the little film of dust that comes in + overnight. Old Bond Saxon, Dennie's father, had been one of the + improvident of Lagonda Ledge who took a new lease on a livelihood with the + advent of Sunrise. From being a dissipated old fellow drifting toward + pauperism, he became the proprietor of a respectable boarding house for + students, doing average well. At rare intervals, however, he lapsed into + his old ways. During such occasions he kept to the river side of the town. + Sober, he was good-natured and obliging; drunken, he was sullen, with a + disposition to skulk out of sight and be alone. His daughter Dennie had + her father's good-nature combined with a will power all her own. + </p> + <p> + As Dr. Fenneben watched her about her work this morning, he noted how + comfortably she took hold of it. He noted, too, that her heavy + yellow-brown hair was full of ripples just where ripples helped, that her + arms were plump, that she was short and nothing willowy, and that she had + a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?” he asked, presently. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books in my daydreams,” + Dennie answered. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you do your dreaming today?” + </p> + <p> + “A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I must + make the cakes yet this morning,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?” the + Dean queried, smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Burgess is to be our chaperon. He is all we can look after.” + Dennie's gray eyes danced, but she was serious a moment later. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Fenneben, you can do something, maybe, that's none of your business, + nor mine.” Dennie wondered afterward how she could have had the courage to + speak these words. + </p> + <p> + “That's generally the easy thing. What is it?” the Dean smiled. + </p> + <p> + The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite to him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman lives alone + with a fierce dog?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you never heard anything more?” Dennie queried. + </p> + <p> + “Only that the house is hidden from the road and has many pigeons about + it, and that the woman sees few callers. I've never located the place. + Tell me about it,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Bug Buler and I were up there after eggs this morning. Bug is Victor + Burleigh's little boy. They board at our house,” Dennie explained. “Pigeon + Place is a little cottage all covered with vines and with flowers everywhere. + It's hidden away from the road just outside of town. Mrs. Marian isn't + crazy nor queer, only she seldom leaves home, never goes to church, nor + visits anywhere. She doesn't care for anybody, nor take any interest in + Lagonda Ledge, and she keeps a Great Dane dog, as big as a calf, that is + friendly to women and children, but won't let a man come near, unless Mrs. + Marian says so.” Dennie paused. + </p> + <p> + “Very interesting, Miss Dennie, but what can I do?” Fenneben asked. “Shall + I kill the dog and carry off the woman like the regulation grim ogre of + the fairy tales?” + </p> + <p> + Dennie hesitated. Few girls would have come to a college president on such + a mission as hers. But then few college presidents are like Lloyd + Fenneben. + </p> + <p> + “Of course nobody likes Mrs. Marian, and my father—when he's not + quite himself—says dreadful things if I mention her name.” Dennie's + checks were crimson as she thought of her father. “It's none of my + business, but I've felt sorry for Mrs. Marian ever since she came here. + She seems like an innocent outcast.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very pitiful.” Lloyd Fenneben's voice was sympathetic. + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” continued Dennie, “Bug was playing with the dog outside, + and I went into the house for the first time. Mrs. Marian is very + pleasant. She asked me about my work here and I told her about Sunrise and + you, and your niece, Miss Elinor, being here.” + </p> + <p> + “All the interesting features. Did you mention Professor Burgess?” The + query was innocently meant, but it brought the color to Dennie Saxon's + cheek. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't think he was in that class,” she replied, quickly. “But what + surprised me was her interest in things. She is a pretty, refined, + young-looking woman, with gray hair. When I was leaving I turned back to + ask about some eggs for Saturday. She thought I was gone, and she had + dropped her head on the table and was crying, so I slipped out without her + knowing.” Dennie's gray eyes were full of tears now. “Dr. Fenneben, if + talking about Sunrise made her do that, maybe you might do something for + her. I pity her so. Nobody seems to care about her. My father is set + against her when he is not responsible, and he might—” She stopped + abruptly and did not finish the sentence. + </p> + <p> + The Dean looked out of the window at the purple mist melting along the + horizon line. Down in the valley pigeons were circling above a wooded spot + at a bend in the Walnut River. Fenneben remembered now that he had seen + them there many times. He had a boyhood memory of a country home with + pigeons flying about it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish, too, that I might do something,” he said at last. “You say she + will not let men inside her gate now. I'll keep her in mind, though. The + gate may open some time.” + </p> + <p> + It was mid-afternoon when Lloyd Fenneben left his study for a stroll. As + he approached the Saxon House, he saw old Bond Saxon slipping out of the + side gate and with uncertain steps skulk down the alley. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old sinner! What a slave and a fool whisky can make of a man!” he + thought. Then he remembered Dennie's anxiety of the morning. “There must + be some cause for his prejudice against this strange hermit woman when he + is drunk. Bond Saxon is not a man to hate anybody when he is sober.” + </p> + <p> + “Is you Don Fonnybone?” Bug Buler's little piping voice from the doorstep + haled the Dean. “I finked Vic would turn, and he don't turn, and I 's + hungry for somebody. May I go wis you, Don Fonnybone?” The baby lips + quivered. + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we go, Bug? I 'm hungry for somebody, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's do find the bunny the bid dod ist scared away this morning. Turn + on!” + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben was hardly conscious that Bug was choosing their path as + the two strolled away together. Everywhere there was the pathos of a + waning autumn day, and a soft haze creeping out of the west was making a + blood-red carbuncle of the sun, set as a jewel on the amber-veiled bosom + of the sky. The air was soft, wooing the spirit to a still, sweet peace. + The two were at the outskirts of Lagonda Ledge now. The last board walk + was three blocks back, and the cinder-made way had dwindled to a bare hard + path by the roadside. A bend in the river cutting close to the road shows + a long vista of the Walnut bordered by vine-draped shrubbery and overhung + with trees. A slab of limestone beside a huge elm tree had been placed at + this bend to prevent the bank from breaking, or a chance misdriving into + the water. + </p> + <p> + “I 's pitty tired,” Bug said as the two reached the stone. “Will we tum to + the bunny's house pitty soon?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll rest here a while and maybe the bunny will come out to meet us,” + Dr. Fenneben said, and they sat down on the broad stone. + </p> + <p> + “It was somewhere here the bunny runned.” Little Bug studied the roadside + with a quaint puzzled face. “Is you 'faid of snakes?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very much.” The Dean's eyes were on the graceful flight of pigeons + circling about the trees beyond the bend. + </p> + <p> + “Vic isn't 'faid. He killed bid one, two, five, free wattle, wattle snakes—” + Bug caught his breath suddenly—“He told me not to tell that. I + fordot. I don't 'member. He didn't do it—he didn't killed no snakes + fornever.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben gave little heed to this prattle. His eyes were on the + pigeons cleaving the air with short, graceful flights. Presently he felt + the soft touch of baby curls against his hand, and little Bug had fallen + asleep with his drooping head on Fenneben's lap. + </p> + <p> + The Dean gently placed the tired little one in an easy position, and + rested his shoulder against the tree. + </p> + <p> + “That must be Pigeon Place,” he mused. “Every town has its odd characters. + This is one of Lagonda Ledge's little mysteries. Dennie finds it a + pathetic one. How graceful those pigeons are!” And his thoughts drifted to + a far New England homestead where pigeons used to sweep about an old barn + roof. + </p> + <p> + A fuzzy gray rabbit flashed across the road, followed by a Great Dane dog + in hot chase. + </p> + <p> + “Bug's bunny! I hope the big murderer will miss it,” Fenneben thought. + </p> + <p> + The roadside bushes half hid him. As the crashing sound of the huge dog + through the underbrush ceased he noticed a woman coming leisurely toward + him. Her arms were full of bitter-sweet berries and flaming autumn leaves. + She wore no hat and Fenneben saw that her gray hair was wound like a + coronal about her head. Before he could catch sight of her face a heavy + staggering step was beside him, and old Bond Saxon, muttering and shaking + his clenched fists, passed beyond him toward the woman. Lloyd Fenneben's + own fists clenched, but he sat stone still. The woman seemed to melt into + the bushes and obliterate herself entirely, while the drunken man stalked + unsteadily on toward where she had been. Then shaking his fists vehemently + at the pigeons, he skulked around the bend in the road. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was out of sight the woman emerged from the bushes, with + autumn leaves hiding her crown of hair. She hastened a few rods toward the + man watching her, then disappeared through a vine-covered gateway into a + wilderness of shrubbery, beyond which the pigeons were cooing about their + cotes. + </p> + <p> + As she closed the gate, she caught sight of Lloyd Fenneben, leaning + motionless against the gray bole of the elm tree. But she was looking + through a tangle of purple oak leaves and twining bitter-sweet branches, + and Fenneben was unconscious of being discovered. + </p> + <p> + “A woman never could whistle,” he smiled, as he listened, “but that call + seems to do for the dog, all right.” + </p> + <p> + The Great Dane was tearing across lots in answer to the trill of a woman's + voice. + </p> + <p> + “She is safe now. But what does it all mean? Is there a wayside tragedy + here that calls for my unraveling?” + </p> + <p> + Attracted by some subtle force beyond his power to check, he turned toward + the river and looked steadily at the still overhanging shrubbery. Just + below him, where the current turns, the quiet waters were lapping about a + ledge of rock. Between that ledge and himself a tangle of bushes clutched + the steep bank. He looked straight into the tangle, just plain twig and + brown leaf, giving place as he stared, for two still black human eyes + looking balefully at him as a snake at its prey. Lloyd Fenneben could not + withdraw his gaze. The two eyes—no other human token visible—just + two cruel human eyes full of human hate were fixed on him. And the + fascination of the thing was paralyzing, horrible. He could not move nor + utter a sound. Bug Buler woke with a little cry. The bushes by the + riverside just rippled—one quiver of motion—and the eyes were + not there. Then Fenneben knew that his heart, which had been still for an + age, had begun to beat again. Bug stared up into his face, dazed from + sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Where's my Vic? Who's dot me?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “We came to hunt the bunny. He's gone away again. Shall we go back home?” + The gentle voice and strong hand soothed the little one. + </p> + <p> + “It's dettin' told. Let's wun home.” Bug cuddled against Fenneben's side + and hugged his hand. “I love you lots,” he said, looking up with eyes of + innocent trust. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let's run home. There is a storm in the air and the sun is hidden + from the valley.” He stooped and kissed the little upturned face. “Thank + heaven for children!” he murmured. “Amid skulking, drunken men and + strange, lonely women, and cruel eyes of unknown beings, they lead us + loving-wise back home again.” + </p> + <p> + Behind the vine-covered gate a gray-haired, fair-faced woman watched the + two as they disappeared down the road. + </p> + <p> + And the blood-red sun out on the west prairie sank swiftly into a blue + cloudbank, presaging the coming of a storm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>And even now, as the night comes, and the shadows + gather round, + And you tell the old-time story, I can almost hear + the sound + Of the horses' hoofs in the silence, and the voices of + struggling men; + For the night is the same forever, and the time + comes back again</i>. + —JAMES W. STEELE +</pre> + <p> + FROM the beginning of things in the Walnut Valley, the Kickapoo Corral had + its uses. Nature built it to this end. The river course follows the + pattern of the letter S faced westward instead of eastward. The upper half + of the letter is properly shaped, but the sharpened curve at the middle + leaves only a narrow distance across the lower space. In this outline runs + the Walnut, its upper curve almost surrounding a little wooded peninsula + that slopes gently on its side to the water's edge. But the farther bank + stands up in a straight limestone bluff forming a high wall of protection + about the river-encircled ground. A less severe bluff crosses the open + part of the peninsula, reaching the hither side of the river below the + sharp bend. The space inside, stone-walled and water-bound, made an ideal + shelter for the wild life that should inhabit it. And Nature saw that it + was good and went away and left it, not forgetting to lock the door upon + it. For the enemy who would enter this protecting shelter must come + through the gateway of the river. There was only one right place to do + this. Deceivingly near to the shallow rock-based ford before the Corral, + so near that only the wise ones knew how to miss it, Nature placed the + cruelest whirlpool that ever swung an even surface up stream, its gentle + motion telling nothing of the fatal suction underneath that level stretch + of steady, slow moving, irresistible water. + </p> + <p> + What use the primitive tribes made of this spot the river has never told. + But in the day of the Kickapoo supremacy it came to its christening. Here + the tribe found a refuge and harbored its stolen plunder. From this wooded + covert it sent its death-singing arrows through the heart of its enemy who + dared to stand in relief on that stone bluff. Here it laughed at the + drowning cries of those who were caught in the fatal whirlpool beyond the + curve in the river wall, and here it endured siege and slaughter when foes + were valiant enough, and numerous enough to storm into its stronghold over + the dead bodies of their own vanguard. + </p> + <p> + Weird and tragical are the legends of the Kickapoo Corral, left for a + stronger race to marvel over. For, with the swing of time, the white man + cut a road down the steep bluff at the sharpest bend and made a ford in + the shallow place between the whirlpool and the old Corral, and the + Nature-built stockade became a peaceful spot, specially ordained by + Providence, the Sunrise Freshmen claimed, as a picnic ground for their + autumn holiday. At least the young folk for whom Professor Burgess was + acting as chaperon took it so, and reveled in the right. + </p> + <p> + Interest in Greek had greatly increased in Sunrise with the advent of the + handsome young Harvard man, and his desired seclusion for profound + research had not yet been fully realized. Types for study were plentiful, + however, especially the type of the presumptuous young fellow who dared to + admire Elinor Wream. By divine right she was the most popular girl in + Sunrise, which pleased Professor Burgess up to a certain point. That point + was Victor Burleigh. The silent antagonism between these two daily grew + stronger; why, neither one could have told up to this holiday. + </p> + <p> + The day had been perfect—the weather, the dinner, the company, the + woodland—even the amber light in the sky softening the glow as the + afternoon slipped down toward twilight in the sheltered old Corral. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Vic Burleigh, help me to start this fire for supper,” Dennie Saxon + called. “We won't get our coffee and ham and eggs ready before midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Trench, or some of you fellows, get busy,” Vic called back to the + big right guard of the Sunrise football squad. “Elinor and I are going to + climb the west bluff to see what's the matter with the sun. It looks sick. + I've been hired man all day; carried nineteen girls across the shallows, + packed all the lunch-baskets, toted all the wood, built all the fires, + washed all the dishes—” + </p> + <p> + “Ate all the dinner, drank all the grape juice, stepped on all the custard + pies, upset all the cream bottles. Oh, you piker, get out!” Trench aimed + an empty lunch-basket at Vic's head with the words. + </p> + <p> + Being a chaperon was a pleasant office to Professor Burgess today but for + the task of throwing a barrier about Elinor every time Vic Burleigh came + near. And Burleigh, lacking many other things more than insight, kept him + busy at barrier building. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Wream, you can't think of climbing that rough place,” Burgess + protested, with a sharp glance of resentment at the big young fellow who + dared to call her Elinor. + </p> + <p> + The tiger-light blazed in the eyes that flashed back at him, as Vic cried + daringly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come on, Elinor; be a good Indian!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't do it, Miss Wream,” Vincent Burgess pleaded. + </p> + <p> + Elinor looked from the one to the other, and the very magnetism of power + called her. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to try, anyhow,” she declared. “Will you pick me up if I fall, + Victor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't hardly go away and leave you to perish miserably,” Vic + assured her, and they were off together. + </p> + <p> + The Wream men were slender, and all of them, except Lloyd Fenneben, the + stepbrother, wore nose glasses and drank hot water at breakfast, and ate + predigested foods, and talked of acids and carbons, and took prescribed + gestures for exercise. The joyousness of perfect health was in every + motion of this young man. His brown sweater showed a hard white throat. He + planted his feet firmly. And he leaped up the bluffside easily. If Elinor + slipped, the strength of his grip on her arm reassured her, until climbing + beside him became a joy. + </p> + <p> + The bluff was less surly than it appeared to be down in the Corral, and + the benediction of autumn was in the view from its crest. They sat down on + the stone ledge crowning it, and Elinor threw aside her jaunty scarlet + outing cap. The breezes played in her dark hair, and her cheeks were pink + from the exercise. Victor Burleigh looked at her with frank, wide-open + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter? Is my hair a fright?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “A fright!” Burleigh flung off his cap and ran his fingers through his own + hair. “Not what I call a fright,” he asserted in an even tone. + </p> + <p> + “What's that scar on your left arm? It looks like a little hole dug out,” + Elinor declared. + </p> + <p> + Vic's brown sweater sleeve was pushed up to the elbow. + </p> + <p> + “It is a little hole I put in where I dug out the flesh with a pocket + knife,” he replied, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you do that yourself?” Elinor cried. “What made you be so cruel?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't so cruel. 'I seen my duty and I done it noble,' as the essay + runs. I made that vacancy to get ahead of a rattlesnake that got me there, + a venomous big one with nine police calls on its tail, and that's no snake + story, either. I cut the flesh out to get rid of the poison. I was n't in + a college laboratory and I had to work fast and use what tools I had with + me. I killed the gentleman that did the mischief, though,” Vic added + carelessly, deftly slipping down his sleeve as if to change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me about it, do,” Elinor urged. “You were killing a snake the + first time I saw you.” + </p> + <p> + How dainty and sweet she was sitting there in her neat-fitting outing suit + of dark gray with scarlet pipings and buttons and pocket flaps, and the + scarlet of her full lips, and the coral tint of her cheeks, the white + hands and white throat and brow, the dark eyes and finely shaped head with + abundant beautiful hair. + </p> + <p> + Vic Burleigh sat looking straight at her and the light in his own eyes + told nothing of the glitter that had flashed in them when he glared at + Professor Burgess down in the Corral. + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't killing snakes. I was looking up at a girl on the rotunda stairs + the first time,” he said, “and I don't want to tell about this scar, + because I've wished a thousand times to forget it. See how much darker it + is down there than it is up here.” + </p> + <p> + The shadows were lengthening in the Corral where the supper fires were + gleaming. Across the low bluff the imprisoned sun was sending a dull red + glow along the waters of the Walnut. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that still place in the river, Victor. The ripples are all on the + farther side,” Elinor said, looking pensively downstream. + </p> + <p> + “Watch it a minute. Do you see that bit of drift coming upstream in the + still water?” Vic asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the water does move; toward us, too, instead of down the river. I'd + like to boat around in that quiet place.” + </p> + <p> + She was leaning forward, resting her chin in her hand. In outline against + the misty background shot through with the crimson light from the + storm-smothered sun, with the gray shadows of the old Kickapoo Corral + below them, hemmed in by the silver gleaming waters of the Walnut, a + picture grew up before Victor Burleigh's eyes that he was never to forget. + Like the cleft of the lightning through the cloud, like the flash of the + swallow's wing, the careless-hearted boy leaped to the stature of a man, + into whose soul the love of a lifetime is born. Unconsciously, he drew + away from her, and long afterward she recalled the sweetness of his deep + voice when he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Elinor Wream, I'd rather see you helpless up here with the hungriest wild + beast between us that ever tore a human form to pieces than to see you in + that quiet water below the shallows.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Elinor looked up into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Because I could save your life here, maybe, even if I lost mine. Down + there I could drown for you, but that would n't save you. Nobody ever swam + that whirlpool and lived to tell about it. There's a ledge underneath that + holds down what the infernal slow suction swallows. But it's dead sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's awful,” Elinor said, lightly, for she had no picture of him + engulfed in the slow-moving treachery below them. + </p> + <p> + “There's an old Indian legend about that pool,” Vic said, staring down at + the water. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about it.” Elinor was breaking the twigs from a branch of + buck-berry growing beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's a tragical one, like everything else about that place,” Vic + responded, grimly. “Old Lagonda, Chief of the Wahoos, I reckon, I don't + know his tribe, did n't want to give up this valley to the sons and heirs + of Sunrise to desecrate with salmon cans and pop bottles and + Harvard-turned chaperons. He held out against putting his multiplication + sign to the treaty, claiming that land was like water and air and could + n't be bought and sold. But the white men with true missionary courtesy + held his head under water till he burbled 'Nuff,' and signed up with a + piece of charcoal. Then he went down the river to this smooth-faced + whirlpool, and laid a curse on the sons of men who had taken his own from + him.” + </p> + <p> + The twilight had deepened. The sun was lost in the cloudbank out of which + a hot wind was sweeping eastward. Vic was telling the story well, and the + magnetism of his voice was compelling. Elinor drew nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “What was the curse? I would n't want to go near that place, unless you + were with me.” + </p> + <p> + The very innocence of the words put a thrill in Vic Burleigh's every pulse + beat. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ever do it, if you can help it.” Vic could not keep back the words. + “Old Lagonda decreed a tribute to the river for the wrong done to him, a + life a year in that pool. And the Walnut has been exacting in its rights. + Life after life has gone out down there until sometimes it seems like the + old chief's curse would never be lifted.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it may be, while I am at Sunrise, anyhow,” Elinor said. “I don't + like real tragedies about me. I like an easy, comfortable life, and + everybody good and happy. I hope the curse will be staid until I go back + home.” + </p> + <p> + Vic hadn't thought of this. Of course, she would leave Sunrise some time. + Her home was in Cambridge-by-the-Sea, not on the Prairie-by-the-Walnut. + She belonged to the dead-language scholars, not to crude red-blooded + creatures like himself. He turned his face to the west and the threatening + sky seemed in harmony with his storm-riven soul. He was so young—less + than half an hour older than the big whole-hearted fellow who started up + the bluff in picnic frolic with a pretty girl whom Professor Burgess + adored. That was one reason why he had brought her up. He wanted to tease + the Professor then. He hated Burgess now, and the white teeth clinched at + the thought of him. + </p> + <p> + A sudden shouting and beating of tom-toms down in the Corral, and the call + in crude rhyme to straggling couples to close in, announced supper. High + above other whooping the voice of Trench, the big right guard, reached the + top of the bluff: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Victor Burleigh and Elinor Wream, + Better wake from Love's Young Dream, + Before the ants get into the cream. +</pre> + <p> + The beating of a dishpan drowned the chorus. Then down by the river + Dennie's soprano streamed out, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun is sot, + The coffee's hot, + The supper's got. + What? + Yes! Got! +</pre> + <p> + Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy base + growled, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dennie is sad, + The eggs are bad; + The Professor's mad + At a College lad. + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + Come home! Come home! Come home! +</pre> + <p> + “The Kickapoos are on the warpath. Let's go down and get into the + running.” + </p> + <p> + Vic lifted Elinor to her feet with a sort of reverence in his touch. But + she did not note that it was otherwise than the good-natured grip of the + comrade who had helped her up the steep places half an hour ago. + </p> + <p> + Descent was more difficult, and it was growing dark rapidly. Vic held her + arm to keep her from falling, and once on a sliding rock, he had to catch + both of her hands, and half-lift her to solid footing. Her shining eyes, + starbright in the gloom, the dainty rose hue of her cheeks, the touch of + her soft white hands, and her need for his strength, made the shadowy path + delicious for her companion. + </p> + <p> + The call of the wild was in that evening camp in the autumn woodland, in + the charm of the deepening twilight warmed with the red glow of the fires, + in the appetizing odor of coffee, the unconventional freedom, the + carelessness of youth, the jolly good-fellowship of comrades. To Professor + Burgess it had the added charm of newness. All the pleasures of popularity + were his this evening, for he was young himself, he dressed well, and he + had the grace of a gentleman. The enjoyment of the day gave him a thrill + of surprise. He was already dropping the viewpoint of Dr. Joshua Wream for + Dean Fenneben's angle of vision. And in these picturesque surroundings he + forgot about the weather and the prudence of getting home early. + </p> + <p> + “Throw that log on the fire, Vic. It begins to look spooky back here. I've + just had my ear to the ground and I heard an awful roaring somewhere.” + Trench, who had been sprawling lazily in the shadows, now declared, “Say, + I'd hate to be penned into this place so I couldn't get out. There's no + skinning up that rock wall even if a fellow could swim the river, and I + can't,” and the big guard stretched himself on the ground again. + </p> + <p> + “What's that old story about the Kickapoos here?” somebody asked. “Dennie + Saxon knows it. Tell us about it, Dennie, AND THEN WE'LL ALL GO HOME.” The + last words were half-sung. + </p> + <p> + “Be swift, Dennie, be quite swift. I heard that noise again. I'm afraid + it's a stampede of wild horses.” Trench, who had had his ear to the + ground, sat up suddenly. But nobody paid any attention to him. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Denmark Saxon, let's close the day in song and story. You tell the + story and then I'll sing the song,” somebody declared. + </p> + <p> + “Aw-w-w!” a prolonged chorus. “Make your story long, Dennie; make it + lengthy.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you do it, Dennie. I tell you this ground is shaking. I feel it,” + Trench insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Say, who's got the bromo-seltzer? The right guard's supper is n't + treating him right. Go ahead, Dennie,” the crowd urged. + </p> + <p> + They were all in a circle about the fire. Its flickering glow lighted Vic + Burleigh's rugged face, and gleamed in his auburn hair. Elinor sat between + him and Vincent Burgess. Dennie was just beyond Vincent, who noted + incidentally the play of light and shadow on the blowsy ripples of her + hair that night and remembered it all on a day long afterward. + </p> + <p> + “Once upon a time,” Dennie began, + </p> + <p> + there was a beautiful Kickapoo Indian maiden—” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, any Kickapoo's a beaut. Hurry up, Dennie. I hear something coming.” + It was the big lazy guard again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Vic Burleigh, sit on his prostrate form. Go on, Dennie,” the company + insisted, and she continued. + </p> + <p> + “Her name was The Fawn of the Morning Light, her best lover was Swift + Elk.” + </p> + <p> + “You be Mrs. Swift Elk—” but Vic Burleigh's arm about Trench's + throat choked his words. + </p> + <p> + “And there was a wily Sioux, named Red Fox, who loved the Fawn and wanted + her to marry him. She wouldn't do it. The Kickapoos were heap-big + grafters, and they had this old Corral full of ponies and junk they had + relieved other tribes of caring for. And the only way to get in here, + besides falling over the bluff and becoming a pin-cushion for poisoned + arrows, was to come in by the shallows in the river where the ford is now + above old Lagonda's pool, and most Indians needed a diagram for that.” + Although Dennie spoke lightly, she shuddered a little at the thought, and + the whole company grew graver. + </p> + <p> + “An Indian doesn't forget. So, Red Fox, who had sworn to have The Fawn, + came down here with hundreds of Sioux who wanted the ponies the Kickapoos + had stolen, as Red Fox wanted Swift Elk's girl. The Kickapoos wouldn't + give up the ponies and Swift Elk wouldn't give up The Fawn. So the siege + began. Right where we are so safe and peaceful tonight those Kickapoos + fought, and starved, and died, while the Sioux kept cruel watch on the top + of that old stone ledge, never letting one escape. At last, after hours + and hours of siege, The Fawn and Swift Elk decided to escape by the river + in the night. A storm had come on suddenly, and a cloudburst up the Walnut + was sending a perfect surge of water down around the bend. The two lovers + were caught in its sweep and carried beyond the shallows when a flash of + lightning showed them to Red Fox watching on the bluff up there. At the + next flash he sent an arrow straight through Swift Elk's body and into The + Fawn's shoulder, pinning the two together. The Sioux leaped into the + stream to save the girl he loved, but the heavy current swept them toward + the whirlpool, and before they could prevent the dying and wounded and + rescuing were all caught by the fatal suction. Then the Sioux warriors + rushed in from all sides, upstream, down the bluff from west prairie, and + over the Corral, and slaughtered every Kickapoo here. Their fierce yells + and the shrieks of the squaws and pappooses, the pounding of horses' hoofs + in the stampede of hundreds of ponies, the roar of the river, the wrath of + the storm made a scene this old Corral will never see again.” Dennie + paused. + </p> + <p> + “I think I hear something like it, right now,” came Trench's irrepressible + voice from the shadows in the edge of the circle. But nobody heeded it. + </p> + <p> + And all the while from far across the west prairie the stormcloud was + rolling in, black and angry, blowing its hot breath before it, while from + a cloudburst upstream an hour before a great surge of water was rushing + down the Walnut, turning the quiet river to a murderous flood. But the + high walls hid all this from the valley and the heedless young folk took + the full time limit of their holiday in the sheltering gloom of the old + Kickapoo Corral. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE STORM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Rock and moan, and roar alone, + And the dread of some nameless thing unknown</i>. + —LOWELL +</pre> + <p> + THE silence following Dennie's story was broken by a sudden peal of + thunder overhead. At the same instant the blackness of midnight lifted + itself above the stone ledges and dropped down upon the Corral, smothering + everything in darkness. A rushing whirlwind, a lurid blaze of lightning, + and a second peal of thunder threw the camp into blind disorder. In the + minute's lull following the first storm herald, there was a wild + scrambling for wraps and lunch baskets. Then the darkness thickened and + the storm's fury burst upon the crowd—a mad lashing of bending tree + tops, a blinding whirl of dust filling the air, the thunder's terrific + cannonade, the incessant blaze of lightning, the rattling of the distant + rain; and above all these, unlike them all, a steady, dreadful roaring, + coming nearer each moment. + </p> + <p> + Professor Burgess was no coward, but he had little power of generalship. + As the crowd huddled together under the swaying trees, Trench called to + Burleigh: + </p> + <p> + “There's been a cloudburst up stream. The roar I've been hearing is a wall + of water coming down. We've got to get out of this.” + </p> + <p> + Then above all the crashing and booming they heard Vic Burleigh's voice: + </p> + <p> + “Every fellow take a girl and run for the ford. Come on!” + </p> + <p> + In the darkness, each boy caught the arm of the girl nearest him and made + a dash for the ford. A flash of lightning showed Burleigh that the + white-faced girl clinging to his arm was Elinor Wream. After that, the + storm was a plaything for him. + </p> + <p> + The first to reach the ford were Vincent Burgess and Dennie Saxon. Dennie + was sure-footed and she knew by instinct where to find the shallows. But + the river was rising rapidly and the waters were black and angry under the + lightning's glitter. As the crowd held back Vic shouted: + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to wade. It's not very deep yet. Professor, you must cross + first, and count 'em as they come. Go quick! One at a time. The way is + narrow. And for God's sake, keep to the upper side of the shallows. Stand + in the middle, Trench, and don't let them get down stream below you.” + </p> + <p> + They were all safely across except Vic and Elinor, when Trench cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Send your girl in quick, Burleigh, and you run west. The flood is at the + bend now. Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “Run in, Elinor. Trench will take you through, and I'll follow, for I can + swim and he can't. I'll be right behind you. Run!” + </p> + <p> + A vision of the whirlpool and of Swift Elk and The Fawn flashed into + Elinor's mind, filling her with terror. Before Vic could push her forward, + Trench shouted: + </p> + <p> + “It's too late. Don't try it. I've got to run.” + </p> + <p> + He was strong and sure-footed and he fought his way gallantly to the + further side as a great wave swirled around the curve of the river, + engulfing the shallows in its mad surge. When he reached the east bank the + count of the company numbered all but two. + </p> + <p> + “It's Vic and Elinor,” Trench declared. “Vic wouldn't come till the last, + and Elinor was too dead scared to trust anybody else, I guess. Nobody + could cross there now, Professor. But Vic is as strong as an ox and he's + not afraid of the devil. He'll keep both their heads above water. He wants + to win out in the Thanksgiving game too much to get lost now. Trust him to + get up the bluff some way, and back to town by the Main street bridge like + as not, before we get there. There's no shelter between here and Lagonda + Ledge. Let's all cut for it before the rain beats us into the mud.” + </p> + <p> + The deluge was just beginning, so, safe, but wet, and mud-smeared, + fighting wind and rain and darkness, taking it all as a jolly lark, + although they had slidden into safety but a hand's breadth in front of + death, the couples straggled back to town. + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess, anxious, angry, and jealous, found an unconscious comfort + in Dennie Saxon in that homeward struggle. She was so capable and cheery + that he forgot a little the girl who had as surely drawn him Kansas-ward + as his interest in types and geographical breadth had done. It dimly + entered his consciousness, as he told Dennie good-bye, that maybe she had + been the most desirable companion of the crowd on such a night as this. He + knew, at least, that he would have shown Elinor much more attention than + he had shown to Dennie, and he knew that Elinor would have required it of + him. + </p> + <p> + The light from the hall was streaming across the veranda of the Saxon + House, a beam as faithful and friendly at the border of the lower campus + as the bigger beacon in the college turret up on the lime-stone ridge. As + Burgess started away the worst deluge of the night fell out of the sky, so + he dropped down on a seat to wait for the downpour to weaken. He was very + tired and his mind was feverishly busy. Where could Burleigh and Elinor be + now? What dangers might threaten them? What ill might befall Elinor from + exposure to this beating storm? He was frantic with the thought. Then he + recalled Dennie, the girl who was working her way through college, whom he—Professor + Vincent Burgess, A.B., from Harvard—had escorted home. How cheap + Kansas was making him. The boys and girls had taken Dennie as one of them + today; and truly, she did add to the comfort and pleasure of the outing. + It seemed all right down in the woods where all was unconventional. But + now, alone, in how common a grade he seemed to have placed himself, to be + forced to pay attention to the poorest girl in school. His cheeks grew hot + at the very thought of it. + </p> + <p> + In the shadows, beyond him, a form straightened up stupidly: + </p> + <p> + “Shay, Profesh Burgush, that you?” + </p> + <p> + Dennie's father, half-drunken still! Oh, Shades of classic culture! To + what depths in social contact may a college man fall in this wretched + land! + </p> + <p> + “Shay! Is't you, or ain't it you? You gonna tell me?” Old Bond queried. + </p> + <p> + “This is Vincent Burgess,” the young man replied. + </p> + <p> + “Dennie home?” the father asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” came the curt answer. + </p> + <p> + “Who? Who bring her home? Vic Burleigh?” + </p> + <p> + “I brought her home. She is a good girl, too.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself, Burgess resented the shame of such a father for the + capable, happy-spirited daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Yesh, Dennie's good girl, all right.” + </p> + <p> + Then a silence fell. + </p> + <p> + Presently, the old man spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Shay, Prof esh, 'd ye mind doin' somethin' for me?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” Burgess was by nature courteous. + </p> + <p> + “If anything sh'd ever happen to me, 'd you take care of Dennie? Shay, + would you?” + </p> + <p> + “If I could do anything for her, I would do it,” the young man replied. + </p> + <p> + “Somethin' gonna happen to me. I ain't shafe. I know I'll go that way. But + you'll be good to Dennie. Now, wouldn't you? I'd ask Funnybone, but he's + no shafer 'n I am. No shafer! You'll be good to Dennie, you said so. Shay + it again!” + </p> + <p> + Bond was standing now bending threateningly toward Burgess, who had also + risen. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do all that a gentleman ought to do.” He had only one thought—to + pacify the drunken man and get away. And the old man understood. + </p> + <p> + “Shwear it, I tell you! Lif' up your right hand an'—an' shwear to + take care of Dennie, or I'll kill you!” Bond insisted. + </p> + <p> + He was a large, muscular man, towering over the slender young professor + like a very giant, and in his eyes there was a cruel gleam. Vincent + Burgess was at the limit of mental resistance. Lifting his shapely right + hand in the shadowy light, he said wearily: + </p> + <p> + “I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + “One more question, and you may go. You know that little boy Vic Burleigh + takes care of here?” + </p> + <p> + The Professor had heard of him. + </p> + <p> + “Vic keeps that little boy all right. He don't complain none. S'pose you + help me watch um, Profesh.” Then as an afterthought, Saxon added: “Young + woman livin' out north of town. Pretty woman. She don't know nothing 'bout + that little boy. Now, honest, she don't. Lives all by herself with a big + dog.” + </p> + <p> + Jealousy is an ugly, suspicious beast. Vincent Burgess was no worse than + many other men would have been, because his mind leaped to the meaning old + Saxon's words might carry. And this was the man with Elinor in the + darkness and the storm. Before Burgess could think clearly, Saxon came a + step nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Shay, where's Vic tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Across the river with Miss Wream. They were cut off by the deep water,” + Vincent answered. + </p> + <p> + A quick change from drunkenness to sober sense leaped into Bond Saxon's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Across the river! Great God!” Then sternly, with a grim set of jaw, he + commanded: “You go home! If you dare to say a word, I'll kill you. If you + try to follow me, he'll kill you. Go home! I 'm going over there, if I die + for it.” And the darkness and rain swallowed him as he leaped away to the + westward! + </p> + <p> + Burgess gazed into the blackness into which Bond Saxon had gone until a + soft hand touched his, and he looked down to see little Bug Buler, clad in + his nightgown, standing barefoot beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Vic?” Bug demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” Burgess answered. + </p> + <p> + “Take me up, I'se told.” Bug stretched up his arms appealingly, and + Burgess, who knew nothing of babies, awkwardly lifted him up. + </p> + <p> + “Tuddle me tlose like Vic do,” and the little one snuggled lovingly in the + Professor's embrace. “Your toat's wet. Is Vic wet, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, little boy. We are all in trouble tonight.” Burgess had to say + something. + </p> + <p> + “In twouble? Umph—humph!” Bug shut his lips tightly, puffing out his + cheeks, as was his habit. “I was in twouble, and I ist wented to Don + Fonnybone. He's dood for twouble-ness. You go see him. Poor man!” and the + little hand stroked Professor Burgess' feverish cheek. + </p> + <p> + “If you'll run right back to bed, I'll do it,” Burgess declared. “We can + learn even from children sometimes,” he thought, as Bug climbed down + obediently and toddled away. + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess went directly to Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, to whom he told the + story of the day's events, including the interview with Bond Saxon. He did + not repeat Bond's words regarding Vic, but only hinted at the suspicion + that there was something questionable in the situation in which Vic was + placed. Nor did he refer to the old man's maudlin demand that he should + take care of Dennie if she were left fatherless, and of his sworn promise + to do so. + </p> + <p> + Burgess felt as, if the Dean's black eyes would burn through him, so + steady was their gaze while the story was being told. When he had + finished, Lloyd Fenneben said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “You are worn out with the excitement of the day and night. Go home and + rest now. I've learned through many a struggle, that what I cannot fight + to a finish in the darkness, I can safely leave with God till the daylight + comes.” + </p> + <p> + The smile that lighted up the stern face and the firm handclasp with which + Lloyd Fenneben dismissed the young man were things he remembered long + afterward. And above all, he recalled many times a sense of secret shame + that he should have felt degraded because of his association with Dennie + Saxon on this day. But of this last, the memory was stronger than the + present realization. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, as the mad waters surged around the bend in the river, and + swept over the shallows, Victor Burleigh flung his arm around Elinor Wream + and leaped back from the very edge of doom. + </p> + <p> + “We must climb the bluff again. Be a good Indian!” he cried, groping for a + footing. + </p> + <p> + Climbing the west bluff by daylight for the sake of adventure was very + unlike this struggle in the darkness to escape the widening river, with a + wind-driven torrent of rain sweeping down the land behind the first + storm-fury, and Elinor Wream clung to her companion's arm almost helpless + with fear. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you can ever get us out? she asked, as the limestone ledge + blocked the way. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what my mother named me?” The carelessness of the tone was + surprising. + </p> + <p> + “Victor!” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then don't forget it,” Burleigh said. “It's a dreadfully rough way before + us, little girl, but we'll soon be safe from the river. Don't mind this + little bit of a storm, and you'll get personally conducted into Lagonda + Ledge before midnight.” + </p> + <p> + In her sheltered life, Elinor had never known anything half so dreadful as + this storm and darkness and booming flood, but the fearlessness of the + strong man beside her inspired her to do her best. It was only two hours + since they were here before. How could she know that these two hours had + marked the crisis of a lifetime for Victor Burleigh. With a friendly + little pressure on his arm, she said bravely: + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. I feel + safer here.” + </p> + <p> + Vic knew she meant only to be courteous, but the words were comforting. On + the crest of the ledge the fierceness of the storm was revealed. Great + sheets of wind-blown rain were flung athwart the landscape, and the utter + blackness that followed the lightning's glare, and the roaring of the wind + and river were appalling. + </p> + <p> + In all this tumult, away to the northeast, the beacon light above the + Sunrise dome was cutting the darkness with a steady beam. + </p> + <p> + “See that light, Elinor? We are not lost. We must get up stream a little + way. Then we'll find the bridge, all right. The crowd will get home ahead + of us, because this is the rough side of the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a comfort a light can be!” Elinor murmured as she looked up and + caught the welcome gleam. + </p> + <p> + As they hurried along, the Sunrise light suddenly disappeared and they + found themselves descending a rough downward way. Presently there were + rock walls on either side hemming them in a narrow crevice in the ledges. + Then the rain ceased and Vic knew they had slidden down into a + rock-covered fissure, that they were getting underground. They tried to + turn back, but the up-climb was impossible, and in the darkness they could + reach nothing but the sharp ledge of the cliff sheer above the raging + river. Entrapped and bewildered, Vic felt cautiously about; but the only + certain things were the straight bluff overhanging the flood, and the + cavernous way leading downward; while the same deluge that was keeping + Vincent Burgess storm-staid on the veranda of the Saxon House, was beating + mercilessly down on Elinor Wream. + </p> + <p> + “We can't stay here and be threshed to pieces,” Vic cried. “This crack is + drier, anyhow, and it must lead to somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + It did lead to what seemed to Elinor an endless length of hideous + uncertainty, until Vic suddenly lost his footing and plunged headlong down + somewhere into the blackness of darkness. Elinor shrieked in terror and + sank down limply on the stone floor of the crevice. + </p> + <p> + “All a bluff,” Vic called up cheerily, in the same startlingly deep sweet + voice that had caught Elinor's ear on the September afternoon before the + door of Sunrise, and out in the edge of her consciousness the thought + played in again, “I'd rather be here with you than over the river with + anybody else. I feel safer here.” + </p> + <p> + “Slide down, Elinor. I'll catch you. It is n't very far, and there's a + little light somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor slipped blindly down the side of the rock into Vic Burleigh's + outstretched arms. As he set her on her feet, somehow, the little light + failed. In all their struggle, this part of the way seemed the darkest, + the chillest, the most dangerous, and a sudden sense of a presence hidden + nearby possessed them both, as they came against a blind wall. A stouter + heart than Vic Burleigh's might well have quailed now. The two were lost + underground. What deeper cavern might yawn beyond them? What length of + dead wall might bar their way? And more terrifying still, was the growing + sense of a human presence, a human menace, an unseen treachery. As Vic + felt his way along the stone, his hand closed over something thrust into a + little niche, shoulder-high in the wall. It seemed to be a small pitcher + of unique pattern, solid silver by its weight. Was it the booty of some + dead and forgotten robber chief, the buried treasure of some old Kickapoo + raiding tragedy, or the loot of a living outlaw? + </p> + <p> + Vic thought he felt the outline of a letter graven in heavy relief on the + smooth side, and, for a reason of his own, dropped the thing. Mercifully, + he did not cry out at the discovery, but Elinor felt his hand on her arm + grow chill. + </p> + <p> + A dazzling glare, token of the passing of the storm's fireworks, outlined + an irregular opening in the wall before them, revealing at the same time a + large room beyond the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the hole where we get out of this trap, Elinor Wream. If such a + big lightning like that can get in, we can get out,” Vic cried. + </p> + <p> + He crawled through the opening, and pulled her as gently as possible after + him. Presently, another blaze lit up the night outside, showing a + cavern-like space thirty feet in dimensions, with a rock roof above their + heads, and a low doorway through which the light from the outside had come + in, and beyond which the rain was beating tremendously. Evidently they had + found a rear entrance to this cavern. + </p> + <p> + “We are past our troubles now, Elinor,” Vic said. “There's the real + out-of-doors, and I feel sure of the rest of the way. This seems to be a + sort of cave, and we have come in kind of irregularly by the back door or + down the chimney. But here we are at the real front door. Shall we go on?” + </p> + <p> + Elinor leaned wearily against the wall, wet and cold, and almost + exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “Let's wait a little, till this shower passes,” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “You poor girl! This has been an awful night,” Vic said gently. + </p> + <p> + Their eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness and they saw more + clearly the outline of the opening to the outside world. Suddenly Elinor + shivered as again the nearness of a presence somewhere possessed them + both. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go! Let's go!” she whispered, huddling close to her companion, + whose grip on her arm tightened. + </p> + <p> + He was conscious of a light behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he + caught a gleam beyond the opening in the rear wall through which they had + just crept; and in that gleam, a villainous face, with still black eyes, + looking straight at him. The light disappeared, and he heard the faint + sound of something creeping toward them. Vic could fight any man living. + Nature built him for that. He had no fear for himself. But here was + Elinor, and he must think of her first. At that instant, the doorway + darkened, and a form slipped into the cavern somewhere. Oh, wind and rain, + and forked blue lightning and the thunder's roar, the river's mad floods, + the steep, slippery rocks, and jagged ledges, all were kind beside this + secret human presence, cruelly silent and treacherous. + </p> + <p> + Victor Burleigh drew Elinor closer to him, and whispered low: + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid with me to guard you.” + </p> + <p> + Even in that deep gloom, he caught the outline of a white face with + star-bright eyes lifted toward his face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not afraid with you,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Behind them stealthy movements somewhere. Between them and the doorway, + stealthy movements somewhere; but all so still and slow, they stretched + the listening nerve almost to the breaking point. Suddenly, a big, hard + hand gripped Burleigh's shoulder, and a dead still voice, that Vic could + not recognize, breathed into his ear, “Go quick and quiet! I'll stand for + it. Go!” + </p> + <p> + It was old Bond Saxon. + </p> + <p> + Vic caught Elinor's arm, and with one stride they sprang from the cave's + mouth up to the open ground beyond it. Something behind them, it might + have been a groan or a smothered oath, reached their ears, as they sped + away down a narrow ravine. The rain had ceased and overhead the stars were + peeping from the edges of feathery flying clouds; and all the sodden + autumn night was still at last, save for the gurgling waters of a little + stream down the rocky glen. + </p> + <p> + The Sunrise bell was striking eleven when they reached the bridge across + the Walnut, and the beacon light from the dome began to twinkle a welcome + now and then through the dripping branches of the leafless trees. A few + minutes later, Victor Burleigh brought Elinor safely to Lloyd Fenneben's + door. + </p> + <p> + “We made it in before midnight, anyhow,” he said carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Elinor looked up in surprise. The terrors of the night still possessed + her. + </p> + <p> + “What a horrible nightmare it has all been. The storm, the river, the + rocks, and the darkness, and that dreadful something behind us in the + cave. Was there really anything, or did we just imagine it all? It will + seem impossible when the daylight comes.” + </p> + <p> + Victor looked at her with a wonderful light in his wide-open brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said in a deep voice. “It will seem impossible when daylight + comes. But will it all be as a horrible nightmare?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; not all.” Elinor's face was winsomely sweet. “Not all,” she + repeated. “It is fine to feel one's self so safeguarded as I have been. I + shall always remember you as one with whom I could never again be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh turned hastily toward the door, and, having delivered her to the + care of her uncle, he bade them both good night. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben looked keenly after the young man striding away from the + light. His clothes were torn and bedraggled, his cap was gone, and his + heavy hair was a mass of rough waves about his forehead. The direct gaze + of his golden-brown eyes took away distrust, and yet the face had changed + somehow in this day. A hint of a new purpose had crept into it, a purpose + not possible for Dr. Fenneben to read. + </p> + <p> + But he did note the set of the head, the erect form and broad shoulders, + and the easy swinging step as the boy went whistling away into the shadows + of the night. + </p> + <p> + “A splendid animal, anyhow,” the Dean thought. “Will the soul measure up + to that princely body? And what can be the purport of this maudlin + mouthing of old Bond Saxon? Bond is really a lovable man when he's sober; + but he's vindictive and ugly when he's drunk. I can wait for developments. + Whatever the boy's history may have been, like the courts, it's my + business to hold every man innocent till he's proven guilty; to build up + character, not to undermine and destroy it. And destruction begins in + suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE GAME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than + to ban; + Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man</i>. + —KIPLING +</pre> + <p> + BITTER weather followed the night of the storm. Biting winds beat all the + autumn beauty from tree and shrub. Cold gray skies hung over a cold gray + land, and a heavy snowfall and a penetrating chill seemed to destroy all + hope for the Indian Summer that makes the Kansas Novembers glorious. + </p> + <p> + Dennie Saxon was the only girl of the party who was not affected by the + storm at the Kickapoo Corral. Professor Burgess, who narrowly escaped + pneumonia himself, and who disliked irregular class attendance, took + comfort in the sight of Dennie. She was so fresh-checked and wholesome, + and she went about her work promptly, forgetful of storm and rain and + muddy ways. + </p> + <p> + “You seem immune from sickness, Miss Dennie,” Burgess said one day as she + was putting the library in order. + </p> + <p> + Under her little blue dusting cap, the sunny ripples of her hair framed a + face glowing with health. She smiled up at him comfortably—a smile + that played about the edges of his consciousness all that day. + </p> + <p> + “I've never been sick,” she said. “It 's a good thing, too, for our house + is a regular hospital this week. Little Bug Buler is the worst of all. He + took cold on the night of the storm. That's why Victor Burleigh's out of + school so much. He won't leave Bug.” + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess despised the name of Burleigh now. While Vic's safe escort + of Elinor Wream had increased his popularity with the students, Burgess + honestly believed that old Bond Saxon's drunken speech hinted at some + disgrace the big freshman would not long be able to conceal, and he + resented the high place given to such a low grade of character. To a man + like himself it was galling to look upon such a fellow as a rival. So, he + tightened the rules and exacted the last mental farthing of Vic in the + classroom. And Vic, easily understanding all this, because he was frankly + and foolishly in love with the same girl whom Vincent Burgess seemed to + claim, contrived in a thousand ways to make life a burden to the Harvard + man. Of course, Burgess showed no mercy toward Vic for absence from the + classroom while he was caring for little Bug, and the black marks + multiplied against him. + </p> + <p> + Elinor Wream had been ill after the night of the storm. Vic had not seen + her since the hour when he left her at Lloyd Fenneben's door. He knew he + was a fool to think of her at all. He knew she must sometime be won by + Burgess, and that she was born to gentle culture which his hard life had + never known. Besides, he was poor. Not a pauper, but poor, and luxuries + belonged naturally to a girl like Elinor. The storm of the holiday was a + balmy zephyr compared to the storm that raged every day in him. For with + all the hopelessness of things, he was in love. Poor fellow! The strength + of his spirit was like the strength of his body—unbreakable. + </p> + <p> + He had no fear of pneumonia after the stormy night, for he was used to + hard knocks. And he meant to go again by daylight and explore the rocky + glen and hidden ways, and to find out, if possible, whose face it was that + was behind that cavern wall, whose voice had whispered in his ear, and + what loot was hidden there. For reasons of his own, he had mentioned this + matter to nobody. But the cold, wet days, little Bug's illness, and the + hard study to keep up his class standing, took all of his time. + Especially, the study, that he might not be shut out of the great football + game of the year on Thanksgiving day. Sunrise was stiff in its scholastic + requirements, and conscientious to the last degree. The football team + stood on mental ability and moral honor, no less than on scientific skill + and muscular weight and cunning. Dr. Fenneben watched Burleigh carefully, + for the boy seemed to be always on his heart. The Dean knew how to mix + common sense and justice into his rulings, so the word was sent quietly + from the head office—the suggestion of leniency in the matter of + Burleigh's absence. Burleigh was good for it. It lay with his professors, + of course, to grant or withhold scholarship ranking, but the Dean would be + pleased to have all latitude given in Burleigh's case. + </p> + <p> + Bug was better now, and Vic was burning midnight oil in study, for the + hours of practice for the game were doubled. + </p> + <p> + On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside. + </p> + <p> + “Everything is safe. Only one report not in, but it will be in tomorrow.” + the coach declared. “I asked Professor Burgess about your standing, and he + says your grades are away above average. He's got to reckon up your absent + marks, but that's easy. All the teachers understand about that. I guess + Dean Funnybone fixed 'em. And now, Vic, the honor of Sunrise rests on you. + If you fail us, we're lost. Can I count on you?” + </p> + <p> + The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy black + brows, as Vic shut his white teeth tightly. + </p> + <p> + “Count on me!” he said, and turning, he left the coach abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, there, Burleigh, hold on a minute,” Trench, the right guard, called, + as Vic was striding up the steep south slope of the limestone ridge. “Say, + wind a fellow, will you! You infernal, never-wear-out, human steam engine. + I'm on to some things you ought to know. Even a lazy old scout like I am + gets a crack at things once in a while.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, get rid of it once in a while, if you really do know anything,” Vic + responded. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you're nervous. Coach says you spend too much time in your nursery; + says you'd better get rid of that little kid.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell the coach to go to the devil!” Vic spoke savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Coach,” Trench roared down from the hillslope, “Vic says for you to + go to the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till after tomorrow,” the coach shouted back, “and I'll take you + fellows along if you don't do your best.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's settled, I'll tell you what I know,” Trench drawled lazily. + “First, Elinor Wream, what Dean Funnybone calls 'Norrie,' is heading the + bunch that's going to shower us with roses tomorrow, if we win. And you + know blamed well we'll win. They came in from Kansas City on the limited, + just now, the roses did. The shower's predicted for tomorrow P. M.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden glow lighted Vic's stern face, and there was no savage gleam in + his eyes now. + </p> + <p> + “Is Elinor well enough to come out tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + He had been caught unawares. Trench stared at him deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Victor Burleigh.” He spoke slowly. “Don't do it! DON'T DO IT! It + will kill a man like you to get in love. Lord pity you! and”—more + slowly still—“Lord pity the fool girl who can't see the solid gold + in the rough old nugget you are.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the rest of your news?” Vic asked. + </p> + <p> + “I gave the best first. Coach tells me ab-so-lute-lee, you are our only + hope. The hope of Sunrise, tomorrow. You've got the beef, the wind, the + speed, the head, and the will. Oh, you angel child!” + </p> + <p> + “The coach is clever,” Vic said carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Burleigh, here's the rub as well as the Rub-i-con. Dennie Saxon's wise, + and she tells me—on the side; inside, not outside—that your + absent marks on Burgess' map are going to cut you out at the last minute. + Don't let Burgess do that, Vic, if you have to kill him. Couldn't we + kidnap him and drop him into the whirlpool? Old Lagonda's interest is + about due. Dennie just stood her ground today like a cherub, and asked the + Hahvahd Univusity man right out about it. I don't know how she got the + hint, only she's in all the offices and the library out of hours, you + know, and when the slim one from Boston, yuh know, said as how he had to + stand firm on the right, yuh know, old Dennie just says straight and flat, + 'Professor Burgess, I'm ashamed of you.' Dennie's a brick. And do you + know, Burgess, spite of his cussed thin hide, we've got to toughen for him + out here in Kansas; spite of all that, HE LIKES DENNIE SAXON. The oracle + hath orked, the sibyl hath sibbed. But say, Vic, if he does come down hard + on you, what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Come down hard on him, and play anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + The grim jaw and black frown left no doubt as to Vic's purpose. + </p> + <p> + Late November is idyllic in the Walnut Valley. Autumn's gold has all been + burned in Nature's great crucible, refining the landscape to a wide range + from frosted silver to richest Purple. Heliotrope and rose and amethyst + blend with misty pink and dainty gray, and the faint, indefinable + blue-green hue of the robin's egg, and outlined all in delicate black + tracery of leafless boughs and darkened waterways. Every sunrise is a + revelation of Infinite Beauty. Every midday, a shadowy soft picture of + Peace. Every sunset a dream of Omnipotent Splendor. + </p> + <p> + On such a November Thanksgiving day, the great game of the season was + played on the Sunrise football field, which all the Walnut Valley folks + came forth to see. + </p> + <p> + By one o'clock Lagonda Ledge was deserted, save for old Bond Saxon, who + sat on his veranda, watching the crowds stream by. At two o'clock the + bleachers were packed, and the side lines were broad and black with a + good-natured, jostling crowd. And every minute the numbers were + increasing. Truly Sunrise had never before known such an auspicious day, + such record-breaking gate receipts, nor such sure promise of success. The + game was called for half-past two. It was three o'clock now and the + line-up had not been formed. Even the gentle wrangle over details and + eligibility could hardly have spun out so much time as seemed to the + waiting throng to be uselessly wasted now. Evidently, something was wrong. + The crowd grew impatient and demanded the cause. Out in the open, the two + squads were warming up for the fray, while the officials hung fire in a + group by the goal posts and talked threateningly. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “When will the freight be in?” + </p> + <p> + “Merry Christmas!” + </p> + <p> + So the crowd shouted. The songs were worn out, the yell-leaders were + exhausted, and the rooters were hoarse. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Vic Burleigh?” somebody called, and a chorus followed: + </p> + <p> + “Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home!” + </p> + <p> + But Burleigh did not come. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe they are shutting him out,” somebody else suggested, and the + Sunrise bleachers took fire. Calls for Burleigh rent the air, roars and + yells that threatened to turn this most auspicious college event into + pandemonium, and the jolly company into a veritable mob. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, as the teams were leaving their quarters early in the afternoon, + the coach said to Vic: + </p> + <p> + “Run up to Burgess and get your grades, Burleigh. It's a mere form, but it + will save that gang of game-cocks from getting one over us.” + </p> + <p> + In the rotunda Vic and Vincent met face to face, the country boy in his + football suit and brown sweater, and the slender young college professor, + with faultless tailoring and immaculate linen. Ten minutes before, Burgess + had been in Dr. Fenneben's office, where Elinor Wream and a group of fair + college girls were chattering excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “See these roses, Uncle Lloyd.” Elinor was holding up a gorgeous bunch of + American Beauties. “These go to Vic Burleigh when he gets behind the goal + posts. Cost lots of my Uncle Lloyd's money, but we had to have them.” + </p> + <p> + Small wonder that the very odor of roses was hateful to Burgess at that + moment. + </p> + <p> + “May I speak to you a minute?” Vic said as the two men met in the rotunda. + </p> + <p> + Burgess halted in silence. + </p> + <p> + “The coach sent me after your statement of my standing. We've got a bunch + of sticklers to fight today.” + </p> + <p> + “I have turned in my report,” Burgess responded coldly. + </p> + <p> + “So the coach said, all but mine. I'm late. May I have my report now?” Vic + urged, trying to be composed. + </p> + <p> + “I have no further report for you.” It was a cold-blooded thing to say, + but Burgess, though filled with jealousy, was conscientious now in his + belief that Burleigh was really a low grade fellow, deserving no leniency + nor recognition. + </p> + <p> + “But you haven't given me any standing yet, the coach says.” Vic's voice + was dead calm. + </p> + <p> + “I have no standing to give you. You are below grade.” + </p> + <p> + Vic's eyes blazed. “You dog!” was all he could say. + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Burleigh, there's no need to act any ruder than you can + help.” Burleigh did not move, nor did he take his yellow brown eyes from + his instructor's face. “What have you to say further? I thought you were + in a hurry.” Burgess did not really mean a taunt in the last words. + </p> + <p> + “I have this to say.” Victor Burleigh's voice had a menace in its depth + and power. “You have done this infamous thing, not because I deserve it, + but because you hate me on account of a girl—Elinor Wream.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” Vincent Burgess commanded. + </p> + <p> + “I forbid you to mention her name. You, who come in here from some barren, + poverty-stricken prairie home, where good breeding is unknown. You, to + presume to think of such a girl as Dr. Fenneben's beautiful niece, whose + reputation was barely saved by old Bond Saxon on the stormy night after + the holiday. You, who are forced for some reason to care for an unknown + child. You, whose true character will soon be fully known here—if + this is what you have to say, you may go,” he added with an imperious wave + of the hand. + </p> + <p> + The meanness of anger is in its mastery. Burgess had meant only to + discipline Burleigh, but it was too late for that now. The rotunda was + very quiet. Everybody was down on the field waiting impatiently for the + game to begin. Burgess was also impatient. There was a seat waiting for + him beside Elinor Wream. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not quite ready to go”—Vic's fierce voice filled the rotunda—“because + you are going to write my credentials for this game, and you'll do it + quick, or beg for mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to consider a word you say.” Burgess was furious now, and the + white face and burning eyes of his opponent were unbearable. “I will not + grant you any credentials, you low-born prize-fighter—” + </p> + <p> + A sudden grip of steel held him fast as Vic towered over him. The softened + light of the dome of the rotunda, where the Kansas motto, “<i>Ad Astra per + Aspera</i>.” adorned the stained glass panes, had never fallen on such a + scene as this. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Burleigh, you'll repent this unwarranted attack,” Burgess + cried, trying to free himself. “Brute force will win only among brutes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the only place I expect to use it,” Vic retorted, tightening his + grip. “No time for words now. The honor of Sunrise as well as my honor is + at stake, and it's my right to play in this game, because I have broken no + laws. I may have no culture except that of a prairie claim; and I may be + poor, and, therefore, presumptuous in daring to mention Elinor Wream's + name to you. But”—the brown eyes were a blazing fire—“nobody + can tell me that any man must rescue a girl from me to save her + reputation, nor that any dishonor belongs to me because of little Bug + Buler. Uncultured, as I am, I have the culture of a courage that guards + the helpless; and ill-bred, as I may be, I have a gentleman's honor + wherever a woman's need calls for my protection.” + </p> + <p> + Vic's face was ashy, for his anger matched his love, and both were + parallel to his wonderful physique and endurance. In his fury, the + temptation to throttle the man who had wronged him was gaining the + mastery. + </p> + <p> + “Vic, oh, Vic, they're waiting for you. Turn on! Don't hurt him, Vic.” Bug + Buler's pleading little voice broke the momentary stillness. + </p> + <p> + Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back. + </p> + <p> + “Was n't you dood to Vic? He would n't hurted you. He never hurted me.” + The innocent face and gentle words held a strange power over each + passion-fired man before him. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with full + credentials for his place on the team. + </p> + <p> + The last man to enter the grounds was evidently a tramp, whose slouched + hat half-concealed a dark bearded face. + </p> + <p> + As Vic Burleigh, with Bug clinging to his finger, hurried by the ticket + window, the crippled student who sold tickets inside the little roofed box + called out: + </p> + <p> + “Come, stay with me, Bug, till I can go in, too, and I'll buy you + peanuts.” + </p> + <p> + Bug studied a moment. Then with a comfortable little “Umph-humph,” puffing + out his pudgy cheeks with tightly tucked-in lips, he let go of Vic's + finger and trotted over to the ticket box. + </p> + <p> + The boy let him inside and turned to the window to see the face of the + tramp close to it. The man paid for a ticket, then, leaning forward, + stared eagerly at the open money box. At the same time, the cripple caught + sight of a revolver handle in a belt under the shabby coat. Trust a + college boy for headwork. Instantly he seized little Bug by the shoulders + and set him up on the shelf between the window and the money box. Bug's + hair was a mop of soft ringlets, and his brown eyes and innocent baby face + were appealing. The stranger stared hard at the child, and with a sort of + frightened expression, shot through the gate and mingled with the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Great protection for a cripple,” the student thought, as he locked the + money box. “How strong a baby's hand may be sometimes! Vic Burleigh's beef + can win the game out there, but Bug has saved the day at this end of the + line. That tramp seemed scared at the sight of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny folks turns to dames,” Bug observed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Buggie, the last one in before you came was a young woman with gray + hair, and she had a big dog with her. They don't let in dogs, so he's + waiting outside somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + The last man who did not go in was Bond Saxon, who came late and found the + gates deserted. But lying watchful in the open way, was a Great Dane dog. + Old Bond hesitated. It was his lifetime fault to hesitate. Then he trotted + back home. And, behold, a bottle of whisky was beside his doorstep. But to + his credit for once, he resisted and smashed the bottle to bits on the + stone step. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The day was made for such a game. There was no wind. The glare of the +sun was tempered by a gray mist creeping up the afternoon skies. The +air was crisp enough to prevent languor. The crowded bleachers were +inspiring; the season was rounding out in a blaze of glory for Sunrise. +The two teams were evenly matched, And the stern joy that warriors feel + In foemen worthy of their steel, + spurred each to its best efforts. It was a battle royal, with all the +turns of strategy, and quickness, and straight physical weight, and +sudden shifting of signals, fake plays, forward passes, line bucks, and +splendid interference, flying tackles, speedy end runs, and magnificent +defense of goals with lines of invincible strength and spirit. +</pre> + <p> + With the kick-off the enemy's goal was endangered by a fumbled ball, and + within three minutes Trench had torn a hole in the defense, through which + the Sunrise team were sending Vic Burleigh for a touchdown. The bleachers + went wild and the grandstand was almost shipwrecked in the noise. + </p> + <p> + “Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!” shrieked the yell-leader as Vic leaped over the + goal line and the rooters roared: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Sunrise hope! + And that's the dope! + Never quails! + Never fails! + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! +</pre> + <p> + A difficult kick from a sharp angle sent the ball through the air one inch + wide of the goal post, and the bleachers counted five. + </p> + <p> + And then, came the forward swing again, the struggle for downs, the gain + and loss of territory, until Trench, too heavy for speed, failed to break + through the interference quickly enough to hold a swift little + quarterback, who slipped around the end of the line, and, shaking off the + tackles, swooped toward the Sunrise goal. The last defense was thrown + headlong, and the field was wide open for the run; and the quarterback was + running for the honor of his team, his school, his undying fame in the + college world. Three yards to the goal line, and victory would be his. All + Lagonda Ledge held its breath as Vic Burleigh tore through a tangle of + tackles and sprang forward with long, space-eating bounds. He seemed to + leap through ten feet of air, straight over the quarterback's head and + land four feet from the goal with the quarterback in his grip, while a + Sunrise halfback out beyond him was lying on the lost ball. + </p> + <p> + The bleachers now went entirely mad, for from the very edge of disaster, + the tide of battle was turned into the enemy's territory. Before the + Sunrise rooters had time to cease rejoicing, however, the invincible + quarterback was away again, and with two guards and a center on top of + Burleigh, now the plucky runner broke across the Sunrise line, and a + minute later missed a pretty goal. And the opposing bleachers counted + five. + </p> + <p> + The second half of the game was filled with a tense, fruitless strife. + Five points to five points, and four minutes of time to play. The struggle + had ceased to be a turning of tricks and test of speed. Henceforth, it was + man against man, pound for pound. Suddenly, the opposing team braced + itself and began a steady drive down the gridiron. With desperate energy, + the Sunrise eleven fought for ground, giving way slowly, defending their + goal like true Spartans, dying by inches, until only three yards of space + were left on which to die. The rooters shrieked, and the girls sang of + courage. Then a silence fell. Three yards, and the Sunrise team turned to + a rock ledge as invincible as the limestone foundation of their beloved + college halls. The center from which all strength radiated was Victor + Burleigh. Against him the weight of the line-bucking plunged. If he + wavered the line must crumble. The crowd hardly breathed, so tense was the + strain. But he did not waver. The ball was lost and the last struggle of + the day began. Two minutes more, the score tied, and only one chance was + left. + </p> + <p> + Since the night of the storm, Vic had known little rest. His days had been + spent in hard study, or continuous practice on the field; his nights in + the sick room. And what was more destructive to strength than all of this + was the newness and grief of a blind, overmastering adoration for the one + girl of all the school impossible to him. The strain of this day's game, + as the strain of all the preparation for it, had fallen upon him, and the + half hour in the rotunda had sapped his energy beyond every other force. + Love, loss, a reputation attacked, possible expulsion for assaulting a + professor, injustice, anger—oh, it was more than a burden of wearied + muscles and wracked nerves that he had to lift in these two minutes! + </p> + <p> + In a second's pause before the offense began, Vic, who never saw the + bleachers, nor heard a sound when he was in the thick of the game, caught + sight now of a great splash of glowing red color in the grandstand. In a + dim way, like a dream of a dream, he thought of American Beauty roses of + which something had been said once—so long ago, it seemed now. And + in that moment, Elinor Wream's sweet face, with damp dark hair which the + lamplight from Dr. Fenneben's door was illumining, and the softly spoken + words, “I shall always remember you as one with whom I could never be + afraid again”—all this came swiftly in an instant's vision, as the + team caught its breath for the last onslaught. + </p> + <p> + “Victor, for victory. Lead out Burleigh,” Trench cried to his mates, and + the sweep of the field was on; and Lagonda Ledge and the whole Walnut + Valley remembers that final charge yet. Steady, swift, invincible, it + drove its strong foe down the white-crossed sod—so like a whirlwind, + that the watching crowds gazed in bewilderment. Almost before they could + comprehend the truth, the enemy's goal was just before the Sunrise + warriors, and half a minute of time remained in which to play. One more + line plunge with Burleigh holding the ball! A film came before his eyes. A + sudden blankness of failure and despair seized him. In the grandstand, + Elinor Wream stood clutching a pennant in both hands, her dark eyes + luminous with proud hope. Amid all the yells and cheers, her sweet voice + rang out: + </p> + <p> + “Victor, Victor! Don't forget the name your mother gave you!” + </p> + <p> + Vic neither saw nor heard. Yet in that moment, strength and pride and + indomitable will power came sweeping back to him. One last plunge against + this wall of defense upreared before him, and Burleigh, with half the + enemy's eleven clinched to drag him back, had hurled himself across the + goal line and lay half-conscious under a perfect shower of fragrant + crimson roses, while the song of victory in swelling chorus pealed out on + the November air. Half a minute later, Trench had kicked goal. The + bleachers chanted eleven counts, the referee's whistle blew, and the game + was done! + </p> + <p> + SACRIFICE + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>The air for the wing of the sparrow, + The bush for the robin and wren, + But always the path that is narrow + And straight for the children of men</i>. + —ALICE CARY +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Oh, it is excellent + To have a giant's strength, but tyrannous + To use it like a giant</i>. + —SHAKESPEARE +</pre> + <p> + OF course, there came a day of reckoning for Victor Burleigh, now the idol + of the Walnut Valley football fans, the pride of Lagonda Ledge, the hero + of Sunrise. But the reckoning was not brought to him; he brought himself + deliberately to it. + </p> + <p> + The jollification following the game threatened to wreck the chapel and + crack the limestone ledge beneath it. + </p> + <p> + “Dust off your halo and wrap it up in cotton till next fall, Vic,” Trench + whispered in the closing minutes. “We've got to face the real thing now. + We're civilians in citizens' clothes, amenable to law henceforth; not a + lot of athletic brigands, privileged outlaws, whose glory dazzles all + common sense. Quit bumping your head against the Kansas motto up in the + dome, get your hob-nailers down on the sod, and trot off and tackle your + Greek verbs awhile. And say, Vic, tackle yourself first and forget the + pretty girl who covered you with roses down yonder five days ago. It was + n't you, it was just the day's hero. She'd have decorated old Bond Saxon + just the same if he had waddled across the last goal line then. You're a + plug and she's a lady born, and as good as engaged to Burgess besides. I + had that straight from Dennie Saxon, and you know Dennie's no gossip. They + were far gone before they came West—the Wream-Burgess folk were—stiffen + up, Burleigh. You look like a dead man.” + </p> + <p> + “I was never more alive in my life.” Vic's voice and eyes were alive + enough. + </p> + <p> + “By heck! I believe it,” Trench exclaimed. “Say, you got away with Burgess + about the game. If you want the girl, go after her, too. But gently, Sweet + Afton, go gently. Most girls want to do the pursuing themselves, I + believe. I'll block the interference, if necessary, and you'll be the + sought-after yet, not the seeking, dear child.” + </p> + <p> + A circular stairway winds from the Sunrise chapel down the south turret to + Dean Fenneben's study, intended originally as a sort of fire escape. Some + enterprising janitor later fixed a spring lock on the upper door to this + stairway (surprises had been sprung through this door upon the chapel + stage by prankish students at inopportune moments), so that now it was + only an exit, and was called by the students “the road to perdition,” easy + to descend but barred from retreat. + </p> + <p> + In the confusion following the chapel exercises Vic slipped into the south + turret, and the lock clicked behind him as he hurried down “the road to + perdition.” + </p> + <p> + The door to Dean Fenneben's study was slightly open and Vic heard his own + name spoken as he reached it. He hesitated, for a group of girls was + surrounding Elinor Wream, discussing him. There was no escape. The upper + door was locked, and he would rather have met that unknown villainous face + in the dark cave than to face this group of pretty girls. So he waited. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Elinor, you mercenary creature!” + </p> + <p> + “What if he is a bit crude?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame you. I'm daffy about Professor Burgess myself.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got the grandest voice, Vic has!” + </p> + <p> + “I just adore Greek!” + </p> + <p> + “I think Vic is splendid!” + </p> + <p> + So the exclamations ran. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Norrie Wream, cross your heart, hope you may die, if big, handsome + Victor Burleigh had his corners knocked off, and he was sandpapered down a + little, and had money, wouldn't you feel a whole lot different about him, + Norrie?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly would. I couldn't help it.” + </p> + <p> + Norrie's eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink as peach blossoms. To + Vic she seemed exquisitely beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “But now?” somebody queried. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, now, she'll be sensible, and the Professor will take advantage of + 'now.' He won't wait till it's too late. Great hat! there goes the bell.” + </p> + <p> + And the girls scuttled away. + </p> + <p> + Vic came in and sat down by the window through which one may find an + empire for the looking. + </p> + <p> + “Burgess was right,” he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not only ill-bred on the outside, I'm that way clear through. A + disreputable eavesdropper! That's my size. But I didn't mean it. Fine + excuse!” He frowned in disgust, and turned to the window. + </p> + <p> + The Thanksgiving weather was still blessing the Walnut Valley. Wide away + beyond Lagonda Ledge rolled the free open prairies, swept by the free air + of heaven under a beneficent sky. + </p> + <p> + As Vic gazed his stern face softened, and the bulldog look, that he had + worn since the night of the storm, relaxed before some gentler mood. The + brown eyes held a strange glow under the long black lashes, as if a new + purpose were growing up in the soul behind them. + </p> + <p> + “No limit out there. It's a FREE LAND,” he murmured. “There shall be no + limit in here.” Unconsciously he struck his breast with his fist. “There's + freedom for such as I am somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Burleigh, what can I do for you?” As Dr. Fenneben came into the + study he recalled how awkwardly the same boy had filled the same chair + only a few months before. + </p> + <p> + “I've come in to be sentenced,” Vic replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, plead your case first.” + </p> + <p> + If ever a father-heart beat in a bachelor's breast, Lloyd Fenneben had + such a heart. + </p> + <p> + “I want to settle about Thanksgiving Day,” Vic said. “I had a moral right + to play on the team in that game, but I had to get the legal right by + force. Professor Burgess refused to permit me to play until I MADE him do + it.” + </p> + <p> + Fenneben's eyes were smiling. “Why didn't you knock him down and fight it + out with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he's not in my class. When I fight I fight men. And, besides, I + was in a hurry. If I'm expected to apologize to Professor Burgess or be + expelled, I want to know it,” Vic added, hotly. + </p> + <p> + He knew he would not apologize, and he wanted the sentence of expulsion to + come quickly if it must come. + </p> + <p> + “We never expel boys from Sunrise. They have done it themselves sometimes. + Nor do we ever exact an apology. They offer it themselves sometimes. In + either case, the choice lies with the boy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do with a fellow like me?” Vic looked curiously at the Dean. + </p> + <p> + “If a boy of your build wants to meet only men when he fights, we take it + he is something of a man himself, and therefore worth too much for Sunrise + to lose.” + </p> + <p> + Oh! blessed power of the college man to lead the half-tamed boy into the + stronger places of life; nor shove him to the dangerous ground where his + feet must sink in the quicksand or the mire! + </p> + <p> + Vic sat looking thoughtfully at the man before him. + </p> + <p> + “Your confession here is all right. Your claim to a place on the team in + Thursday's game was just.” The simple fairness of Fenneben's words made + their appeal, yet, it was so unlike what Vic had counted on he could + hardly accept it as genuine. + </p> + <p> + “You have made a great name for yourself as an athlete. I paid for the + roses. I know something of the degree of that greatness.” Dr. Fenneben + smiled genially. “You played a marvelous game and I am proud of you.” + </p> + <p> + Vic did not look proud of himself just then, and Lloyd Fenneben knew it + was one of life's crucial moments for the boy. + </p> + <p> + “The big letter S cut over the doorway out there stands for more than + Sunrise, you remember I told you.” Fenneben spoke earnestly. “It means + also the strife which you have already met and must expect to meet all + along the way. But, Burleigh”—Lloyd Fenneben stood up to his full + height, an ideal of grace and power—“if you expect to make your way + through college with your fists, come to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” Vic's eyes widened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll meet you on any grounds. And if you ever try to coerce a + professor here again, I'll meet you anyhow, and we'll have it out.” + Fenneben was stern now. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't want to scrap with you, Dr. Fenneben,” Vic stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am too much of a gentleman for that.” + </p> + <p> + “When I fight, I fight men. You are in my class,” Fenneben quoted with a + smile in his eyes, which faded away with the next words. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Burleigh. A gentleman does n't want to use his strength + like a beast to destroy. The only legitimate battle is when a man must + fight with a man as he would fight with a beast, to save himself, or + something dearer to him than himself, from beastly destruction. Get into + the bigger game, my boy, where the strife is for larger scores, and add to + a proud athletic record, the prouder record of self-control. The prairies + have given you a noble heritage, but culture comes most from contact with + cultured men. Don't take on airs because you have more red blood than our + Harvard man. The influence of the great universities, directly or + indirectly, on a life like yours is essential to your usefulness and + power. You may educate your conscience to choose the right before the + wrong, but, remember, an educated conscience does not always save a man + from being a fool now and then. He needs an educated brain sometimes by + which to save his soul. Meantime, settle with your conscience, if you owe + it anything. It is a troublesome creditor. I'll leave you now to square + yourself with that fellow you must live with every day—Victor + Burleigh. We'll drop everything else henceforth and face toward tomorrow, + not yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben grasped the boy's hand in a firm, assuring grip and left + him. + </p> + <p> + “If Sunrise means Strife, I'll face it,” Vic said to himself. “As to + money, I have only my two hands and that old mortgaged quadrangle of + prairie sod out West. But if culture like Fenneben's might win Elinor + Wream, God help me to win it.” + </p> + <p> + Up in the library a week later Professor Burgess came in while Dennie + Saxon was putting the books in order. Burgess was often to be found where + Dennie was, but Burgess himself had not noted it, and nobody else knew it, + except Trench. Trench was a lazy fellow, who always lived in the middle of + his pasture, where the feeding was good. That gave him time to study + mankind as it worried about the outer edges. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you get tired sometimes, Miss Dennie?” the Professor asked. He was + not happy himself for many reasons, and two of them were Elinor and Vic, + who separately, and differently, seemed to wear out his energy. Dennie + Saxon never wore on anybody's nerves. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do, often,” Dennie answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you do this?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “To get my college education.” Dennie smiled, hopefully. “I like the nice + things and nice ways of life. So I'm working for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Elinor has all these without working for them,” Vincent thought. + </p> + <p> + Then for no reason at all his mind leaped to Dennie's father and his own + vow on the stormy night in October. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do if your father were taken from you, Miss Dennie?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I've always had to depend on myself somewhat. I would keep on, I + suppose.” Dennie looked up bravely. Her father was her joy and her shame. + </p> + <p> + Well, what had Burgess expected? That she would depend on him? He was in + love with Elinor Wream. Why should he feel disappointed? And why should + his eye follow the soft little ripples of her sunny hair, giving a pretty + outline to her face and neck. + </p> + <p> + “Could you really take care of yourself? He was talking at random. + </p> + <p> + “I might do like that woman out at Pigeon Place.” Burgess did n't catch + the pathos in Dennie's tone. He was only a man. + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, live alone and keep a big dog, and sell chickens. That's what Mrs. + Marian does. By the way, she looks just a little bit like you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” + </p> + <p> + “She was at the game on Thanksgiving Day, strange to say, for she seldom + leaves home. Did you see a pretty white-haired woman, right south of where + we were?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that how I look? No, I didn't see her. I was n't at the game.” + </p> + <p> + “You weren't? Why not? You missed a wonderful thing.” + </p> + <p> + And Burgess told her the whole story from his viewpoint, of course. What + he was too proud to mention to Dr. Fenneben or Elinor he spoke of freely + to Dennie, and he felt as if the weight of the limestone ledge was lifted + from him with the telling. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think the young ruffian was pretty hard on me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” Dennie said, frankly. “I think you were pretty hard on + him.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden resolve seized Burgess. He came around to Dennie's side of the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dennie, I want to tell you something, unimportant in itself, but + better shared than kept. On the night of our picnic in October your + father, who was not quite himself—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand,” Dennie said, with downcast eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Dennie, I would not hurt your feelings.” His voice was very + gentle, and Dennie looked up gratefully. “On that night your father made + me promise—made me hold up my hand and swear—I'm easily + forced, you will think—to look after you if he were taken away. I + did it to pacify him, not to ever embarrass you. He also told me enough + about young Burleigh to make me wish, in the office of protector, to warn + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Was my father quite himself then?” Dennie asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite,” Burgess replied. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to him some day when he is. He is another man then. But,” she + added, “I know you mean well.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of her courage her eyes were full of tears, and for the first + time in his sheltered pleasant life the real spirit of sympathy woke in + the soul of Vincent Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “You are a brave, good girl, Dennie. If I can ever serve you in any way, + it will be a privilege to me to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes after they had left the library Trench, who had been + stationary in the north alcove, slowly came to life. He had been posing as + a statue, Winged Victory with a head on, he declared afterward to Vic + Burleigh, to whom he told the whole story. + </p> + <p> + “Let me sing my swan song,” he declared. “Then me for Lagonda's whirlpool. + I'm not fit to live in a decent community, a blithering idiot and rascally + villain, who lies in wait to hear and see like a fool. I thought Dennie + knew I was there and would be in to dust me out in a minute. And when it + was too late I turned to a pillar of salt and waited. But I believe I'll + change my mind, after all. I'll live; and if Professor Burgess, A.B. of + Cambridge-by-the-bean-patch, dares to make love to Dennie Saxon—on + the side—he'll go head foremost into the whirlpool to feed Lagonda's + rapacious spirit. I've said it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>We cannot make bargains for blisses, + Nor catch them like fishes in nets, + And sometimes the thing our life misses + Helps more than the thing which it gets</i>. + —CARY +</pre> + <p> + ELINOR WREAM spent the holidays in the East and was two weeks late in + entering school again. Then her Uncle Lloyd tightened the rules, exacting + full measure for lost time, until she bewailed to her girl friends that + she had no opportunity even to make fudge or wash her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Were you sorry to come back, then, Norrie?” her uncle asked one evening + when they were alone in their library, and Elinor was lamenting her hard + lot. + </p> + <p> + “No, I want to be with you, Uncle Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + She was sitting on the arm of his morris chair, softly stroking his heavy + hair away from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Looks like it, the way you hurried back,” Dr. Fenneben said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “But Uncle Joshua is n't well, although, to be honest, he didn't seem a + bit anxious to have me stay. He's so wrapped up in Sanscrit he has no time + to live in the present. Why didn't he ever marry?” + </p> + <p> + “You have just said why,” her uncle answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't you ever marry. Were you ever in love?” + </p> + <p> + The library lamp cast only a shaded light over Lloyd Fenneben lounging + comfortably in his chair. To a woman's eye he would have seemed the + picture of an ideal husband. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was in love once. I did n't marry because—because—I + didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “How romantic! Was it unrequited, or money, or what?” Norrie asked, + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Or what,” he answered, and her finer sense made her change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Uncle Lloyd, Uncle Joshua says he wants me to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he up to now? Tell me about it.” + </p> + <p> + Norrie was charming tonight in a dainty red evening gown that set off her + pretty face, crowned with beautiful dark hair. Somehow the sight of her + made deeper the void in Fenneben's life—since that love affair of + his own long ago. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Norrie went on, “Uncle says I'm to marry rich, because my papa + expected me to. He said papa had money which was mamma's and he used it + for college endowments, because the Wreams love colleges best, and that it + was his wish, and it's Uncle Joshua's too, that I should marry well. I + knew I came honestly by my love of spending. I inherited it from my + mother. Aren't the Wreams all funny men to just see nothing in money, but + a cap and gown and a Master's Degree? But you are a human being, Uncle + Lloyd. You wouldn't leave a daughter dependent on her uncles and use her + money to endow colleges, would you?” The white arm stole round his neck + affectionately, as Elinor added softly, “I'm going to tell you something + else. Uncle Joshua wants me to marry Professor Burgess.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to marry him?” Fenneben asked. + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't asked me to yet. But he is such a gentleman and he has a + fortune in his own name, or in trust, or something like that. It would + please the Cambridge folks, and Uncle Joshua expects me to consent, and + I've never disobeyed uncle's wishes, so I couldn't refuse now. And, well, + if he'll wait till I'm ready, I guess it will suit me.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll wait all right, if he wants you, Norrie. He must wait until you + graduate,” the Dean declared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; a Wream without a college diploma is like a ship without a + compass, a mere derelict on life's sea. I'm in no hurry anyhow,” and she + began to talk of other things. + </p> + <p> + In the months that followed Trench had no need to watch Professor Burgess + in his relation to Dennie Saxon, for Burgess had no thought of her other + than of kindly sympathy. That is, Burgess thought he had no thought. He + knew he was in love with Elinor, knew that back in Cambridge before he was + graduated from the university. He had been told that Elinor liked + luxurious living, and he had money—he had told Fenneben as much in + their first interview. Everything seemed to be settled now, for Joshua + Wream had written Burgess the kind of letter only a very old man, and an + abstract scholar, and a bachelor would ever write, telling all that he had + said to Norrie. He made it obligatory that Fenneben should first give his + sanction to the union. He requested also that Burgess would never mention + this letter to his dear young niece, and he expressly stipulated that + Norrie should graduate at Sunrise first. He ended with an old man's + blessing and with the assurance that with Elinor safely provided for his + conscience (why his conscience?) would be at rest, and he could die in + peace. So there was smooth sailing at Sunrise for many months. Elinor was + always charming, and Dr. Fenneben seemed oblivious to the situation, least + of all to putting up any objection, which, according to brother Joshua, + would have blocked the game of love. There was time now for profound + research, the study of types, seclusion, and the advantage of geographical + breath which had brought the Professor to Kansas, and which he heeded less + and less with the passing days. For he found himself more and more living + in the lives of the students. He had been ashamed, once, of having been + Dennie Saxon's escort; and he never knew when she came to be the one + person in Lagonda Ledge to whom he turned for confidence and aid in many + things. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the big boy from the western claim was as surely going up the + rounds of culture as the Professor was coming down to the common needs of + common minds, and both were unconscious then that back of each was Dr. + Fenneben, “dear old Funnybone” to the student body, playing each man for + his king row in the great game of life fought out in + Sunrise-by-the-Walnut. + </p> + <p> + Toward Elinor, Victor Burleigh seemed utterly indifferent. Even Lloyd + Fenneben, who had caught an insight into things on the night of the + October storm, and had begun to read that new line in the boy's face, + failed to grasp what lay back of those innocent-looking, wide-open eyes, + whose tiger-golden gleam showed but rarely now. Vic was easily the most + popular fellow in his class, and the year at Sunrise had worked a + marvelous change in him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a darned smooth citizen,” Trench drawled, as he and Burleigh + stood in the shade by the campus gate on the closing day of their freshman + year. + </p> + <p> + A group of girls had been bidding the two good-bye for the summer. As + Elinor Wream, who was the last one of the company, offered her hand to Vic + there was a look of expectancy in her glance which found no response in + his own eyes. As he turned away with indifferent courtesy to Trench, the + big right guard stared hard at him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a—well, any kind of a smooth citizen, I say,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “What's troubling your liver now?” Vic asked. + </p> + <p> + Trench did not heed the question, but said, slowly: “And-the-big-noble- + hearted-young-fellow-walked-in-and-out-beside-how-the-touch-of-her-hand- + thrilled-his-every-pulse-beat,-and-how-her-smile-was-the-light-of-his- + soul. And-he-grew-handsomer-and-more-beloved-with-the-passing-manhood—” + </p> + <p> + A sudden clutch on Trench's arm, the blaze of the old-time fury in burning + eyes, as Vic's hoarse voice cried: + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, Trench, get out of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” drawled Trench. “The only friend you ever had. I'll carry my + troubles up to Big Chief Funnybone. Like as not he'll sentence me to + tumble you through the chapel door of the south turret down the 'road to + perdition.' No use though, you go that road every day. Better treat me + right and tell me all your troubles. If there is any cool handle to take + hold of Gehanna by next to Funnybone, I'm the one fellow in Sunrise to + grab onto it.” + </p> + <p> + But Vic was out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + And the days of a long, hot Kansas summer, a glorious autumn, and a short, + nippy winter swung by in their appointed seasons. And now the springtime + was unrolling in dainty beauty of tender green leaf, and growing grass, + and warm, sweet air, and trill of song bird. College students philosophize + little in the springtime of their sophomore year. Having learned all that + books can teach, and a little more, they seek other pastime. Nobody in + Sunrise except Dr. Fenneben took the time to remember how stiff and + ungenial Professor Burgess was when he first came West; nor what an + awkward gosling Victor Burleigh was the day he entered Sunrise; nor that + once it could have seemed just a little odd to invite Dennie Saxon, a poor + student, daughter of a half-reformed drunkard, to the class parties; nor + that even Elinor Wream, “Norrie the beloved,” was not supposed to be + engaged to Vincent Burgess. Supposed! And that, when her senior year was + well along, the engagement would be openly spoken of as now in her + sophomore year, it was quietly accepted, even if Professor Burgess was + often Dennie Saxon's escort. That was because he was such a gentleman. Nor + that with all these changes Trench had remained the same old lazy Trench, + the comfortable idol of the girls, for he was right guard to all of them, + and cared for none. And they never knew till afterward that for all the + four years he was faithful to a little sweetheart out in the sandy + Cimarron River country, to whom he took back clean hands and a pure heart, + when he went home after four years of college life. + </p> + <p> + None of these things were noted especially, save by Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, + and he wasn't a sophomore nor a professor in love with a pretty girl; a + professor learning for the first time that sympathy has also its culture + value, as well as perfectly translated Horace, and that the growth of a + human soul means something as beautiful as the growth of a complete + conjugation on an old Greek stem from an older Greek root. Fenneben had + learned all this while he was chasing about the Kansas prairies with a + college in his vest pocket. + </p> + <p> + There were some unchanged things, however, which Fenneben only guessed at. + Victor Burleigh had never apologized to Professor Burgess for his rude + attack, unless a certain strained dignified courtesy be the mark of a + tacit apology. And Burgess could give only cold recognition to the big + fellow who had choked him into submission and had gone unpunished by the + college authorities. + </p> + <p> + Between these two Fenneben guessed there was no change. But he did not + grieve deeply. There must be a personal phase in this grudge that no third + person could handle. It might be a girl—but the face of the returns + indicated otherwise. Meanwhile the college was doing its perfect work for + Burleigh, whose strength of mind, and self-control, and growing + graciousness of manner betokened the splendid manhood that should rest on + this foundation. While the spirit of the prairie sod, the benediction of + the broad-sweeping air of heaven, and the sturdy, wholesome life of the + sons and daughters of freedom-loving, broad-spirited men and women—all + were giving to Vincent Burgess a new happiness in his work unlike any + pleasure he had ever known before. + </p> + <p> + Little Bug Buler, now four years of age, had changed least of all among + changing things about Lagonda Ledge. A sweet-faced, quaint little fellow + he was, with big appealing eyes, a baby lisp to his words, and innocent + ways. He was a sturdy, pudgy, self-reliant youngster, however, who took + long rambles alone and turned up safe at the right moment. All Lagonda + Ledge petted him, even to Burgess, who never forgot the day in the rotunda + when Bug's pitying voice had broken Burleigh's grip on his neck. + </p> + <p> + Bond Saxon had not changed, nor the white-haired woman of Pigeon Place—nor + the reputation of the ravines and rocky coverts for hiding law breakers + across the Walnut River. And Fenneben noted often the slender blue smoke + rising where nobody had a house. + </p> + <p> + It was an April day in the Walnut Valley, with all the freshness of the + earth just washed and perfumed by April showers. The sunshine was pale + gold. There was a gray-green filmy light from budding trees, and the + old-time miracle of the grass was wrought out once more before the eyes of + men. The orchards along the Walnut were faintly pink, and the eggs in the + robin's nest, the south winds purring through the wooded spaces, the odor + of far-plowed furrows on the prairie farms, all gave assurance of the + year's gladdest days. From the Sunrise ledge the beauty of the landscape + was exquisite. There was no haze overhanging the earth now, and the Walnut + Valley was a picture beyond a Master's dream. Victor Burleigh sat on the + top of the flight of steps leading from the lower campus, looking lazily + out with dreamy eyes on all that the earth had to give on this sweet April + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Presently Elinor Wream came around the north angle of the building, + hesitated a little, then walked straight to the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, Victor,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Burleigh looked up, glad then of his months of discipline and + self-control. A sight good for anybody on a day like this was this college + girl with beautiful dark hair and laughing dark eyes, a satiny pink and + white complexion, and a slender form, clad just now in dainty pink gingham + with faint little edgings of white and pale green, all stylishly put + together to reveal rounded arms, and white neck, and dimpled chin. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Elinor,” Vic said, calmly, making room for her on the stone steps. + “Take a seat.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor sat down beside him, throwing her hat on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Whither away?” Vic asked. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you presently. I want to get over my stage fright first.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, look at this view. I'll give it to you if you like it.” Vic + had turned to the west again and was looking away toward the dreamy + prairies beyond the valley. + </p> + <p> + Elinor recalled the September day when the bull snake lay sunning itself + on this very stone. How shy and awkward he seemed then, with only a deep + sweet voice to attract favorable attention. And now, big, and graceful, + and handsome, and reserved—any girl might be proud to have his + regard. Of course, for herself, there was Vincent Burgess in the pleasant + inevitable sometime. She gave little thought to that. She was living in + the present. And in the wooing spirit of the April afternoon Elinor was + glad to sit here beside Victor Burleigh. + </p> + <p> + “What time next month do we have the big baseball game?” she asked. “The + game that is to make Sunrise the champion college in Kansas, and you our + college champion?” Vic's lips suddenly grew gray. + </p> + <p> + “Friday, the thirteenth—auspicious date!” he answered. “But I may + not play in it. I might fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we must win this game, anyhow, and you never do fail. Don't forget + the name your mother gave you. Do you remember when you told me that?” + </p> + <p> + “A couple of thousand years ago, wasn't it?” Vic asked, smiling down on + her. “If I don't play Sunrise needn't fail, even for Friday, the + thirteenth.” + </p> + <p> + “But it will fail without you. You pulled us to victory a year ago at the + Thanksgiving game, and last fall the Sunrise goal line wasn't crossed the + whole season with 'Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!' for a slogan. We must win + this year. Then it will be a complete championship: football, basket-ball, + and baseball. We won't do it though unless we have 'Burleigh at the bat'.” + </p> + <p> + A shadow crossed his face and he looked away to where a tiny film of blue + smoke was rising above the rough ledges beyond the river. + </p> + <p> + “I'm getting over my stage fright now,” Elinor said, the pink deepening on + her fair cheek, “and I'll tell you what I want.” + </p> + <p> + “Command me!” he said, gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's awful, and the girls are too mean to live. But they are + getting even with me, they say, for something I did last fall.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” Vic was waiting, graciously. + </p> + <p> + “A lot of us have broken some of the rules of the Sorority and it's + decreed that I must go over the route we came home by on the night of the + storm down in the Kickapoo Corral. They are having a 'spread' down there + at five o'clock and we are to get there in time for it, going by the west + side of the river, and they'll bring us home. They said I should ask you + to go with me, and if you would n't go for me to ask Mr. Trench to go. + They are too silly for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Trench was executed for manslaughter at two forty-five today. It's three + o'clock now. Let's go.” He lifted her to her feet and stooped to pick up + her hat. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mind going with me, Victor?” Elinor asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do I mind? I've been waiting two years for you to ask me to go.” His + voice was very deep and there was a soft light in his brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + Elinor's pulse beat felt a thrill. A sudden sense of the sweetness of the + day and of a joy unlike any other joy of her life possessed her. + </p> + <p> + Down on the bridge they stopped to watch the sunlit waters of the Walnut + rippling below them. + </p> + <p> + “Are we the same two who crept up on this bridge, wet, and muddy and + tired, and scared one stormy October night eighteen months ago?” Elinor + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I've had no reincarnation that I know of,” Vic replied. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” Elinor declared, and Vic thought of Burgess. + </p> + <p> + Up the narrow hidden glen they made their way, clambering about broken + ledges, crossing and recrossing the little stream, hugging the dry footing + under overhanging rock shelves, laughing at missteps and rejoicing in the + springtime joy, until they came suddenly upon a grassy open space, + cliff-walled and hidden, even from the rest of the glen. At the farther + end was the low doorway-like entrance to the cave. The song-birds were + twittering in the trees above them, the waters of the little stream + gurgled at their feet, the woodsy odor of growing things was in the air, + and all the little glen was restful and quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it beautiful and romantic—and everything nice?” Elinor cried. + “I don't mind this sentence to hard service. It is worth it. Do you mind + the loss of time, Victor?” + </p> + <p> + “I counted it gain to be here with you, even in the storm and terror. How + can this be loss?” he answered her. His voice was low and musical. + </p> + <p> + Elinor looked up quickly. And quickly as the thing had come to Victor + Burleigh on the west bluff above the old Kickapoo Corral two Octobers ago, + so to Elinor Wream came the vision of what the love of such a man would be + to the woman who could win it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean it, Victor? Was n't I a lump of lead? A dead weight to + your strength that night? You have never once spoken of it.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up with shining eyes and put out her hand. What could he do but + keep it in his own for a moment, firm-held, as something he would keep + forever. + </p> + <p> + “I have never once forgotten it,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + The cave by daylight was as the lightning had shown it, a big chamber, + rock-walled, rock-floored, rock-roofed, in the side of the bluff, but + little below the level of the ground and easy of entrance. It was cool and + damp, but, with the daylight through the doorway, it was merely shadowy + inside. In the farther wall yawned the ragged opening to the black spaces + leading off underground. Through this opening these two had crept once, + feeling that behind the wall somebody was crouching with evil intent. They + peered through the opening now, trying to see the miraculous way by which + they had come into the cave from the rear. But they stared only into + blackness and caught the breath of the damp underground air with a faint + odor of wood smoke somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “Elinor, it's a good thing we came through here in the night. It would + have been maddening to be forced in here by daylight. We must have slipped + down through a hole somewhere in our stumbles and hit a passage leading + out of here only to the river, a sort of fire escape by way of the waters. + You remember we couldn't get anywhere on the back track, except to the + cliff above the Walnut. It's all very fine if the escaper gets out of the + river before he reaches Lagonda's whirlpool.” + </p> + <p> + He was leaning far through the opening in the wall, gazing into the + darkness and seeing nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere back in there, while I was pawing around that night, I found + something up in a chink that felt like the odd-shaped little silver + pitcher my mother had once—an old family heirloom, lost or stolen + some time ago. I came back and hunted for it later, but it was winter time + and cold as the grave outside and darker in here, and I couldn't find + anything, so I concluded maybe I was mistaken altogether about its being + like that old pitcher of ours. It was a bad night for 'seein' things'; it + might have been for 'feelin' things' as well. There's nothing here but + damp air and darkness.” + </p> + <p> + And even while he was speaking close beside the wall, so near that a hand + could have reached him, a man was crouching; the same man whose cruel eyes + had stared through the bushes at Lloyd Fenneben as he sat by the river + before Pigeon Place; the same man whose eyes had leered at Vic Burleigh in + this same place eighteen months before; the same man whom little Bug + Buler's innocent face had startled as he was about to seize the money box + at the gateway to the Sunrise football field; and this same man was + crouching now to spring at Vic Burleigh's throat in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “It's a good thing a fellow has a guardian angel once in a while,” Vic + said, as he hastily withdrew his head and shoulders. “We get pretty close + to the edge of things sometimes and never know how near we are to + destruction.” + </p> + <p> + “We were pretty close that night,” Elinor replied. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we rest here a little while, or do your savage sorority sisters + require you to do time in so many minutes?” Vic asked, as they left the + cave and came again into the sunlight, and all the sweetness of the April + woodland, and the rugged beauty of the glen. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to rest,” Elinor said, dropping down on a stone. Her cheeks were + blooming from the exercise of the tramp, and her pretty hair was in + disorder. + </p> + <p> + Far away from the west prairie came the faint note of a child's voice in + song. + </p> + <p> + “Victor,” Elinor said, as they listened, “do you know that the Sunrise + girls envy Bug Buler? They say you would have more time for the girls if + it wasn't for him. What you spend for him you could spend on light + refreshments for them, don't you see?” + </p> + <p> + “I know I'm a stingy cuss,” Vic said, carelessly, but a deeper red touched + his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “You know you are not,” Elinor insisted, “and I've always thought it was a + beautiful thing for a big grown man like you to care for a little orphan + boy. All the girls think so, too.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh looked down at her gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “I thought once—in fact, I was told once—that my care for him + was sufficient reason why I should let all the girls alone, most of all + why I should not think of Elinor Wream.” + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” Elinor's face had a womanly expression. “I've never had a + little child to love me. I've been brought up with only AEneas's small son + Ascanius, and other classical children, on Uncle Joshua's Dead Language + book shelves. I feel sometimes as if I'd been robbed.” + </p> + <p> + “You? I didn't know you had ever wanted anything you did n't get.” + </p> + <p> + Victor had thought all things were due to her and came as duly. The + womanly look on her face now was a revelation to him. But then he had not + dared to study her face for months, and he did not yet realize what life + in Dr. Fenneben's home must mean to her character-building. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you some time about something I ought to have had, a sacrifice + I was forced to make; but not now, Tell me about Bug.” + </p> + <p> + There was no bitterness in Elinor's tone, yet the idea of her having the + capacity to endure gave her a newer charm to the man beside her. + </p> + <p> + “I have never known whose child Bug is,” he began. “The way in which he + came to me is full of terrible memories, and it all happened on the + blackest day of my life—the hard life of a lonely boy on a Kansas + claim. That's why I never speak of it and try always to forget it. I found + him by mere accident, helpless and in awful danger. He was about two years + old then and all he could say was 'bad man' and his name, 'Bug Buler.' + I've wondered if Bug is his name, or if he could not speak his real name + plainly then.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh paused, and a sense of Elinor's interest brought a thrill of joy + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Where was he?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Vic slowly unfastened his cuff and slipped his coat sleeve up to his + elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember that scar?” he asked. “It is not the only one I have. I + fought with death for that baby boy and I shall always carry the scars of + that day. Bug was alone in a lonely little deserted dugout. Somebody had + left him there to perish. He was on a low chair, the only furniture in the + room, and on the earth floor between him and me were five of the ugliest + rattlesnakes that ever coiled for a deadly blow. Little Bug held out his + arms to me, and I'll never forget his baby face—and—I killed + them all and carried him away. It was a dangerous, hard job, but the boy I + saved has been the blessing of my life ever since. I could not have + endured the days that followed without his need for care and his love and + innocence. He's kept me good, Elinor. When I got back home with him my + mother, who had been very sick, was dead, and our house had been robbed of + every valuable by some thief—a wayside tragedy of western Kansas. + That was the day the pitcher was stolen. A note was left warning me not to + follow nor try to find out who had done the stealing, but I thought I knew + anyhow. That's why I killed that bull snake the first day I came to + Sunrise and that's why I must have looked like a bulldog to you, + soft-sheltered Cambridge folks. Life has been mostly a fist fight for me, + but Dr. Fenneben has taught me that there are other powers beside physical + strength. That the knock-down game doesn't bring the real victory always. + I hope I've learned a little here.” + </p> + <p> + A little! Could this be the big awkward freshman of a September day gone + by? Then college culture is surely worth the cost. + </p> + <p> + Elinor leaned forward, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about your father,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My father lost his life because he dared to tell the truth,” Victor + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, glorious!” Elinor cried, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I have always loved my father's memory for his courage,” Victor + continued. “He was a believer in law enforcement and he was a terror to + the bootleggers who carried whisky into our settlement. A man named Gresh + was notorious for selling whisky to the claim holders. He gave it, Elinor, + gave it, to a boy, a widow's son, made him drunk, robbed him, and left him + to freeze to death in a blizzard. The boy lived long enough to tell my + father who did it, and it was his testimony that helped to convict Gresh + and start him to the penitentiary. He escaped from the sheriff on the way—and, + so far as I know, there's one bad man still at large, a fugitive before + the law. Whisky is the devil's own best tool, whether a man drinks it + himself or gets other people to drink it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a bad name,” Elinor said. “My grandfather adopted a boy named + Gresh, who turned out bad. I think he was killed in a saloon row in + Chicago. Did this Gresh ever trouble you again?” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh's face was grim as he answered: + </p> + <p> + “My father was waylaid and murdered with a club by this man. He escaped + afterward into Indian Territory. He left his own name, Gresh, scrawled on + a piece of paper pinned to my father's coat to show whose revenge was + worked out. He was a volcano of human hate—that man Gresh. After my + father's name was written—'The same club for every Burleigh who ever + crosses my path.' I expect to cross his path some day, and if I ever lay + my eyes on that fiend it will go hard with one of us.” The yellow glow + burned again in Victor Burleigh's eyes and his fists clinched + involuntarily. They were silent a while, until the sweetness of the day + and the joy of being together wooed them to happier thoughts. Then Elinor + remembered her disordered hair and, throwing aside her hat, she deftly put + it into place. + </p> + <p> + “Am I presentable for the supper at the Kickapoo Corral?” she asked, as + she picked up her hat again. + </p> + <p> + “You suit me,” Burleigh replied. “What are the Kickapoo requirements?” + </p> + <p> + “That Victor Burleigh shall be satisfied,” she answered, roguishly. + “Really, that's right. Four girls offered to substitute for me in this + penitential pilgrimage and write some long translations for me beside.” + </p> + <p> + “Four, individually or collectively?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Either way,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't you let them do it? + </p> + <p> + “Which way?” + </p> + <p> + “Either way,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather have had the four either way, than me?” she questioned, + with pretty vanity. + </p> + <p> + “Much rather.” His voice was stern. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” She was stung by the answer. + </p> + <p> + The glen was all a dreamy gray-green ruggedness of shelving rock with + mossy crevices and ferny nooks. The sunlight filtering through the young + leaves fell about them in a shadow-flecked softness. There was a crooning + song of some bird on its nest, the murmur of waters rippling down the + stony shallows, and a beautiful girl in a dainty pink dress with her + fingers just touching her fluffy masses of hair. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + With the question Elinor looked up and saw why. Saw in Victor Burleigh's + golden-brown eyes a look she had never read in eyes before; saw the whole + face, the rugged, manly face lighted with a man's overmastering love. And + the joy of it thrilled her soul. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why?” + </p> + <p> + He leaned toward her ever so little. And Elinor Wream, forgetful of the + Wream family rank, forgetful of her tacit consent to Uncle Joshua's + wishes, forgetful of Vincent Burgess and his heritage of culture, + beautiful Elinor Wream, with her starry eyes, and cheeks of peach-blossom + pink, put out her hands to Victor Burleigh, who took them eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Let me hold them a minute,” he said, softly. “There are sixty years to + remember, but only one hour like this.” + </p> + <p> + Then, forgetful of the world and the demands of the world, keeping her + hands in his, he bent and kissed her, as from the foundation of the world + it was his right to do. And Love's Young Dream, not bought with pain, as + mother love is bought, nor wrought out with prayer and sacrificial + service, as love for all humanity is won, came again on this April day to + the little, rock-sheltered glen beside the bright waters of the Walnut, + and briefly there rebuilt in rainbow hues the old, old paradise of joy for + these two alone. + </p> + <p> + And into the new Eden came the new serpent also for to destroy. Before + Elinor and Victor was the sunlit valley. Behind them was the cave's mouth + with its shadowy gloom deepening back to dense darkness. And creeping + stealthily through that blackness, like a serpent warming its venom and + writhing slowly toward the light, a human form was slowly, stealthily + crawling outward, with head upreared and cruel eyes alert. The brutal face + was void of pity, as if the conscience behind it had long been bound and + gagged to human sympathy. + </p> + <p> + While Burleigh was speaking the caveman had reached the doorway and reared + up just beside it in the shadow. Clutching a brutal-looking club in his + hairy, rough hand, he stood listening to the story of the murder that had + left Victor fatherless. The face of the listener made clear the need for + guardian angels. One leap, one blow, and Victor Burleigh would carry only + one more scar to his grave. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a faint piping voice floated in upon the glen: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little childwen pwessing near + To the feet of Thwist, the Ting, + Have you neiver doubt nor fear + Or some twibute do you bwing? +</pre> + <p> + And Bug Buler, flushed and splashed, and generally muddy and happy, came + around the fallen ledges and debauched into the grassy sunshiny space + before the cavern. Only a tiny, tumbled-up, joyous child, with no power in + his pudgy little arm; and Victor Burleigh, tall, muscular and agile. + Against this man of tremendous strength the caveman's club was lifted. But + with the sound of the child's voice and the sight of the innocent face the + club fell harmless. A look of fright, deepening to a maniac's terror, + seized the creature, and noiselessly and swiftly as a serpent would escape + he crawled back into the darkness and burrowed deep from the eyes of men. + So strength that day was ruled by weakness. + </p> + <p> + “I ist followed you, Vic,” Bug said, clutching Vic's hand. + </p> + <p> + “This is n't a safe place to come, Bug. You must n't follow me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Nen you must n't go into is n't safe places, so I won't follow. Little + folks don't know,” Bug said, with cunning gravity. + </p> + <p> + “He is right,” Elinor said. “I think we'd better leave now.” + </p> + <p> + They knew that henceforth this spot would be holy ground for them, but + they did not dare to think further than that. They only wished that the + moments would stay, that the sun would loiter slowly down the afternoon + sky. + </p> + <p> + “I know a way out,” Bug declared. Turn, “I'll show you.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a child's sense of direction, he led away from the cave out to + where the deep ravine headed in a rough mass of broken rock. + </p> + <p> + “Tlimb up that and you're out,” Bug declared. + </p> + <p> + They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward from the + Walnut bluffs. + </p> + <p> + “Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. I turn wiv Limpy out + here.” + </p> + <p> + Bug pointed to a group of students wandering about in search of dogtooth + violets and other botanical plunder from Nature's springtime treasury. + Among the group was Bug's chum, the crippled student. + </p> + <p> + “Well, stay with them this time, you little wandering Jew,” Vic + admonished, nor dreamed how his guardian angel had come to him this day in + the guise of this same little wanderer. + </p> + <p> + When Victor and Elinor had come at last to the west bluff above the Walnut + River, the late afternoon was already casting long shadows across the + grassy level of the old Kickapoo Corral. And again the camp fires were + glowing where a Sorority “spread” was merrily in the making. + </p> + <p> + They must go down soon and join in the hilarity. But a golden half hour + yet hung in the west—and the going down meant the going back to all + that had been. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the foam on the whirlpool, Elinor. See how deliberately it swings + upstream. Isn't that a most deceiving bit of treachery?” Vic said as he + watched the river. + </p> + <p> + Elinor looked thoughtfully at the slow-moving water. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot endure deceit,” she said at last. “I like honesty in everything. + I said I would tell you sometime about a sacrifice I was forced to make. + I'll tell you now if you will not speak of what I say.” + </p> + <p> + How delicious to have her confidence in anything. Vic smiled assent. + </p> + <p> + “My father had a fortune from my mother. When he died he left me to the + care of my two uncles, and gave all his money to endow chairs in + universities. He thought a woman could marry money, and that he was doing + mankind a service in this endowment. Maybe he was, but I've always + rebelled against being dependent. I've always wanted my own. Uncle Joshua + thinks I am frivolous, and he has told Uncle Lloyd that it's just my love + of spending and extravagant notions that makes me rebel against + conditions. It is n't. It's the sense of being robbed, as it were. It was + n't right and honest toward me, even in a great cause, to leave me + dependent. Uncle Lloyd would never have done it. I hope he does n't think + I'm as bad as Uncle Joshua does. You won't mind my telling you this, nor + think me ungrateful to my relatives for their care of me. Nobody quite + understands me but you.” + </p> + <p> + The time had come for them to join the jolly picnic crowd in the Corral. + She would go back to Vincent Burgess in a little while, and this glorious + day would be only a memory. And yet, down in the pretty glen, Victor had + held her hands and kissed her red lips. And she had been glad down there. + The void in his life seemed blacker than the blackness behind the cavern. + </p> + <p> + “Elinor,” he asked, suddenly, “are you bound by any promise—has + Professor Burgess—?” He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, turning her face away. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my rudeness. You know I am not well-bred,” he said, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Victor Burleigh, you ill-bred, of all the gentle, manly fellows in + Sunrise! You know you are not.” + </p> + <p> + A great hope leaped to life now, as Vic recalled the query, “If Victor + Burleigh had his corners knocked off and was sandpapered down and had + money?”—and of Elinor's blushing confession that it would make a + difference she could not help if these things were. The corners were + knocked off now, and Dean Fenneben had gently but persistently applied the + sandpaper. The money must be henceforth the one condition. + </p> + <p> + “Elinor.” Vic's voice was sweet as low bars of music. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Victor, there's something I can't prevent.” + </p> + <p> + She was thinking of Uncle Joshua, whose money had supported her all these + years and of her obligation to heed his wishes. It was all settled for her + now. And all the while Victor was thinking of his own limited means as the + rock that was wrecking him with her. + </p> + <p> + For all his life afterward he never forgot the sorrow of that moment. He + looked into Elinor's face, and all the longing, all the heart-hunger of + the days gone by, and of the days to come seemed to lie in those wide-open + eyes shaded by long black lashes. + </p> + <p> + “Elinor, my father's cruel murder and my mother dying alone were one kind + of grief. My fight with those deadly poison things to rescue little Bug + was another kind. My days of hardship and poverty on the claim, with only + Bug and me in that desolate loneliness, was still another. But none of + these seem a sorrow beside what I must face henceforth. And yet I have one + joy mine now. You did care down in the glen. May I keep that one gracious + joy—mine always?” + </p> + <p> + “You have always won in every game. You will in this struggle. Don't + forget the name your mother gave you.” Her eyes were luminous with tears. + “We must go down to the Corral now. Tomorrow will make things all right. I + shall be proud of you and your success everywhere, for you will succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “I may not be worthy of victory,” he said, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “You have never been unworthy. Don't be now.” She smiled bravely. + </p> + <p> + They turned from the west prairie and the sunset, and slowly they passed + out of its passing radiance down to the darkening spaces of the old + Kickapoo Corral. + </p> + <p> + And the day with its gladness and sorrow, whether for loss or gain, + slipped into the shadowy beauty of an April twilight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Ye know how hard an Idol dies, an' what that meant + to me—E'en take it for a sacrifice, acceptable to Thee</i>. + —KIPLING +THE ball game on Friday, the thirteenth, was a great event this year. +The Sunrise football eleven had held the championship record with an +uncrossed goal line in the autumn. The basket-ball team had had no +defeat this year. Debating tests had given Sunrise the victory. That +came through Trench and the crippled student. And the state oratorical +struggle repeated the story, a conquest, all the greater because Victor +Burleigh, the athlete, wore also the laurels of oratory. And why should +he not, with that fine presence and magnificent voice? As Dr. Fenneben +listened to his forceful logic he saw clearly the line for the boy's +future, a line, he thought, that could end at last only in the pulpit. +</pre> + <p> + One more battle to fight now and Lagonda Ledge and the whole Walnut Valley + would go down in history as famous soil. It was a banner year for Sunrise, + and enthusiasm was at fever pitch, which in college is the only healthy + temperature. In this last battle Sunrise turned again to Victor Burleigh + as its highest hope. Although this was his first game for the season, he + had never failed to bring victory to the Sunrise banners, and in all his + base-ball practice he was as unerring as he was speedy. And then success + was his habit anyhow. So “Burleigh at the bat” was the slogan now from the + summit of the college ridge to the farthest corners of Lagonda Ledge; and + idol worship were insignificant compared to the adulation poured out on + him. And Burleigh, being young and very human, had all the pleasure the + adoration of a community can bring to its local hero. For truly, few + triumphs in life's later years can be fraught with half the keen joy these + school day victories bring. And the applause of listening senates means + less than good old comrades' yells. + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess, A.B., Greek Professor from Boston, seemed to have + forgotten entirely about types and geographical breadths and seclusion for + profound research amid barren prairies. He was faculty member on the + Athletic board now and enthusiastic about all college sports. Sunrise had + done this much for him anyhow. In addition, the young educator was taking + on a little roundness, suggestive of a stout form in middle life. + </p> + <p> + But Vincent Burgess had not forgotten all of the motives that had pulled + him Kansas-ward, although unknown to Dr. Fenneben, he had already refused + to consider a position higher up in an eastern college. He was not quite + ready to leave the West yet. Of course, not. Elinor Wream was only half + through school and growing more popular as she was growing more womanly + and more beautiful each year. His salvation lay in keeping on the grounds + if he would hold his claim undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + Burgess had come to Kansas, he had told Fenneben, in order to know + something of the state where his only sister had lived. He did not know + yet all he wished to know about her life and death here. Her name was + never spoken in his father's presence after she came West, so great was + that father's anger over her leaving the East. And deep in Vincent's mind + he fixed the impression that his daughter had died as unreconciled to her + brother as to her father himself. + </p> + <p> + This was all his own business, however, and hidden deep, almost out of + sight of himself, was a selfish motive that had not yet put a visible mark + on the surface. + </p> + <p> + Burgess wanted to marry Norrie Wream, and he wanted her to have all the + good things of life which in her simple rearing had been denied her. The + heritage from his father's estate included certain trust funds ambiguously + bestowed by an eccentric English ancestor upon someone who had come West + not long before his death. These funds Vincent held by his father's will—to + which will Joshua Wream was witness—on condition that no heir to + these funds was living. If there were such person or persons living—but + Burgess knew there were none. Joshua Wream had made sure of that for him + before he left Cambridge. And yet it might be well to stay in Kansas for a + year or two—much better to settle any possible difficulty here than + to have anything follow him East later. For Burgess had his eye on Dr. + Wream's chair in Harvard when the old man should give it up. That was a + part of the contract between the two men, the old doctor and the young + professor. Until the night when Bond Saxon forced him to take an unwilling + oath, Burgess had had a comfortable conscience, sure that his financial + future was settled, and confident that this assured him the hand of Elinor + Wream when the time was ripe. With that October night, however, a weight + of anxiety began that increased with the passing days. For as he grew + nearer to the student life and took on flesh and good will and a broader + knowledge of the worth of humanity, so he grew nearer to this smoothly + hidden inner care. And, outside and in, he wanted to stay in Kansas for + the time. + </p> + <p> + In the weeks before the big ball game, Victor Burleigh seemed to have + forgotten the glen and the west bluff above the Kickapoo Corral. The girls + who would have substituted for Elinor in the afternoon ramble took up much + of the big sophomore's time, and he never seemed more gay nor care free. + And Elinor, if she had a heartache, did not show it in her happy manner. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon before the ball game, a May thunderstorm swept the Walnut + Valley and the darkness fell early. As Dennie Saxon waited on the Sunrise + portico before starting out in the rain, Professor Burgess locked the + front door and joined her. Victor Burleigh was also waiting beside a stone + column for the shower to lighten. Burgess did not see him in the darkening + twilight and Burleigh never spoke to the young instructor when it was not + necessary. + </p> + <p> + “I must be nervous,” Professor Burgess said, trying to manage Dennie's + umbrella and catching it in her hair. “I had a letter today that worried + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad!” Dennie said sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you all about it sometime.” + </p> + <p> + He was trying to loose the wire rib-joint from Dennie's hair, which the + dampness was rolling in soft little ringlets about her forehead and neck. + Half-consciously, he remembered the same outline of rippling hair, as it + had looked in the glow of the October camp fire down in the Kickapoo + Corral when she was telling the old legend of Swift Elk and The Fawn of + the Morning Light. She smiled up at him consolingly. Dennie was + level-headed, and life was always worth living where she was. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be your rain beau.” He took her arm to assist her down the steps. + </p> + <p> + So courteous was his action, she might have been a lady of rank instead of + old Bond Saxon's daughter carrying her own weight of a sorrow greater than + Lagonda Ledge dreamed of. As the two walked slowly homeward under the + dripping shelter of the trees, Vincent Burgess felt a sense of comfort and + pleasure out of all keeping for a man in love elsewhere. Victor Burleigh + watched them from the shadow of the portico column. + </p> + <p> + “I believe Trench is right. He insists that Burgess likes Dennie, or that + he is mean enough to deceive Dennie into liking him. A man like that ought + to be killed—a scholar, and a rich man, and Dennie such a brave + little poor girl with a kind, weak-kneed, old father on her heart. Norrie + ought to know this, but who am I to say a word?” + </p> + <p> + “Victor Burleigh, won't you release the fair princess from the tower?” a + girl's voice called. + </p> + <p> + Vic turned to see Elinor framed in the half-way window of the south + turret. And in that dripping shadowy light, no frame could want a rarer + picture. + </p> + <p> + “I've fallen into the pit and am far on the road to perdition,” Elinor + said. “I hurried down this way from choir practice and Uncle Lloyd's gone + and left the lower door locked. It thundered so, and Dennie didn't come + into the study, and nobody heard my screams. But if I perish, I perish,” + she added with mock resignation. + </p> + <p> + “If you'll let up on perishing for half a minute, Rapunzel, I'll to the + rescue,” Vic cried, “if I have to climb the dome and knock the <i>per + aspera</i> out of the State Seal and come down through the hole, <i>per + astra ad aspera</i>.” And then he rushed off to find an unlocked exit to + the building. + </p> + <p> + From the Chapel end of the circular stairs, he called presently. + </p> + <p> + “Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds. Rise to the surface, fair + mermaid.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor came up the winding stair into the dimly lighted chapel at his + call. The two had avoided each other since the April day in the glen. They + were not to blame for this chance meeting now. + </p> + <p> + “When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy, call me, + Elinor,” Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda. + </p> + <p> + “If I show you sometimes how to look up and find the light, as you showed + me the Sunrise beacon on the night of the storm out on West Bluff, you may + be glad you heard me. See that glow on the dome! You would have missed + that down in Lagonda Ledge.” + </p> + <p> + A level ray from a momentary cloudrift in the western sky smote the + stained glass of the dome, lighting its gleaming inscription with a + fleeting radiance. + </p> + <p> + “But the light comes rarely and is so far away, and between times, only + the cave, and the dark ways behind it leading to the river,” he said + gravely. The sorrow of hopelessness was his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Not unless one chooses to burrow downward,” she replied softly. “Let's + hurry home. Tomorrow you will be 'Victor the Famous' again. I hope this + shower won't spoil the ball game.” + </p> + <p> + As night deepened, the rain fell steadily. Up in Victor Burleigh's room + Bug Buler grew drowsy early. + </p> + <p> + “I want to say my pwayers now, Vic,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The big fellow put down his book and took the child in his arms. Bug had a + genius for praying briefly and for others rather than for himself. Tonight + he merely clasped his chubby hands and said, reverently: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Dod, please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is, for Thwist's + sake. Amen-n-n.” + </p> + <p> + When he fell asleep, Victor sat a long while staring at the window where + the May rain was beating heavily. At length, he bent over little Bug and + pushed back the curls from his brow. Bug smiled up drowsily and went on + sleeping. + </p> + <p> + “As good as folks think I am, Bug!” he mused. “You have gotten between me + and the rattlesnakes that were after my soul a good many times, little + brother-of-mine. As good as folks think I am! Do you know what it costs to + be that good?” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later he sat in Lloyd Fenneben's library. + </p> + <p> + “I have come for help,” he said in reply to the Dean's questioning face. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I can give it,” Fenneben responded. + </p> + <p> + “It's about tomorrow's game. There are sure to be some professional + players on the other team. I want Sunrise to win. I want to win myself.” + Vic's voice was harsh tonight. And the Dean caught the hard tone. + </p> + <p> + “I want Sunrise to win. I want you to win. There will probably be some + professionals to play against, but we have no way of proving this,” + Fenneben said. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of such playing, Doctor?” Vic asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think the rule about professionalism is often a strained piece of + foolishness. It is violated persistently and persistently winked at, but + so long as it is the rule there is only one square thing to do, and that + is to live up to the law. You should not dread any professionalism in the + game tomorrow, however. You'll bring us through anyhow, and keep the + Sunrise name and fame untarnished.” The Dean smiled genially. + </p> + <p> + Burleigh's face was very pale and a strange fire burned in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Fenneben”—his musical voice rang clear—“I'm only a poor + devil from the short-grass country where life each year depends on that + year's crop. Three years out of four, the wind and drouth bring only + failure at harvest time. Then we starve our bodies and grip onto hope and + determination with our souls till seedtime comes again. I want a college + education. Last summer burned us out as usual within a month of harvest. + Then the mortgage got in its work on my claim and I had to give it up. I + had barely enough to get through here at pauper rates this year—but + I could n't do it and keep Bug, too. I went into Colorado and played + baseball for pay, so I could come here and bring him with me. That's why I + can out-bat our team, and could win dead easy for Sunrise tomorrow. Nobody + in Kansas knows it. Now, what shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + The words were shot out like bullets. + </p> + <p> + “What shall you do?” Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes held Burleigh. “There is + only one thing to do. When you ranked high in grades with only the trivial + matter of excusable absence against you—no broken law—you took + Professor Burgess gently by the throat and told him you meant to play + anyhow. You stood your ground like a man, for your own sake and for the + honor of Sunrise. Stand like a man for your own sake and the honor of + Sunrise, now. Go to Professor Burgess and take him gently—by the + hand, this time—and tell him you do not mean to play, and why you + cannot.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh sat still as stone, his face white as marble, his wide-open eyes + under his black brows seeing nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But our proud record—the glorious honor of this college,” he said + at length, and back of his words was the thought of Victor Burleigh, the + idol of Sunrise, dethroned, where he had been adored. + </p> + <p> + “There is no honor for a college like the honesty of its students. There + is no prouder record than the record of daring to do the right. You could + get into the game once by a brute's strength. Get out of it now by a + gentleman's honor.” + </p> + <p> + Behind the speech was Lloyd Fenneben himself, sympathetic, firm, upright, + before whom the harshness of Victor Burleigh's face slowly gave place to + an expression of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” Fenneben said gently, “Nature gave us the Walnut Valley with its + limestone ledges and fine forest trees. But before our Sunrise could be + builded the ledge had to be shapen into the hewn stone, the green tree to + the seasoned lumber, quarter-sawed oak—quarter-sawed, mind you. + Mill, forge and try-pit, ax and saw and chisel, with cleft and blow and + furnace heat, shaped them all for Service. Over our doorway is the Sunrise + initial. It stands also for Strife, part of which you know already; but it + stands for Sacrifice as well. You are in the shaping. God grant you may be + turned out a man fitted by Sacrifice for Service when the shaping is + done.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh rose, silent still, and the two went out together. At the + doorway, he turned to Fenneben, who grasped his hand without a word. And + once again, the firm hand clasp of the Dean of Sunrise seemed to bind the + country boy to the finer things of life. It had done the same on that day + after the Thanksgiving game when he sat in Fenneben's study, and + understood for the first time what gives the right to pride in brawny arm + and steel-spring nerve. + </p> + <p> + After Burleigh left him, Lloyd Fenneben stood for a long time on his + veranda in the light of the doorway watching the steady downpour of the + warm May rain. As he turned at length to enter the house a rough-looking + man with rain-soaked clothing and slouched hat, sprang out of the shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Stranger,” he called hastily. “There's a little child fell in the river + round the bend, and his mother got hold of him, but she can't pull him + out, and can't hold on much longer. Will you come help me, quick? I've + only got one arm or I would n't have had to ask for help.” + </p> + <p> + An empty sleeve was flapping in the rain, and Fenneben did not notice then + that the man kept that side of himself all the time in the shadows. + Fenneben had only one thought as he hurried away in the darkness, to save + the woman and child. His companion said little, directing the course + toward the bend in the river before the gateway of Pigeon Place. As they + pushed on with all speed through rain and mud, Fenneben was hardly + conscious that Dennie Saxon's words about the lonely gray-haired hermit + woman were recurring curiously to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “If talking about Sunrise made her cry like that, maybe you might do + something for her,” Dennie had said. He had never tried to do anything for + her. Somehow she seemed to be the woman who was in peril now, and he was + half-consciously blaming himself that he had never tried to help her, had + not even thought of her for months. Women were not in his line, except the + kindly impersonal interest he felt for all the Sunrise girls, and his + sense of responsibility for Norrie, and the memory of a girl—oh, the + hungry haunting memory! + </p> + <p> + All this in a semi-conscious fleetness swept across his mind, that was + bent on reaching the river, and on that woman holding a drowning child. At + the bend in the river, the man halted suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Look out! There's a stone; don't stumble!” he said hoarsely, dodging back + as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + Then Fenneben was conscious of his own feet striking the slab of stone by + the roadside, of a sudden shove from somebody behind him, a two-armed man + it must have been, of stumbling blindly, trying to catch at the elm tree + that stood there, of falling through the underbrush, headforemost, into + the river, even of striking the water. As he fell, he was very faintly + conscious of a sense of pity for Victor Burleigh fighting out a battle + with his own honor tonight, and then he must have heard a dog's fierce + yelp, and a woman's scream. Somehow, it seemed to come through distance of + time, as out of past years, and not through length of space—and then + of a brutal laugh and an oath with the words: + </p> + <p> + “Now for Josh Wream, and—” + </p> + <p> + But Fenneben's head had struck the stone ledge against which the Walnut + ripples at low tide, and for a long time he knew no more. + </p> + <p> + It was raining still when Victor Burleigh reached the Saxon House. At the + door he met Professor Burgess, who was just leaving. Strangely enough, the + memory of their first meeting at the campus gate on a September day + flashed into the mind of each as they came face to face now. They never + spoke to each other except when it was necessary. And yet tonight, + something made them greet each other courteously. + </p> + <p> + “Professor, will you be kind enough to come up to my room a few minutes?” + Burleigh asked, lifting his cap to his instructor with the words. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” Vincent Burgess said with equal grace. + </p> + <p> + Bug Buler had kicked off the bed covering and lay fast asleep on his + little cot with his stubby arms bare, and his little fat hands, dimpled in + each knuckle, thrown wide apart. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a picture like this once for the sign of the cross,” Vic said as he + drew the covering over the little form. “Bug has been a cross to me + sometimes, but he's oftener my salvation.” + </p> + <p> + Professor Burgess wondered again, why a boy like Burleigh should have been + given a voice of such rare charm. + </p> + <p> + “I will not keep you long,” Vic said, turning from Bug. “I cannot play in + tomorrow's game, and be a man.” + </p> + <p> + Then, briefly, he explained the reason. + </p> + <p> + “It is raining still. Take my umbrella,” he said at the close of his + simply told story. “But tomorrow's sunshine will dry the field for the + game, all right. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” Vincent Burgess said hoarsely, and plunged into the darkness + and the rain. + </p> + <p> + Ten steps from the Saxon House, he came plump into Bond Saxon, who + staggered a little to avoid him. + </p> + <p> + “My luck on rainy nights,” Vincent thought. “The old fellow's sprees seem + to run with the storms. He hasn't been 'off' for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + But Bond Saxon was never more sober in his life, and he clutched the young + man's arm eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Burgess, won't you help me!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to do on a night like this?” Burgess asked, remembering + the vow he had been forced to make, by this same man. + </p> + <p> + “Come help me save a man's life!” Bond urged. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Saxon. You've got some wild notion out of a boot-legger's + bottle. Straighten up now. It's an infamous thing in a college town like + Lagonda Ledge, where neither a saloon nor a joint would be allowed, that + some imp of Satan should forever be bringing you whisky. Who does it, + anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not drunk and haven't been for six months. Come on, for God's sake, + and help me to save a life, maybe two lives, from the very man that's done + the boot-leggin' and robbin' in this town for months and months.” Saxon's + words were convincing enough. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” Burgess asked. “I'm not a policeman.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on! Come on!” Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. “It 's a + life, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Vincent yielded unwillingly, the night, the beating rain, the man who + asked it of him, the purpose, his own unfitness—all holding him + back. Before they had gone far, Bond Saxon suddenly exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care of + Dennie if anything should happen to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do YOU remember it?” Burgess responded. “You didn't ask; you demanded.” + </p> + <p> + “I was drunk then. I'm sober now. Burgess, if anything should happen to me + now, would you still be willing?” Bond Saxon asked in tense anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “I've already taken oath,” Burgess said. “I think your daughter may need + somebody's care before anything happens if you keep up this gait.” + </p> + <p> + They hurried on through the rain until they had left the board walk and + the town lights, and were staggering along the cinder-made path, when + Burgess halted. + </p> + <p> + “Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? I believe you are + drunk.” + </p> + <p> + Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely: + </p> + <p> + “Don't shriek here. We are in danger, now. It's not two men. It's a man + and a woman, maybe. It's Dean Funnybone. Come on!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, + name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!</i> + —SHAKESPEARE +</pre> + <p> + WHEN Lloyd Fenneben could think again, the waters had receded, the rock + ledge had turned to a pillow under his head, the river bank was a straight + white hospital wall, sunlight and sweet air for the darkness and the rain, + and Norrie Wream was beside him instead of the brutal stranger. His heavy + black hair was shorn away and his head was bound with much soft cotton + stuffs. His left arm was full of prickles, as if the blood had just + resumed circulation. + </p> + <p> + “And meantime?” he said, looking up at Elinor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, meantime, it's June time,” Elinor replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we did. The college first. The ruling passion, strong in the + hospital. When a Wream gets to kingdom-come, he always asks Saint Peter + first for a mortar board and gown instead of a crown and wings.” Norrie's + eyes were shining. “And he's a little particular about the lining of the + wings, too—Purple, for Law; White, for Letters; Blue, for + Philosophy; Red, for Divinity. Take this quieting powder. College + presidents should be seen and not heard.” She smilingly silenced him. + </p> + <p> + Under her gentle ministrations, Dr. Fenneben could picture what comfort + might be in store for Vincent Burgess in a day, doubtless only two years + away. He resented Joshua Wream's estimate of Elinor. Surely Joshua had + never seen her in the place of nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Now, meantime, Uncle Lloyd,” Elinor was saying, “commencement passed off + beautifully under Acting-Dean Burgess, considering how sad and + heavy-hearted everybody was. The trustees want to raise Professor + Burgess's salary next year—he's so competent.” + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben's eyes were not bandaged, and as he looked at Elinor he + wondered at her utter lack of reserve and sentiment, when she spoke of + Burgess in such a frank, matter-of-fact way. When he was in love years ago—but + times must have changed. + </p> + <p> + “The arrangements for next year are all looked after. Everything will be + done exactly as you would have it done. There's not one thing to put a + worry into that cotton round your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now, tell me of 'beforehand.'” His smile was as charming as ever. + </p> + <p> + “In your fever you've been telling us about a one-armed man who had two + arms to push people into the river, of his wanting you to save some + child's life, and of your stumbling over the stone. That's all we know + about that. Bond Saxon and Professor Burgess found you in the water at the + north bend in the Walnut close to that hermit woman's house. Either you + fell in, or somebody pushed you down the bank, headforemost, and you + struck a ledge of rock.” Elinor's eyes were full of tears now. “You would + have been drowned, if that white-haired woman had n't jumped in and held + your head above water while she clung to the bushes with one hand. Her dog + helped, too, like a real hero. It stood on the bank and held to her shawl + that she had fastened round you to hold you. And the river was rising so + fast, too. It was awful. I don't know just how it was all managed, Uncle + Lloyd, but it was managed between the woman and her dog at first, and + Professor Burgess and Bond Saxon at last, and you are safe now, and on the + high road, the very elevated tracks, to recovery. When your fever was the + highest, the doctors kept telling me about your splendid constitution and + your temperate life. You must get well now.” + </p> + <p> + She bent over him and softly caressed his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where is that woman now? Dennie Saxon asked me once to do something for + her in her loneliness. She got ahead of my negligence and did something + for me, it seems.” + </p> + <p> + “She left Lagonda Ledge the very day they rushed us up here to the + hospital. Is n't she strange? And she is so gentle and sweet, but so sad. + I never saw such apathetic face as hers, Uncle Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see her?” Fenneben asked. + </p> + <p> + “She came to ask after you. Nobody thought you would get over it.” + Elinor's voice trembled. “The fever was burning you up and it took three + doctors to hold you. I saw her face when Dennie Saxon said they thought + you wouldn't pull through. Your own sister couldn't have turned whiter, + Uncle Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “And the one-armed man I seemed to remember?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I've been too busy to ask many questions. Lagonda Ledge is + in mourning for you. It will run up the flag above half-mast when I write + how much better you are. Bond Saxon has a theory that some thief wanted to + rob you and decoyed you away on pretense of helping somebody out of the + river. You are an easy mark, Uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should Bond Saxon have a theory? And how did he know where to find + me? And how did that gray-haired woman and her dog happen in on the scene + just then? This is a grim sort of dime novel business, Norrie. Things + don't fall out this way in real life unless there is some reason back of + them. I think I'll bear investigating.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so myself—you or your romantic rescuing squad. You might + call the dog to the witness stand first, for he was the first on the + scene. I forgot though that the dog is dead. They found him down the river + with his throat cut. The plot thickens.” Elinor's frivolous spirit was + returning with the lessening of care. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about the ball game,” Fenneben said next. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it rained for hours and hours, and there wasn't any train service for + Lagonda Ledge for a week, and all the Inter-Collegiate Athletic events for + the season were called off for Sun rise-by-the-Walnut.” + </p> + <p> + “And the students, generally?” Dr. Fenneben questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trench will be back,” Elinor exclaimed, “and folks have just found + out that it's old Trench who's keeping that crippled boy in school, the + one they call 'Limpy.' Trench rustles jobs for him and divides his own + income for college expenses with the boy for the rest of the cost. I don't + know how the story got out, but I asked him about it when he was up here + to see you. He just grinned and drawled lazily, 'I can save a little on + shoe leather, that some fellows wear out hurrying so, and I don't burst up + so many hats with a swelled head as some do. So I keep a little extra + change on these accounts. We're going down to Oklahoma when we graduate. + Limpy's going to be a Methodist preacher and I a stockman. I'll keep him + in raw material for converts out of the cowboys I'll have to handle.' + Isn't old Trenchy a hero? He says Dean Funnybone showed him how to think + about somebody else beside Trench a little bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; Trench is a hero and I've known about that whole thing for a + long while,” the Dean asserted. “And Victor Burleigh?” + </p> + <p> + A shadow in the beautiful dark eyes, a half-tone lowering of the voice, + and a general indifference of manner, as Elinor answered: + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know anything about him, except that he's coming back + next year.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben read the whole story in the words and manner of the answer, + and he smiled grimly as he thought of Burgess and of the conflict of Wream + against Wream if Elinor and his brother Joshua ever came to the clash of + arms. But he was too weak now to direct matters. + </p> + <p> + And meantime, while Lagonda Ledge was holding its breath in anxiety and + dread, and all the churches were joining in union prayer service for the + life of their beloved Dean Fenneben, and the college year was ending in a + halting between hope and dread—meantime, the same queries of Dr. + Fenneben as to motives were also queries in Professor Burgess' mind. + </p> + <p> + To the school and the town Dr. Fenneben's recovery was the only thing + asked for. There was as yet no clew regarding the cause of the assault. + Bond Saxon had avoided Burgess since the event, so the young man himself + made occasion to get Bond up into Dr. Fenneben's study one June day just + before commencement. + </p> + <p> + “Saxon,” he said gravely, “you are a man of sense, and you know that + there's something wrong about this Fenneben assault. You've put up some + smooth stories about our happening to be out at the bend of the river that + night, so I guess suspicion will be turned from us all right when Lagonda + Ledge gets time to think about causes; but I must be let into the truth + now.” Burgess was adamant now. + </p> + <p> + For a little while the old man looked away through the study window at the + prairie empire to be found for the looking. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that little twist of blue smoke over west?” he queried + presently. + </p> + <p> + “What of it?” Burgess asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only the man huddlin' down round the fire makin' that smoke way + down where it's cold and dark, that's the man who—say, Professor!” + </p> + <p> + Old Bond looked up appealingly, and the pitiful face touched Burgess' + heart. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Saxon? Be frank now, but be fair, too. Sooner or later, this + thing must be run down. Fenneben will do it himself, anyhow, as soon as + he's well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Professor, I have asked you twice if you'd be good to Dennie—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; you always come back to that. Anybody would be good to her, and + she's a capable girl who does n't need anybody's care, anyhow. Now, go + on.” + </p> + <p> + “I will”—it seemed an heroic resolve—“I asked this for Dennie, + because my own life is never safe.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have said. Why not?” Burgess insisted. There was no way to evade + the question now. + </p> + <p> + “That's my own business—just a little longer,” Bond answered slowly. + “One thing more; I want your promise not to tell what I say—yet + awhile. It can't hurt anyone to keep still, and it will help some folks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll help you all I can.” Burgess's kindly patience now was strangely + unlike the aristocratic, resentful man to whom old Bond Saxon had appealed + one stormy October night. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a failure, Professor. I've spoiled my life by my infernal weak will + and appetite for whisky. I know it as well as you do. But I'm not meant + for a bad man.” There was unspeakable pathos in Saxon's face and words. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody would call you bad. You are a lovable man when you—keep + straight,” Burgess declared cordially. + </p> + <p> + “I graduated from the university back in the sixties,” Bond went on. + </p> + <p> + “You!” Burgess exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm one of your alumni brothers from Harvard. It takes more 'n a + college diploma to make a man sometimes, although this would mighty soon + get to be a cheap, destructible nation, if we should pull the colleges out + of it. The boys I've seen Sunrise make into men does an old man's heart + good to think about! But there's more than book-learning in a Master's + Degree. There must be MASTERY in it. I never got farther 'n an A.B., + partly because Nature made me easy going, but mostly because whisky ruined + me. I finally came to Kansas. I'd have had tremens long ago but for that. + But even here a man's got to keep the law inside, or no human law can + prevent his making a beast of himself.” + </p> + <p> + Saxon paused, and the professor waited. + </p> + <p> + “The man that sets the cussed trap for me is a law breaker, an escaped + convict, and a murderer. That's what drinking did for him; drinking and + injustice in money matters together.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess started and his face grew pale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's a fact, Professor. There are several roads to ruin. One by the + route I've taken. One may be too much love of money, of women, or of + having your own way. You can ruin your soul by getting it set on one thing + above everything else. Education, for instance, like the Wreams back there + in Cambridge.” + </p> + <p> + “The Wreams!” Burgess exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, old Joshua Wream sold himself to an appetite for musty old Sanscrit + till he'd sacrifice anybody's comfort and joy for it, same as I sold out + to a fool's craving for drink. You'll know the Wreams sometime as I know + 'em now. Fenneben's only a stepbrother and the West made a man of him. He + was always a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” Vincent's voice was hardly audible. + </p> + <p> + “This outlaw, boot-legger, thief, and murderer was a respectable fellow + once, the adopted son of a wealthy family back East, who began by spoiling + him, lavished money on him, and let him have his own way in everything. He + was a gay youngster on the side, given to drinking and fast company. He + fell in love with a pretty girl, but when she found him out, she cut him. + Then he went to the dogs, blaming her because she had sense enough to + throw him over where he belonged. She fell in love—the right kind of + love—with another man. And this young fool who had no claim on her + at all, swore vengeance. Her family wanted her to marry the young sport + because he had money. They were long on money—her father was, + anyhow. But she would n't do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she marry the one she really cared for?” Burgess asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but that's another story. Meantime this fellow's father died, leaving + the boy he, himself, had started on the wrong road, entirely out of his + will. The boy went to the devil—and he's still there.” + </p> + <p> + Saxon paused and looked once more at the tiny wavering smoke column, + hardly visible now. + </p> + <p> + “He's over yonder hiding away from the light of day under the bluffs by + the fire that sends that curl of smoke up through the crevices in the + rock, an outlaw thief.” + </p> + <p> + Saxon gazed long at the landscape beyond the Walnut. When he spoke again, + it was with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “Professor, this outlaw got a hold on me once when I was drunk, drunk by + his making. It would do no good to tell you about that. You could n't help + me, nor harm him. You'll trust me in this?” + </p> + <p> + A picture of Dennie down in the Kickapoo Corral, with the flickering + firelight on her rippling hair, the weird, shadowy woodland, and the old + Indian legend all came back to the young man now, though why he could not + say. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly would never bring harm to you nor yours,” he said kindly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't inform on the scoundrel. I can only watch him. The woman he was + in love with years ago, who would n't stand for his wild ways—that's + the gray-haired woman at Pigeon Place. Her life's been one long tragedy, + though she is not forty yet.” + </p> + <p> + The anguish on the old man's face was pitiful as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “She has a reason of her own for living here, and she is the soul of + courage. On the night of the Fenneben accident, I was out her way—yes, + running away from Bond Saxon. I knew if I stayed in town, I'd get drunk on + a bottle left at my door. So I tore out in the rain and the dark to fight + it out with the devil inside of me. And out at Pigeon Place I run onto + this fiend. When I ordered him back to his hiding place, he vowed he'd get + Fenneben and put him in the river. There's one or two human things about + him still. One is his fear of little children, and one is his love for + that woman. He really did adore her years ago. I tracked home after him, + and you know the rest. He put up some story to the Dean to entice him out + there.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, then ceased to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Why the Dean?” Burgess asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks + wouldn't let her marry,” Bond Saxon said sadly. + </p> + <p> + Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now?” + </p> + <p> + “She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come + back,” the old man replied. + </p> + <p> + “And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. She's never let him know, and if she does n't want him to know, + whose business is it to tell him?” Saxon urged. “I have hung about and + protected her when she never knew I was near. But when I'm drunk, I'm an + idiot and my mind is bent against her. I'd die to save her, and yet I may + kill her some day when I don't know it.” Bond Saxon's head was drooping + pitifully low. + </p> + <p> + “But why live in such slavery? Why not tell all you know about this man + and let the law protect a helpless woman?” Burgess urged. + </p> + <p> + Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word—“Dennie!” + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie. + </p> + <p> + “This woman had a husband, you say?” he asked presently. + </p> + <p> + Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “What became of him? Do you know?” Vincent questioned. + </p> + <p> + Saxon leaned forward, and, clutching Vincent Burgess by the arm, whispered + hoarsely, “He's dead. I killed him. But I was drunk when I did it. And + this man knows it and holds me bound.” + </p> + <p> + SERVICE + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>If you were born to honor, show + it now; + if put upon you, make the judgment + good that thought you + worthy of it</i>. + —SHAKESPEARE +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>They enslave their children's children who make + compromise with sin</i>. + —LOWELL +</pre> + <p> + IT was mid-December before Lloyd Fenneben saw Lagonda Ledge again. In the + murderous attempt upon his life, he had been hurled, head-downward, upon + the hidden rock-ledge with such force that even his strong nervous system + could barely overcome the shock. Hours of unconsciousness were followed by + a raging brain fever, and paralysis, insanity, and death strove together + against him. His final complete recovery was slow, and he was wise enough + to let nature have ample time for rebuilding what had been so cruelly + wrenched out of line. It was this very patience and willingness to take + life calmly, when most men would have been in a fever of anxiety about + neglected business, that brought Lloyd Fenneben back to Lagonda Ledge in + December, a perfectly well man; and aside from the holiday given in honor + of the event, aside from the display of flags and the big “Welcome” done + in electric lights awaiting him at the railroad station, where all the + portable population of Lagonda Ledge and most of the Walnut Valley, headed + by the Sunrise contingent, en masse, seemed to be waiting also—aside + from the demonstration and general hilarity and thanksgiving and + rejoicing, there seemed no difference between the Dean of the days that + followed and the Dean of the years before. His black hair was as long and + heavy as ever. His black eyes had lost nothing of their keenness. His + smile was just the same old, genial outbreak of good will, as he heard the + wildly enthusiastic refrain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + <i>Rah!</i> RAH!! RAH!!! +</pre> + <p> + It was twilight when the train pulled up to the station. The December + evening was clear and crisp as southern Kansas Decembers usually are. The + lights of the town were twinkling in the dusk. Out beyond the river a + gorgeous purple and scarlet after-sunset glow was filling the west with + that magnificence of coloring only the hand of Nature dares to paint. + </p> + <p> + Several passengers left the train, but the company had eyes only for the + Pullman car where Fenneben was riding. Nobody, except Bond Saxon, and a + cab driver on the edge of the crowd, noticed a gray-haired woman who + alighted so quietly and slipped to the cab so quickly that she was almost + out to Pigeon Place before Fenneben had been able to clear the platform. + </p> + <p> + Behind the Dean was his niece, who halted on the car steps while her uncle + went into the outstretched arms of Lagonda Ledge. At sight of her, the + hats went high in air, as she stood there smiling above the crowd. It was + Maytime when she went away. They had remembered her in dainty Maytime + gowns. They were not prepared for her in her handsome traveling costume of + golden brown, her brown beaver hat, and pretty furs. A beautiful girl can + be so charming in her winter feathers. She had expected that Burgess would + be first to meet her, and she was ready, she thought, to greet him, + becomingly. But as the porter helped her to the platform, the crowd closed + in, shutting him away momentarily, and a hand caught hers, a big, strong + hand whose clasp, so close and warm, seemed to hold her hand by right of + eternal possession. And Victor Burleigh's brown eyes full of a joyous + light were looking down at her. It was all such a sweet, shadowy time that + nobody crowding about them could see clearly how Elinor, with shining + face, nestled involuntarily close to his arm for just one instant, and her + low murmured words, “I am glad you were first,” were lost to all but the + big fellow before her, and a bigger, vastly lazy fellow, Trench, just + behind her. It was Trench's bulk that had blocked the way for the + professor a moment before. Then she was swallowed in the jolly greetings + of goodfellowship, and Vincent Burgess carried her away to the carriage + where her uncle waited. + </p> + <p> + “The thing is settled now,” the young folks thought. But Dennie Saxon and + Trench, who walked home together, knew that many things were hopelessly + unsettled. By the law of natural fitness, Dennie and Trench should have + fallen in love with each other. They were so alike in goodness of heart. + But such mating of like with like, is rare, and under its ruling the world + would grow so monotonously good, on the one hand, and bad, on the other, + that life would be uninteresting. + </p> + <p> + During Dr. Fenneben's absence, Professor Burgess was acting-dean. For a + man who, two years before, had never heard of a Jayhawker, who hoped the + barren prairies would furnish seclusion for profound research in his + library, and whose interest in the student body lay in its material to + furnish “types,” Dean Burgess, on the outside, certainly measured up well + toward the stature of the real Dean—broad-minded, beloved + “Funnybone.” + </p> + <p> + And as Vincent Burgess grew in breadth of view and human interest, his + popularity increased and his opportunities multiplied. Sunrise forgot that + it had ever regarded him as a walking Greek textbook in paper binding. + Next to Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, his place at Sunrise would be the hardest to + fill now; and withal, sometime in the near future, there was waiting for + him the prettiest girl that ever climbed the steps from the lower campus + to the Sunrise door. Burgess had never dreamed that life in Kansas could + be so full of pleasure for him. + </p> + <p> + And all the while, on the inside, another Burgess was growing up who + quarreled daily with this happy outer Burgess. This inner man it was who + held the secret of Bond Saxon's awful crime; the man who knew the life + story of the would-be assassin of Lloyd Fenneben, and who knew the tragedy + that had turned a fair-faced girl to a gray-haired woman, yet young in + years. He knew the tragedy, but the woman herself he had never seen, save + in the darkness and rain of that awful night when she had held Lloyd + Fenneben's head above the fast rising waters of the Walnut. He had never + even heard her voice, for he had sustained the limp body of Dr. Fenneben + while Saxon helped the woman from the river and as far as to her own gate. + But these were secret things outside of his own conscience. Inside of his + conscience the real battle was fought and won, and lost, only to be won + and lost over and over. So long as Elinor Wream was away, he could stay + execution on himself. The same train that brought her home to Lagonda + Ledge, brought a letter to Professor Vincent Burgess, A.B. The letter + heading bore as many of Dr. Joshua Wream's titles as space would permit, + but the cramped, old-fashioned handwriting belonged to a man of more than + fourscore years, and it was signed just “J. R.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess read this letter many times that night after he returned from + dinner at the Fenneben home. And sometimes his fists were clinched and + sometimes his blue eyes were full of tears. Then he remembered little Bug, + who had declared once that “Don Fonnybone was dood for twoubleness.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't take this to Fenneben,” he mused, as he read Joshua Wream's + letter for the tenth time. “Nor can I go to Saxon. He's never sure of + himself and when he's drunk, he reverses himself and turns against his + best friends. And who am I to turn to a man like Bond Saxon for my + confidences?” + </p> + <p> + “What about Elinor?” came a voice from somewhere. “The woman you would + make your wife should be the one to whose loving sympathy you could turn + at any of life's angles, else that were no real marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Elinor, of all people in the world, the very last. She shall never know, + never!” So he answered the inward questioner. + </p> + <p> + Dimly then rose up before him the picture of Victor Burleigh on the rainy + May night when he stood beside little Bug Buler's bed—Victor + Burleigh, with his white, sorrowful face, and burning brown eyes, telling + in a voice like music the reason why he must renounce athletic honors in + Sunrise. + </p> + <p> + Burgess had been unconsciously exultant over the boy's confession. It + would put the confessor out of reach of any claim to Elinor's friendship + when the truth was known about his poverty and his professional playing. + And yet he had followed Bond Saxon's lead the more willingly that night + that he was hating himself for rejoicing with himself. + </p> + <p> + On this December night, with Elinor once more in Lagonda Ledge, Victor + Burleigh must come again to trouble him. What a price that boy must have + paid for his honesty! But he paid it, aye, he paid it! And then the rains + put out the game and nobody knew except Burleigh and himself. Burgess + almost resented the kindness of Fate to the heroic boy. But all this + solved no problems for Vincent Burgess, except the realization that here + was one fellow who had a soul of courage. Could he confide in Burleigh? + Not in a thousand years! + </p> + <p> + In utter loneliness, Vincent Burgess put out his light and stared at the + window. The street lamps glowed in lonely fashion, for it was very late, + and nobody was abroad. Up on the limestone ridge, the Sunrise beacon shone + bravely. Down in town beside the campus gate—he could just catch a + glimpse of one steady beam. It was the faithful old lamp in the hallway of + the Saxon House, and beyond that unwavering light was Dennie. + </p> + <p> + “Dennie! Why have I not thought of her? The only one in the world whom I + can fully trust. That ought to be a man's sweetheart, I suppose, but she + is not mine. She is just Dennie. Heaven bless her! I've sworn to care for + her. She must help me now.” And with the comforting thought, he fell + asleep beside the window. + </p> + <p> + The December sunset was superb in a glory of endless purple mists and + rose-tinted splendor of far-reaching skies. The evening drops down early + at this season and the lights were gleaming here and there in the town + where the shadows fall soonest before the day's work is finished up in + Sunrise. + </p> + <p> + Victor Burleigh, who had been called to Dr. Fenneben's study, found only + Elinor there, looking out at the radiant beauty of the sunset sky beyond + the homey shadows studded with the twinkling lights of Lagonda Ledge at + the foot of the slope. The young man hesitated a little before entering. + All day the school had been busy settling affairs for Professor Burgess + and “Norrie, the beloved.” Gossip has swift feet and from surmise to fact + is a short course. Twenty-four hours had quite completely “fixed things” + for Elinor Wream and Vincent Burgess, so far as Sunrise and Lagonda Ledge + were able to fix them. So Burleigh, whose strong face carried no hint of + grief, held back a minute now, before entering the study. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Elinor. Dr. Fenneben sent for me.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow the deep musical voice and her name pronounced as nobody else ever + could pronounce it, and the big manly form and brave face, all seemed to + complete the spell of the sunset hour. Elinor did not speak, but with a + smile made room for him beside her at the window, and the two looked long + at the deepening grandeur of the heavens and the misty shadows of + heliotrope and silver darkening softly to the twilight below them. + </p> + <p> + “And God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the + fourth day,” Victor said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Your voice grows richer with the passing years, Victor,” Elinor said + softly. “I wanted to hear it again the first time I heard you speak out + there one September day.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well to grow rich in something,” Victor said, half-earnestly, + half-carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Before Elinor could say more, they caught sight of Professor Burgess and + Dennie Saxon, leaving the front portico as they had done on the May + evening before the assault on Dr. Fenneben. Burgess and Dennie usually + left the building together this year. + </p> + <p> + “Is n't Dennie a darling? Elinor said calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I guess so,” he replied. “I don't just know what makes a girl a darling + to another girl. I only know”—he was on thin ice now—“and I + don't even know that very well.” + </p> + <p> + They turned to the landscape again. The whole building was growing quiet. + Footsteps were fading away down the halls. Doors clicked faintly here and + there. Somebody was singing softly in the basement laboratory, and the + sunset sky was exquisitely lovely above the quiet gray December prairies. + </p> + <p> + “It is too beautiful to last,” Elinor said, turning to the young man + beside her. “The joy of it is too deep for us to hold.” + </p> + <p> + She did not mean to stay a moment longer, for all the scene could be hers + forever in memory—imperishable!—and Victor did not mean to + detain her. But her face as she turned from the window, the hallowed + setting of time and opportunity, and a heart-love hungering through + hopeless, slow-dragging months, all had their own way with him. He put out + his arms to her and she nestled within them, lifting a face to his own + transfigured with love's sweetness. And he bent and kissed her red lips, + holding her close in his arms. And in the shadowy twilight, with the + faintly roseate banners of the sunset's after-glow trailing through it, + for just one minute, heaven and earth came very near together for these + two. And then they remembered, and Elinor put her hand in Victor's, who + held it in his without a word. + </p> + <p> + Out in the hall, Trench with soft lazy step had just come to the study + door in time to see and turn away unseen, and slowly pass out of the big + front door, whistling low the while: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My sweetheart lives on the prairies wide + By the sandy Cimarron, + In a day to come she will be my bride, + By the sandy Cimarron. +</pre> + <p> + Out by the big stone pillars of the portico, he looked toward the south + turret and saw Dr. Fenneben as Vic had seen Elinor on the evening of the + May storm. He did not call, but with a twist of the fingers as of + unlocking a door, he dodged back into the building and up to the chapel + end of the turret stairs to release the Dean. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben had started down to the study by the same old “road to + perdition” stairs and paused at the window as Dennie and Burgess were + passing out, unconscious of three pairs of eyes on them. Then the Dean saw + down through the half-open study door the two young people by the window, + and he knew he was not needed there. What that look in his black eyes + meant, as he turned to the half-way window of the turret, it would have + been hard to read. And the picture of a fair-faced girl came back to his + own hungry memory. He was trying to calculate the distance from the turret + window to the ground when Trench wig-wagged a rescue signal. + </p> + <p> + “You are a brick, Trench,” he said, as the upper stairway door swung open + to release him. + </p> + <p> + “You've the whole chimney,” Trench responded, as he swung himself away. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben met Elinor in the rotunda. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute, Norrie, and I'll walk home with you.” + </p> + <p> + In the study he met Burleigh, whose stern face was tender with a pathetic + sadness, but there was no embarrassment in his glance. And Fenneben, being + a man himself, knew what power for sacrifice lay back of those beautiful + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can't give him the message I meant to give now. The man said there was + no hurry. A veritable tramp he looked to be. I hope there is no harm to + the boy in it. Why should a girl like Norrie love the pocketbook, and the + things of the pocketbook, when a heart like Victor Burleigh's calls to + her? I know men. I never shall know women.” So he thought. Aloud he said: + “I was detained, Burleigh, and I'll have to see you again. I have some + matters to consider with you soon.” + </p> + <p> + And Burleigh wondered much what “some matters” might be. + </p> + <p> + When Professor Burgess left Dennie he said, lightly: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dennie, I need a little help in my work. Would you let me call this + evening and talk it over with you? I don't believe anybody else would get + hold of it quite so well.” + </p> + <p> + Dennie had supposed this first evening after Elinor's return would find + her lover making use of it. Why should Dennie not feel a thrill of + pleasure that her services out-weighed everything else? Poor Dennie! She + was no flirt, but much association with Vincent Burgess had given her + insight to know that Norrie Wream would never understand him. + </p> + <p> + When Burgess returned to the Saxon House later in the evening, he met Bond + Saxon at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Professor, the devil will be to pay again. That Mrs. Marian is back. + Got here on the same train Funnybone came on. And,” lowering his voice, + “he will be over there again,” pointing toward the west bluffs. “He'll + hound Funnybone to his doom yet. And she—she'll stand between 'em to + the last. I told you one of the two human traits left in that beast is his + fool fondness for that woman who wouldn't let him set foot on her ground + if she knew it. It's a grim tragedy being played out here with nobody + knowing but you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Saxon, I'm in no mood for all this tonight,” Burgess said, “but for your + daughter's sake keep away from the man's bottle now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for Dennie's sake—” Bond looked imploringly at Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I'll do my duty as I promised. But why not do it yourself + toward her? Why not be a man and a father?” + </p> + <p> + “Me! A criminal! Do you know what that kind of slavery is?” Saxon + whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Almost,” Burgess answered, but the old man did not catch his meaning. + </p> + <p> + Dennie was waiting in the parlor, a cosy little room but without the + luxurious appointments of Norrie Wream's home. Yet tonight Dennie seemed + beautiful to Burgess, and this quiet little room, a haven of safety. + </p> + <p> + “Dennie,” he said, plunging into his purpose at once. “I come to you + because I need a friend and you are tempered steel.” + </p> + <p> + Tonight Dennie's gray eyes were dark and shining. The rippling waves of + yellow brown hair gave a sort of Madonna outline to her face, and there + was about her something indefinably pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me.” + </p> + <p> + Was this the acting-dean of Sunrise, a second Fenneben, already declared? + His face was full of pathos, yet even in his feverish grief it seemed a + better face to Dennie than the cold scholarly countenance of two years + ago. + </p> + <p> + “My troubles go back a long way. My father was given to greed. He sold + himself and my sister's happiness and mine for money. You think your + father is a slave, Dennie, because he has a craving for whisky. Less than + half a dozen times a year the demon inside gets him down.” + </p> + <p> + Dennie looked up with a sorrowful face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but think of what he might do. You don't know what dreadful things + he has done—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. He told me himself the very worst. I'll never betray him, + Dennie. His punishment is heavy enough.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess laid his hand on her dimpled hand in token of sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “But that's only rarely, little girl. My father every day in the year gave + himself to an appetite for money till he cared for nothing else. My + sister, who died believing that I also had turned against her, was forced + to marry a man she did not love because he had money. I never knew the man + she did love. It was a romance of her girlhood. I was away from home the + most of my boyhood years, and she never mentioned his name after the + affair was broken off. All I know is that she was deceived and made to + believe some cruel story against him. She and her husband came West, where + they died. My father never forgave them for going West, nor permitted me + to speak her name to him. I never knew why until yesterday. My sister's + husband had a brother out here with whom he meant to divide some + possessions he had inherited. That settled him with my father forever. + There was no DIVISION of property in his creed.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess paused. Dennie's interest and sympathy made her silent company a + comfort. + </p> + <p> + “I was heir to my father's estate, and heir also to some funds he held in + trust. I was a scholar with ambition for honors—a Master's Degree + and a high professional place in a great university. I trusted my whole + life plans to the man who knew my father best—Dr. Joshua Wream.” + </p> + <p> + Dennie looked up, questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to Elinor's uncle, as unlike Dr. Fenneben as night and day.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not blame me, Dennie, if two men have helped to misshape my life. My + father believed that money is absolute. Dr. Wream holds scholarly + achievement as the greatest life work. It has been Dr. Fenneben's part to + show me the danger and the power in each.” + </p> + <p> + It was dimly dawning on Burgess that the presence of Dennie, good, + sensible Dennie, was a blessing outside of these things that could go far + toward making life successful. But he did not grasp it clearly yet. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Wream and I made a compact before I came West. It seemed fair to me + then. By its terms I was assured, first, of my right to certain funds my + father held in trust. It was Wream who secured these rights for me. + Second, I was to succeed to his chair in Harvard if I proved worthy in + Sunrise. In return I promised to marry Elinor Wream and to provide for her + comfort and luxury with these trust funds my father and Wream had somehow + been manipulating.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, yes! Dennie was level-headed. And because she did not look up nor cry + out Vincent Burgess did not see nor guess anything. His life had been a + sheltered one. How could he measure Dennie's life-discipline in + self-control and loving bravery? + </p> + <p> + “Elinor was heavy on Wream's conscience,” Vincent went on, “because he and + her father, Dr. Nathan Wream, took the fortune to endow colleges and + university chairs that should have been hers from her mother's estate. You + see, Dennie, there was no wrong in the plan. Elinor would be provided for + by me. I would get up in my chosen profession. Nobody was robbed or + defrauded. Joshua Wream's last years would be peaceful with his conscience + at rest regarding Elinor's property. And, Dennie, who would n't want to + marry Elinor Wream?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, who wouldn't?” Dennie looked up with a smile. And if there were + tears in her eyes Burgess knew they were born of Dennie's sweet spirit of + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “What is wrong, then?” she asked. “Is Elinor unwilling?” + </p> + <p> + “Elinor and I are bound by promises to each other, although no word has + ever been spoken between us. It is impossible to make any change now. We + are very happy, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Dennie echoed. + </p> + <p> + “I had a letter from Dr. Wream last night. A pitiful letter, for he's + getting near the brink. Dennie—these funds I hold—I have never + quite understood, but I had felt sure there was no other claimant. There + was a clause in the strangely-worded bequest: 'for V. B. and his heirs. + Failing in that, to the nearest related V. B.' It was a thing for lawyers, + not Greek professors, to settle, and I came to be the nearest related V. + B., Vincent Burgess, for I find the money belonged to my sister's husband, + and I thought he left no heirs and I am the nearest related V. B. by + marriage, you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” Dennie's mind was jumping to the end. + </p> + <p> + “My sister married a Victor Burleigh, who came to Kansas to find his + brother. Both men are dead now. The only one of the two families living is + this brother's son, young Victor Burleigh, junior in Sunrise College. He + knows nothing of his Uncle Victor, my brother-in-law—nor of money + that he might claim. He belongs to the soil out here. Nobody has any + claims on him, nor has he any ambition for a chair in Harvard, nor any + promise to marry and provide for a beautiful girl who looks upon him as + her future guardian.” + </p> + <p> + Vincent Burgess suddenly ceased speaking and looked at Dennie. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot break an old man's heart. He implores me not to reveal all this, + but I had to tell somebody, and you are the best friend a man could ever + have, Dennie Saxon, so I come to you,” he added presently. + </p> + <p> + “When did this Dr. Wream find out about Vic?” Dennie asked. + </p> + <p> + “A month ago. Some strange-looking tramp of a fellow brought him proofs + that are incontestable,” Burgess replied. + </p> + <p> + “And it is for an old man's peace you would keep this secret?” Dennie + questioned. + </p> + <p> + “For him and for Elinor—and for myself. Don't hate me, Dennie. + Elinor looks upon me as her future husband. I have promised to provide for + her with the comforts denied her by her father, and I have lived in the + ambition of holding that Harvard chair—Oh, it is all a hopeless + tangle. I could never go to Victor Burleigh now. He would not believe that + I had been ignorant of his claim all this time. He was never wrapped up in + the pursuit of a career—Oh, Dennie, Dennie, what shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet and Dennie stood up before him. He gently rested his + hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. + </p> + <p> + “What shall you do?” Dennie repeated, slowly. “Whisky, Money, Ambition—the + appetite that destroys! Vincent Burgess, if you want to win a Master's + Degree, win to the Mastery of Manhood first. The sins of the fathers, + yours and mine, we cannot undo. But you can be a man.” + </p> + <p> + She had put her dimpled hands on his arms as they stood there, and the + brave courage of her upturned face called back again the rainy May night, + and the face of Victor Burleigh beside Bug Buler's cot, and his low voice + as he said: + </p> + <p> + “I cannot play in tomorrow's game and be a man.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE SILVER PITCHER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>A picket frozen on duty— + A mother starved for her brood— + Socrates drinking the hemlock, + And Jesus on the rood. + And millions who, humble and nameless, + The straight hard pathway trod— + Some call it Consecration, + And others call it God</i>. + —WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH +</pre> + <p> + “DR. FENNEBEN, I should like much to dismiss my classes for the + afternoon,” Professor Burgess said to the Dean in his study the next day. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Professor, I am afraid you are overworked with all my duties + added to yours here. But you don't look it,” Fenneben said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Burgess was growing almost stalwart in this gracious climate. + </p> + <p> + “I am very well, Doctor. What a beautiful view this is.” He was looking + intently now at the Empire that had failed to interest him once. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it is my inspiration. 'Each man's chimney is his golden milestone,'” + Fenneben quoted. “I've watched the smoke from many chimneys up and down + the Walnut Valley during my years here, and later I've hunted out the + people of each hearthstone and made friends with them. So when I look away + from my work here I see friendly tokens of those I know out there.” He + waved his hand toward the whole valley. “And maybe, when they look up here + and see the dome by day, or catch our beacon light by night, they think of + 'Funnybone,' too. It is well to live close to the folks of your valley + always.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a wonderful man, Doctor,” Burgess said. + </p> + <p> + “There are two 'milestones' I've never reached,” the Doctor went on. “One + is that place by the bend in the river. See the pigeons rising above it + now. I wonder if that strange white-haired woman ever came back again. + Elinor said she left Lagonda Ledge last summer.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the other place?” Burgess would change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “It i's a little shaft of blue smoke from a wood fire rising above those + rocky places across the river. I've seen it so often, at irregular times, + that I've grown interested in it, but I have missed it since I came back. + It's like losing a friend. Every man has his vagaries. One of mine is this + friendship with the symbols of human homes.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess offered no comment in response. He could not see that the time had + come to tell Fenneben what Bond Saxon had confided to him about the man + below the smoke. So he left the hilltop and went down to the Saxon House. + He wanted to see Dennie, but found her father instead. + </p> + <p> + “That woman's left Pigeon Place again,” Saxon said. “Went early this + morning. It's freedom for me when I don't have to think of them two. + Thinking of myself is slavery enough.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess loitered aimlessly about the doorway for a while. It was a mild + afternoon, with no hint of winter, nor Christmas glitter of ice and snow + about it. Just a glorious finishing of an idyllic Kansas autumn rounding + out in the beauty of a sunshiny mid-December day. But to the man who stood + there, waiting for nothing at all, the day was a mockery. Behind the fine + scholarly face a storm was raging and there was only one friend whom he + could trust—Dennie. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go walking, you and me!” + </p> + <p> + Bug Buler put up one hand to Burgess, while he clutched a little red ball + in the other. Bug had an irresistible child voice and child touch, and + Burgess yielded to their leading. He had not realized until now how lonely + he was, and Bug was companionable by intuition and a stanch little + stroller. + </p> + <p> + North of town the river lay glistening between its vine-draped banks. The + two paused at the bend where Fenneben had been hurled almost to his doom, + and Burgess remembered the darkness, and the rain, and the limp body he + had held. He thought Fenneben was dead then, and even in that moment he + had felt a sense of disloyalty to Dennie as he realized that he must think + of Elinor entirely now. But why not? He had come to Kansas for this very + thinking. It must be his life purpose now. + </p> + <p> + Today Burgess began to wonder why Elinor must have a life of ease provided + for her and Dennie Saxon ask for nothing. Why should Joshua Wream's + conscience be his burden, too? Then he hated himself a little more than + ever, and duty and manly honor began their wrestle within him again. + </p> + <p> + “Let's we go see the pigeons,” Bug suggested, tossing his ball in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + Burgess remembered what Bond had said of the woman's leaving. There could + be no harm in going inside, he thought. The leafless trees and shrubbery + revealed the neat little home that the summer foliage concealed. Bug ran + forward with childish curiosity and tiptoed up to a low window, dropping + his little red ball in his eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tum! tum!” he cried. “Such a pretty picture frame and vase on the + table.” + </p> + <p> + He was nearly five years old now, but in his excitement he still used baby + language, as he pulled eagerly at Vincent Burgess' coat. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't nice to peep, Bug,” Burgess insisted, but he shaded his eyes and + glanced in to please the boy. He did not note the pretty gilt frame nor + the vase beside it on the table. But the face looking out of that frame + made him turn almost as cold and limp as Fenneben had been when he was + dragged from the river. Catching the little one by the hand he hurried + away. + </p> + <p> + At the gateway he lifted Bug in his arms. + </p> + <p> + He was not yet at ease with children. + </p> + <p> + “I dropped my ball,” Bug said. “Let me det it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I'll get you another one. Don't go back,” Burgess urged. “Do you + know it is very rude to look into windows. Let's never tell anybody we did + it; nor ever, ever do it again. Will you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Umph humph! I mean, yes, sir! I won't fornever do it again, nor tell + nobody.” Bug buttoned up his lips for a sphinx-like secrecy. “Nobody but + Dennie. And I may fordet it for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, forget it, and we'll go away up the river and see other things. Bug, + what do you say when you want to keep from doing wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Bug looked up confidingly. + </p> + <p> + “I ist say, 'Dod, be merciless to me, a sinner'.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not merciful, Bug?” + </p> + <p> + “Tause! If He's merciful it's too easy and I'm no dooder,” Bug said, + wisely. + </p> + <p> + “Who told you the difference?” Burgess asked. + </p> + <p> + “Vic. He knows a lot. I wish I had my ball, but let's go up the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of the mouths of babes,” Burgess murmured and hugged the little one + close to him. + </p> + <p> + Victor Burleigh was in the little balcony of the dome late that afternoon + fixing a defective wiring. Through the open windows he could see the + skyline in every direction. The far-reaching gray prairie, overhung by its + dome of amethyst bordered round with opal and rimmed with jasper, seemed + in every blending tint and tone to call him back to Norrie. The west bluff + above the old Kickapoo Corral in the autumn, the glen full of + shadow-flecked light under the tender young April leaves, the December + landscape as it lay beyond Dr. Fenneben's study windows—these + belonged to Elinor. And all of them were blended in this vision of + inexpressible grandeur, unfolded to him now from the dome's high vantage + place. + </p> + <p> + “Twice Norrie has let me hold her in my arms and kiss her,” he mused. + “When I do that the third time it must be when there will be no remorse to + hound me afterward.” He looked down the winding Walnut toward the + whirlpool. “I'd rather swim that water than flounder here.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of footsteps on the rotunda stairs made him turn to see Vincent + Burgess just reaching the little balcony of the dome. + </p> + <p> + “I've come to have a word with you up here,” he said. “We met once before + in this rotunda.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, down there in the arena,” Vic replied, recalling how like a beast he + had felt then. “I was a young hyena that day. Bug Buler came just in time + to save both of us. There is a comfort in feeling we can learn something. + I've needed books and college professors to temper me to courtesy.” + </p> + <p> + It was the only apology Vic had ever offered to Burgess, who accepted it + as all that he deserved. + </p> + <p> + “We learn more from men than from books sometimes. I've learned from them + how courageous a man may be when the need for sacrifice comes. Sit down, + Burleigh, and let me tell you something.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down on the low seat beside the dome windows. Overhead gleamed + the message of high courage, <i>Ad Astra Per Aspera</i>. Below was the + artistic beauty of the rotunda, where the evening shadows were deepening. + </p> + <p> + “We are higher than we were that other day. We care less for fighting as + we get farther up, maybe,” Burgess said, pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “The only place to fight a man is in a cave, anyhow,” Burleigh replied, + looking at his brawny arms, nor dreaming how prophetic his words might be. + </p> + <p> + “We don't belong to that class of men now, whatever our far off ancestors + may have been, but we are the sons of our fathers, Burleigh, and it is + left to the living to right the wrongs the dead have begun.” + </p> + <p> + Then, briefly, Vincent Burgess, A.B., Greek Professor from Harvard, told + to Vic Burleigh from a prairie claim out beyond the Walnut, a part of what + he had already told to Dennie Saxon, of the funds withheld from him so + long. Told it in general terms, however, not shielding his father at all, + but giving no hint that the first Victor Burleigh was his own + brother-in-law. And of the compact with Joshua Wream and of Norrie he told + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Three days ago I did not know that you could be heir to this property,” + he concluded. “I've been interested in books and have left legal matters + to those who controlled them for me.” + </p> + <p> + He rose hastily, for Burleigh, saying nothing, was looking at him with + wide-open brown eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. + </p> + <p> + “I can restore your property to you. I cannot change the past. You have + all the future in which to use it better than my father did, or I might + have done. Goodnight.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away and passed slowly down the rotunda stairs. + </p> + <p> + When he was gone Victor Burleigh turned to the open window of the dome. He + was not to blame that the beautiful earth under a magnificent December + sunset sky seemed all his own now. + </p> + <p> + “'If big, handsome Victor Burleigh had his corners knocked off and was + sandpapered down,'” he mused. “Well, what corners I haven't knocked off + myself have been knocked off for me and I've been sandpapered—Lord, + I've been sandpapered down all right. I'm at home on a carpet now. 'And if + he had money'.” Vic's face was triumphant. “It has come at last—the + money. And what of Elinor?” + </p> + <p> + The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him “what of + Elinor.” + </p> + <p> + “The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. I must hunt up + Trench and then—” + </p> + <p> + He closed the dome window, looked a moment at the brave Kansas motto, + radiant in the sunset light, and then, picking up his tools, he went + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Trench I he called as he reached the rotunda floor. I must see you + a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello, you Angel-face! Case of necessity. Well, look a minute,” Trench + drawled. “But that's the limit, and twice as long as I'd care to see you, + although, I was hunting you. Funnybone wants to see you in there.” + </p> + <p> + Victor's eyes were glowing with a golden light as he entered Fenneben's + study, and the Dean noted the wonderful change from the big, awkward + fellow with a bulldog countenance to this self-poised gentleman whose fine + face it was a joy to see. + </p> + <p> + “I have a message for you, Burleigh. No hurry about it I was told, but I + am called away on important business and I must get it out of my mind. An + odd-looking fellow called at my door on the night I came home and left a + package for you. He said he had tried to find you and failed, that he was + a stranger here, and that you would understand the message inside. He + insisted on not giving this in any hurry, and as my coming home has + brought me a mass of things to consider, I have not been prompt about it.” + </p> + <p> + Fenneben put a small package into Burleigh's hands. + </p> + <p> + “Examine it here, if you care to. You can fasten the door when you leave. + Goodby!” and he was gone. + </p> + <p> + Victor sat down and opened the package. Inside was a quaint little silver + pitcher, much ornamented, with the initial B embossed on the smooth side. + </p> + <p> + “The lost pitcher—stolen the day my mother died—and I was + warned never to try to find who stole it.” He turned to the light of the + west window. + </p> + <p> + “It is the very thing I found in the cave that night. The man who took it + may have been over there.” He glanced out of the window and saw a thin + twist of blue smoke rising above the ledges across the river. + </p> + <p> + “Who can have had it all this time, and why return it now?” he questioned. + As he turned the pitcher in his hands a paper fell out. + </p> + <p> + “The message inside!” He spread out the paper and read “the message + inside.” + </p> + <p> + Well for him that Dr. Fenneben had left him alone. The shining face and + eyes aglow changed suddenly to a white, hard countenance as he read this + message inside. It ran: + </p> + <p> + “Victor Burleigh. First, don't ever try to follow me. The day you do I'll + send you where I sent your father. No Burleigh can stay near me and live. + Now be wise. + </p> + <p> + “Second. You saved the baby I left in the old dugout. Before God I never + meant to kill it then. The thought of it has cursed my soul night and day + till I found out you had saved him. + </p> + <p> + “Third. The girl you want to marry—go and marry. Do anything, good + or bad, to destroy Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “Fourth. The money Burgess had is yours, only because I'm giving it to + you. It belongs to Bug Buler. He couldn't talk plain when you saved him. + He's not Bug Buler; he's Bug Burleigh, son of Victor Burleigh, heir to V. + B.'s money in the law. I've got all the proofs. You see why you can have + that money. Nobody will ever know but me. Don't hunt for me and I'll never + tell. TOM GRESH.” + </p> + <p> + The paper fell from Victor Burleigh's hands. The world, that ten minutes + ago was a rose-hued sunset land, was a dreary midnight waste now. The one + barrier between himself and Elinor had fallen only to rise up again. + </p> + <p> + Then came Satan into the game. “Nobody knew this but Gresh! Who had saved + Bug's life? Who had cared for him and would always care for him? Why + should Bug, little, loving Bug, come now to spoil his hopes? If Bug knew + he would be first to give it all to his beloved Vic.” + </p> + <p> + And then came Satan's ten strike. “No need to settle things now. Wait and + think it over.” And Vic decided in a blind way to think it over. + </p> + <p> + In the rotunda he met Trench, old Trench, slow of step but a lightning + calculator. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” he exclaimed, as he saw Vic's face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to the whirlpool before I'm through,” Vic said, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + Trench caught him in a powerful grip and shoved him to the foot of the + rotunda stairs. + </p> + <p> + “No,-you re-not-going-to-the-whirlpool,”' he said, slowly. “You're going + up to the top of the dome right against that <i>Ad Astra per Aspera</i> + business up there, and open the west window and look out at the world the + Lord made to heal hurt souls by looking at. And you are going to stay up + there until you have fought the thing out with yourself, and come down + like Moses did with the ten Commandments cut deep on the tables of your + stony old heart. If you don't, you'll not need to go to old Lagonda's + pool. By the holy saints, I'll take you there myself and plunge you in + just to rid the world of such a fool. You hear me! Now, go on! And + remember in your tussle that that big S cut over the old Sunrise door out + there stands for Service. That's what will make your name fit you yet, + Victor.” + </p> + <p> + Vic slowly climbed up to where an hour ago the sudden opportunity for the + fruition of his young life and hope had been brought to him. Lost now, + unless—Nobody would ever know and Bug could lose nothing. He opened + the west window and looked out at the Walnut Valley, dim and shadowy now, + and the silver prairies beyond it and the gorgeous crimson tinted sky + wherefrom the sun had slipped. And then and there, with his face to the + light, he wrestled with the black Apollyon of his soul. And every minute + the temptation grew to keep the funds “in trust,” and to keep on caring + for the boy he had cared for since babyhood. He clinched his white teeth + and the tiger light was in his eyes again as the longing for Elinor's love + overcame him. He pictured her as only one sunset ago she had looked up + into his eyes, her face transfigured with love's sweetness, and he wished + he might keep that picture forever. But, somehow, between that face and + his own, came the picture of little Bug alone in the wretched dugout, + reaching up baby arms to him for life and safety; on his baby face a + pleading trustfulness. + </p> + <p> + Victor unbuttoned his cuff and slipped up his sleeve to the scar on his + arm. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody can see the scar I put there when I cut out the poison,” he said + to himself, at last. “Nobody will see the scar on my soul, but I'll cut + out the poison just the same. I did not save that baby boy from the + rattlesnakes only to let him be crushed by the serpent in me. Trench was + right, the S over the doorway down there stands for Service as well as for + Sacrifice and Strife. Dr. Fenneben says they all enter into the winning of + a Master's Degree. Shall I ever get mine earned, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + He looked once more at the west, all a soft purple, gray-veiled with misty + shadows, save over the place where the sun went out one shaft of deepest + rose hue tipped with golden flame was cleaving its way toward the + darkening zenith. Then he closed the window and went downstairs and out + into the beautiful December twilight. + </p> + <p> + In all Kansas in that evening hour no man breathed deeper of the sweet, + pure air, nor walked with firmer stride, than the man who had gone out + under the carved symbol of the college doorway, Victor Burleigh of the + junior class at Sunrise. + </p> + <p> + SUPREMACY + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Make thyself free of Manhood's guild, + Pull down thy barns and greater build, + Pluck from the sunset's fruit of gold, + Glean from the heavens and ocean old, + From fireside lone and trampling street + Let thy life garner daily wheat, + The epic of a man rehearse, + Be something better than thy verse, + And thou shalt hear the life-blood flow + From farthest stars to grass-blades low. + —LOWELL +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + </h2> + <h3> + <i>And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors</i>. + </h3> + <p> + ELINOR WREAM was standing at the gate as Victor Burleigh came striding up + the street. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going so fast, Victor?” she asked. “Everybody is in a rush + this evening. We had a telegram from the East this afternoon. Uncle Joshua + is very ill, and Uncle Lloyd had to get away on short notice. Old Bond + Saxon went by just now, but,” lowering her voice, “he was awfully drunk + and slipped along like a snake.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Bug?” Victor asked. “Dennie says he left a little while ago + to find his ball he lost out north this afternoon. He wouldn't tell where, + because he had promised not to.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not seen him. But don't be uneasy about Bug. He never plays + near the river, nor the railroad tracks, and he always comes in at the + right time,” Elinor said, comfortingly. + </p> + <p> + “I know he always has before, but I want to find him, anyhow.” The + affectionate tone told Elinor what a loving guardianship was given to the + unknown orphan child. + </p> + <p> + “There was a man here to see Uncle Lloyd just after he left this evening. + The same man that brought a little package for you the night we came home. + I suppose he comes from your part of the state out West, for he seemed to + know you and Bug. He asked me if Bug ever played along the river and if he + was a shy child. He was a strange-looking man, and I thought he had the + cruelest face I ever saw, but I am no expert on strange faces.” + </p> + <p> + Victor did not wait for another word. + </p> + <p> + “I must find Bug right away. You can't think what he is to me, Elinor,” + and he hurried away. + </p> + <p> + At the bend in the Walnut Vic saw Bug's little scarlet stocking cap beside + the flat stone. The twilight was almost gone, but the glistening river + reflected on the torn bushes above the bank-full stream. + </p> + <p> + The crushing agony of the first minutes made them seem like hours. And + then the college discipline put in its work. Vic stopped and reasoned. + </p> + <p> + “Bug isn't down there. He never goes near the river. That strange man is + Tom Gresh. He killed my father and he's laid a trap for me. He doesn't + want to kill Bug. He wants to keep him to workout vengeance and hate on + me. He says he'll send me to my father if I go near him. Well, I'm going + so near he'll not doubt who I am, and I'll have Bug unharmed if I have to + send Gresh where my father could not go even with water to cool his + tongue. A man may fight with a man as he would fight with a beast to save + himself or something dearer than himself from beastly destruction, + Fenneben says. That's the battle before me now, and it's to the death.” + </p> + <p> + The tiger light was in the yellow eyes as never before and the stern jaw + was set, as Victor Burleigh hurried away. And this was the man who, such a + little while ago, was debating with himself over the quiet possession of + Bug Buler's inheritance. Truly the Mastery comes very near to such as he. + </p> + <p> + It was with tiger-like step and instinct, too, that the young man went + leaping up the dark, frost-coated glen. About the mouth of the cave the + blackness was appalling. It seemed a place apart, cursed with the frown of + Nature. Yet in the April time, the sweetest moments of Vic's young life + had been spent in this very spot that now showed all the difference + between Love and Hate. + </p> + <p> + As he neared the opening of the cavern he guarded his footsteps more + carefully. The jungle beast was alert within him and the college training + was giving way to the might of muscle backed by a will to win. + </p> + <p> + A dim light gleamed in the cave and he watched outside now, as Gresh on + the April day had watched him inside. Down by a wood fire, whose smoke was + twisting out through a crevice overhead somewhere, little Bug was sitting + on Tom Gresh's big coat, the fire lighting up his tangle of red-brown + curls. His big brown eyes looking up at the man crouching by the fire were + eyes of innocent courage, and the expression on the sweet child-face was + impenetrable. + </p> + <p> + “He's a Burleigh. He's not afraid,” Vic thought, exultingly. “That's half + my battle. I had it out with the rattlesnakes. I'll do better here.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the outlaw turned toward the door and leaped to his feet as + Vic sprang inside. + </p> + <p> + Bug started up with outstretched arms. + </p> + <p> + “Keep out of the way, Bug,” Vic cried, as the two men clinched. + </p> + <p> + And the struggle began. They were evenly matched, and both had the sinews + of giants. The outlaw had the advantage of an iron strength, hardened by + years of out-door life. But the college that had softened the country boy + somewhat gave in return the quick judgment and superior agility of the + trained power that counts against weight before the battle is over. But + withal, it was terrible. One fighter was a murderer by trade, his hand + steady for the blackest deeds, and here was a man he had waited long + months to destroy. The other fighter was in the struggle to save a life + dear to him, a life that must vindicate his conscience and preserve his + soul's peace. + </p> + <p> + Across the stone-floored cave they threshed in fury, until at the farther + wall Gresh flung Vic from him against the jagged rock with a force that + cut a gash across the boy's head. The blood splashed on both men's faces + as they renewed the strife. Then with a quick twist Burleigh threw the + outlaw to the floor and held him in a clutch that weighed him down like a + ledge of rock; and it was pound for pound again. + </p> + <p> + Away from the mass of burning coals the blackness was horrible. Beyond + that fire Bug sat, silent as the stone wall behind him. Gresh gained the + mastery again, and with a grip on Vic's throat was about to thrust his + head, face downward, into the burning embers. Vic understood and strove + for his own life with a maniac's might, for he knew that one more wrench + would end the thing. + </p> + <p> + “You first, and then the baby; I'll roast you both,” Gresh hissed, and Vic + smelled the heat of the wood flame. + </p> + <p> + But who had counted on Bug? He had watched this fearful grapple, + motionless and terror-stricken, and now with a child's vision he saw what + Gresh meant to do. Springing up, he caught the heavy coat on which he had + been sitting and flung it on the fire, smothering the embers and putting + the cavern into complete darkness. + </p> + <p> + Vic gained the vantage by this unlooked for movement and the grip shifted. + The fighters fell to the floor and then began the same kind of struggle by + which Burleigh had out-generaled big, unconquerable Trench one day. The + two had rolled and fought in college combat from the top of the limestone + ridge to the lower campus and landed with Burleigh gripping Trench + helpless to defend further. That battle was friend with friend. This + battle was to the death. The blood of both men smeared the floor as they + tore at each other like wild beasts, and no man could have told which + oftenest had the vantage hold, nor how the strife would end. But it did + end soon. The heavy coat, that had smothered the fire and saved Vic, + smoldered a little, then flared into flame, lighting the whole cave, and + throwing out black and awful shadows of the two fighters. They were close + to the hole in the inner wall now. Gresh's face in that unsteady glare was + horrible to see. He loosed his hold a second, then lunged at Vic with the + fury of a mad brute. And Vic, who had fought the devil in himself to a + standstill three hours ago, now caught the fiend outside of him for a + finishing blow, and the strength of that last struggle was terrific. + </p> + <p> + Up to this time Vic had not spoken. + </p> + <p> + “I killed the other snakes. I'll kill you now,” he growled, as he held the + outlaw at length in a conquering grip, his knees on Gresh's breast, his + right hand on Gresh's throat. + </p> + <p> + In that weird light the conqueror's face was only a degree less brutal + than the outlaw's face. And Burleigh meant every word, for murder was in + his heart and in his clutching fingers. Beneath the weight of his strength + Gresh slowly relaxed, struggling fiercely at first and groping blindly to + escape. Then he began to whine for mercy, but his whining maddened his + conqueror more than his blows had done. For such strife is no mere + wrestling match. Every blow struck against a fellowman is as the smell of + blood to the tiger, feeding a fiendish eagerness to kill. Beside, Burleigh + had ample cause for vengeance. The creature under his grip was not only a + bootlegger through whose evil influence men took other lives or lost their + own; he had slain one innocent man, Vic's own father, and in the room + where his dead mother lay had robbed Vic's home of every valuable thing. + He had sworn vengeance on all who bore the name of Burleigh. What fate + might await Bug, Vic dared not picture. One strangling grip now could + finish the business forever, and his clutch tightened, as Gresh lay + begging like a coward for his own worthless life. + </p> + <p> + “It's a good thing a fellow has a guardian angel once in a while. We get + pretty close to the edge sometimes and never know how near we are to + destruction,” Vic had said to Elinor in here on the April day. + </p> + <p> + It was not Vic's guardian angel, but little Bug whose white face was + thrust between him and his victim, and the touch of a soft little hand and + the pleading child-voice that cried: + </p> + <p> + “Don't kill him, Vic. He's frough of fighting now. Don't hurt him no + more.” + </p> + <p> + Vic staid his hand at the words. The few minutes of this mad-beast duel + had made him forget the sound of human voices. He half lifted himself from + Gresh's body at Bug's cry. And Bug, wise beyond his years, quaint-minded + little Bug, said, softly: + </p> + <p> + “Fordive us our debts as we fordive our debtors.” + </p> + <p> + Strange, loving words of the Man of Galilee, spoken on the mountain-side + long, long ago, and echoed now by childish lips in the dying light of the + cavern to these two men, drunk with brute-lust for human blood! For Vic + the words struck like blows. All the years since his father's death he had + waited for this hour. At last he had met and vanquished the man who had + taken his father's life, and now, exultant in his victory, came this + little child's voice. + </p> + <p> + The cave darkened. A mist, half blood, half blindness, came before his + eyes, but clear to his ears there sounded the ringing words: + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance is mine; I will repay!” + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Discipline calling to his better judgment, as Bug's + innocent pleading spoke to the finer man within him. + </p> + <p> + Under his grip Gresh lay motionless, all power of resistance threshed out + of him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready to quit?” Vic questioned, hoarsely, bending over the almost + lifeless form. + </p> + <p> + The outlaw mumbled assent. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll let you live, you miserable wretch, and the courts will take + care of you.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh himself was faint from strife and loss of blood. As he relaxed + his vigilance the last atom of strength, the last hope of escape returned + to Gresh. He sprang to his feet, staggered blindly then, quick as a + panther, he leaped through the hole in the farther wall, wriggled swiftly + into the blind crevices of the inner cave, and was gone. + </p> + <p> + It was Trench who dressed Vic's head that night and shielded him until his + strength returned. But it was Bond Saxon who counseled patience. + </p> + <p> + “Don't squeal to the sheriff now,” he urged. “The scoundrel is gone, and + it would make a nine days' hooray, and nothing would come of it. He was + darned slick to take the time when Funnybone was away.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Vic asked. + </p> + <p> + But Bond would not tell why. And Vic never dreamed how much cause Bond + Saxon had to dread the day when Tom Gresh should be brought into court, + and his own great crime committed in his drunken hours would demand + retribution. So Lagonda Ledge and Sunrise knew nothing of what had + occurred. Burleigh had no recourse but to wait, while Bug buttoned up his + lips, as he had done for Burgess out at Pigeon Place, and conveniently + “fordot” what he chose not to tell. But he wandered no more alone about + the pretty by-corners of Lagonda Ledge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE DERELICTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>I dimly guess from blessings known + Of greater out of sight, + And, with the chastened Psalmist, own + His judgments, too, are right. + + I know not what the future hath + Of marvel or surprise, + Assured alone that life and death + His mercy underlies</i>. + —WHITTIER +</pre> + <p> + IT was early spring before Dr. Fenneben returned to Lagonda Ledge. + Everybody thought the new line on his face was put there by the death of + his brother. To those who loved him most—that is, to all Lagonda + Ledge—he was growing handsomer every year, and even with this new + expression his countenance wore a more kindly grace than ever before. + </p> + <p> + “Norrie, your uncle was a strange man,” Fenneben declared, as he and + Elinor sat in the library on the evening of his return. “Naturally, I am + unlike my stepbrothers, but I have not even understood them. There were + many things I learned at Joshua's bedside that I never knew of the family + before. There were some things for you to know, but not now.” + </p> + <p> + “I can trust you, Uncle Lloyd, to do just the right thing,” Norrie + declared. + </p> + <p> + The new line of sadness deepened in Lloyd Fenneben's face. + </p> + <p> + “That is a hard thing to do sometimes. Your trust will help me + wonderfully, however,” he replied. “My brother in his last hours made + urgent requests of me and pled with me until I pledged my word to carry + out his wishes. Here's where I need your trust most.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor bent over her uncle and softly stroked the heavy black hair from + his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where I help you most, then,” she said, gently. + </p> + <p> + “I have some funds, Elinor, to be yours at your graduation—not + before. Believe me, dear girl, I begged of Joshua to let me turn them over + to you now, but he staid obstinate to the last.” + </p> + <p> + “And I don't want a thing different till I get my diploma. Not even till I + get my Master's Degree for that matter,” Elinor said, playfully. + </p> + <p> + “And meantime, Norrie, will you just be a college girl and drop all + thought of this marrying business until you are through school?” Fenneben + was hesitating a little now. “A year hence will be time enough for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Most gladly,” Elinor assured him. + </p> + <p> + “Then that's all for my brother's sake. Now for mine, Norrie, or for + yours, rather, if my little girl has her mind all set about things after + school days, I hope she will not be a flirt. Sometimes the words and acts + cut deeper into other lives than we ever dream. Norrie, I know this out of + the years of my own lonely life.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor's eyes were dewy with tears and she bent her head until her hair + touched his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try to be good 'fornever,' as Bug Buler says,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Over in the Saxon House on this same evening Vincent Burgess had come in + to see Dennie about some books. + </p> + <p> + “I took your advice, Dennie,” he said. “I have been a man to the extent of + making myself square with Victor Burleigh, and I've felt like a free man + ever since.” + </p> + <p> + The look of joy and pride in Dennie's eyes thrilled him with a keen + pleasure. Her eyes were of such a soft gray and her pretty wavy hair was + so lustrous tonight. + </p> + <p> + “Dennie, I am going to be even more of a man than you asked me to be.” + </p> + <p> + Dennie did not look up. The pink of her cheek, her long lashes over her + downcast eyes, the sunny curls above her forehead, all were fair to + Vincent Burgess. As he looked at her he began to understand, blind bat + that he had been all this time, he, Professor Vincent Burgess, A.B., + Instructor in Greek from Harvard University. + </p> + <p> + “I must be going now. Good-night, Dennie.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands and hurried away, but to the girl who was earning her + college education there was something in his handclasp, denied before. + </p> + <p> + The next day there was a settling of affairs at Sunrise, and the + character-building put into Lloyd Fenneben's hand, as clay for the + potter's wheel, seemed to him to be shaping somewhat to its destined uses. + </p> + <p> + Again, Vincent Burgess sat in the chair by the west study window, + acting-dean, now seeking neither types, nor geographical breadth, nor + seclusion amid barren prairie lands for profound research in preparing for + a Master's Degree. + </p> + <p> + With no effort to conceal matters, except the fact that the trust funds + had first belonged to his own sister and brother-in-law, he explained to + Fenneben the line of events connecting him with Victor Burleigh. + </p> + <p> + “And, Dr. Fenneben, I must speak of a matter I have never touched upon + with you before. It was agreed between Dr. Wream and myself that I should + become his nephew by marriage. I want to go to Miss Elinor and ask her to + release me. You will pardon my frankness, for I cannot honorably continue + in this relationship since I have restored the property to Victor + Burleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks she will not care for him now,” Fenneben said to himself. Aloud + he said: + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever spoken directly to Elinor on this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no. It was an understanding between her and her uncle and between him + and me,” Burgess replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't pretend to know girls very well, being a confirmed + bachelor”—the Dean's eyes were smiling—“but my advice at this + distance is not to ask Norrie to release you from what she herself has + never yet bound you. I'll vouch for her peace of mind; and your sense of + honor is fully vindicated now. To be equally frank with you, Burgess, now + that Norrie is entirely in my charge, I have put this sort of thing for + her absolutely into the after-commencement years. The best wife is not + always the girl who wears a diamond ring through three or four years of + her college life. I want my niece to be a girl now, not a + bride-in-waiting.” + </p> + <p> + As Burgess rose to go his eye caught sight of the pigeons above the bend + in the river. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Doctor, have you ever found out anything about the woman who + used to live in that deserted place up north?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing yet,” Fenneben replied. “But, remember, I have not spent a week—that + is, a sane week—in Lagonda Ledge since the night you, and she, and + Saxon, and the dog saved my life. I shall take up her case soon.” + </p> + <p> + “She is gone away and nobody knows where, Saxon tells me,” Burgess said. + “For many reasons I wish we could find her, but she has dropped out of + sight.” + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben wondered at the sorrowful expression on the younger man's + face when he said this. + </p> + <p> + As he left the study Victor Burleigh came in. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Burleigh. What can I do for you?” Fenneben asked. + </p> + <p> + Something like his own magnetism of presence was in the young man before + him. + </p> + <p> + “I want to tell you something,” Vic responded. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you something. I knew you had good blood in your veins even + when I saw you kill that bull snake. Burgess has just been in. He has told + me his side of your story. Noble fellow he is to free himself of a + life-long slavery to somebody else's dollars. However much a man may try + to hide the fetters of unlawful gains, they clank in his own ears till he + hates himself. Now Burgess is a freeman.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you say so, Dr. Fenneben. It makes my own freedom + sweeter,” Vic declared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Fenneben replied. “Your added means will bring you life's best gift—opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no added means, Doctor. I have funds in trust for Bug Buler, and I + come to ask you to take his legal guardianship for me.” And then he told + his own life story. + </p> + <p> + “So the heroism shifts to you as well. I can picture the cost to a man + like yourself,” the Dean said. “Have you no record of Bug's father and + mother?” + </p> + <p> + “None but the record given by Dr. Wream. They are dead,” Burleigh replied. + “His father may have met the same fate that my father did.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you take the guardianship yourself, Burleigh? The boy is yours + in love and blood. He ought to be in law.” + </p> + <p> + Victor Burleigh stood up to his full height, a magnificent product of + Nature's handiwork. But the mind and soul “Dean Funnybone” had helped to + shape. + </p> + <p> + “I will be honest with you, Dr. Fenneben,” Burleigh said, and his voice + was deep and sweetly resonant. “If I keep the money in charge I may not be + proof against the temptation to use it for myself. As strong as my strong + arms are my hates and loves, and for some reasons I would do almost + anything to gain riches. I might not resist the tempter.” + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes blazed at the words. + </p> + <p> + “I understand perfectly what you mean, but no woman who exacts this price + is worth the cost.” Then, in a gentler tone, he continued: “Burleigh, will + you take my advice? I have always had your welfare on my heart. Finish + your college work first. Get the best of the classroom, the library, the + athletic field, and the 'picnic spread.' Is that the right term? But fit + yourself for manhood before you undertake a man's duties. Meantime, He who + has given you the mastery in the years behind you is leading you toward + the larger places before you, teaching you all the meanings of Strife, and + Sacrifice, and Service symbolized above our doorway in our proud College + initial letter. The Supremacy is yet to come. Will you follow my counsel? + I'll take care of Bug, and we will keep Burgess out of this for a while.” + </p> + <p> + Burleigh thought he understood, and the silent hand clasp pledged the + faith of the country boy to the teacher's wishes. + </p> + <p> + It is only in story books that events leap out as pages are turned, events + that take days on days of real life to compass. In the swing of one brief + year Lagonda Ledge knew little change. New cement walks were built south + almost to the Kickapoo Corral. A new manufacturing concern had bonds voted + for it at an exciting election, and a squabble for a suitable site was in + process. Vincent Burgess and Victor Burleigh, two strong men, were growing + actually chummy, and Trench declared he was glad they had decided to quit + playing marbles for keeps and hiding each other's caps. + </p> + <p> + And now the springtime of the year was on the beautiful Walnut Valley. + Elinor and Dennie, Trench, “Limpy,” the crippled student, and Victor + Burleigh were all on the home-stretch of their senior year. One more June + Commencement day and Sunrise would know them no more. Beyond all this + there was nothing new at Lagonda Ledge until suddenly the white-haired + woman was up at Pigeon Place, again, a fact known only to old Bond Saxon + and little Bug, who saw her leave the train. The little blue smoke-twist + was again rising lazily in the warm May air, and somebody was + systematically robbing houses in town, and Bond Saxon was often drunk and + hiding away from sight. A May storm sent the Walnut booming down the + valley, bank full, cutting off traffic at the town bridge, but the days + that followed were a joy. A tenderly green world it was now, all + blossom-decked, and blown across by the gentle May zephyrs, with nothing + harsh nor cruel in it, unless the rushing river down below the shallows + might seem so. The Kickapoo Corral, luxuriant with flowers, and springing + grass, and May green foliage, told nothing of the old-time siege and + sorrow of Swift Elk and the Fawn of the Morning Light. + </p> + <p> + On the night after the storm Professor Burgess stopped at the Saxon House. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your father, Dennie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He went up north to help somebody out of the mud and water, I suppose,” + Dennie replied. “He is the kindest neighbor, and he has been trying to—to + keep straight. He told me when he left that this night's work was to be a + work of redemption for him. He may get stronger some time.” + </p> + <p> + In his heart Burgess knew better. He had no faith in the old man's will + power, and the burden of a hidden crime he knew would but increase its + weight with time, and drag Bond down at last. But Dennie need not suffer + now. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go with me down to the old Corral tomorrow afternoon, Dennie? I + want some plants that grow there. I'm studying nature along with Greek,” + he said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if it is fair,” Dennie replied, the pretty color blooming + deeper in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we go fair or foul. You remember we fought it out coming home from + there once.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Bond Saxon was hurrying north on his work of redemption. At the + bend in the river he found Tom Gresh sitting on the flat stone slab. The + light was gleaming through the shrubbery of the little cottage, and the + homey sounds of evening and the twitter of late-coming birds were in the + air. + </p> + <p> + “What are you here for, Gresh?” Bond asked, hoarsely. “I thought you had + left for good.” + </p> + <p> + The villainous-looking outlaw drew a flask from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Have a drink, Saxon. Take the whole bottle,” and he thrust it into the + old man's hands. + </p> + <p> + Bond wavered a moment, then flung it far into the foamy floods of the + Walnut. + </p> + <p> + “Not any more. You shall not get me drunk again while you rob and kill.” + </p> + <p> + “You did the killing for me once. Won't you do it again?” Gresh snarled. + </p> + <p> + Bond clinched his fists but did not strike. + </p> + <p> + “What are you after now?” he asked. “You are through with the Burleighs; + Vic settled you and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + Even with the words the clutch of Vic's fingers on the outlaw's throat + seemed to choke him now. + </p> + <p> + “If my last Burleigh is gone,” he growled with an oath, “I'm not done yet. + There's Elinor Wream. Don't forget that her mother was my adopted sister. + Don't forget that my old foster father cut me off without a cent and gave + her all his money. That's why Nathan Wream married her. He wanted her + money for colleges.” The sneer on the man's face was diabolical. “I can + hit the old man through Elinor, and I'll do it some time, and that's not + the only blow that I can strike here, and I am going to finish this thing + now.” He pointed toward the cottage where the unprotected woman sat alone. + “Twice I've nerved myself to do it and been fooled each time. One October + day you were here drunk. I could have laid it on you easy, and maybe fixed + Fenneben too, if a little child's voice hadn't scared me stiff. And the + day of the big football game you wouldn't get drunk and she must go down + to that game just to look once at Lloyd Fenneben. I meant to finish her + that day. This is the third and last time now. There is not even a dog to + protect her.” + </p> + <p> + Bond Saxon had been a huge fellow in his best days, and now he summoned + all the powers nature had left to him. + </p> + <p> + “Tom Gresh,” he cried, “in my infernal weakness you made me a drunken + beast, who took the life of an innocent man you wanted out of your way. + You thought, you fool, that she might care for you then. I've carried the + curse of that deed on my soul night and day. I'll wipe it partly away now + by saving her life from you. So surely as tonight, tomorrow, or ever you + try to harm her, I'll not show you the mercy Vic Burleigh showed you + once.” + </p> + <p> + Strange forms the guardian angel takes! + </p> + <p> + Hence we entertain it unawares. + </p> + <p> + Of all Lagonda Ledge, old Bond Saxon, standing between a woman and the + peril of her life, looked least angelic. Gresh understood him and turned + first in fawning and tempting trickery to his adversary. But Saxon stood + his ground. Then the outlaw raged in fury, not daring to strike now, + because he knew Bond's strength. And still the old man was unmoved. A life + saved for the life he had taken was steeling his soul to courage. + </p> + <p> + At last in the dim light, Gresh stood motionless a minute, then he struck + his parting blow. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Bond Saxon, play protector all you want to, but it's a short + game for you. The sheriff is out of town tonight, but tomorrow afternoon + he will get back to Lagonda Ledge. Tomorrow afternoon I go with all my + proofs—Oh, I've got 'em. And you, Bond Saxon, will be behind the + bars for your crime, done not so many years ago, and your honorable + daughter, disgraced forever by you, can shift for herself. I've nothing to + lose; why should I protect you?” + </p> + <p> + He leaped down the bank into the swiftly flowing river, and, swimming + easily to the farther side, he disappeared in the underbrush. + </p> + <p> + The next afternoon, somebody remembered that Bond Saxon had crossed the + bridge and plunged into the overflow of the river around the west end. But + Bond had been drunk much of late and nobody approached him when he was + drunk. How could Lagonda Ledge know the agony of the old man's soul as he + splashed across the Walnut waters and floundered up the narrow glen to the + cave? Or how, for Dennie's sake, he had begged on his knees for mercy that + should save his daughter's name? Or how harder than the stone of the + ledges, that the trickling water through slow-dragging centuries has worn + away, was the stony heart of the creature who denied him? And only Victor + Burleigh had power to picture the struggle that must have followed in that + cavern, and beyond the wall into the blind black passages leading at last + to the bluff above the river, where, clinched in deadly combat, the two + men, fighting still, fell headlong into the Walnut floods. + </p> + <p> + Down at the shallows Professor Burgess and Dennie had found the waters too + deep to reach the Kickapoo Corral, so they strolled along the bluff + watching the river rippling merrily in the fall of the afternoon sunshine. + And brightly, too, the sunshine fell on Dennie Saxon's rippling hair, + recalling to Vincent Burgess' memory the woodland camp fire and the old + legend told in the October twilight and the flickering flames lighting + Dennie's face and the wavy folds of her sunny hair. + </p> + <p> + But even as he remembered, a cry up stream came faintly, once and no more, + while, grappling still, two forms were borne down by the swift current to + the bend above the whirlpool. Dennie and Vincent sprang to the very edge + of the bluff, powerless to save, as Tom Gresh and Bond Saxon were swept + around the curve below the Corral. Across the shallows they struggled for + a footing, but the undertow carried them on toward the fatal pool. + </p> + <p> + A shriek from the bank came to Bond Saxon's ears, and he looked up and saw + the two reaching out vain hands to him. + </p> + <p> + “Your oath, Vincent; your oath!” he cried in agonizing tones. + </p> + <p> + Then Vincent Burgess put one arm about Dennie Saxon and drew her close to + him and lifted up his right hand high above him in token to the drowning + man of his promise, under heaven, to keep that oath forever. + </p> + <p> + A look of joy swept over the old face in the water, his struggling ceased, + and once more tribute was paid to the grim Chieftain of Lagonda's Pool.———— + </p> + <p> + They said about town the next day that it was the peacefulest face ever + seen below a coffin lid. And, remembering only his many acts of neighborly + kindness, they forgave and forgot his weaknesses, while to the few who + knew his life-tragedy came the assuring hope that the forgiving mercy of + man is but a type of the boundless mercy of a forgiving God. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE MASTERY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>And only the Master shall praise us, and only the + Master shall blame, + And no one shall work for money, and no one + shall work for fame, + But each for the joy of working, and each, in his + separate star, + Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of + Things as They Are</i>. + —KIPLING +</pre> + <p> + JUNE time in the Walnut Valley, and commencement time at Sunrise on the + limestone ridge! Nor pen nor brush can show the glory of the radiant + prairies, and the deep blue of the “unscarred heavens,” and the bright + gleams from rippling waters. And at the end of a perfect day comes the + silvery grandeur of a moonlit June night. + </p> + <p> + It was late afternoon of the day before commencement. Victor Burleigh + stood on the stone where four years ago the bull snake had stretched + itself in the lazy sunshine. Only one more day at Sunrise for him, and the + little heartache, unlike any other sorrow a life can ever know, was his, + as he stood there. In the four years' battle he had come off conqueror + until the symbol above the doorway no longer held any mystery for him. His + character and culture now matched his voice. Before him was higher + learning, an under-professorship at Harvard, and later on the pulpit for + his life work. But now the heartache of parting was his, and a deeper pain + than breaking school ties was his also. A year of jolly goodfellowship was + ending, a happy year, with Elinor his most frequent companion. And often + in this year he had wondered at Lloyd Fenneben's harsh judgment of her. + Fondness of luxury seemed foreign to her, and womanly beauty of character + made her always “Norrie the beloved.” But Victor was true to Fenneben's + demands and willing to try to live through the years after, if one year of + happy association could be his now. Whatever claims Burgess might assert + later, he could not take from another the claim to happy memories. But, + today, there was the dull steady heartache that he knew had come to stay. + </p> + <p> + Presently Elinor joined him. + </p> + <p> + “May I come down tonight for a goodby stroll, Elinor? There's a full moon + and after tomorrow there are to be no more moons, nor stars, nor suns, nor + lands, nor seas, nor principalities, nor powers for us at Sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would come, Victor,” Elinor said. “Come early. There's a crowd + going out somewhere, and we can join the ranks of the great ungraduated + for the last time.” + </p> + <p> + “Elinor, I'm not hunting a crowd tonight,” Vic said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, come, anyway, and we'll hunt the solitude, if we can't hunt any + other game.” And they strolled homeward together. + </p> + <p> + In the early evening Lloyd Fenneben and Elinor sat on the veranda watching + the sunset through the trees beyond the river. + </p> + <p> + “You are to graduate from Sunrise tomorrow,” Dr. Fenneben was saying. “For + a Wream that is the real beginning of life. I have your business matters + entrusted to me, ready to close up as soon as you are 'legally graduated' + according to my brother's wishes, but you may as well know them now.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and Elinor, thinking of the moonlight, maybe, waited in + peaceful silence. + </p> + <p> + “Norrie, when I finished at the university my brother put a small fortune + into my hands and bade me go West and build a new Harvard. You know our + family hold that that is the only legitimate use for money.” + </p> + <p> + Norrie smiled assent. + </p> + <p> + “I did not ask whose money it was, for my brother handled many bequests, + and I was a poor business man then. I came and invested it at last in + Sunrise-by-the-Walnut. That was your mother's money, given by your father + to Joshua, who gave it to me. Joshua did not tell me, and I supposed some + good, old Boston philanthropist had bought an indulgence for his ignorant + soul by endowing this thing so freely. I found it out on Joshua's + deathbed, and only to pacify him would I consent to keep it until now. + Henceforth, it must be yours. That is why I asked you a year ago to just + be a college girl and drop all thought about marrying. I wanted you to + come into possession of your own property before you bound yourself by any + bonds you could not break.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor sat silent for a while, her dark eyes seeing only the low golden + sunset. She understood now what had grooved that line of care in Lloyd + Fenneben's face when he came home from the East. But he had conquered, + aye, he had won the mastery. + </p> + <p> + “And you and Sunrise?” she asked at length. + </p> + <p> + “I can sell the college site and buildings to this new manufactory coming + here in August. Added to this, I have acquired sufficient funds of my own + to pay you the entire amount and a good rate of interest with it. My grief + is that for all these years, I have kept you out of your own.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor rose up, white and cold, and put her hand on her uncle's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Let me think a little, Uncle Lloyd. It is not easy to realize one's + fortune in a minute.” Then she left him. + </p> + <p> + “It makes little difference what passion possesses a man's soul, if it + possesses him he will wrong his fellowmen,” Fenneben said to himself. “In + Joshua Wream's craving to endow college claims he robbed this girl of her + inheritance and sent her to me, telling me she was shallow-minded and + wholly given to a love of luxuries, that I might not see his plans; while + Norrie, never knowing, has proved over and over how false these charges + were. And at last, to still his noisy conscience, he would marry her, + willing or unwilling, to Vincent Burgess. But with all this, his last + hours were full of sorrowful confession. What do these Masters' Degrees my + brother bore avail a man if he have not the mastery within? Meanwhile, my + labors here must end.” + </p> + <p> + Lonely and crushed, with his life work taken from him, he sat and faced + the sunset. Presently, he saw Elinor and Victor Burleigh strolling away in + the soft evening light. At the corner, Elinor turned and waved a good-by + to him. Then the memory of his own commencement day came back to him, and + of the happy night before. Oh, that night before! Can a man ever forget! + And now, tonight! + </p> + <p> + “Don Fonnybone,” Bug Buler piped, as he came trudging around the corner. + “I want to confessing.” + </p> + <p> + He came to Fenneben's side and looked up confidently in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, confessing. I've just finished doing that myself,” Fenneben said. + </p> + <p> + “I did a bad, long ago. I want to go and confessing. Will you go with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we go to be shriven, Bug? + </p> + <p> + “To Pigeon Place,” Bug responded. “The Pigeon woman is there now. I saw + her coming, and I must go right away and confessing.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go with you, Bug. I want to see that woman, anyhow,” Fenneben said. + </p> + <p> + And the two went away in the early twilight of this rare June evening. + </p> + <p> + Out at Pigeon Place, when Dr. Fenneben and little Bug walked up the grassy + way to the vine-covered porch in the misty twilight, Mrs. Marian sat in + the shadow, unaware of their coming until they stood before her. + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben lifted his hat, and little Bug imitated him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Marian. This little boy wanted to tell you of + something that was troubling him. I think he trespassed on your property + unknowingly.” + </p> + <p> + The gray-haired woman stood motionless in the shadow still. Her fair face + less haggard than of yore, as if some dread had left it, and only + loneliness remained. + </p> + <p> + “I was here, and you was away, and I peeked in the window. It was rude and + I never did see you to tell you, and I'm sorry and I won't for—never + do it again. Dennie told me to come tonight, and bring Don Fonnybone.” Bug + had his part well in hand. + </p> + <p> + Even as she smiled at him, Dr. Fenneben noticed how her hand on the + lattice shook. + </p> + <p> + “And I want to thank you, Mrs. Marian, for your bravery and goodness on + the night I was assaulted here.” Fenneben was a gentleman to the core and + his courtesy was charming. “I meant to find you long ago, but my brother's + death, with my own long illness, and your absence, and my many duties—” + He paused with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lloyd, Lloyd, on an evening like this, why do you come here?” + </p> + <p> + The woman stood in the light now, a tragic figure of sorrow. And she was + not yet forty. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Fenneben caught his breath and the light seemed to go out before him. + </p> + <p> + “Marian, oh, Marian! After all these years, do I find you here? They said + you were dead.” He caught her in his arms and held her close to his + breast. + </p> + <p> + “Lots of folks spoons round the Saxon House, so I went away and lef 'em,” + Bug explained to Vic once afterward. + </p> + <p> + And that accounted for little Bug sitting lonely on the flat stone by the + bend in the river where Dennie and Burgess found him later. + </p> + <p> + “So you have stood between me and that assassin all these years, even when + the lies against me made you doubt my love. Oh, Marian, the strength of a + woman's heart!” Fenneben declared, as, side by side, black hair and the + gray near together, these long-separated lovers rebuilt their world. + </p> + <p> + “And this little child brought you here at last. 'A little child shall + lead them,'” the woman murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bug is a gift of God.” Lloyd Fenneben was bending over her. “He is + Victor Burleigh's nephew, who found him in a deserted place—” + </p> + <p> + A shriek cut the evening air and she who had been known as Mrs. Marian lay + in a faint at Fenneben's feet. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Marian, what this means.” + </p> + <p> + Lloyd Fenneben had restored her to consciousness and she was resting, + white and trembling, in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “My little Bug, my baby, Burgess!” she sobbed. “Bond Saxon, in a drunken + fit, killed his father. Then Tom Gresh carried him away to save him from + Bond, too, so Tom declared, but I did not believe him. Bond never harmed a + little child. Tom said he meant no harm and that Bug was stolen from where + he had left him. It was then that my hair turned white. Tom tried once, a + year ago in December, to make me believe he could bring Bug back to me if + I would care for him—for that wicked murderer! Oh, Lloyd!” + </p> + <p> + She nestled close in Dr. Fenneben's protecting arms, and shivered at the + thought. + </p> + <p> + “And you named him Burgess for your own name. Does Vincent know?” Fenneben + questioned, tenderly smoothing the white hair as Norrie had so often + smoothed his own. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Vincent my own brother? Will he really own me as his sister? I've + tried to meet him many times. I left his picture on my table that he might + see it if he should ever come. My father separated us years ago. After we + came West he sent me just one letter in which he said Vincent would never + speak to me nor claim me as his sister again. A brother—a lover—and + my baby boy!” + </p> + <p> + And the lonely woman, overcome with joy, sat white and still beneath the + white moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + Joy does not kill any more than sorrow. Vincent Burgess and Dennie Saxon, + who came just at the right time, told how they had waited with Bug at the + slab of stone by the bend in the river until they should be needed. + </p> + <p> + “It was Dennie who planned it all,” Vincent said, “and did not even let me + know. Bug told her my picture was on the table in there. But so long as + her father lived, she kept her counsel.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried four years ago to get Dr. Fenneben to come out here,” Dennie + said. And the Dean remembered the autumn holiday and Dennie's solicitude + for an unknown woman. + </p> + <p> + But the joy of this night, crowning all other joys in the Walnut Valley, + was in that sacred moment when Bug Buler walked slowly up to Marian + Burleigh, sister to Vincent Burgess, lost love of Lloyd Fenneben's youth—slowly, + and with big brown eyes glowing with a strange new love light, and, + putting up both his chubby hands to her cheeks, he murmured softly: + </p> + <p> + “Is you my own mother? Then, I'll love you fornever.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, on this last moonlit June night, Elinor and Vic were strolling + down the new south cement walk, a favorite place for the young people now. + </p> + <p> + At the farther end, Vic said: + </p> + <p> + “Norrie, let's go down across the shallows to the west bluff again. Can + you climb it, or shall we join the crowd down in the Kickapoo Corral?” + </p> + <p> + “I can climb where you can, Victor,” Elinor declared. + </p> + <p> + “Dennie will never want to come here again. Poor Dennie!” + </p> + <p> + Vic was helping Elinor across the shallows as he spoke. Up in the Corral a + happy crowd of young people were finishing their last “picnic spread” for + the year. Below the shallows the whirlpool was glistening all + treacherously smooth and level under the moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + “Why 'poor Dennie,' Victor? Her father had nothing more for him, here, + except disgrace. The tribute paid him at his funeral would have been + forever withheld, if he had lived a day longer, and he died sure of + Dennie's future.” Elinor spoke gently. + </p> + <p> + “Who told you all this, Elinor?” Victor asked. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Burgess, when he showed me the diamond ring Dennie is to wear + tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Dennie, a diamond! I'm glad for Dennie. Diamonds are fine to have,” Vic + declared. + </p> + <p> + They had climbed to the top of the west bluff. The silvery prairie and + silver river and mist-wreathed valley, and overhead, the clear, calm sky, + where the moon sailed in magnificent grandeur, were a setting to make the + evening a perfect one. And in this setting was Elinor, herself the jewel, + beautiful, winsome, womanly. + </p> + <p> + “I have some good news.” She turned to the young man beside her. “You know + the Wreams have made a life business of endowing colleges. Well, I am a + Wream by blood, and tomorrow, oh, Victor, tomorrow, I, too, have the + opportunity of a lifetime. I'm going to endow Sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's clear enough,” she exclaimed. “It was my money that built + Sunrise. It shall stay here, and Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, Dean of Sunrise, and + acting-Dean Vincent Burgess, A.B., Professor of Greek, and Victor + Burleigh, Valedictorian, who goes East to a professorship in Harvard, and + to the ministry of the gospel later on—all you mighty men of valor + will know how little Norrie Wream cares for money, except as it can make + the world better and happier. I haven't lived in Lloyd Fenneben's home + these four years without learning something of what is required for a + Master's Degree.” + </p> + <p> + “Norrie!” All the music of a soul poured into the music of the deep voice. + </p> + <p> + “Victor! There is no sacrifice in it. I wish there were, that I might wear + the honors you wear so modestly.” + </p> + <p> + “I, Elinor?” + </p> + <p> + “I know the whole story. Dennie told me when you had that awful fight, and + Trenchie told me long ago, that you thought I must have money to make me + happy. Why I, more than Dennie, or you, who gave Bug his claim?” + </p> + <p> + Elinor put up her hands to Victor, who took them both in his, as he drew + her to him and kissed her sweet red lips. And there was a new heaven and a + new earth created that night in the soft silvery moonlight of the Walnut + Valley. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. I feel + safer here,” she murmured, remembering when they had striven in the + darkness and the storm to reach this very height. + </p> + <p> + But Victor Burleigh could not speak. The mastery for which he had striven + seemed to bring meed of reward too great for him to grasp with words. + </p> + <p> + THE PARTING + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... <i>There is neither East nor West, Border, + nor Breed, nor Birth, + When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they + come from the ends of the earth!</i> + —KIPLING +</pre> + <p> + COMMENCEMENT day at Sunrise was just one golden Kansas June day, when + </p> + <p> + The heart is so full that a drop overfills it. + </p> + <p> + Victor Burleigh, late of a claim out beyond the Walnut, Professor-to-be in + Harvard University, and Vincent Burgess, acting-Dean of Sunrise, only a + degree less beloved than Dean Fenneben himself, met on the morning of + commencement day at the campus gate, one to go to the East, the other to + stay in the West. Side by side they walked up the long avenue to the foot + of the slope, together they climbed the broad flight of steps leading up + to the imposing doorway of Sunrise with the big letter S carved in relief + above it. And after pausing a moment to take in the matchless wonder of + the landscape over which old Sunrise keeps watch, the college portal swung + open and the two entered at the same time. Inside the doorway, under the + halo of light from the stained glass dome with its Kansas motto, wrought + in dainty coloring. Elinor Wream, niece of the Dean of Sunrise, and Dennie + Saxon, old Bond Saxon's daughter, who had earned her college tuition, + stood side by side, awaiting them. And beyond these, on the rotunda + stairs, Dr. Lloyd Fenneben was looking down at the four with keen black + eyes. Beside him on the broad stairway was Marian Burgess Burleigh, the + white-haired, young-faced woman of Pigeon Place, and Bug Buler—everybody's + child. + </p> + <p> + The barriers were down at last: the value of common life, the power of + Strife and Sacrifice and Service, the joy of Supremacy, the conflict of + rich red blood with the thinner blue, the force of culture against mere + physical strength, the power of character over wealth—these things + had been wrought out under the gracious influence of Dr. Lloyd Fenneben in + Sunrise-by-the-Walnut. + </p> + <p> + “Come up, come up; there is room up here,” the Dean called to the group in + the rotunda. “There's an A.B. for all who have conquered the Course of + Study, and a Master's Degree for everyone who has conquered himself.” + </p> + <p> + The common level so impossible on a September day four years ago, came now + to two strong men when the commencement exercises were ended, and Sunrise + became to the outgoing class only a hallowed memory. + </p> + <p> + The hour is high noon, the good-bys are given, and from the crest of the + limestone ridge the ringing chorus, led by good old Trench, sounds far and + far away along the Walnut Valley: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + <i>Rah!</i> RAW RAH!!! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1348 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |