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diff --git a/old/1348-0.txt b/old/1348-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd18a81 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1348-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6724 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Master's Degree, by Margaret Hill McCarter + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Master's Degree + +Author: Margaret Hill McCarter + +Posting Date: August 13, 2008 [EBook #1348] +Release Date: June, 1998 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MASTER'S DEGREE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +A MASTER'S DEGREE + +By Margaret Hill McCarter + + + + + 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. + + + + + 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 + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + THE MEETING + I. “DEAN FUNNYBONE” + II. POTTER'S CLAY + III. PIGEON PLACE + IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + V. THE STORM + VI. THE GAME + VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING + VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? + IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? + X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + XII. THE SILVER PITCHER + XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + XIV. THE DERELICTS + XV. THE MASTERY + THE PARTING + + + + + +A MASTER'S DEGREE + + + + +THE MEETING + + ...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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +STRIFE + + _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!_ + --ELIZABETH D. PRESTON + + + + +CHAPTER I. “DEAN FUNNYBONE” + + _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_.--LOWELL + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Dean Fenneben listened as a man who hears the reading of his own +obituary. + +“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.” + +“All a man can do for Kansas!” Fenneben repeated slowly. + +“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?” + +The trustee waited for an answer. While he waited, the soul of the young +dean found itself. + +“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!” + +“You'll soon go to the devil, you and your old school. Good-by!” And the +trustee left him. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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--_according to the measure of a man_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II. POTTER'S CLAY + + _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_. + --LONGFELLOW + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +He turned to a letter lying on the table beside him, a smile playing +about the frown on his countenance. + +“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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +The bell above the south turret chimed the hour of three as Vincent +Burgess entered the study. + +“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.” + +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. + +“We are to be co-workers for some time, Burgess. May I ask you why you +chose to come to Kansas?” + +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. + +“I came to study types, to acquire geographical breadth, to have +seclusion, that I may pursue more profound research.” + +There was a play of light in Dr. Fenneben's eyes. + +“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.” + +“What are Jayhawkers, Doctor?” Burgess queried. + +“Yonder is one specimen,” Fenneben answered, pointing toward the window. + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +Whether the young man liked this or not, he answered evenly: + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“Yes, I know,” Dr. Fenneben said. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Dr. Fenneben's face was charming when he smiled. + +“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.” + +There was a new light in Burgess's eyes at the mention of Elinor Wream's +name. + +“Oh, yes, I know Miss Elinor very well. I shall need her more to make me +feel at home than she will need me.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +“Please don't, Miss Elinor,” Vincent Burgess urged. “I shall be +delighted to explore darkest Kansas with you at any time.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Kill it! Kill it!” she cried, trying to force her slender white parasol +into his hand. + +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. + +“How did you ever dare?” Elinor asked. + +“Oh, he's not poison; he just doesn't belong up here.” + +The bluntness of timidity was in Vic's answer, but the strength and +musical depth of his resonant voice was almost startling. + +“There is no Eden without a serpent, Miss Elinor,” Professor Burgess +said lightly. + +“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. + +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. + +“What a wonderful voice, Vincent. It makes one want to hear it again,” + Elinor exclaimed. + +“Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope never +to see it again,” her companion responded. + +“But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me,” Elinor +insisted. + +“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.” + +And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus and on +to the town beyond it. + +“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.” + +“Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend of mine,” Vic +replied. + +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. + +“Are you fond of killing things?” the Dean asked. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +“It's as pretty as paradise,” he said, simply. “There's nothing like our +Kansas prairies.” + +“You come from the plains out west, I hear. How long do you plan to stay +here, Burleigh?” Dr. Fenneben asked. + +“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.” + +“Who pays for your schooling, yourself, or your father?” Fenneben +queried. + +“I have no father nor mother now.” + +“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.” + +“I'm willing to work, and I'd like to have the diploma for it,” Vic +answered. + +“Burleigh, did you notice the letter S carved in the stone above the +door?” + +“Yes, sir; I suppose it stands for Sunrise?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“His eyes and voice are all right,” was the Dean's mental comment. +“There's good blood in his veins, I'll wager.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Who is your friend? Is he your brother?” asked the Dean. + +“No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, except that his +name is Buler. Bug Buler, he says.” + +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, + +“Is you dood to Vic?” + +“Yes, indeed,” replied the Dean. + +“Nen, I like you fornever,” Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightly +that his checks puffed. + +“How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?” questioned +Fenneben. + +“Because he's got nobody else to look after him,” answered Vic. + +“How about an orphan asylum?” + +Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, and every +feature of his stern face softened. + +“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.” + +“Oh, no! Keep him if you want him. But would you mind telling me about +him?” + +“I'd rather not now,” Burleigh said, quietly, and Lloyd Fenneben knew +when to drop a subject. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +He looked long at the landscape radiant under the level rays of splendor +streaming from the low afternoon sun. + +“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.” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III. PIGEON PLACE + + _Strange is the wind and the tide, + The heavens eternally wide; + Less fathomed, this life at my side_. + --W. H. SIMPSON + +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: + + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAH! RAH!!! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?” he asked, presently. + +“I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books in my +daydreams,” Dennie answered. + +“Where do you do your dreaming today?” + +“A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I must +make the cakes yet this morning,” she answered. + +“Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?” the +Dean queried, smilingly. + +“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. + +“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. + +“That's generally the easy thing. What is it?” the Dean smiled. + +The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite to +him. + +“Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?” she began. + +“The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman lives +alone with a fierce dog?” he asked. + +“Yes, you never heard anything more?” Dennie queried. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“That is very pitiful.” Lloyd Fenneben's voice was sympathetic. + +“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.” + +“All the interesting features. Did you mention Professor Burgess?” The +query was innocently meant, but it brought the color to Dennie Saxon's +cheek. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it. + +“Where shall we go, Bug? I 'm hungry for somebody, too.” + +“Let's do find the bunny the bid dod ist scared away this morning. Turn +on!” + +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. + +“I 's pitty tired,” Bug said as the two reached the stone. “Will we tum +to the bunny's house pitty soon?” + +“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. + +“It was somewhere here the bunny runned.” Little Bug studied the +roadside with a quaint puzzled face. “Is you 'faid of snakes?” + +“Not very much.” The Dean's eyes were on the graceful flight of pigeons +circling about the trees beyond the bend. + +“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.” + +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. + +The Dean gently placed the tired little one in an easy position, and +rested his shoulder against the tree. + +“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. + +A fuzzy gray rabbit flashed across the road, followed by a Great Dane +dog in hot chase. + +“Bug's bunny! I hope the big murderer will miss it,” Fenneben thought. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“A woman never could whistle,” he smiled, as he listened, “but that call +seems to do for the dog, all right.” + +The Great Dane was tearing across lots in answer to the trill of a +woman's voice. + +“She is safe now. But what does it all mean? Is there a wayside tragedy +here that calls for my unraveling?” + +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. + +“Where's my Vic? Who's dot me?” he cried. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Behind the vine-covered gate a gray-haired, fair-faced woman watched the +two as they disappeared down the road. + +And the blood-red sun out on the west prairie sank swiftly into a blue +cloudbank, presaging the coming of a storm. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + + _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_. + --JAMES W. STEELE + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +The tiger-light blazed in the eyes that flashed back at him, as Vic +cried daringly. + +“Oh, come on, Elinor; be a good Indian!” + +“Don't do it, Miss Wream,” Vincent Burgess pleaded. + +Elinor looked from the one to the other, and the very magnetism of power +called her. + +“I mean to try, anyhow,” she declared. “Will you pick me up if I fall, +Victor?” + +“Well, I wouldn't hardly go away and leave you to perish miserably,” Vic +assured her, and they were off together. + +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. + +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. + +“What's the matter? Is my hair a fright?” she murmured. + +“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. + +“What's that scar on your left arm? It looks like a little hole dug +out,” Elinor declared. + +Vic's brown sweater sleeve was pushed up to the elbow. + +“It is a little hole I put in where I dug out the flesh with a pocket +knife,” he replied, carelessly. + +“Did you do that yourself?” Elinor cried. “What made you be so cruel?” + +“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. + +“Oh, tell me about it, do,” Elinor urged. “You were killing a snake the +first time I saw you.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Look at that still place in the river, Victor. The ripples are all on +the farther side,” Elinor said, looking pensively downstream. + +“Watch it a minute. Do you see that bit of drift coming upstream in the +still water?” Vic asked. + +“Why, the water does move; toward us, too, instead of down the river. +I'd like to boat around in that quiet place.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Why?” Elinor looked up into his face. + +“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.” + +“Why, that's awful,” Elinor said, lightly, for she had no picture of him +engulfed in the slow-moving treachery below them. + +“There's an old Indian legend about that pool,” Vic said, staring down +at the water. + +“Tell me about it.” Elinor was breaking the twigs from a branch of +buck-berry growing beside her. + +“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.” + +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. + +“What was the curse? I would n't want to go near that place, unless you +were with me.” + +The very innocence of the words put a thrill in Vic Burleigh's every +pulse beat. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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: + + Victor Burleigh and Elinor Wream, + Better wake from Love's Young Dream, + Before the ants get into the cream. + +The beating of a dishpan drowned the chorus. Then down by the river +Dennie's soprano streamed out, + + The sun is sot, + The coffee's hot, + The supper's got. + What? + Yes! Got! + + +Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy base +growled, + + Dennie is sad, + The eggs are bad; + The Professor's mad + At a College lad. + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + Come home! Come home! Come home! + + +“The Kickapoos are on the warpath. Let's go down and get into the +running.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Aw-w-w!” a prolonged chorus. “Make your story long, Dennie; make it +lengthy.” + +“Don't you do it, Dennie. I tell you this ground is shaking. I feel it,” + Trench insisted. + +“Say, who's got the bromo-seltzer? The right guard's supper is n't +treating him right. Go ahead, Dennie,” the crowd urged. + +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. + +“Once upon a time,” Dennie began, + +there was a beautiful Kickapoo Indian maiden--” + +“Yep, any Kickapoo's a beaut. Hurry up, Dennie. I hear something +coming.” It was the big lazy guard again. + +“Oh! Vic Burleigh, sit on his prostrate form. Go on, Dennie,” the +company insisted, and she continued. + +“Her name was The Fawn of the Morning Light, her best lover was Swift +Elk.” + +“You be Mrs. Swift Elk--” but Vic Burleigh's arm about Trench's throat +choked his words. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER V. THE STORM + + _Rock and moan, and roar alone, + And the dread of some nameless thing unknown_. + --LOWELL + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +Then above all the crashing and booming they heard Vic Burleigh's voice: + +“Every fellow take a girl and run for the ford. Come on!” + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +They were all safely across except Vic and Elinor, when Trench cried +out: + +“Send your girl in quick, Burleigh, and you run west. The flood is at +the bend now. Hurry!” + +“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!” + +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: + +“It's too late. Don't try it. I've got to run.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In the shadows, beyond him, a form straightened up stupidly: + +“Shay, Profesh Burgush, that you?” + +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! + +“Shay! Is't you, or ain't it you? You gonna tell me?” Old Bond queried. + +“This is Vincent Burgess,” the young man replied. + +“Dennie home?” the father asked. + +“Yes, sir,” came the curt answer. + +“Who? Who bring her home? Vic Burleigh?” + +“I brought her home. She is a good girl, too.” + +In spite of himself, Burgess resented the shame of such a father for the +capable, happy-spirited daughter. + +“Yesh, Dennie's good girl, all right.” + +Then a silence fell. + +Presently, the old man spoke again. + +“Shay, Prof esh, 'd ye mind doin' somethin' for me?” + +“What is it?” Burgess was by nature courteous. + +“If anything sh'd ever happen to me, 'd you take care of Dennie? Shay, +would you?” + +“If I could do anything for her, I would do it,” the young man replied. + +“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!” + +Bond was standing now bending threateningly toward Burgess, who had also +risen. + +“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. + +“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. + +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: + +“I swear it!” + +“One more question, and you may go. You know that little boy Vic +Burleigh takes care of here?” + +The Professor had heard of him. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Shay, where's Vic tonight?” + +“Across the river with Miss Wream. They were cut off by the deep water,” + Vincent answered. + +A quick change from drunkenness to sober sense leaped into Bond Saxon's +eyes. + +“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! + +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. + +“Where's Vic?” Bug demanded. + +“I don't know,” Burgess answered. + +“Take me up, I'se told.” Bug stretched up his arms appealingly, and +Burgess, who knew nothing of babies, awkwardly lifted him up. + +“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?” + +“Yes, little boy. We are all in trouble tonight.” Burgess had to say +something. + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + + +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. + +“We must climb the bluff again. Be a good Indian!” he cried, groping for +a footing. + +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. + +“Do you think you can ever get us out? she asked, as the limestone ledge +blocked the way. + +“Do you know what my mother named me?” The carelessness of the tone was +surprising. + +“Victor!” she replied. + +“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.” + +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: + +“I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. I +feel safer here.” + +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. + +In all this tumult, away to the northeast, the beacon light above the +Sunrise dome was cutting the darkness with a steady beam. + +“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.” + +“Oh, what a comfort a light can be!” Elinor murmured as she looked up +and caught the welcome gleam. + +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. + +“We can't stay here and be threshed to pieces,” Vic cried. “This crack +is drier, anyhow, and it must lead to somewhere.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Slide down, Elinor. I'll catch you. It is n't very far, and there's a +little light somewhere.” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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?” + +Elinor leaned wearily against the wall, wet and cold, and almost +exhausted. + +“Let's wait a little, till this shower passes,” she pleaded. + +“You poor girl! This has been an awful night,” Vic said gently. + +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. + +“Let's go! Let's go!” she whispered, huddling close to her companion, +whose grip on her arm tightened. + +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. + +Victor Burleigh drew Elinor closer to him, and whispered low: + +“Don't be afraid with me to guard you.” + +Even in that deep gloom, he caught the outline of a white face with +star-bright eyes lifted toward his face. + +“I'm not afraid with you,” she whispered. + +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!” + +It was old Bond Saxon. + +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. + +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. + +“We made it in before midnight, anyhow,” he said carelessly. + +Elinor looked up in surprise. The terrors of the night still possessed +her. + +“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.” + +Victor looked at her with a wonderful light in his wide-open brown eyes. + +“Yes,” he said in a deep voice. “It will seem impossible when daylight +comes. But will it all be as a horrible nightmare?” + +“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.” + +Burleigh turned hastily toward the door, and, having delivered her to +the care of her uncle, he bade them both good night. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE GAME + + _Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than + to ban; + Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man_. + --KIPLING + +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. + +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. + +“You seem immune from sickness, Miss Dennie,” Burgess said one day as +she was putting the library in order. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bug was better now, and Vic was burning midnight oil in study, for the +hours of practice for the game were doubled. + +On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside. + +“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?” + +The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy black +brows, as Vic shut his white teeth tightly. + +“Count on me!” he said, and turning, he left the coach abruptly. + +“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.” + +“Well, get rid of it once in a while, if you really do know anything,” + Vic responded. + +“Say, you're nervous. Coach says you spend too much time in your +nursery; says you'd better get rid of that little kid.” + +“Tell the coach to go to the devil!” Vic spoke savagely. + +“Say, Coach,” Trench roared down from the hillslope, “Vic says for you +to go to the devil.” + +“Wait till after tomorrow,” the coach shouted back, “and I'll take you +fellows along if you don't do your best.” + +“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.” + +A sudden glow lighted Vic's stern face, and there was no savage gleam in +his eyes now. + +“Is Elinor well enough to come out tomorrow?” + +He had been caught unawares. Trench stared at him deliberately. + +“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.” + +“What's the rest of your news?” Vic asked. + +“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!” + +“The coach is clever,” Vic said carelessly. + +“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?” + +“Come down hard on him, and play anyhow.” + +The grim jaw and black frown left no doubt as to Vic's purpose. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What's the matter?” + +“When will the freight be in?” + +“Merry Christmas!” + +So the crowd shouted. The songs were worn out, the yell-leaders were +exhausted, and the rooters were hoarse. + +“Where's Vic Burleigh?” somebody called, and a chorus followed: + +“Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home!” + +But Burleigh did not come. + +“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. + + +Meantime, as the teams were leaving their quarters early in the +afternoon, the coach said to Vic: + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Small wonder that the very odor of roses was hateful to Burgess at that +moment. + +“May I speak to you a minute?” Vic said as the two men met in the +rotunda. + +Burgess halted in silence. + +“The coach sent me after your statement of my standing. We've got a +bunch of sticklers to fight today.” + +“I have turned in my report,” Burgess responded coldly. + +“So the coach said, all but mine. I'm late. May I have my report now?” + Vic urged, trying to be composed. + +“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. + +“But you haven't given me any standing yet, the coach says.” Vic's voice +was dead calm. + +“I have no standing to give you. You are below grade.” + +Vic's eyes blazed. “You dog!” was all he could say. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Stop!” Vincent Burgess commanded. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +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, “_Ad +Astra per Aspera_.” adorned the stained glass panes, had never fallen on +such a scene as this. + +“See here, Burleigh, you'll repent this unwarranted attack,” Burgess +cried, trying to free himself. “Brute force will win only among brutes.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back. + +“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. + + +Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with full +credentials for his place on the team. + +The last man to enter the grounds was evidently a tramp, whose slouched +hat half-concealed a dark bearded face. + +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: + +“Come, stay with me, Bug, till I can go in, too, and I'll buy you +peanuts.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Funny folks turns to dames,” Bug observed. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!” shrieked the yell-leader as Vic leaped over +the goal line and the rooters roared: + + The Sunrise hope! + And that's the dope! + Never quails! + Never fails! + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +“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: + +“Victor, Victor! Don't forget the name your mother gave you!” + +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! + + + +SACRIFICE + + _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_. + --ALICE CARY + + +CHAPTER VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING + + _Oh, it is excellent + To have a giant's strength, but tyrannous + To use it like a giant_. + --SHAKESPEARE + +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. + +The jollification following the game threatened to wreck the chapel and +crack the limestone ledge beneath it. + +“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.” + +“I was never more alive in my life.” Vic's voice and eyes were alive +enough. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“Oh, Elinor, you mercenary creature!” + +“What if he is a bit crude?” + +“I don't blame you. I'm daffy about Professor Burgess myself.” + +“He's got the grandest voice, Vic has!” + +“I just adore Greek!” + +“I think Vic is splendid!” + +So the exclamations ran. + +“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?” + +“I certainly would. I couldn't help it.” + +Norrie's eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink as peach blossoms. +To Vic she seemed exquisitely beautiful. + +“But now?” somebody queried. + +“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.” + +And the girls scuttled away. + +Vic came in and sat down by the window through which one may find an +empire for the looking. + +“Burgess was right,” he said to himself. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“I've come in to be sentenced,” Vic replied. + +“Well, plead your case first.” + +If ever a father-heart beat in a bachelor's breast, Lloyd Fenneben had +such a heart. + +“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.” + +Fenneben's eyes were smiling. “Why didn't you knock him down and fight +it out with him?” + +“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. + +He knew he would not apologize, and he wanted the sentence of expulsion +to come quickly if it must come. + +“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.” + +“What do you do with a fellow like me?” Vic looked curiously at the +Dean. + +“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.” + +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! + +Vic sat looking thoughtfully at the man before him. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Vic did not look proud of himself just then, and Lloyd Fenneben knew it +was one of life's crucial moments for the boy. + +“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.” + +“You?” Vic's eyes widened. + +“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. + +“I wouldn't want to scrap with you, Dr. Fenneben,” Vic stammered. + +“Why not?” + +“I am too much of a gentleman for that.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +Lloyd Fenneben grasped the boy's hand in a firm, assuring grip and left +him. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“Yes, I do, often,” Dennie answered. + +“Why do you do this?” he queried. + +“To get my college education.” Dennie smiled, hopefully. “I like the +nice things and nice ways of life. So I'm working for them.” + +“Elinor has all these without working for them,” Vincent thought. + +Then for no reason at all his mind leaped to Dennie's father and his own +vow on the stormy night in October. + +“What would you do if your father were taken from you, Miss Dennie?” he +asked. + +“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. + +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. + +“Could you really take care of yourself? He was talking at random. + +“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. + +“How's that?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“Thank you!” + +“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?” + +“Is that how I look? No, I didn't see her. I was n't at the game.” + +“You weren't? Why not? You missed a wonderful thing.” + +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. + +“Don't you think the young ruffian was pretty hard on me?” he asked. + +“No, I don't,” Dennie said, frankly. “I think you were pretty hard on +him.” + +A sudden resolve seized Burgess. He came around to Dennie's side of the +table. + +“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--” + +“Yes, I understand,” Dennie said, with downcast eyes. + +“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.” + +“Was my father quite himself then?” Dennie asked. + +“Not quite,” Burgess replied. + +“Listen to him some day when he is. He is another man then. But,” she +added, “I know you mean well.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + + + +CHAPTER VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? + + _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_. + --CARY + +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. + +“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. + +“No, I want to be with you, Uncle Lloyd.” + +She was sitting on the arm of his morris chair, softly stroking his +heavy hair away from his forehead. + +“Looks like it, the way you hurried back,” Dr. Fenneben said, smiling. + +“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?” + +“You have just said why,” her uncle answered her. + +“Why did n't you ever marry. Were you ever in love?” + +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. + +“Yes, I was in love once. I did n't marry because--because--I didn't.” + +“How romantic! Was it unrequited, or money, or what?” Norrie asked, +eagerly. + +“Or what,” he answered, and her finer sense made her change the subject. + +“Say, Uncle Lloyd, Uncle Joshua says he wants me to marry.” + +“What's he up to now? Tell me about it.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Do you want to marry him?” Fenneben asked. + +“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.” + +“He'll wait all right, if he wants you, Norrie. He must wait until you +graduate,” the Dean declared. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“You are a--well, any kind of a smooth citizen, I say,” he repeated. + +“What's troubling your liver now?” Vic asked. + +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--” + +A sudden clutch on Trench's arm, the blaze of the old-time fury in +burning eyes, as Vic's hoarse voice cried: + +“For God's sake, Trench, get out of my sight!” + +“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.” + +But Vic was out of hearing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Presently Elinor Wream came around the north angle of the building, +hesitated a little, then walked straight to the steps. + +“Good afternoon, Victor,” she said. + +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. + +“Hello, Elinor,” Vic said, calmly, making room for her on the stone +steps. “Take a seat.” + +Elinor sat down beside him, throwing her hat on the ground. + +“Whither away?” Vic asked. + +“I'll tell you presently. I want to get over my stage fright first.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +“Friday, the thirteenth--auspicious date!” he answered. “But I may not +play in it. I might fail.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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'.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Command me!” he said, gallantly. + +“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.” + +“All right.” Vic was waiting, graciously. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Do you really mind going with me, Victor?” Elinor asked. + +“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. + +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. + +Down on the bridge they stopped to watch the sunlit waters of the Walnut +rippling below them. + +“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. + +“I've had no reincarnation that I know of,” Vic replied. + +“I have,” Elinor declared, and Vic thought of Burgess. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I have never once forgotten it,” he murmured. + +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. + +“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.” + +He was leaning far through the opening in the wall, gazing into the +darkness and seeing nothing. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“We were pretty close that night,” Elinor replied. + +“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. + +“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. + +Far away from the west prairie came the faint note of a child's voice in +song. + +“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?” + +“I know I'm a stingy cuss,” Vic said, carelessly, but a deeper red +touched his cheek. + +“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.” + +Burleigh looked down at her gratefully. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“You? I didn't know you had ever wanted anything you did n't get.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Burleigh paused, and a sense of Elinor's interest brought a thrill of +joy to him. + +“Where was he?” she asked. + +Vic slowly unfastened his cuff and slipped his coat sleeve up to his +elbow. + +“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.” + +A little! Could this be the big awkward freshman of a September day gone +by? Then college culture is surely worth the cost. + +Elinor leaned forward, eagerly. + +“Tell me about your father,” she said. + +“My father lost his life because he dared to tell the truth,” Victor +replied. + +“Oh, glorious!” Elinor cried, earnestly. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +Burleigh's face was grim as he answered: + +“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. + +“Am I presentable for the supper at the Kickapoo Corral?” she asked, as +she picked up her hat again. + +“You suit me,” Burleigh replied. “What are the Kickapoo requirements?” + +“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.” + +“Four, individually or collectively?” he asked. + +“Either way,” she answered. + +“Why did n't you let them do it? + +“Which way?” + +“Either way,” he replied. + +“Would you rather have had the four either way, than me?” she +questioned, with pretty vanity. + +“Much rather.” His voice was stern. + +“Why?” She was stung by the answer. + +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. + +“Why?” + +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. + +“Do you know why?” + +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. + +“Let me hold them a minute,” he said, softly. “There are sixty years to +remember, but only one hour like this.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly a faint piping voice floated in upon the glen: + + Little childwen pwessing near + To the feet of Thwist, the Ting, + Have you neiver doubt nor fear + Or some twibute do you bwing? + + +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. + +“I ist followed you, Vic,” Bug said, clutching Vic's hand. + +“This is n't a safe place to come, Bug. You must n't follow me here.” + +“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. + +“He is right,” Elinor said. “I think we'd better leave now.” + +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. + +“I know a way out,” Bug declared. Turn, “I'll show you.” + +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. + +“Tlimb up that and you're out,” Bug declared. + +They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward from the +Walnut bluffs. + +“Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. I turn wiv Limpy +out here.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +Elinor looked thoughtfully at the slow-moving water. + +“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.” + +How delicious to have her confidence in anything. Vic smiled assent. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Elinor,” he asked, suddenly, “are you bound by any promise--has +Professor Burgess--?” He hesitated. + +“No,” she answered, turning her face away. + +“Pardon my rudeness. You know I am not well-bred,” he said, gently. + +“Victor Burleigh, you ill-bred, of all the gentle, manly fellows in +Sunrise! You know you are not.” + +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. + +“Elinor.” Vic's voice was sweet as low bars of music. + +“Oh, Victor, there's something I can't prevent.” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“I may not be worthy of victory,” he said, sadly. + +“You have never been unworthy. Don't be now.” She smiled bravely. + +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. + +And the day with its gladness and sorrow, whether for loss or gain, +slipped into the shadowy beauty of an April twilight. + + + +CHAPTER IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? + + _Ye know how hard an Idol dies, an' what that meant + to me--E'en take it for a sacrifice, acceptable to Thee_. + --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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Too bad!” Dennie said sympathetically. + +“I'll tell you all about it sometime.” + +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. + +“I'll be your rain beau.” He took her arm to assist her down the steps. + +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. + +“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?” + +“Victor Burleigh, won't you release the fair princess from the tower?” a +girl's voice called. + +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. + +“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. + +“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 _per +aspera_ out of the State Seal and come down through the hole, _per astra +ad aspera_.” And then he rushed off to find an unlocked exit to the +building. + +From the Chapel end of the circular stairs, he called presently. + +“Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds. Rise to the surface, fair +mermaid.” + +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. + +“When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy, call me, +Elinor,” Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +As night deepened, the rain fell steadily. Up in Victor Burleigh's room +Bug Buler grew drowsy early. + +“I want to say my pwayers now, Vic,” he said. + +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: + +“Dear Dod, please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is, for Thwist's +sake. Amen-n-n.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Ten minutes later he sat in Lloyd Fenneben's library. + +“I have come for help,” he said in reply to the Dean's questioning face. + +“I hope I can give it,” Fenneben responded. + +“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. + +“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. + +“What do you think of such playing, Doctor?” Vic asked. + +“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. + +Burleigh's face was very pale and a strange fire burned in his eyes. + +“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?” + +The words were shot out like bullets. + +“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.” + +Burleigh sat still as stone, his face white as marble, his wide-open +eyes under his black brows seeing nothing. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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! + +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. + +“Look out! There's a stone; don't stumble!” he said hoarsely, dodging +back as he spoke. + +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: + +“Now for Josh Wream, and--” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“Certainly,” Vincent Burgess said with equal grace. + +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. + +“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.” + +Professor Burgess wondered again, why a boy like Burleigh should have +been given a voice of such rare charm. + +“I will not keep you long,” Vic said, turning from Bug. “I cannot play +in tomorrow's game, and be a man.” + +Then, briefly, he explained the reason. + +“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.” + +“Good night,” Vincent Burgess said hoarsely, and plunged into the +darkness and the rain. + +Ten steps from the Saxon House, he came plump into Bond Saxon, who +staggered a little to avoid him. + +“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.” + +But Bond Saxon was never more sober in his life, and he clutched the +young man's arm eagerly. + +“Professor Burgess, won't you help me!” he cried. + +“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. + +“Come help me save a man's life!” Bond urged. + +“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?” + +“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. + +“What can I do?” Burgess asked. “I'm not a policeman.” + +“Come on! Come on!” Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. “It 's +a life, I tell you.” + +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: + +“Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care of +Dennie if anything should happen to me?” + +“Do YOU remember it?” Burgess responded. “You didn't ask; you demanded.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? I believe you are +drunk.” + +Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely: + +“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!” + + + +CHAPTER X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + + _O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, + name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!_ + --SHAKESPEARE + +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. + +“And meantime?” he said, looking up at Elinor. + +“Yes, meantime, it's June time,” Elinor replied. + +“Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we--” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Good! Now, tell me of 'beforehand.'” His smile was as charming as ever. + +“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.” + +She bent over him and softly caressed his hand. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“When did you see her?” Fenneben asked. + +“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.” + +“And the one-armed man I seemed to remember?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Tell me about the ball game,” Fenneben said next. + +“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.” + +“And the students, generally?” Dr. Fenneben questioned. + +“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.” + +“Oh, yes; Trench is a hero and I've known about that whole thing for a +long while,” the Dean asserted. “And Victor Burleigh?” + +A shadow in the beautiful dark eyes, a half-tone lowering of the voice, +and a general indifference of manner, as Elinor answered: + +“I'm sure I don't know anything about him, except that he's coming back +next year.” + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +For a little while the old man looked away through the study window at +the prairie empire to be found for the looking. + +“Do you see that little twist of blue smoke over west?” he queried +presently. + +“What of it?” Burgess asked. + +“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!” + +Old Bond looked up appealingly, and the pitiful face touched Burgess' +heart. + +“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.” + +“Professor, I have asked you twice if you'd be good to Dennie--” + +“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.” + +“I will”--it seemed an heroic resolve--“I asked this for Dennie, because +my own life is never safe.” + +“So you have said. Why not?” Burgess insisted. There was no way to evade +the question now. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“Nobody would call you bad. You are a lovable man when you--keep +straight,” Burgess declared cordially. + +“I graduated from the university back in the sixties,” Bond went on. + +“You!” Burgess exclaimed. + +“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.” + +Saxon paused, and the professor waited. + +“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.” + +Burgess started and his face grew pale. + +“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.” + +“The Wreams!” Burgess exclaimed. + +“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.” + +“Go on!” Vincent's voice was hardly audible. + +“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.” + +“Did she marry the one she really cared for?” Burgess asked eagerly. + +“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.” + +Saxon paused and looked once more at the tiny wavering smoke column, +hardly visible now. + +“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.” + +Saxon gazed long at the landscape beyond the Walnut. When he spoke +again, it was with an effort. + +“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?” + +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. + +“I certainly would never bring harm to you nor yours,” he said kindly. + +“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.” + +The anguish on the old man's face was pitiful as he spoke. + +“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.” + +He hesitated, then ceased to speak. + +“Why the Dean?” Burgess asked. + +“Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks +wouldn't let her marry,” Bond Saxon said sadly. + +Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him. + +“Where is she now?” + +“She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come +back,” the old man replied. + +“And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?” + +“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. + +“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. + +Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word--“Dennie!” + +Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie. + +“This woman had a husband, you say?” he asked presently. + +Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head. + +“What became of him? Do you know?” Vincent questioned. + +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.” + + + +SERVICE + + _If you were born to honor, show + it now; + if put upon you, make the judgment + good that thought you + worthy of it_. + --SHAKESPEARE + + +CHAPTER XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + + _They enslave their children's children who make + compromise with sin_. + --LOWELL + +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: + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Elinor, of all people in the world, the very last. She shall never +know, never!” So he answered the inward questioner. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +“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. + + +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. + +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. + +“I beg your pardon, Elinor. Dr. Fenneben sent for me.” + +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. + +“And God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the +fourth day,” Victor said at last. + +“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.” + +“It is well to grow rich in something,” Victor said, half-earnestly, +half-carelessly. + +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. + +“Is n't Dennie a darling? Elinor said calmly. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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: + + 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. + + +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. + +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. + +“You are a brick, Trench,” he said, as the upper stairway door swung +open to release him. + +“You've the whole chimney,” Trench responded, as he swung himself away. + +Dr. Fenneben met Elinor in the rotunda. + +“Wait a minute, Norrie, and I'll walk home with you.” + +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. + +“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.” + +And Burleigh wondered much what “some matters” might be. + +When Professor Burgess left Dennie he said, lightly: + +“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.” + +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. + +When Burgess returned to the Saxon House later in the evening, he met +Bond Saxon at the door. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Yes, for Dennie's sake--” Bond looked imploringly at Burgess. + +“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?” + +“Me! A criminal! Do you know what that kind of slavery is?” Saxon +whispered. + +“Almost,” Burgess answered, but the old man did not catch his meaning. + +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. + +“Dennie,” he said, plunging into his purpose at once. “I come to you +because I need a friend and you are tempered steel.” + +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. + +“What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?” she asked. + +“Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Dennie looked up with a sorrowful face. + +“Yes, but think of what he might do. You don't know what dreadful things +he has done--” + +“Yes, I do. He told me himself the very worst. I'll never betray him, +Dennie. His punishment is heavy enough.” + +Burgess laid his hand on her dimpled hand in token of sincerity. + +“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.” + +Burgess paused. Dennie's interest and sympathy made her silent company a +comfort. + +“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.” + +Dennie looked up, questioningly. + +“Yes, to Elinor's uncle, as unlike Dr. Fenneben as night and day.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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? + +“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?” + +“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. + +“What is wrong, then?” she asked. “Is Elinor unwilling?” + +“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.” + +“Of course,” Dennie echoed. + +“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?” + +“Well?” Dennie's mind was jumping to the end. + +“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.” + +Vincent Burgess suddenly ceased speaking and looked at Dennie. + +“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. + +“When did this Dr. Wream find out about Vic?” Dennie asked. + +“A month ago. Some strange-looking tramp of a fellow brought him proofs +that are incontestable,” Burgess replied. + +“And it is for an old man's peace you would keep this secret?” Dennie +questioned. + +“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?” + +He rose to his feet and Dennie stood up before him. He gently rested his +hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. + +“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.” + +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: + +“I cannot play in tomorrow's game and be a man.” + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE SILVER PITCHER + + _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_. + --WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH + +“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. + +“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. + +Burgess was growing almost stalwart in this gracious climate. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“You are a wonderful man, Doctor,” Burgess said. + +“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.” + +“Where's the other place?” Burgess would change the subject. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Let's go walking, you and me!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Let's we go see the pigeons,” Bug suggested, tossing his ball in his +hands. + +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. + +“Oh, tum! tum!” he cried. “Such a pretty picture frame and vase on the +table.” + +He was nearly five years old now, but in his excitement he still used +baby language, as he pulled eagerly at Vincent Burgess' coat. + +“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. + +At the gateway he lifted Bug in his arms. + +He was not yet at ease with children. + +“I dropped my ball,” Bug said. “Let me det it.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +Bug looked up confidingly. + +“I ist say, 'Dod, be merciless to me, a sinner'.” + +“Why not merciful, Bug?” + +“Tause! If He's merciful it's too easy and I'm no dooder,” Bug said, +wisely. + +“Who told you the difference?” Burgess asked. + +“Vic. He knows a lot. I wish I had my ball, but let's go up the river.” + +“Out of the mouths of babes,” Burgess murmured and hugged the little one +close to him. + + +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. + +“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.” + +The sound of footsteps on the rotunda stairs made him turn to see +Vincent Burgess just reaching the little balcony of the dome. + +“I've come to have a word with you up here,” he said. “We met once +before in this rotunda.” + +“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.” + +It was the only apology Vic had ever offered to Burgess, who accepted it +as all that he deserved. + +“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.” + +They sat down on the low seat beside the dome windows. Overhead gleamed +the message of high courage, _Ad Astra Per Aspera_. Below was the +artistic beauty of the rotunda, where the evening shadows were +deepening. + +“We are higher than we were that other day. We care less for fighting as +we get farther up, maybe,” Burgess said, pleasantly. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +He rose hastily, for Burleigh, saying nothing, was looking at him with +wide-open brown eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. + +“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.” + +He turned away and passed slowly down the rotunda stairs. + +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. + +“'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?” + +The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him “what of +Elinor.” + +“The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. I must hunt up +Trench and then--” + +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. + +“Hello, Trench I he called as he reached the rotunda floor. I must see +you a minute.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Fenneben put a small package into Burleigh's hands. + +“Examine it here, if you care to. You can fasten the door when you +leave. Goodby!” and he was gone. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“The message inside!” He spread out the paper and read “the message +inside.” + +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: + + +“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. + +“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. + +“Third. The girl you want to marry--go and marry. Do anything, good or +bad, to destroy Burgess. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +In the rotunda he met Trench, old Trench, slow of step but a lightning +calculator. + +“Where are you going?” he exclaimed, as he saw Vic's face. + +“I'm going to the whirlpool before I'm through,” Vic said, hoarsely. + +Trench caught him in a powerful grip and shoved him to the foot of the +rotunda stairs. + +“No,-you re-not-going-to-the-whirlpool,”' he said, slowly. “You're +going up to the top of the dome right against that _Ad Astra per Aspera_ +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.” + +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. + +Victor unbuttoned his cuff and slipped up his sleeve to the scar on his +arm. + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + + + +SUPREMACY + + 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 + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + +_And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors_. + +ELINOR WREAM was standing at the gate as Victor Burleigh came striding +up the street. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Victor did not wait for another word. + +“I must find Bug right away. You can't think what he is to me, Elinor,” + and he hurried away. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +At that moment the outlaw turned toward the door and leaped to his feet +as Vic sprang inside. + +Bug started up with outstretched arms. + +“Keep out of the way, Bug,” Vic cried, as the two men clinched. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You first, and then the baby; I'll roast you both,” Gresh hissed, and +Vic smelled the heat of the wood flame. + +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. + +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. + +Up to this time Vic had not spoken. + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +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: + +“Don't kill him, Vic. He's frough of fighting now. Don't hurt him no +more.” + +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: + +“Fordive us our debts as we fordive our debtors.” + +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. + +The cave darkened. A mist, half blood, half blindness, came before his +eyes, but clear to his ears there sounded the ringing words: + +“Vengeance is mine; I will repay!” + +It was the voice of Discipline calling to his better judgment, as Bug's +innocent pleading spoke to the finer man within him. + +Under his grip Gresh lay motionless, all power of resistance threshed +out of him. + +“Are you ready to quit?” Vic questioned, hoarsely, bending over the +almost lifeless form. + +The outlaw mumbled assent. + +“Then I'll let you live, you miserable wretch, and the courts will take +care of you.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Why?” Vic asked. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE DERELICTS + + _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_. + --WHITTIER + +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. + +“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.” + +“I can trust you, Uncle Lloyd, to do just the right thing,” Norrie +declared. + +The new line of sadness deepened in Lloyd Fenneben's face. + +“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.” + +Elinor bent over her uncle and softly stroked the heavy black hair from +his forehead. + +“Here's where I help you most, then,” she said, gently. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Most gladly,” Elinor assured him. + +“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.” + +Elinor's eyes were dewy with tears and she bent her head until her hair +touched his cheek. + +“I'll try to be good 'fornever,' as Bug Buler says,” she murmured. + + +Over in the Saxon House on this same evening Vincent Burgess had come in +to see Dennie about some books. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Dennie, I am going to be even more of a man than you asked me to be.” + +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. + +“I must be going now. Good-night, Dennie.” + +He shook hands and hurried away, but to the girl who was earning her +college education there was something in his handclasp, denied before. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“He thinks she will not care for him now,” Fenneben said to himself. +Aloud he said: + +“Have you ever spoken directly to Elinor on this matter?” + +“N-no. It was an understanding between her and her uncle and between him +and me,” Burgess replied. + +“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.” + + +As Burgess rose to go his eye caught sight of the pigeons above the bend +in the river. + +“By the way, Doctor, have you ever found out anything about the woman +who used to live in that deserted place up north?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Lloyd Fenneben wondered at the sorrowful expression on the younger man's +face when he said this. + +As he left the study Victor Burleigh came in. + +“Sit down, Burleigh. What can I do for you?” Fenneben asked. + +Something like his own magnetism of presence was in the young man before +him. + +“I want to tell you something,” Vic responded. + +“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.” + +“I am glad to hear you say so, Dr. Fenneben. It makes my own freedom +sweeter,” Vic declared. + +“Yes,” Fenneben replied. “Your added means will bring you life's best +gift--opportunity.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Why don't you take the guardianship yourself, Burleigh? The boy is +yours in love and blood. He ought to be in law.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes blazed at the words. + +“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.” + +Burleigh thought he understood, and the silent hand clasp pledged the +faith of the country boy to the teacher's wishes. + +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. + +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. + +On the night after the storm Professor Burgess stopped at the Saxon +House. + +“Where is your father, Dennie?” he asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“Of course, if it is fair,” Dennie replied, the pretty color blooming +deeper in her cheeks. + +“Oh, we go fair or foul. You remember we fought it out coming home from +there once.” + +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. + +“What are you here for, Gresh?” Bond asked, hoarsely. “I thought you had +left for good.” + +The villainous-looking outlaw drew a flask from his pocket. + +“Have a drink, Saxon. Take the whole bottle,” and he thrust it into the +old man's hands. + +Bond wavered a moment, then flung it far into the foamy floods of the +Walnut. + +“Not any more. You shall not get me drunk again while you rob and kill.” + +“You did the killing for me once. Won't you do it again?” Gresh snarled. + +Bond clinched his fists but did not strike. + +“What are you after now?” he asked. “You are through with the Burleighs; +Vic settled you and you know it.” + +Even with the words the clutch of Vic's fingers on the outlaw's throat +seemed to choke him now. + +“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.” + +Bond Saxon had been a huge fellow in his best days, and now he summoned +all the powers nature had left to him. + +“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.” + +Strange forms the guardian angel takes! + +Hence we entertain it unawares. + +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. + +At last in the dim light, Gresh stood motionless a minute, then he +struck his parting blow. + +“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?” + +He leaped down the bank into the swiftly flowing river, and, swimming +easily to the farther side, he disappeared in the underbrush. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Your oath, Vincent; your oath!” he cried in agonizing tones. + +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. + +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.-------- + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE MASTERY + + _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_. + --KIPLING + +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. + +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. + +Presently Elinor joined him. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Elinor, I'm not hunting a crowd tonight,” Vic said in a low voice. + +“Well, come, anyway, and we'll hunt the solitude, if we can't hunt any +other game.” And they strolled homeward together. + + +In the early evening Lloyd Fenneben and Elinor sat on the veranda +watching the sunset through the trees beyond the river. + +“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.” + +He paused, and Elinor, thinking of the moonlight, maybe, waited in +peaceful silence. + +“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.” + +Norrie smiled assent. + +“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.” + +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. + +“And you and Sunrise?” she asked at length. + +“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.” + +Elinor rose up, white and cold, and put her hand on her uncle's hand. + +“Let me think a little, Uncle Lloyd. It is not easy to realize one's +fortune in a minute.” Then she left him. + +“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.” + +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! + +“Don Fonnybone,” Bug Buler piped, as he came trudging around the corner. +“I want to confessing.” + +He came to Fenneben's side and looked up confidently in his face. + +“Well, confessing. I've just finished doing that myself,” Fenneben said. + +“I did a bad, long ago. I want to go and confessing. Will you go with +me?” + +“Where shall we go to be shriven, Bug? + +“To Pigeon Place,” Bug responded. “The Pigeon woman is there now. I saw +her coming, and I must go right away and confessing.” + +“I'll go with you, Bug. I want to see that woman, anyhow,” Fenneben +said. + +And the two went away in the early twilight of this rare June evening. + +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. + +Lloyd Fenneben lifted his hat, and little Bug imitated him. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +Even as she smiled at him, Dr. Fenneben noticed how her hand on the +lattice shook. + +“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. + +“Oh, Lloyd, Lloyd, on an evening like this, why do you come here?” + +The woman stood in the light now, a tragic figure of sorrow. And she was +not yet forty. + +Dr. Fenneben caught his breath and the light seemed to go out before +him. + +“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. + + +“Lots of folks spoons round the Saxon House, so I went away and lef +'em,” Bug explained to Vic once afterward. + +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. + +“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. + +“And this little child brought you here at last. 'A little child shall +lead them,'” the woman murmured. + +“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--” + +A shriek cut the evening air and she who had been known as Mrs. Marian +lay in a faint at Fenneben's feet. + +“Tell me, Marian, what this means.” + +Lloyd Fenneben had restored her to consciousness and she was resting, +white and trembling, in his arms. + +“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!” + +She nestled close in Dr. Fenneben's protecting arms, and shivered at the +thought. + +“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. + +“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!” + +And the lonely woman, overcome with joy, sat white and still beneath the +white moonbeams. + + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +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: + +“Is you my own mother? Then, I'll love you fornever.” + + +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. + +At the farther end, Vic said: + +“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?” + +“I can climb where you can, Victor,” Elinor declared. + +“Dennie will never want to come here again. Poor Dennie!” + +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. + +“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. + +“Who told you all this, Elinor?” Victor asked. + +“Professor Burgess, when he showed me the diamond ring Dennie is to wear +tomorrow.” + +“Dennie, a diamond! I'm glad for Dennie. Diamonds are fine to have,” Vic +declared. + +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. + +“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.” + +He looked at her in amazement. + +“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.” + +“Norrie!” All the music of a soul poured into the music of the deep +voice. + +“Victor! There is no sacrifice in it. I wish there were, that I might +wear the honors you wear so modestly.” + +“I, Elinor?” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + + + +THE PARTING + + ... _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 + +COMMENCEMENT day at Sunrise was just one golden Kansas June day, when + +The heart is so full that a drop overfills it. + + +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. + +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. + + +“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.” + + +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. + +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: + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAW RAH!!! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Master's Degree, by Margaret Hill McCarter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MASTER'S DEGREE *** + +***** This file should be named 1348-0.txt or 1348-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1348/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/1348-0.zip b/old/1348-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..799ab57 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1348-0.zip diff --git a/old/1348-h.zip b/old/1348-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c93e648 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1348-h.zip diff --git a/old/1348-h/1348-h.htm b/old/1348-h/1348-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0943b26 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1348-h/1348-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8167 @@ +<?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> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Master's Degree, by Margaret Hill McCarter + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Master's Degree + +Author: Margaret Hill McCarter + +Release Date: August 13, 2008 [EBook #1348] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MASTER'S DEGREE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <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> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Master's Degree, by Margaret Hill McCarter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MASTER'S DEGREE *** + +***** This file should be named 1348-h.htm or 1348-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1348/ + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Master's Degree + +Author: Margaret Hill McCarter + +Posting Date: August 13, 2008 [EBook #1348] +Release Date: June, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MASTER'S DEGREE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +A MASTER'S DEGREE + +By Margaret Hill McCarter + + + + + 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. + + + + + 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 + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + THE MEETING + I. "DEAN FUNNYBONE" + II. POTTER'S CLAY + III. PIGEON PLACE + IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + V. THE STORM + VI. THE GAME + VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING + VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? + IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? + X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + XII. THE SILVER PITCHER + XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + XIV. THE DERELICTS + XV. THE MASTERY + THE PARTING + + + + + +A MASTER'S DEGREE + + + + +THE MEETING + + ...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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +STRIFE + + _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!_ + --ELIZABETH D. PRESTON + + + + +CHAPTER I. "DEAN FUNNYBONE" + + _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_.--LOWELL + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +Dean Fenneben listened as a man who hears the reading of his own +obituary. + +"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." + +"All a man can do for Kansas!" Fenneben repeated slowly. + +"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?" + +The trustee waited for an answer. While he waited, the soul of the young +dean found itself. + +"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!" + +"You'll soon go to the devil, you and your old school. Good-by!" And the +trustee left him. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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--_according to the measure of a man_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II. POTTER'S CLAY + + _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_. + --LONGFELLOW + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +He turned to a letter lying on the table beside him, a smile playing +about the frown on his countenance. + +"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." + +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!" + +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. + +"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." + +The bell above the south turret chimed the hour of three as Vincent +Burgess entered the study. + +"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." + +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. + +"We are to be co-workers for some time, Burgess. May I ask you why you +chose to come to Kansas?" + +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. + +"I came to study types, to acquire geographical breadth, to have +seclusion, that I may pursue more profound research." + +There was a play of light in Dr. Fenneben's eyes. + +"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." + +"What are Jayhawkers, Doctor?" Burgess queried. + +"Yonder is one specimen," Fenneben answered, pointing toward the window. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +Whether the young man liked this or not, he answered evenly: + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, I know," Dr. Fenneben said. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Dr. Fenneben's face was charming when he smiled. + +"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." + +There was a new light in Burgess's eyes at the mention of Elinor Wream's +name. + +"Oh, yes, I know Miss Elinor very well. I shall need her more to make me +feel at home than she will need me." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"Please don't, Miss Elinor," Vincent Burgess urged. "I shall be +delighted to explore darkest Kansas with you at any time." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Kill it! Kill it!" she cried, trying to force her slender white parasol +into his hand. + +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. + +"How did you ever dare?" Elinor asked. + +"Oh, he's not poison; he just doesn't belong up here." + +The bluntness of timidity was in Vic's answer, but the strength and +musical depth of his resonant voice was almost startling. + +"There is no Eden without a serpent, Miss Elinor," Professor Burgess +said lightly. + +"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. + +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. + +"What a wonderful voice, Vincent. It makes one want to hear it again," +Elinor exclaimed. + +"Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope never +to see it again," her companion responded. + +"But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me," Elinor +insisted. + +"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." + +And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus and on +to the town beyond it. + +"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." + +"Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend of mine," Vic +replied. + +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. + +"Are you fond of killing things?" the Dean asked. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"It's as pretty as paradise," he said, simply. "There's nothing like our +Kansas prairies." + +"You come from the plains out west, I hear. How long do you plan to stay +here, Burleigh?" Dr. Fenneben asked. + +"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." + +"Who pays for your schooling, yourself, or your father?" Fenneben +queried. + +"I have no father nor mother now." + +"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." + +"I'm willing to work, and I'd like to have the diploma for it," Vic +answered. + +"Burleigh, did you notice the letter S carved in the stone above the +door?" + +"Yes, sir; I suppose it stands for Sunrise?" + +"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." + +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. + +"His eyes and voice are all right," was the Dean's mental comment. +"There's good blood in his veins, I'll wager." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Who is your friend? Is he your brother?" asked the Dean. + +"No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, except that his +name is Buler. Bug Buler, he says." + +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, + +"Is you dood to Vic?" + +"Yes, indeed," replied the Dean. + +"Nen, I like you fornever," Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightly +that his checks puffed. + +"How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?" questioned +Fenneben. + +"Because he's got nobody else to look after him," answered Vic. + +"How about an orphan asylum?" + +Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, and every +feature of his stern face softened. + +"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." + +"Oh, no! Keep him if you want him. But would you mind telling me about +him?" + +"I'd rather not now," Burleigh said, quietly, and Lloyd Fenneben knew +when to drop a subject. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +He looked long at the landscape radiant under the level rays of splendor +streaming from the low afternoon sun. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III. PIGEON PLACE + + _Strange is the wind and the tide, + The heavens eternally wide; + Less fathomed, this life at my side_. + --W. H. SIMPSON + +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: + + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAH! RAH!!! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?" he asked, presently. + +"I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books in my +daydreams," Dennie answered. + +"Where do you do your dreaming today?" + +"A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I must +make the cakes yet this morning," she answered. + +"Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?" the +Dean queried, smilingly. + +"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. + +"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. + +"That's generally the easy thing. What is it?" the Dean smiled. + +The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite to +him. + +"Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?" she began. + +"The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman lives +alone with a fierce dog?" he asked. + +"Yes, you never heard anything more?" Dennie queried. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"That is very pitiful." Lloyd Fenneben's voice was sympathetic. + +"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." + +"All the interesting features. Did you mention Professor Burgess?" The +query was innocently meant, but it brought the color to Dennie Saxon's +cheek. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it. + +"Where shall we go, Bug? I 'm hungry for somebody, too." + +"Let's do find the bunny the bid dod ist scared away this morning. Turn +on!" + +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. + +"I 's pitty tired," Bug said as the two reached the stone. "Will we tum +to the bunny's house pitty soon?" + +"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. + +"It was somewhere here the bunny runned." Little Bug studied the +roadside with a quaint puzzled face. "Is you 'faid of snakes?" + +"Not very much." The Dean's eyes were on the graceful flight of pigeons +circling about the trees beyond the bend. + +"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." + +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. + +The Dean gently placed the tired little one in an easy position, and +rested his shoulder against the tree. + +"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. + +A fuzzy gray rabbit flashed across the road, followed by a Great Dane +dog in hot chase. + +"Bug's bunny! I hope the big murderer will miss it," Fenneben thought. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"A woman never could whistle," he smiled, as he listened, "but that call +seems to do for the dog, all right." + +The Great Dane was tearing across lots in answer to the trill of a +woman's voice. + +"She is safe now. But what does it all mean? Is there a wayside tragedy +here that calls for my unraveling?" + +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. + +"Where's my Vic? Who's dot me?" he cried. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Behind the vine-covered gate a gray-haired, fair-faced woman watched the +two as they disappeared down the road. + +And the blood-red sun out on the west prairie sank swiftly into a blue +cloudbank, presaging the coming of a storm. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + + _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_. + --JAMES W. STEELE + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +The tiger-light blazed in the eyes that flashed back at him, as Vic +cried daringly. + +"Oh, come on, Elinor; be a good Indian!" + +"Don't do it, Miss Wream," Vincent Burgess pleaded. + +Elinor looked from the one to the other, and the very magnetism of power +called her. + +"I mean to try, anyhow," she declared. "Will you pick me up if I fall, +Victor?" + +"Well, I wouldn't hardly go away and leave you to perish miserably," Vic +assured her, and they were off together. + +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. + +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. + +"What's the matter? Is my hair a fright?" she murmured. + +"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. + +"What's that scar on your left arm? It looks like a little hole dug +out," Elinor declared. + +Vic's brown sweater sleeve was pushed up to the elbow. + +"It is a little hole I put in where I dug out the flesh with a pocket +knife," he replied, carelessly. + +"Did you do that yourself?" Elinor cried. "What made you be so cruel?" + +"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. + +"Oh, tell me about it, do," Elinor urged. "You were killing a snake the +first time I saw you." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Look at that still place in the river, Victor. The ripples are all on +the farther side," Elinor said, looking pensively downstream. + +"Watch it a minute. Do you see that bit of drift coming upstream in the +still water?" Vic asked. + +"Why, the water does move; toward us, too, instead of down the river. +I'd like to boat around in that quiet place." + +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. + +"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." + +"Why?" Elinor looked up into his face. + +"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." + +"Why, that's awful," Elinor said, lightly, for she had no picture of him +engulfed in the slow-moving treachery below them. + +"There's an old Indian legend about that pool," Vic said, staring down +at the water. + +"Tell me about it." Elinor was breaking the twigs from a branch of +buck-berry growing beside her. + +"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." + +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. + +"What was the curse? I would n't want to go near that place, unless you +were with me." + +The very innocence of the words put a thrill in Vic Burleigh's every +pulse beat. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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: + + Victor Burleigh and Elinor Wream, + Better wake from Love's Young Dream, + Before the ants get into the cream. + +The beating of a dishpan drowned the chorus. Then down by the river +Dennie's soprano streamed out, + + The sun is sot, + The coffee's hot, + The supper's got. + What? + Yes! Got! + + +Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy base +growled, + + Dennie is sad, + The eggs are bad; + The Professor's mad + At a College lad. + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + Come home! Come home! Come home! + + +"The Kickapoos are on the warpath. Let's go down and get into the +running." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Aw-w-w!" a prolonged chorus. "Make your story long, Dennie; make it +lengthy." + +"Don't you do it, Dennie. I tell you this ground is shaking. I feel it," +Trench insisted. + +"Say, who's got the bromo-seltzer? The right guard's supper is n't +treating him right. Go ahead, Dennie," the crowd urged. + +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. + +"Once upon a time," Dennie began, + +there was a beautiful Kickapoo Indian maiden--" + +"Yep, any Kickapoo's a beaut. Hurry up, Dennie. I hear something +coming." It was the big lazy guard again. + +"Oh! Vic Burleigh, sit on his prostrate form. Go on, Dennie," the +company insisted, and she continued. + +"Her name was The Fawn of the Morning Light, her best lover was Swift +Elk." + +"You be Mrs. Swift Elk--" but Vic Burleigh's arm about Trench's throat +choked his words. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER V. THE STORM + + _Rock and moan, and roar alone, + And the dread of some nameless thing unknown_. + --LOWELL + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +Then above all the crashing and booming they heard Vic Burleigh's voice: + +"Every fellow take a girl and run for the ford. Come on!" + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +They were all safely across except Vic and Elinor, when Trench cried +out: + +"Send your girl in quick, Burleigh, and you run west. The flood is at +the bend now. Hurry!" + +"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!" + +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: + +"It's too late. Don't try it. I've got to run." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In the shadows, beyond him, a form straightened up stupidly: + +"Shay, Profesh Burgush, that you?" + +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! + +"Shay! Is't you, or ain't it you? You gonna tell me?" Old Bond queried. + +"This is Vincent Burgess," the young man replied. + +"Dennie home?" the father asked. + +"Yes, sir," came the curt answer. + +"Who? Who bring her home? Vic Burleigh?" + +"I brought her home. She is a good girl, too." + +In spite of himself, Burgess resented the shame of such a father for the +capable, happy-spirited daughter. + +"Yesh, Dennie's good girl, all right." + +Then a silence fell. + +Presently, the old man spoke again. + +"Shay, Prof esh, 'd ye mind doin' somethin' for me?" + +"What is it?" Burgess was by nature courteous. + +"If anything sh'd ever happen to me, 'd you take care of Dennie? Shay, +would you?" + +"If I could do anything for her, I would do it," the young man replied. + +"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!" + +Bond was standing now bending threateningly toward Burgess, who had also +risen. + +"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. + +"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. + +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: + +"I swear it!" + +"One more question, and you may go. You know that little boy Vic +Burleigh takes care of here?" + +The Professor had heard of him. + +"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." + +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. + +"Shay, where's Vic tonight?" + +"Across the river with Miss Wream. They were cut off by the deep water," +Vincent answered. + +A quick change from drunkenness to sober sense leaped into Bond Saxon's +eyes. + +"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! + +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. + +"Where's Vic?" Bug demanded. + +"I don't know," Burgess answered. + +"Take me up, I'se told." Bug stretched up his arms appealingly, and +Burgess, who knew nothing of babies, awkwardly lifted him up. + +"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?" + +"Yes, little boy. We are all in trouble tonight." Burgess had to say +something. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + + +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. + +"We must climb the bluff again. Be a good Indian!" he cried, groping for +a footing. + +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. + +"Do you think you can ever get us out? she asked, as the limestone ledge +blocked the way. + +"Do you know what my mother named me?" The carelessness of the tone was +surprising. + +"Victor!" she replied. + +"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." + +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: + +"I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. I +feel safer here." + +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. + +In all this tumult, away to the northeast, the beacon light above the +Sunrise dome was cutting the darkness with a steady beam. + +"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." + +"Oh, what a comfort a light can be!" Elinor murmured as she looked up +and caught the welcome gleam. + +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. + +"We can't stay here and be threshed to pieces," Vic cried. "This crack +is drier, anyhow, and it must lead to somewhere." + +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. + +"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." + +"Slide down, Elinor. I'll catch you. It is n't very far, and there's a +little light somewhere." + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Elinor leaned wearily against the wall, wet and cold, and almost +exhausted. + +"Let's wait a little, till this shower passes," she pleaded. + +"You poor girl! This has been an awful night," Vic said gently. + +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. + +"Let's go! Let's go!" she whispered, huddling close to her companion, +whose grip on her arm tightened. + +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. + +Victor Burleigh drew Elinor closer to him, and whispered low: + +"Don't be afraid with me to guard you." + +Even in that deep gloom, he caught the outline of a white face with +star-bright eyes lifted toward his face. + +"I'm not afraid with you," she whispered. + +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!" + +It was old Bond Saxon. + +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. + +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. + +"We made it in before midnight, anyhow," he said carelessly. + +Elinor looked up in surprise. The terrors of the night still possessed +her. + +"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." + +Victor looked at her with a wonderful light in his wide-open brown eyes. + +"Yes," he said in a deep voice. "It will seem impossible when daylight +comes. But will it all be as a horrible nightmare?" + +"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." + +Burleigh turned hastily toward the door, and, having delivered her to +the care of her uncle, he bade them both good night. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE GAME + + _Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than + to ban; + Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man_. + --KIPLING + +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. + +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. + +"You seem immune from sickness, Miss Dennie," Burgess said one day as +she was putting the library in order. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bug was better now, and Vic was burning midnight oil in study, for the +hours of practice for the game were doubled. + +On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside. + +"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?" + +The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy black +brows, as Vic shut his white teeth tightly. + +"Count on me!" he said, and turning, he left the coach abruptly. + +"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." + +"Well, get rid of it once in a while, if you really do know anything," +Vic responded. + +"Say, you're nervous. Coach says you spend too much time in your +nursery; says you'd better get rid of that little kid." + +"Tell the coach to go to the devil!" Vic spoke savagely. + +"Say, Coach," Trench roared down from the hillslope, "Vic says for you +to go to the devil." + +"Wait till after tomorrow," the coach shouted back, "and I'll take you +fellows along if you don't do your best." + +"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." + +A sudden glow lighted Vic's stern face, and there was no savage gleam in +his eyes now. + +"Is Elinor well enough to come out tomorrow?" + +He had been caught unawares. Trench stared at him deliberately. + +"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." + +"What's the rest of your news?" Vic asked. + +"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!" + +"The coach is clever," Vic said carelessly. + +"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?" + +"Come down hard on him, and play anyhow." + +The grim jaw and black frown left no doubt as to Vic's purpose. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What's the matter?" + +"When will the freight be in?" + +"Merry Christmas!" + +So the crowd shouted. The songs were worn out, the yell-leaders were +exhausted, and the rooters were hoarse. + +"Where's Vic Burleigh?" somebody called, and a chorus followed: + +"Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home!" + +But Burleigh did not come. + +"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. + + +Meantime, as the teams were leaving their quarters early in the +afternoon, the coach said to Vic: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Small wonder that the very odor of roses was hateful to Burgess at that +moment. + +"May I speak to you a minute?" Vic said as the two men met in the +rotunda. + +Burgess halted in silence. + +"The coach sent me after your statement of my standing. We've got a +bunch of sticklers to fight today." + +"I have turned in my report," Burgess responded coldly. + +"So the coach said, all but mine. I'm late. May I have my report now?" +Vic urged, trying to be composed. + +"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. + +"But you haven't given me any standing yet, the coach says." Vic's voice +was dead calm. + +"I have no standing to give you. You are below grade." + +Vic's eyes blazed. "You dog!" was all he could say. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Stop!" Vincent Burgess commanded. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +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, "_Ad +Astra per Aspera_." adorned the stained glass panes, had never fallen on +such a scene as this. + +"See here, Burleigh, you'll repent this unwarranted attack," Burgess +cried, trying to free himself. "Brute force will win only among brutes." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back. + +"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. + + +Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with full +credentials for his place on the team. + +The last man to enter the grounds was evidently a tramp, whose slouched +hat half-concealed a dark bearded face. + +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: + +"Come, stay with me, Bug, till I can go in, too, and I'll buy you +peanuts." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Funny folks turns to dames," Bug observed. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!" shrieked the yell-leader as Vic leaped over +the goal line and the rooters roared: + + The Sunrise hope! + And that's the dope! + Never quails! + Never fails! + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"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: + +"Victor, Victor! Don't forget the name your mother gave you!" + +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! + + + +SACRIFICE + + _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_. + --ALICE CARY + + +CHAPTER VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING + + _Oh, it is excellent + To have a giant's strength, but tyrannous + To use it like a giant_. + --SHAKESPEARE + +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. + +The jollification following the game threatened to wreck the chapel and +crack the limestone ledge beneath it. + +"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." + +"I was never more alive in my life." Vic's voice and eyes were alive +enough. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"Oh, Elinor, you mercenary creature!" + +"What if he is a bit crude?" + +"I don't blame you. I'm daffy about Professor Burgess myself." + +"He's got the grandest voice, Vic has!" + +"I just adore Greek!" + +"I think Vic is splendid!" + +So the exclamations ran. + +"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?" + +"I certainly would. I couldn't help it." + +Norrie's eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink as peach blossoms. +To Vic she seemed exquisitely beautiful. + +"But now?" somebody queried. + +"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." + +And the girls scuttled away. + +Vic came in and sat down by the window through which one may find an +empire for the looking. + +"Burgess was right," he said to himself. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"I've come in to be sentenced," Vic replied. + +"Well, plead your case first." + +If ever a father-heart beat in a bachelor's breast, Lloyd Fenneben had +such a heart. + +"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." + +Fenneben's eyes were smiling. "Why didn't you knock him down and fight +it out with him?" + +"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. + +He knew he would not apologize, and he wanted the sentence of expulsion +to come quickly if it must come. + +"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." + +"What do you do with a fellow like me?" Vic looked curiously at the +Dean. + +"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." + +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! + +Vic sat looking thoughtfully at the man before him. + +"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. + +"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." + +Vic did not look proud of himself just then, and Lloyd Fenneben knew it +was one of life's crucial moments for the boy. + +"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." + +"You?" Vic's eyes widened. + +"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. + +"I wouldn't want to scrap with you, Dr. Fenneben," Vic stammered. + +"Why not?" + +"I am too much of a gentleman for that." + +"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. + +"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." + +Lloyd Fenneben grasped the boy's hand in a firm, assuring grip and left +him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Yes, I do, often," Dennie answered. + +"Why do you do this?" he queried. + +"To get my college education." Dennie smiled, hopefully. "I like the +nice things and nice ways of life. So I'm working for them." + +"Elinor has all these without working for them," Vincent thought. + +Then for no reason at all his mind leaped to Dennie's father and his own +vow on the stormy night in October. + +"What would you do if your father were taken from you, Miss Dennie?" he +asked. + +"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. + +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. + +"Could you really take care of yourself? He was talking at random. + +"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. + +"How's that?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Thank you!" + +"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?" + +"Is that how I look? No, I didn't see her. I was n't at the game." + +"You weren't? Why not? You missed a wonderful thing." + +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. + +"Don't you think the young ruffian was pretty hard on me?" he asked. + +"No, I don't," Dennie said, frankly. "I think you were pretty hard on +him." + +A sudden resolve seized Burgess. He came around to Dennie's side of the +table. + +"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--" + +"Yes, I understand," Dennie said, with downcast eyes. + +"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." + +"Was my father quite himself then?" Dennie asked. + +"Not quite," Burgess replied. + +"Listen to him some day when he is. He is another man then. But," she +added, "I know you mean well." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? + + _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_. + --CARY + +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. + +"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. + +"No, I want to be with you, Uncle Lloyd." + +She was sitting on the arm of his morris chair, softly stroking his +heavy hair away from his forehead. + +"Looks like it, the way you hurried back," Dr. Fenneben said, smiling. + +"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?" + +"You have just said why," her uncle answered her. + +"Why did n't you ever marry. Were you ever in love?" + +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. + +"Yes, I was in love once. I did n't marry because--because--I didn't." + +"How romantic! Was it unrequited, or money, or what?" Norrie asked, +eagerly. + +"Or what," he answered, and her finer sense made her change the subject. + +"Say, Uncle Lloyd, Uncle Joshua says he wants me to marry." + +"What's he up to now? Tell me about it." + +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. + +"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." + +"Do you want to marry him?" Fenneben asked. + +"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." + +"He'll wait all right, if he wants you, Norrie. He must wait until you +graduate," the Dean declared. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"You are a--well, any kind of a smooth citizen, I say," he repeated. + +"What's troubling your liver now?" Vic asked. + +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--" + +A sudden clutch on Trench's arm, the blaze of the old-time fury in +burning eyes, as Vic's hoarse voice cried: + +"For God's sake, Trench, get out of my sight!" + +"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." + +But Vic was out of hearing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Presently Elinor Wream came around the north angle of the building, +hesitated a little, then walked straight to the steps. + +"Good afternoon, Victor," she said. + +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. + +"Hello, Elinor," Vic said, calmly, making room for her on the stone +steps. "Take a seat." + +Elinor sat down beside him, throwing her hat on the ground. + +"Whither away?" Vic asked. + +"I'll tell you presently. I want to get over my stage fright first." + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Friday, the thirteenth--auspicious date!" he answered. "But I may not +play in it. I might fail." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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'." + +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. + +"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." + +"Command me!" he said, gallantly. + +"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." + +"All right." Vic was waiting, graciously. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Do you really mind going with me, Victor?" Elinor asked. + +"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. + +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. + +Down on the bridge they stopped to watch the sunlit waters of the Walnut +rippling below them. + +"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. + +"I've had no reincarnation that I know of," Vic replied. + +"I have," Elinor declared, and Vic thought of Burgess. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I have never once forgotten it," he murmured. + +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. + +"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." + +He was leaning far through the opening in the wall, gazing into the +darkness and seeing nothing. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"We were pretty close that night," Elinor replied. + +"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. + +"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. + +Far away from the west prairie came the faint note of a child's voice in +song. + +"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?" + +"I know I'm a stingy cuss," Vic said, carelessly, but a deeper red +touched his cheek. + +"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." + +Burleigh looked down at her gratefully. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You? I didn't know you had ever wanted anything you did n't get." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Burleigh paused, and a sense of Elinor's interest brought a thrill of +joy to him. + +"Where was he?" she asked. + +Vic slowly unfastened his cuff and slipped his coat sleeve up to his +elbow. + +"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." + +A little! Could this be the big awkward freshman of a September day gone +by? Then college culture is surely worth the cost. + +Elinor leaned forward, eagerly. + +"Tell me about your father," she said. + +"My father lost his life because he dared to tell the truth," Victor +replied. + +"Oh, glorious!" Elinor cried, earnestly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Burleigh's face was grim as he answered: + +"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. + +"Am I presentable for the supper at the Kickapoo Corral?" she asked, as +she picked up her hat again. + +"You suit me," Burleigh replied. "What are the Kickapoo requirements?" + +"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." + +"Four, individually or collectively?" he asked. + +"Either way," she answered. + +"Why did n't you let them do it? + +"Which way?" + +"Either way," he replied. + +"Would you rather have had the four either way, than me?" she +questioned, with pretty vanity. + +"Much rather." His voice was stern. + +"Why?" She was stung by the answer. + +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. + +"Why?" + +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. + +"Do you know why?" + +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. + +"Let me hold them a minute," he said, softly. "There are sixty years to +remember, but only one hour like this." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly a faint piping voice floated in upon the glen: + + Little childwen pwessing near + To the feet of Thwist, the Ting, + Have you neiver doubt nor fear + Or some twibute do you bwing? + + +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. + +"I ist followed you, Vic," Bug said, clutching Vic's hand. + +"This is n't a safe place to come, Bug. You must n't follow me here." + +"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. + +"He is right," Elinor said. "I think we'd better leave now." + +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. + +"I know a way out," Bug declared. Turn, "I'll show you." + +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. + +"Tlimb up that and you're out," Bug declared. + +They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward from the +Walnut bluffs. + +"Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. I turn wiv Limpy +out here." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Elinor looked thoughtfully at the slow-moving water. + +"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." + +How delicious to have her confidence in anything. Vic smiled assent. + +"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." + +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. + +"Elinor," he asked, suddenly, "are you bound by any promise--has +Professor Burgess--?" He hesitated. + +"No," she answered, turning her face away. + +"Pardon my rudeness. You know I am not well-bred," he said, gently. + +"Victor Burleigh, you ill-bred, of all the gentle, manly fellows in +Sunrise! You know you are not." + +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. + +"Elinor." Vic's voice was sweet as low bars of music. + +"Oh, Victor, there's something I can't prevent." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I may not be worthy of victory," he said, sadly. + +"You have never been unworthy. Don't be now." She smiled bravely. + +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. + +And the day with its gladness and sorrow, whether for loss or gain, +slipped into the shadowy beauty of an April twilight. + + + +CHAPTER IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? + + _Ye know how hard an Idol dies, an' what that meant + to me--E'en take it for a sacrifice, acceptable to Thee_. + --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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Too bad!" Dennie said sympathetically. + +"I'll tell you all about it sometime." + +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. + +"I'll be your rain beau." He took her arm to assist her down the steps. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Victor Burleigh, won't you release the fair princess from the tower?" a +girl's voice called. + +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. + +"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. + +"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 _per +aspera_ out of the State Seal and come down through the hole, _per astra +ad aspera_." And then he rushed off to find an unlocked exit to the +building. + +From the Chapel end of the circular stairs, he called presently. + +"Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds. Rise to the surface, fair +mermaid." + +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. + +"When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy, call me, +Elinor," Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +As night deepened, the rain fell steadily. Up in Victor Burleigh's room +Bug Buler grew drowsy early. + +"I want to say my pwayers now, Vic," he said. + +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: + +"Dear Dod, please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is, for Thwist's +sake. Amen-n-n." + +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. + +"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?" + +Ten minutes later he sat in Lloyd Fenneben's library. + +"I have come for help," he said in reply to the Dean's questioning face. + +"I hope I can give it," Fenneben responded. + +"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. + +"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. + +"What do you think of such playing, Doctor?" Vic asked. + +"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. + +Burleigh's face was very pale and a strange fire burned in his eyes. + +"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?" + +The words were shot out like bullets. + +"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." + +Burleigh sat still as stone, his face white as marble, his wide-open +eyes under his black brows seeing nothing. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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! + +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. + +"Look out! There's a stone; don't stumble!" he said hoarsely, dodging +back as he spoke. + +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: + +"Now for Josh Wream, and--" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Certainly," Vincent Burgess said with equal grace. + +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. + +"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." + +Professor Burgess wondered again, why a boy like Burleigh should have +been given a voice of such rare charm. + +"I will not keep you long," Vic said, turning from Bug. "I cannot play +in tomorrow's game, and be a man." + +Then, briefly, he explained the reason. + +"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." + +"Good night," Vincent Burgess said hoarsely, and plunged into the +darkness and the rain. + +Ten steps from the Saxon House, he came plump into Bond Saxon, who +staggered a little to avoid him. + +"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." + +But Bond Saxon was never more sober in his life, and he clutched the +young man's arm eagerly. + +"Professor Burgess, won't you help me!" he cried. + +"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. + +"Come help me save a man's life!" Bond urged. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"What can I do?" Burgess asked. "I'm not a policeman." + +"Come on! Come on!" Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. "It 's +a life, I tell you." + +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: + +"Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care of +Dennie if anything should happen to me?" + +"Do YOU remember it?" Burgess responded. "You didn't ask; you demanded." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? I believe you are +drunk." + +Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely: + +"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!" + + + +CHAPTER X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + + _O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, + name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!_ + --SHAKESPEARE + +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. + +"And meantime?" he said, looking up at Elinor. + +"Yes, meantime, it's June time," Elinor replied. + +"Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we--" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Good! Now, tell me of 'beforehand.'" His smile was as charming as ever. + +"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." + +She bent over him and softly caressed his hand. + +"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." + +"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." + +"When did you see her?" Fenneben asked. + +"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." + +"And the one-armed man I seemed to remember?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"Tell me about the ball game," Fenneben said next. + +"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." + +"And the students, generally?" Dr. Fenneben questioned. + +"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." + +"Oh, yes; Trench is a hero and I've known about that whole thing for a +long while," the Dean asserted. "And Victor Burleigh?" + +A shadow in the beautiful dark eyes, a half-tone lowering of the voice, +and a general indifference of manner, as Elinor answered: + +"I'm sure I don't know anything about him, except that he's coming back +next year." + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +For a little while the old man looked away through the study window at +the prairie empire to be found for the looking. + +"Do you see that little twist of blue smoke over west?" he queried +presently. + +"What of it?" Burgess asked. + +"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!" + +Old Bond looked up appealingly, and the pitiful face touched Burgess' +heart. + +"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." + +"Professor, I have asked you twice if you'd be good to Dennie--" + +"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." + +"I will"--it seemed an heroic resolve--"I asked this for Dennie, because +my own life is never safe." + +"So you have said. Why not?" Burgess insisted. There was no way to evade +the question now. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"Nobody would call you bad. You are a lovable man when you--keep +straight," Burgess declared cordially. + +"I graduated from the university back in the sixties," Bond went on. + +"You!" Burgess exclaimed. + +"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." + +Saxon paused, and the professor waited. + +"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." + +Burgess started and his face grew pale. + +"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." + +"The Wreams!" Burgess exclaimed. + +"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." + +"Go on!" Vincent's voice was hardly audible. + +"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." + +"Did she marry the one she really cared for?" Burgess asked eagerly. + +"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." + +Saxon paused and looked once more at the tiny wavering smoke column, +hardly visible now. + +"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." + +Saxon gazed long at the landscape beyond the Walnut. When he spoke +again, it was with an effort. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I certainly would never bring harm to you nor yours," he said kindly. + +"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." + +The anguish on the old man's face was pitiful as he spoke. + +"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." + +He hesitated, then ceased to speak. + +"Why the Dean?" Burgess asked. + +"Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks +wouldn't let her marry," Bond Saxon said sadly. + +Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him. + +"Where is she now?" + +"She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come +back," the old man replied. + +"And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?" + +"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. + +"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. + +Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word--"Dennie!" + +Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie. + +"This woman had a husband, you say?" he asked presently. + +Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head. + +"What became of him? Do you know?" Vincent questioned. + +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." + + + +SERVICE + + _If you were born to honor, show + it now; + if put upon you, make the judgment + good that thought you + worthy of it_. + --SHAKESPEARE + + +CHAPTER XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + + _They enslave their children's children who make + compromise with sin_. + --LOWELL + +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: + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Elinor, of all people in the world, the very last. She shall never +know, never!" So he answered the inward questioner. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"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. + + +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. + +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. + +"I beg your pardon, Elinor. Dr. Fenneben sent for me." + +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. + +"And God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the +fourth day," Victor said at last. + +"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." + +"It is well to grow rich in something," Victor said, half-earnestly, +half-carelessly. + +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. + +"Is n't Dennie a darling? Elinor said calmly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + + 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. + + +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. + +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. + +"You are a brick, Trench," he said, as the upper stairway door swung +open to release him. + +"You've the whole chimney," Trench responded, as he swung himself away. + +Dr. Fenneben met Elinor in the rotunda. + +"Wait a minute, Norrie, and I'll walk home with you." + +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. + +"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." + +And Burleigh wondered much what "some matters" might be. + +When Professor Burgess left Dennie he said, lightly: + +"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." + +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. + +When Burgess returned to the Saxon House later in the evening, he met +Bond Saxon at the door. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Yes, for Dennie's sake--" Bond looked imploringly at Burgess. + +"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?" + +"Me! A criminal! Do you know what that kind of slavery is?" Saxon +whispered. + +"Almost," Burgess answered, but the old man did not catch his meaning. + +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. + +"Dennie," he said, plunging into his purpose at once. "I come to you +because I need a friend and you are tempered steel." + +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. + +"What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?" she asked. + +"Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me." + +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. + +"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." + +Dennie looked up with a sorrowful face. + +"Yes, but think of what he might do. You don't know what dreadful things +he has done--" + +"Yes, I do. He told me himself the very worst. I'll never betray him, +Dennie. His punishment is heavy enough." + +Burgess laid his hand on her dimpled hand in token of sincerity. + +"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." + +Burgess paused. Dennie's interest and sympathy made her silent company a +comfort. + +"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." + +Dennie looked up, questioningly. + +"Yes, to Elinor's uncle, as unlike Dr. Fenneben as night and day." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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? + +"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?" + +"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. + +"What is wrong, then?" she asked. "Is Elinor unwilling?" + +"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." + +"Of course," Dennie echoed. + +"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?" + +"Well?" Dennie's mind was jumping to the end. + +"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." + +Vincent Burgess suddenly ceased speaking and looked at Dennie. + +"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. + +"When did this Dr. Wream find out about Vic?" Dennie asked. + +"A month ago. Some strange-looking tramp of a fellow brought him proofs +that are incontestable," Burgess replied. + +"And it is for an old man's peace you would keep this secret?" Dennie +questioned. + +"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?" + +He rose to his feet and Dennie stood up before him. He gently rested his +hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. + +"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." + +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: + +"I cannot play in tomorrow's game and be a man." + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE SILVER PITCHER + + _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_. + --WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH + +"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. + +"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. + +Burgess was growing almost stalwart in this gracious climate. + +"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. + +"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." + +"You are a wonderful man, Doctor," Burgess said. + +"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." + +"Where's the other place?" Burgess would change the subject. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Let's go walking, you and me!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Let's we go see the pigeons," Bug suggested, tossing his ball in his +hands. + +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. + +"Oh, tum! tum!" he cried. "Such a pretty picture frame and vase on the +table." + +He was nearly five years old now, but in his excitement he still used +baby language, as he pulled eagerly at Vincent Burgess' coat. + +"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. + +At the gateway he lifted Bug in his arms. + +He was not yet at ease with children. + +"I dropped my ball," Bug said. "Let me det it." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +Bug looked up confidingly. + +"I ist say, 'Dod, be merciless to me, a sinner'." + +"Why not merciful, Bug?" + +"Tause! If He's merciful it's too easy and I'm no dooder," Bug said, +wisely. + +"Who told you the difference?" Burgess asked. + +"Vic. He knows a lot. I wish I had my ball, but let's go up the river." + +"Out of the mouths of babes," Burgess murmured and hugged the little one +close to him. + + +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. + +"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." + +The sound of footsteps on the rotunda stairs made him turn to see +Vincent Burgess just reaching the little balcony of the dome. + +"I've come to have a word with you up here," he said. "We met once +before in this rotunda." + +"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." + +It was the only apology Vic had ever offered to Burgess, who accepted it +as all that he deserved. + +"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." + +They sat down on the low seat beside the dome windows. Overhead gleamed +the message of high courage, _Ad Astra Per Aspera_. Below was the +artistic beauty of the rotunda, where the evening shadows were +deepening. + +"We are higher than we were that other day. We care less for fighting as +we get farther up, maybe," Burgess said, pleasantly. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He rose hastily, for Burleigh, saying nothing, was looking at him with +wide-open brown eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. + +"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." + +He turned away and passed slowly down the rotunda stairs. + +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. + +"'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?" + +The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him "what of +Elinor." + +"The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. I must hunt up +Trench and then--" + +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. + +"Hello, Trench I he called as he reached the rotunda floor. I must see +you a minute." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Fenneben put a small package into Burleigh's hands. + +"Examine it here, if you care to. You can fasten the door when you +leave. Goodby!" and he was gone. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"The message inside!" He spread out the paper and read "the message +inside." + +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: + + +"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. + +"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. + +"Third. The girl you want to marry--go and marry. Do anything, good or +bad, to destroy Burgess. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +In the rotunda he met Trench, old Trench, slow of step but a lightning +calculator. + +"Where are you going?" he exclaimed, as he saw Vic's face. + +"I'm going to the whirlpool before I'm through," Vic said, hoarsely. + +Trench caught him in a powerful grip and shoved him to the foot of the +rotunda stairs. + +"No,-you re-not-going-to-the-whirlpool,"' he said, slowly. "You're +going up to the top of the dome right against that _Ad Astra per Aspera_ +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." + +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. + +Victor unbuttoned his cuff and slipped up his sleeve to the scar on his +arm. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + + + +SUPREMACY + + 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 + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + +_And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors_. + +ELINOR WREAM was standing at the gate as Victor Burleigh came striding +up the street. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Victor did not wait for another word. + +"I must find Bug right away. You can't think what he is to me, Elinor," +and he hurried away. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +At that moment the outlaw turned toward the door and leaped to his feet +as Vic sprang inside. + +Bug started up with outstretched arms. + +"Keep out of the way, Bug," Vic cried, as the two men clinched. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You first, and then the baby; I'll roast you both," Gresh hissed, and +Vic smelled the heat of the wood flame. + +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. + +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. + +Up to this time Vic had not spoken. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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: + +"Don't kill him, Vic. He's frough of fighting now. Don't hurt him no +more." + +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: + +"Fordive us our debts as we fordive our debtors." + +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. + +The cave darkened. A mist, half blood, half blindness, came before his +eyes, but clear to his ears there sounded the ringing words: + +"Vengeance is mine; I will repay!" + +It was the voice of Discipline calling to his better judgment, as Bug's +innocent pleading spoke to the finer man within him. + +Under his grip Gresh lay motionless, all power of resistance threshed +out of him. + +"Are you ready to quit?" Vic questioned, hoarsely, bending over the +almost lifeless form. + +The outlaw mumbled assent. + +"Then I'll let you live, you miserable wretch, and the courts will take +care of you." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Why?" Vic asked. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE DERELICTS + + _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_. + --WHITTIER + +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. + +"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." + +"I can trust you, Uncle Lloyd, to do just the right thing," Norrie +declared. + +The new line of sadness deepened in Lloyd Fenneben's face. + +"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." + +Elinor bent over her uncle and softly stroked the heavy black hair from +his forehead. + +"Here's where I help you most, then," she said, gently. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Most gladly," Elinor assured him. + +"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." + +Elinor's eyes were dewy with tears and she bent her head until her hair +touched his cheek. + +"I'll try to be good 'fornever,' as Bug Buler says," she murmured. + + +Over in the Saxon House on this same evening Vincent Burgess had come in +to see Dennie about some books. + +"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." + +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. + +"Dennie, I am going to be even more of a man than you asked me to be." + +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. + +"I must be going now. Good-night, Dennie." + +He shook hands and hurried away, but to the girl who was earning her +college education there was something in his handclasp, denied before. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"He thinks she will not care for him now," Fenneben said to himself. +Aloud he said: + +"Have you ever spoken directly to Elinor on this matter?" + +"N-no. It was an understanding between her and her uncle and between him +and me," Burgess replied. + +"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." + + +As Burgess rose to go his eye caught sight of the pigeons above the bend +in the river. + +"By the way, Doctor, have you ever found out anything about the woman +who used to live in that deserted place up north?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Lloyd Fenneben wondered at the sorrowful expression on the younger man's +face when he said this. + +As he left the study Victor Burleigh came in. + +"Sit down, Burleigh. What can I do for you?" Fenneben asked. + +Something like his own magnetism of presence was in the young man before +him. + +"I want to tell you something," Vic responded. + +"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." + +"I am glad to hear you say so, Dr. Fenneben. It makes my own freedom +sweeter," Vic declared. + +"Yes," Fenneben replied. "Your added means will bring you life's best +gift--opportunity." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Why don't you take the guardianship yourself, Burleigh? The boy is +yours in love and blood. He ought to be in law." + +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. + +"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." + +Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes blazed at the words. + +"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." + +Burleigh thought he understood, and the silent hand clasp pledged the +faith of the country boy to the teacher's wishes. + +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. + +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. + +On the night after the storm Professor Burgess stopped at the Saxon +House. + +"Where is your father, Dennie?" he asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Of course, if it is fair," Dennie replied, the pretty color blooming +deeper in her cheeks. + +"Oh, we go fair or foul. You remember we fought it out coming home from +there once." + +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. + +"What are you here for, Gresh?" Bond asked, hoarsely. "I thought you had +left for good." + +The villainous-looking outlaw drew a flask from his pocket. + +"Have a drink, Saxon. Take the whole bottle," and he thrust it into the +old man's hands. + +Bond wavered a moment, then flung it far into the foamy floods of the +Walnut. + +"Not any more. You shall not get me drunk again while you rob and kill." + +"You did the killing for me once. Won't you do it again?" Gresh snarled. + +Bond clinched his fists but did not strike. + +"What are you after now?" he asked. "You are through with the Burleighs; +Vic settled you and you know it." + +Even with the words the clutch of Vic's fingers on the outlaw's throat +seemed to choke him now. + +"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." + +Bond Saxon had been a huge fellow in his best days, and now he summoned +all the powers nature had left to him. + +"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." + +Strange forms the guardian angel takes! + +Hence we entertain it unawares. + +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. + +At last in the dim light, Gresh stood motionless a minute, then he +struck his parting blow. + +"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?" + +He leaped down the bank into the swiftly flowing river, and, swimming +easily to the farther side, he disappeared in the underbrush. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Your oath, Vincent; your oath!" he cried in agonizing tones. + +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. + +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.-------- + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE MASTERY + + _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_. + --KIPLING + +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. + +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. + +Presently Elinor joined him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Elinor, I'm not hunting a crowd tonight," Vic said in a low voice. + +"Well, come, anyway, and we'll hunt the solitude, if we can't hunt any +other game." And they strolled homeward together. + + +In the early evening Lloyd Fenneben and Elinor sat on the veranda +watching the sunset through the trees beyond the river. + +"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." + +He paused, and Elinor, thinking of the moonlight, maybe, waited in +peaceful silence. + +"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." + +Norrie smiled assent. + +"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." + +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. + +"And you and Sunrise?" she asked at length. + +"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." + +Elinor rose up, white and cold, and put her hand on her uncle's hand. + +"Let me think a little, Uncle Lloyd. It is not easy to realize one's +fortune in a minute." Then she left him. + +"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." + +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! + +"Don Fonnybone," Bug Buler piped, as he came trudging around the corner. +"I want to confessing." + +He came to Fenneben's side and looked up confidently in his face. + +"Well, confessing. I've just finished doing that myself," Fenneben said. + +"I did a bad, long ago. I want to go and confessing. Will you go with +me?" + +"Where shall we go to be shriven, Bug? + +"To Pigeon Place," Bug responded. "The Pigeon woman is there now. I saw +her coming, and I must go right away and confessing." + +"I'll go with you, Bug. I want to see that woman, anyhow," Fenneben +said. + +And the two went away in the early twilight of this rare June evening. + +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. + +Lloyd Fenneben lifted his hat, and little Bug imitated him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Even as she smiled at him, Dr. Fenneben noticed how her hand on the +lattice shook. + +"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. + +"Oh, Lloyd, Lloyd, on an evening like this, why do you come here?" + +The woman stood in the light now, a tragic figure of sorrow. And she was +not yet forty. + +Dr. Fenneben caught his breath and the light seemed to go out before +him. + +"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. + + +"Lots of folks spoons round the Saxon House, so I went away and lef +'em," Bug explained to Vic once afterward. + +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. + +"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. + +"And this little child brought you here at last. 'A little child shall +lead them,'" the woman murmured. + +"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--" + +A shriek cut the evening air and she who had been known as Mrs. Marian +lay in a faint at Fenneben's feet. + +"Tell me, Marian, what this means." + +Lloyd Fenneben had restored her to consciousness and she was resting, +white and trembling, in his arms. + +"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!" + +She nestled close in Dr. Fenneben's protecting arms, and shivered at the +thought. + +"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. + +"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!" + +And the lonely woman, overcome with joy, sat white and still beneath the +white moonbeams. + + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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: + +"Is you my own mother? Then, I'll love you fornever." + + +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. + +At the farther end, Vic said: + +"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?" + +"I can climb where you can, Victor," Elinor declared. + +"Dennie will never want to come here again. Poor Dennie!" + +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. + +"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. + +"Who told you all this, Elinor?" Victor asked. + +"Professor Burgess, when he showed me the diamond ring Dennie is to wear +tomorrow." + +"Dennie, a diamond! I'm glad for Dennie. Diamonds are fine to have," Vic +declared. + +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. + +"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." + +He looked at her in amazement. + +"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." + +"Norrie!" All the music of a soul poured into the music of the deep +voice. + +"Victor! There is no sacrifice in it. I wish there were, that I might +wear the honors you wear so modestly." + +"I, Elinor?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + + + +THE PARTING + + ... _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 + +COMMENCEMENT day at Sunrise was just one golden Kansas June day, when + +The heart is so full that a drop overfills it. + + +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. + +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. + + +"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." + + +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. + +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: + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAW RAH!!! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Master's Degree, by Margaret Hill McCarter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MASTER'S DEGREE *** + +***** This file should be named 1348.txt or 1348.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1348/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with OmniPage Professional OCR software + + + + + +A +Master's Degree + +By +Margaret Hill McCarter + + + + +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. + + + + +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 + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + THE MEETING + I. "DEAN FUNNYBONE" + II. POTTER'S CLAY + III. PIGEON PLACE + IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + V. THE STORM + VI. THE GAME + VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING + VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? + IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? + X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + XII. THE SILVER PITCHER + XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + XIV. THE DERELICTS + XV. THE MASTERY + THE PARTING + + + + +A MASTER'S DEGREE + + + +THE MEETING + + . . .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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +STRIFE + + _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!_ + --ELIZABETH D. PRESTON + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"DEAN FUNNYBONE" + + _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_.--LOWELL + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +Dean Fenneben listened as a man who hears the reading of his own obituary. + +"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." + +"All a man can do for Kansas!" Fenneben repeated slowly. + +"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?" + +The trustee waited for an answer. While he waited, the soul of the young +dean found itself. + +"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!" + +"You'll soon go to the devil, you and your old school. +Good-by!" And the trustee left him. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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--_*according to the measure +of a man_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II + +POTTER'S CLAY + + _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_. + --LONGFELLOW +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +He turned to a letter lying on the table beside him, a smile +playing about the frown on his countenance. + +"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." + +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!" + +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. + +"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." + +The bell above the south turret chimed the hour of three as Vincent Burgess +entered the study. + +"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." + +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. + +"We are to be co-workers for some time, Burgess. May I ask you +why you chose to come to Kansas?" + +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. + +"I came to study types, to acquire geographical breadth, to have seclusion, +that I may pursue more profound research." + +There was a play of light in Dr. Fenneben's eyes. + +"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." + +"What are Jayhawkers, Doctor?" Burgess queried. + +"Yonder is one specimen," Fenneben answered, pointing toward the window. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +Whether the young man liked this or not, he answered evenly: + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, I know," Dr. Fenneben said. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Dr. Fenneben's face was charming when he smiled. + +"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." + +There was a new light in Burgess's eyes at the mention of Elinor Wream's name. + +"Oh, yes, I know Miss Elinor very well. I shall need her more to make me +feel at home than she will need me." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"Please don't, Miss Elinor," Vincent Burgess urged. +"I shall be delighted to explore darkest Kansas with you +at any time." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Kill it! Kill it!" she cried, trying to force her slender white +parasol into his hand. + +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. + +"How did you ever dare?" Elinor asked. + +"Oh, he's not poison; he just doesn't belong up here." + +The bluntness of timidity was in Vic's answer, but the strength +and musical depth of his resonant voice was almost startling. + +"There is no Eden without a serpent, Miss Elinor," Professor Burgess +said lightly. + +"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. + +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. + +"What a wonderful voice, Vincent. It makes one want to hear +it again," Elinor exclaimed. + +"Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope +never to see it again," her companion responded. + +"But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me," Elinor insisted. + +"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." + +And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus +and on to the town beyond it. + +"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." + +"Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend +of mine," Vic replied. + +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. + +"Are you fond of killing things?" the Dean asked. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"It's as pretty as paradise," he said, simply. "There's nothing +like our Kansas prairies." + +"You come from the plains out west, I hear. How long do you plan +to stay here, Burleigh?" Dr. Fenneben asked. + +"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." + +"Who pays for your schooling, yourself, or your father?" Fenneben queried. + +"I have no father nor mother now." + +"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." + +"I'm willing to work, and I'd like to have the diploma for it," Vic answered. + +"Burleigh, did you notice the letter S carved in the stone above the door?" + +"Yes, sir; I suppose it stands for Sunrise?" + +"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." + +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. + +"His eyes and voice are all right," was the Dean's mental comment. +"There's good blood in his veins, I'll wager." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Who is your friend? Is he your brother?" asked the Dean. + +"No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, +except that his name is Buler. Bug Buler, he says." + +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, + +"Is you dood to Vic?" + +"Yes, indeed," replied the Dean. + +"Nen, I like you fornever," Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightly +that his checks puffed. + +"How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?" questioned Fenneben. + +"Because he's got nobody else to look after him," answered Vic. + +"How about an orphan asylum? + +Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, +and every feature of his stern face softened. + +"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." + +"Oh, no! Keep him if you want him. But would you mind telling +me about him?" + +"I'd rather not now," Burleigh said, quietly, and Lloyd Fenneben knew +when to drop a subject. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +He looked long at the landscape radiant under the level rays +of splendor streaming from the low afternoon sun. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III + +PIGEON PLACE + + _Strange is the wind and the tide, + The heavens eternally wide; + Less fathomed, this life at my side_. + --W. H. SIMPSON + +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: + + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAH! RAH!!! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?" he asked, presently. + +"I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books +in my daydreams," Dennie answered. + +"Where do you do your dreaming today?" + +"A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I must +make the cakes yet this morning," she answered. + +"Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?" +the Dean queried, smilingly. + +"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. + +"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. + +"That's generally the easy thing. What is it?" the Dean smiled. + +The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite to him. + +"Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?" she began. + +"The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman +lives alone with a fierce dog?" he asked. + +"Yes, you never heard anything more?" Dennie queried. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"That is very pitiful." Lloyd Fenneben's voice was sympathetic. + +"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." + +"All the interesting features. Did you mention Professor Burgess?" The query +was innocently meant, but it brought the color to Dennie Saxon's cheek. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it. + +"Where shall we go, Bug? I 'm hungry for somebody, too." + +"Let's do find the bunny the bid dod ist scared away this morning. +Turn on!" + +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. + +"I 's pitty tired," Bug said as the two reached the stone. +"Will we tum to the bunny's house pitty soon?" + +"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. + +"It was somewhere here the bunny runned." Little Bug studied the roadside +with a quaint puzzled face. "Is you 'faid of snakes?" + +"Not very much." The Dean's eyes were on the graceful flight +of pigeons circling about the trees beyond the bend. + +"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." + +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. + +The Dean gently placed the tired little one in an easy position, +and rested his shoulder against the tree. + +"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. + +A fuzzy gray rabbit flashed across the road, followed by a Great Dane +dog in hot chase. + +"Bug's bunny! I hope the big murderer will miss it," Fenneben thought. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"A woman never could whistle," he smiled, as he listened, +"but that call seems to do for the dog, all right." + +The Great Dane was tearing across lots in answer to the trill +of a woman's voice. + +"She is safe now. But what does it all mean? Is there a wayside +tragedy here that calls for my unraveling?" + +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. + +"Where's my Vic? Who's dot me?" he cried. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Behind the vine-covered gate a gray-haired, fair-faced woman +watched the two as they disappeared down the road. + +And the blood-red sun out on the west prairie sank swiftly +into a blue cloudbank, presaging the coming of a storm. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE KICKAPOO CORRAL + + _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_. + --JAMES W. STEELE + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +The tiger-light blazed in the eyes that flashed back at him, +as Vic cried daringly. + +"Oh, come on, Elinor; be a good Indian!" + +"Don't do it, Miss Wream," Vincent Burgess pleaded. + +Elinor looked from the one to the other, and the very magnetism +of power called her. + +"I mean to try, anyhow," she declared. "Will you pick me up +if I fall, Victor?" + +"Well, I wouldn't hardly go away and leave you to perish miserably," +Vic assured her, and they were off together. + +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. + +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. + +"What's the matter? Is my hair a fright?" she murmured. + +"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. + +"What's that scar on your left arm? It looks like a little hole +dug out," Elinor declared. + +Vic's brown sweater sleeve was pushed up to the elbow. + +"It is a little hole I put in where I dug out the flesh with a pocket knife," +he replied, carelessly. + +"Did you do that yourself?" Elinor cried. "What made you be so cruel?" + +"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. + +"Oh, tell me about it, do," Elinor urged. "You were killing +a snake the first time I saw you." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Look at that still place in the river, Victor. The ripples are all on +the farther side," Elinor said, looking pensively downstream. + +"Watch it a minute. Do you see that bit of drift coming upstream +in the still water?" Vic asked. + +"Why, the water does move; toward us, too, instead of down the river. +I'd like to boat around in that quiet place." + +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. + +"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." + +"Why?" Elinor looked up into his face. + +"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." + +"Why, that's awful," Elinor said, lightly, for she had no picture +of him engulfed in the slow-moving treachery below them. + +"There's an old Indian legend about that pool," Vic said, +staring down at the water. + +"Tell me about it." Elinor was breaking the twigs from a branch +of buck-berry growing beside her. + +"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." + +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. + +"What was the curse? I would n't want to go near that place, +unless you were with me." + +The very innocence of the words put a thrill in Vic Burleigh's +every pulse beat. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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: + + Victor Burleigh and Elinor Wream, + Better wake from Love's Young Dream, + Before the ants get into the cream. + +The beating of a dishpan drowned the chorus. Then down by the river +Dennie's soprano streamed out, + + The sun is sot, + The coffee's hot, + The supper's got. + What? + Yes! Got! + + +Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy base growled, + + Dennie is sad, + The eggs are bad; + The Professor's mad + At a College lad. + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + Come home! Come home! Come home! + + +"The Kickapoos are on the warpath. Let's go down and get into the running." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Aw-w-w!" a prolonged chorus. "Make your story long, Dennie; +make it lengthy." + +"Don't you do it, Dennie. I tell you this ground is shaking. +I feel it," Trench insisted. + +"Say, who's got the bromo-seltzer? The right guard's supper is n't treating +him right. Go ahead, Dennie," the crowd urged. + +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. + +"Once upon a time," Dennie began, + +there was a beautiful Kickapoo Indian maiden--" + +"Yep, any Kickapoo's a beaut. Hurry up, Dennie. I hear something coming." +It was the big lazy guard again. + +"Oh! Vic Burleigh, sit on his prostrate form. Go on, Dennie," +the company insisted, and she continued. + +"Her name was The Fawn of the Morning Light, her best lover was Swift Elk." + +"You be Mrs. Swift Elk--" but Vic Burleigh's arm about Trench's +throat choked his words. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STORM + + _Rock and moan, and roar alone, + And the dread of some nameless thing unknown_. + --LOWELL + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +Then above all the crashing and booming they heard Vic Burleigh's voice: + +"Every fellow take a girl and run for the ford. Come on!" + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +They were all safely across except Vic and Elinor, when Trench cried out: + +"Send your girl in quick, Burleigh, and you run west. +The flood is at the bend now. Hurry!" + +"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!" + +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: + +"It's too late. Don't try it. I've got to run." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In the shadows, beyond him, a form straightened up stupidly: + +"Shay, Profesh Burgush, that you?" + +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! + +"Shay! Is't you, or ain't it you? You gonna tell me?" +Old Bond queried. + +"This is Vincent Burgess," the young man replied. + +"Dennie home?" the father asked. + +"Yes, sir," came the curt answer. + +"Who? Who bring her home? Vic Burleigh?" + +"I brought her home. She is a good girl, too." + +In spite of himself, Burgess resented the shame of such a father +for the capable, happy-spirited daughter. + +"Yesh, Dennie's good girl, all right." + +Then a silence fell. + +Presently, the old man spoke again. + +"Shay, Prof esh, 'd ye mind doin' somethin' for me?" + +"What is it?" Burgess was by nature courteous. + +"If anything sh'd ever happen to me, 'd you take care +of Dennie? Shay, would you?" + +"If I could do anything for her, I would do it," the young man replied. + +"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!" + +Bond was standing now bending threateningly toward Burgess, +who had also risen. + +"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. + +"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. + +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: + +"I swear it!" + +"One more question, and you may go. You know that little boy +Vic Burleigh takes care of here?" + +The Professor had heard of him. + +"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." + +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. + +"Shay, where's Vic tonight?" + +"Across the river with Miss Wream. They were cut off by +the deep water," Vincent answered. + +A quick change from drunkenness to sober sense leaped into Bond Saxon's eyes. + +"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! + +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. + +"Where's Vic?" Bug demanded. + +"I don't know," Burgess answered. + +"Take me up, I'se told." Bug stretched up his arms appealingly, +and Burgess, who knew nothing of babies, awkwardly lifted him up. + +"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?" + +"Yes, little boy. We are all in trouble tonight." +Burgess had to say something. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + + +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. + +"We must climb the bluff again. Be a good Indian!" he cried, +groping for a footing. + +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. + +"Do you think you can ever get us out? she asked, as the limestone +ledge blocked the way. + +"Do you know what my mother named me?" The carelessness +of the tone was surprising. + +"Victor!" she replied. + +"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." + +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: + +"I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. +I feel safer here." + +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. + +In all this tumult, away to the northeast, the beacon light above +the Sunrise dome was cutting the darkness with a steady beam. + +"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." + +"Oh, what a comfort a light can be!" Elinor murmured as she looked +up and caught the welcome gleam. + +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. + +"We can't stay here and be threshed to pieces," Vic cried. +"This crack is drier, anyhow, and it must lead to somewhere." + +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. + +"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." + +"Slide down, Elinor. I'll catch you. It is n't very far, +and there's a little light somewhere." + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Elinor leaned wearily against the wall, wet and cold, and almost exhausted. + +"Let's wait a little, till this shower passes," she pleaded. + +"You poor girl! This has been an awful night," Vic said gently. + +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. + +"Let's go! Let's go!" she whispered, huddling close to her companion, +whose grip on her arm tightened. + +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. + +Victor Burleigh drew Elinor closer to him, and whispered low: + +"Don't be afraid with me to guard you." + +Even in that deep gloom, he caught the outline of a white face +with star-bright eyes lifted toward his face. + +"I'm not afraid with you," she whispered. + +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!" + +It was old Bond Saxon. + +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. + +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. + +"We made it in before midnight, anyhow," he said carelessly. + +Elinor looked up in surprise. The terrors of the night still possessed her. + +"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." + +Victor looked at her with a wonderful light in his wide-open brown eyes. + +"Yes," he said in a deep voice. "It will seem impossible when +daylight comes. But will it all be as a horrible nightmare?" + +"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." + +Burleigh turned hastily toward the door, and, having delivered +her to the care of her uncle, he bade them both good night. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE GAME + + _Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than + to ban; + Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man_. + --KIPLING + +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. + +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. + +"You seem immune from sickness, Miss Dennie," Burgess said one day as she +was putting the library in order. + +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. + +"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." + +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 fool-ishly 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. + +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. + +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. + +Bug was better now, and Vic was burning midnight oil in study, +for the hours of practice for the game were doubled. + +On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside. + +"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?" + +The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy black brows, +as Vic shut his white teeth tightly. + +"Count on me!" he said, and turning, he left the coach abruptly. + +"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." + +"Well, get rid of it once in a while, if you really do +know anything," Vic responded. + +"Say, you're nervous. Coach says you spend too much time in your nursery; +says you'd better get rid of that little kid." + +"Tell the coach to go to the devil!" Vic spoke savagely. + +"Say, Coach," Trench roared down from the hillslope, "Vic says +for you to go to the devil." + +"Wait till after tomorrow," the coach shouted back, "and I'll +take you fellows along if you don't do your best." + +"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." + +A sudden glow lighted Vic's stern face, and there was no savage +gleam in his eyes now. + +"Is Elinor well enough to come out tomorrow?" + +He had been caught unawares. Trench stared at him deliberately. + +"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." + +"What's the rest of your news?" Vic asked. + +"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!" + +"The coach is clever," Vic said carelessly. + +"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?" + +"Come down hard on him, and play anyhow." + +The grim jaw and black frown left no doubt as to Vic's purpose. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What's the matter?" + +"When will the freight be in?" + +"Merry Christmas!" + +So the crowd shouted. The songs were worn out, the yell-leaders +were exhausted, and the rooters were hoarse. + +"Where's Vic Burleigh?" somebody called, and a chorus followed: + +"Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home!" + +But Burleigh did not come. + +"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. + + +Meantime, as the teams were leaving their quarters early in the afternoon, +the coach said to Vic: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Small wonder that the very odor of roses was hateful to Burgess +at that moment. + +"May I speak to you a minute?" Vic said as the two men met in the rotunda. + +Burgess halted in silence. + +"The coach sent me after your statement of my standing. +We've got a bunch of sticklers to fight today." + +"I have turned in my report," Burgess responded coldly. + +"So the coach said, all but mine. I'm late. May I have my report now?" +Vic urged, trying to be composed. + +"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. + +"But you haven't given me any standing yet, the coach says." +Vic's voice was dead calm. + +"I have no standing to give you. You are below grade." + +Vic's eyes blazed. "You dog!" was all he could say. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Stop!" Vincent Burgess commanded. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +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, +"_Ad Astra per Aspera_." adorned the stained glass panes, +had never fallen on such a scene as this. + +"See here, Burleigh, you'll repent this unwarranted attack," +Burgess cried, trying to free himself. "Brute force will win +only among brutes." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back. + +"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. + + +Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with full +credentials for his place on the team. + +The last man to enter the grounds was evidently a tramp, +whose slouched hat half-concealed a dark bearded face. + +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: + +"Come, stay with me, Bug, till I can go in, too, and I'll buy you peanuts." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Funny folks turns to dames," Bug observed. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!" shrieked the yell-leader as Vic leaped +over the goal line and the rooters roared: + + The Sunrise hope! + And that's the dope! + Never quails! + Never fails! + Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"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: + +"Victor, Victor! Don't forget the name your mother gave you!" + +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! + + + +SACRIFICE + + _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_. + --ALICE CARY + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DAY OF RECKONING + + _Oh, it is excellent + To have a giant's strength, but tyrannous + To use it like a giant_. + --SHAKESPEARE + +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. + +The jollification following the game threatened to wreck the chapel +and crack the limestone ledge beneath it. + +"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." + +"I was never more alive in my life." Vic's voice and eyes +were alive enough. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"Oh, Elinor, you mercenary creature!" + +"What if he is a bit crude?" + +"I don't blame you. I'm daffy about Professor Burgess myself." + +"He's got the grandest voice, Vic has!" + +"I just adore Greek!" + +"I think Vic is splendid!" + +So the exclamations ran. + +"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?" + +"I certainly would. I couldn't help it." + +Norrie's eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink as peach blossoms. +To Vic she seemed exquisitely beautiful. + +"But now?" somebody queried. + +"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." + +And the girls scuttled away. + +Vic came in and sat down by the window through which one may find +an empire for the looking. + +"Burgess was right," he said to himself. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"I've come in to be sentenced," Vic replied. + +"Well, plead your case first." + +If ever a father-heart beat in a bachelor's breast, Lloyd Fenneben +had such a heart. + +"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." + +Fenneben's eyes were smiling. "Why didn't you knock him down and fight +it out with him?" + +"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. + +He knew he would not apologize, and he wanted the sentence of expulsion +to come quickly if it must come. + +"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." + +"What do you do with a fellow like me?" Vic looked curiously +at the Dean. + +"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." + +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! + +Vic sat looking thoughtfully at the man before him. + +"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. + +"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." + +Vic did not look proud of himself just then, and Lloyd Fenneben +knew it was one of life's crucial moments for the boy. + +"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." + +"You?" Vic's eyes widened. + +"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. + +"I wouldn't want to scrap with you, Dr. Fenneben," Vic stammered. + +"Why not?" + +"I am too much of a gentleman for that." + +"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. + +"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 cul-tured 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." + +Lloyd Fenneben grasped the boy's hand in a firm, assuring grip +and left him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Yes, I do, often," Dennie answered. + +"Why do you do this?" he queried. + +"To get my college education." Dennie smiled, hopefully. +"I like the nice things and nice ways of life. +So I'm working for them." + +"Elinor has all these without working for them," Vincent thought. + +Then for no reason at all his mind leaped to Dennie's father +and his own vow on the stormy night in October. + +"What would you do if your father were taken from you, +Miss Dennie?" he asked. + +"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. + +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. + +"Could you really take care of yourself? He was talking at random. + +"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. + +"How's that?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Thank you!" + +"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?" + +"Is that how I look? No, I didn't see her. I was n't at the game." + +"You weren't? Why not? You missed a wonderful thing." + +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. + +"Don't you think the young ruffian was pretty hard on me?" he asked. + +"No, I don't," Dennie said, frankly. "I think you were pretty +hard on him." + +A sudden resolve seized Burgess. He came around to Dennie's side +of the table. + +"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--" + +"Yes, I understand," Dennie said, with downcast eyes. + +"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." + +"Was my father quite himself then?" Dennie asked. + +"Not quite," Burgess replied. + +"Listen to him some day when he is. He is another man then. But," she added, +"I know you mean well." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +LOSS, OR GAIN? + + _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_. + --CARY + +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. + +"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. + +"No, I want to be with you, Uncle Lloyd." + +She was sitting on the arm of his morris chair, softly stroking +his heavy hair away from his forehead. + +"Looks like it, the way you hurried back," Dr. Fenneben said, smiling. + +"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?" + +"You have just said why," her uncle answered her. + +"Why did n't you ever marry. Were you ever in love?" + +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. + +"Yes, I was in love once. I did n't marry because--because--I didn't." + +"How romantic! Was it unrequited, or money, or what?" +Norrie asked, eagerly. + +"Or what," he answered, and her finer sense made her change the subject. + +"Say, Uncle Lloyd, Uncle Joshua says he wants me to marry." + +"What's he up to now? Tell me about it." + +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. + +"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." + +"Do you want to marry him?" Fenneben asked. + +"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." + +"He'll wait all right, if he wants you, Norrie. He must wait +until you graduate," the Dean declared. + +"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. + +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 ab-stract 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"You are a--well, any kind of a smooth citizen, I say," he repeated. + +"What's troubling your liver now?" Vic asked. + +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--" + +A sudden clutch on Trench's arm, the blaze of the old-time fury +in burning eyes, as Vic's hoarse voice cried: + +"For God's sake, Trench, get out of my sight!" + +"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." + +But Vic was out of hearing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Presently Elinor Wream came around the north angle of the building, +hesitated a little, then walked straight to the steps. + +"Good afternoon, Victor," she said. + +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. + +"Hello, Elinor," Vic said, calmly, making room for her on the stone steps. +"Take a seat." + +Elinor sat down beside him, throwing her hat on the ground. + +"Whither away?" Vic asked. + +"I'll tell you presently. I want to get over my stage fright first." + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Friday, the thirteenth--auspicious date!" he answered. +"But I may not play in it. I might fail." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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'." + +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. + +"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." + +"Command me!" he said, gallantly. + +"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." + +"All right." Vic was waiting, graciously. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Do you really mind going with me, Victor?" Elinor asked. + +"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. + +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. + +Down on the bridge they stopped to watch the sunlit waters of the Walnut +rippling below them. + +"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. + +"I've had no reincarnation that I know of," Vic replied. + +"I have," Elinor declared, and Vic thought of Burgess. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I have never once forgotten it," he murmured. + +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. + +"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." + +He was leaning far through the opening in the wall, gazing into the darkness +and seeing nothing. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"We were pretty close that night," Elinor replied. + +"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. + +"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. + +Far away from the west prairie came the faint note of a child's +voice in song. + +"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?" + +"I know I'm a stingy cuss," Vic said, carelessly, but a deeper +red touched his cheek. + +"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." + +Burleigh looked down at her gratefully. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You? I didn't know you had ever wanted anything you did n't get." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Burleigh paused, and a sense of Elinor's interest brought a thrill +of joy to him. + +"Where was he?" she asked. + +Vic slowly unfastened his cuff and slipped his coat sleeve up +to his elbow. + +"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." + +A little! Could this be the big awkward freshman of a September day gone by? +Then college culture is surely worth the cost. + +Elinor leaned forward, eagerly. + +"Tell me about your father," she said. + +"My father lost his life because he dared to tell the truth," Victor replied. + +"Oh, glorious!" Elinor cried, earnestly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Burleigh's face was grim as he answered: + +"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. + +"Am I presentable for the supper at the Kickapoo Corral?" +she asked, as she picked up her hat again. + +"You suit me," Burleigh replied. "What are the Kickapoo requirements?" + +"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." + +"Four, individually or collectively?" he asked. + +"Either way," she answered. + +"Why did n't you let them do it? + +"Which way?" + +"Either way," he replied. + +"Would you rather have had the four either way, than me?" +she questioned, with pretty vanity. + +"Much rather." His voice was stern. + +"Why?" She was stung by the answer. + +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. + +"Why?" + +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. + +"Do you know why? + +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. + +"Let me hold them a minute," he said, softly. "There are sixty +years to remember, but only one hour like this." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly a faint piping voice floated in upon the glen: + + Little childwen pwessing near + To the feet of Thwist, the Ting, + Have you neiver doubt nor fear + Or some twibute do you bwing? + + +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. + +"I ist followed you, Vic," Bug said, clutching Vic's hand. + +"This is n't a safe place to come, Bug. You must n't follow me here." + +"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. + +"He is right," Elinor said. "I think we'd better leave now." + +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. + +"I know a way out," Bug declared. Turn, I'll show you." + +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. + +"Tlimb up that and you're out," Bug declared. + +They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward +from the Walnut bluffs. + +"Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. +I turn wiv Limpy out here." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Elinor looked thoughtfully at the slow-moving water. + +"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." + +How delicious to have her confidence in anything. +Vic smiled assent. + +"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." + +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. + +"Elinor," he asked, suddenly, "are you bound by any promise-- +has Professor Burgess--?" He hesitated. + +"No," she answered, turning her face away. + +"Pardon my rudeness. You know I am not well-bred," he said, gently. + +"Victor Burleigh, you ill-bred, of all the gentle, manly fellows +in Sunrise! You know you are not." + +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. + +"Elinor." Vic's voice was sweet as low bars of music. + +"Oh, Victor, there's something I can't prevent." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I may not be worthy of victory," he said, sadly. + +"You have never been unworthy. Don't be now." She smiled bravely. + +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. + +And the day with its gladness and sorrow, whether for loss or gain, +slipped into the shadowy beauty of an April twilight. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GAIN, OR LOSS? + + _Ye know how hard an Idol dies, an' what that meant + to me-- + E'en take it for a sacrifice, acceptable to Thee_. + --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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Too bad!" Dennie said sympathetically. + +"I'll tell you all about it sometime." + +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. + +"I'll be your rain beau." He took her arm to assist her down the steps. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Victor Burleigh, won't you release the fair princess from the tower?" +a girl's voice called. + +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. + +"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. + +"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 _per aspera_ out of the State Seal and come down through the hole, +_per astra ad aspera_." And then he rushed off to find an unlocked +exit to the building. + +From the Chapel end of the circular stairs, he called presently. + +"Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds. +Rise to the surface, fair mermaid." + +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. + +"When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy, +call me, Elinor," Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +As night deepened, the rain fell steadily. Up in Victor Burleigh's +room Bug Buler grew drowsy early. + +"I want to say my pwayers now, Vic," he said. + +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: + +"Dear Dod, please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is, +for Thwist's sake. Amen-n-n." + +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. + +"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?" + +Ten minutes later he sat in Lloyd Fenneben's library. + +"I have come for help," he said in reply to the Dean's questioning face. + +"I hope I can give it," Fenneben responded. + +"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. + +"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. + +"What do you think of such playing, Doctor?" Vic asked. + +"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. + +Burleigh's face was very pale and a strange fire burned in his eyes. + +"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?" + +The words were shot out like bullets. + +"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." + +Burleigh sat still as stone, his face white as marble, his wide-open eyes +under his black brows seeing nothing. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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! + +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. + +"Look out! There's a stone; don't stumble!" he said hoarsely, +dodging back as he spoke. + +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: + +"Now for Josh Wream, and--" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Certainly," Vincent Burgess said with equal grace. + +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. + +"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." + +Professor Burgess wondered again, why a boy like Burleigh should have been +given a voice of such rare charm. + +"I will not keep you long," Vic said, turning from Bug. "I cannot play +in tomorrow's game, and be a man." + +Then, briefly, he explained the reason. + +"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." + +"Good night," Vincent Burgess said hoarsely, and plunged into the darkness +and the rain. + +Ten steps from the Saxon House, he came plump into Bond Saxon, +who staggered a little to avoid him. + +"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." + +But Bond Saxon was never more sober in his life, and he clutched +the young man's arm eagerly. + +"Professor Burgess, won't you help me!" he cried. + +"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. + +"Come help me save a man's life!" Bond urged. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"What can I do?" Burgess asked. "I'm not a policeman." + +"Come on! Come on!" Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. +"It 's a life, I tell you." + +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: + +"Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care +of Dennie if anything should happen to me?" + +"Do YOU remember it?" Burgess responded. "You didn't ask; you demanded." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? +I believe you are drunk." + +Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely: + +"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!" + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH + + _O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, + name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!_ + --SHAKESPEARE + +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. + +"And meantime?" he said, looking up at Elinor. + +"Yes, meantime, it's June time," Elinor replied. + +"Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we--" + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Good! Now, tell me of `beforehand.' " His smile was as charming as ever. + +"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." + +She bent over him and softly caressed his hand. + +"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." + +"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." + +"When did you see her?" Fenneben asked. + +"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." + +"And the one-armed man I seemed to remember?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"Tell me about the ball game," Fenneben said next. + +"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." + +"And the students, generally?" Dr. Fenneben questioned. + +"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." + +"Oh, yes; Trench is a hero and I've known about that whole thing +for a long while," the Dean asserted. "And Victor Burleigh?" + +A shadow in the beautiful dark eyes, a half-tone lowering of the voice, +and a general indifference of manner, as Elinor answered: + +"I'm sure I don't know anything about him, except that he's coming +back next year." + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +For a little while the old man looked away through the study window +at the prairie empire to be found for the looking. + +"Do you see that little twist of blue smoke over west?" +he queried presently. + +"What of it?" Burgess asked. + +"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!" + +Old Bond looked up appealingly, and the pitiful face touched Burgess' heart. + +"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." + +"Professor, I have asked you twice if you'd be good to Dennie--" + +"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." + +"I will"--it seemed an heroic resolve--"I asked this for Dennie, +because my own life is never safe." + +"So you have said. Why not?" Burgess insisted. +There was no way to evade the question now. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"Nobody would call you bad. You are a lovable man when you-- +keep straight," Burgess declared cordially. + +"I graduated from the university back in the sixties," +Bond went on. + +"You!" Burgess exclaimed. + +"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." + +Saxon paused, and the professor waited. + +"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." + +Burgess started and his face grew pale. + +"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." + +"The Wreams!" Burgess exclaimed. + +"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." + +"Go on!" Vincent's voice was hardly audible. + +"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." + +"Did she marry the one she really cared for?" Burgess asked eagerly. + +"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." + +Saxon paused and looked once more at the tiny wavering smoke column, +hardly visible now. + +"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." + +Saxon gazed long at the landscape beyond the Walnut. When he spoke again, +it was with an effort. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I certainly would never bring harm to you nor yours," +he said kindly. + +"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." + +The anguish on the old man's face was pitiful as he spoke. + +"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." + +He hesitated, then ceased to speak. + +"Why the Dean?" Burgess asked. + +"Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks +wouldn't let her marry," Bond Saxon said sadly. + +Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him. + +"Where is she now?" + +She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come back," +the old man replied. + +"And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?" + +"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. + +"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. + +Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word--"Dennie!" + +Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie. + +"This woman had a husband, you say?" he asked presently. + +Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head. + +"What became of him? Do you know? Vincent questioned. + +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," + + + +SERVICE + + _If you were born to honor, show + it now; + if put upon you, make the judgment + good that thought you + worthy of it_. + --SHAKESPEARE + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SINS OF THE FATHERS + + _They enslave their children's children who make + compromise with sin_. + --LOWELL + +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: + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!! + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Elinor, of all people in the world, the very last. +She shall never know, never!" So he answered the inward questioner. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"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. + + +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. + +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. + +"I beg your pardon, Elinor. Dr. Fenneben sent for me." + +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. + +"And God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning +were the fourth day," Victor said at last. + +"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." + +"It is well to grow rich in something," Victor said, +half-earnestly, half-carelessly. + +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. + +"Is n't Dennie a darling? Elinor said calmly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + + 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. + + +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. + +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. + +"You are a brick, Trench," he said, as the upper stairway door swung open +to release him. + +"You've the whole chimney," Trench responded, as he swung himself away. + +Dr. Fenneben met Elinor in the rotunda. + +"Wait a minute, Norrie, and I'll walk home with you." + +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. + +"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." + +And Burleigh wondered much what "some matters" might be. + +When Professor Burgess left Dennie he said, lightly: + +"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." + +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. + +When Burgess returned to the Saxon House later in the evening, +he met Bond Saxon at the door. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Yes, for Dennie's sake--" Bond looked imploringly at Burgess. + +"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?" + +"Me! A criminal! Do you know what that kind of slavery is?" +Saxon whispered. + +"Almost," Burgess answered, but the old man did not catch his meaning. + +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. + +"Dennie," he said, plunging into his purpose at once. +"I come to you because I need a friend and you are tempered steel." + +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. + +"What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?" she asked. + +"Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me." + +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. + +"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." + +Dennie looked up with a sorrowful face. + +"Yes, but think of what he might do. You don't know what dreadful things +he has done--" + +"Yes, I do. He told me himself the very worst. I'll never +betray him, Dennie. His punishment is heavy enough." + +Burgess laid his hand on her dimpled hand in token of sincerity. + +"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." + +Burgess paused. Dennie's interest and sympathy made her silent +company a comfort. + +"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." + +Dennie looked up, questioningly. + +"Yes, to Elinor's uncle, as unlike Dr. Fenneben as night and day." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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? + +"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?" + +"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. + +"What is wrong, then?" she asked. "Is Elinor unwilling?" + +"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." + +"Of course," Dennie echoed. + +"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?" + +"Well?" Dennie's mind was jumping to the end. + +"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." + +Vincent Burgess suddenly ceased speaking and looked at Dennie. + +"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. + +"When did this Dr. Wream find out about Vic?" Dennie asked. + +"A month ago. Some strange-looking tramp of a fellow brought +him proofs that are incontestable," Burgess replied. + +"And it is for an old man's peace you would keep this secret?" +Dennie questioned. + +"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?" + +He rose to his feet and Dennie stood up before him. +He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. + +"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." + +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: + +"I cannot play in tomorrow's game and be a man." + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SILVER PITCHER + + _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_. + --WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH + +"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. + +"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. + +Burgess was growing almost stalwart in this gracious climate. + +"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. + +"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." + +"You are a wonderful man, Doctor," Burgess said. + +"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." + +"Where's the other place?" Burgess would change the subject. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Let's go walking, you and me!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Let's we go see the pigeons," Bug suggested, tossing his ball +in his hands. + +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. + +"Oh, tum! tum!" he cried. "Such a pretty picture frame and vase +on the table." + +He was nearly five years old now, but in his excitement he still used +baby language, as he pulled eagerly at Vincent Burgess' coat. + +"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. + +At the gateway he lifted Bug in his arms. + +He was not yet at ease with children. + +"I dropped my ball," Bug said. "Let me det it." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +Bug looked up confidingly. + +"I ist say, `Dod, be merciless to me, a sinner'." + +"Why not merciful, Bug?" + +"Tause! If He's merciful it's too easy and I'm no dooder," +Bug said, wisely. + +"Who told you the difference?" Burgess asked. + +"Vic. He knows a lot. I wish I had my ball, but let's go up the river." + +"Out of the mouths of babes," Burgess murmured and hugged the little +one close to him. + + +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. + +"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." + +The sound of footsteps on the rotunda stairs made him turn to see +Vincent Burgess just reaching the little balcony of the dome. + +"I've come to have a word with you up here," he said. +"We met once before in this rotunda." + +"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." + +It was the only apology Vic had ever offered to Burgess, +who accepted it as all that he deserved. + +"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." + +They sat down on the low seat beside the dome windows. Overhead gleamed +the message of high courage, _Ad Astra Per Aspera_. Below was the artistic +beauty of the rotunda, where the evening shadows were deepening. + +"We are higher than we were that other day. We care less for fighting +as we get farther up, maybe," Burgess said, pleasantly. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He rose hastily, for Burleigh, saying nothing, was looking +at him with wide-open brown eyes that seemed to look straight +into his soul. + +"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." + +He turned away and passed slowly down the rotunda stairs. + +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. + +" `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?" + +The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him +"what of Elinor." + +"The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. +I must hunt up Trench and then--" + +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. + +"Hello, Trench I he called as he reached the rotunda floor. +I must see you a minute." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Fenneben put a small package into Burleigh's hands. + +"Examine it here, if you care to. You can fasten the door when you leave. +Goodby!" and he was gone. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"The message inside!" He spread out the paper and read "the message inside." + +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: + + +"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. + +"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. + +"Third. The girl you want to marry--go and marry. Do anything, +good or bad, to destroy Burgess. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +In the rotunda he met Trench, old Trench, slow of step but +a lightning calculator. + +"Where are you going?" he exclaimed, as he saw Vic's face. + +"I'm going to the whirlpool before I'm through," Vic said, hoarsely. + +Trench caught him in a powerful grip and shoved him to the foot +of the rotunda stairs. + +"No,-you re-not-going-to-the-whirlpool,"' he said, slowly. +"You're going up to the top of the dome right against that _Ad Astra +per Aspera_ 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." + +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. + +Victor unbuttoned his cuff and slipped up his sleeve to the scar +on his arm. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + + + +SUPREMACY + + 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 + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE + +_And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors_. + +ELINOR WREAM was standing at the gate as Victor Burleigh came +striding up the street. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Victor did not wait for another word. + +"I must find Bug right away. You can't think what he is to me, Elinor," +and he hurried away. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +At that moment the outlaw turned toward the door and leaped to his feet +as Vic sprang inside. + +Bug started up with outstretched arms. + +"Keep out of the way, Bug," Vic cried, as the two men clinched. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You first, and then the baby; I'll roast you both," Gresh hissed, +and Vic smelled the heat of the wood flame. + +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. + +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. + +Up to this time Vic had not spoken. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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: + +"Don't kill him, Vic. He's frough of fighting now. +Don't hurt him no more." + +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: + +"Fordive us our debts as we fordive our debtors." + +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. + +The cave darkened. A mist, half blood, half blindness, came before his eyes, +but clear to his ears there sounded the ringing words: + +"Vengeance is mine; I will repay!" + +It was the voice of Discipline calling to his better judgment, +as Bug's innocent pleading spoke to the finer man within him. + +Under his grip Gresh lay motionless, all power of resistance threshed +out of him. + +"Are you ready to quit?" Vic questioned, hoarsely, bending over +the almost lifeless form. + +The outlaw mumbled assent. + +"Then I'll let you live, you miserable wretch, and the courts +will take care of you." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Why?" Vic asked. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE DERELICTS + + _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_. + --WHITTIER + +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. + +"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." + +"I can trust you, Uncle Lloyd, to do just the right thing," Norrie declared. + +The new line of sadness deepened in Lloyd Fenneben's face. + +"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." + +Elinor bent over her uncle and softly stroked the heavy black +hair from his forehead. + +"Here's where I help you most, then," she said, gently. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Most gladly," Elinor assured him. + +"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." + +Elinor's eyes were dewy with tears and she bent her head until her hair +touched his cheek. + +"I'll try to be good `fornever,' as Bug Buler says," she murmured. + + +Over in the Saxon House on this same evening Vincent Burgess had come +in to see Dennie about some books. + +"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." + +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. + +"Dennie, I am going to be even more of a man than you asked me to be." + +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. + +"I must be going now. Good-night, Dennie." + +He shook hands and hurried away, but to the girl who was earning her college +education there was something in his handclasp, denied before. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"He thinks she will not care for him now," Fenneben said to himself. +Aloud he said: + +"Have you ever spoken directly to Elinor on this matter?" + +"N-no. It was an understanding between her and her uncle and between him +and me," Burgess replied. + +"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." + + +As Burgess rose to go his eye caught sight of the pigeons above +the bend in the river. + +"By the way, Doctor, have you ever found out anything about the woman +who used to live in that deserted place up north?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Lloyd Fenneben wondered at the sorrowful expression on the younger +man's face when he said this. + +As he left the study Victor Burleigh came in. + +"Sit down, Burleigh. What can I do for you?" Fenneben asked. + +Something like his own magnetism of presence was in the young +man before him. + +"I want to tell you something," Vic responded. + +"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." + +"I am glad to hear you say so, Dr. Fenneben. It makes my own +freedom sweeter," Vic declared. + +"Yes," Fenneben replied. "Your added means will bring you life's +best gift--opportunity." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Why don't you take the guardianship yourself, Burleigh? The boy +is yours in love and blood. He ought to be in law." + +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. + +"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." + +Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes blazed at the words. + +"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." + +Burleigh thought he understood, and the silent hand clasp pledged +the faith of the country boy to the teacher's wishes. + +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. + +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. + +On the night after the storm Professor Burgess stopped at the Saxon House. + +"Where is your father, Dennie?" he asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Of course, if it is fair," Dennie replied, the pretty color blooming +deeper in her cheeks. + +"Oh, we go fair or foul. You remember we fought it out coming home +from there once." + +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. + +"What are you here for, Gresh?" Bond asked, hoarsely. +"I thought you had left for good." + +The villainous-looking outlaw drew a flask from his pocket. + +"Have a drink, Saxon. Take the whole bottle," and he thrust it +into the old man's hands. + +Bond wavered a moment, then flung it far into the foamy floods +of the Walnut. + +"Not any more. You shall not get me drunk again while you rob and kill." + +"You did the killing for me once. Won't you do it again?" Gresh snarled. + +Bond clinched his fists but did not strike. + +"What are you after now?" he asked. "You are through with +the Burleighs; Vic settled you and you know it." + +Even with the words the clutch of Vic's fingers on the outlaw's +throat seemed to choke him now. + +"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." + +Bond Saxon had been a huge fellow in his best days, and now he summoned +all the powers nature had left to him. + +"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." + +Strange forms the guardian angel takes! + +Hence we entertain it unawares. + +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. + +At last in the dim light, Gresh stood motionless a minute, +then he struck his parting blow. + +"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?" + +He leaped down the bank into the swiftly flowing river, and, swimming easily +to the farther side, he disappeared in the underbrush. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Your oath, Vincent; your oath!" he cried in agonizing tones. + +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. + +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.-------- + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE MASTERY + + _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_. + --KIPLING + +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. + +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. + +Presently Elinor joined him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Elinor, I'm not hunting a crowd tonight," Vic said in a low voice. + +"Well, come, anyway, and we'll hunt the solitude, if we can't +hunt any other game." And they strolled homeward together. + + +In the early evening Lloyd Fenneben and Elinor sat on the veranda +watching the sunset through the trees beyond the river. + +"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." + +He paused, and Elinor, thinking of the moonlight, maybe, +waited in peaceful silence. + +"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." + +Norrie smiled assent. + +"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." + +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. + +"And you and Sunrise?" she asked at length. , + +"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." + +Elinor rose up, white and cold, and put her hand on her uncle's hand. + +"Let me think a little, Uncle Lloyd. It is not easy to realize +one's fortune in a minute." Then she left him. + +"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." + +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! + +"Don Fonnybone," Bug Buler piped, as he came trudging around the corner. +"I want to confessing." + +He came to Fenneben's side and looked up confidently in his face. + +"Well, confessing. I've just finished doing that myself," Fenneben said. + +"I did a bad, long ago. I want to go and confessing. +Will you go with me?" + +"Where shall we go to be shriven, Bug? + +"To Pigeon Place," Bug responded. "The Pigeon woman is there now. +I saw her coming, and I must go right away and confessing." + +"I'll go with you, Bug. I want to see that woman, anyhow," Fenneben said. + +And the two went away in the early twilight of this rare June evening. + +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. + +Lloyd Fenneben lifted his hat, and little Bug imitated him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Even as she smiled at him, Dr. Fenneben noticed how her hand +on the lattice shook. + +"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. + +"Oh, Lloyd, Lloyd, on an evening like this, why do you come here?" + +The woman stood in the light now, a tragic figure of sorrow. +And she was not yet forty. + +Dr. Fenneben caught his breath and the light seemed to go out before him. + +"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. + + +"Lots of folks spoons round the Saxon House, so I went away and lef +'em," Bug explained to Vic once afterward. + +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. + +"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. + +"And this little child brought you here at last. +`A little child shall lead them,' " the woman murmured. + +"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--" + +A shriek cut the evening air and she who had been known as Mrs. Marian +lay in a faint at Fenneben's feet. + +"Tell me, Marian, what this means." + +Lloyd Fenneben had restored her to consciousness and she was resting, +white and trembling, in his arms. + +"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!" + +She nestled close in Dr. Fenneben's protecting arms, and shivered +at the thought. + +"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. + +"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!" + +And the lonely woman, overcome with joy, sat white and still +beneath the white moonbeams. + + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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: + +"Is you my own mother? Then, I'll love you fornever." + + +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. + +At the farther end, Vic said: + +"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?" + +"I can climb where you can, Victor," Elinor declared. + +"Dennie will never want to come here again. Poor Dennie!" + +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. + +"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. + +"Who told you all this, Elinor?" Victor asked. + +"Professor Burgess, when he showed me the diamond ring Dennie +is to wear tomorrow." + +"Dennie, a diamond! I'm glad for Dennie. Diamonds are fine +to have," Vic declared. + +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. + +"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." + +He looked at her in amazement. + +"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." + +"Norrie!" All the music of a soul poured into the music of the deep voice. + +"Victor! There is no sacrifice in it. I wish there were, +that I might wear the honors you wear so modestly." + +"I, Elinor?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + + + +THE PARTING + + . . . _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 + +COMMENCEMENT day at Sunrise was just one golden Kansas June day, when + +The heart is so full that a drop overfills it. + + +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. + +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. + + +"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." + + +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. + +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: + + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + Rah for Funnybone! + _Rah!_ RAW RAH!!! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext A Master's Degree, by Margaret McCarter + diff --git a/old/old/amsdg10.zip b/old/old/amsdg10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6f6963 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/amsdg10.zip |