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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Varmint, by Owen Johnson and F. R. Gruger
+
+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: The Varmint
+
+Author: Owen Johnson
+        F. R. Gruger
+
+Release Date: May 1, 2008 [EBook #25272]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VARMINT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Roberta Staehlin and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from scans of public domain material
+produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Varmint
+
+[Illustration]
+
+OWEN JOHNSON
+
+
+
+  The Varmint
+
+  By OWEN JOHNSON
+
+  Author of "The Prodigious Hickey," "Stover at Yale,"
+  "The Humming Bird," "Tennessee Shad," etc.
+
+  WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
+  BY F. R. GRUGER
+
+  A. L. BURT COMPANY
+  PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY
+
+  _Published, July, 1910_
+
+  THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+  TO
+
+  Alexander Lambert, M.D.
+
+  IN FRIENDSHIP, IN GRATITUDE, AND IN MEMORY OF MY WIFE.
+
+
+
+THE VARMINT
+
+[Illustration: "LIKE MY JIBS?" SAID STOVER]
+
+
+
+
+THE VARMINT
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+When young Stover disembarked at the Trenton station on the fourth day
+after the opening of the spring term he had acquired in his brief
+journey so much of the Pennsylvania rolling stock as could be detached
+and concealed. Inserted between his nether and outer shirts were two
+gilt "Directions to Travelers" which clung like mustard plasters to
+his back, while a jagged tin sign, wrenched from the home terminal,
+embraced his stomach with the painful tenacity of the historic Spartan
+fox. In his pockets were objects--small objects but precious and
+dangerous to unscrew and acquire.
+
+Being forced to wait, he sat now, preternaturally stiff, perched on a
+heap of trunks, clutching a broken dress-suit case which had been
+re-enforced with particolored strings.
+
+There was about young Stover, when properly washed, a certain air of
+cherubim that instantly struck the observer; his tousled tow hair had
+a cathedral tone, his cheek was guileless and his big blue eyes had an
+upward cast toward the angels which, as in the present moment when he
+was industriously exchanging a check labeled Baltimore to a trunk
+bound for Jersey City, was absolutely convincing. But from the limit
+whence the cherub continueth not the imp began. His collar was
+crumpled and smutty with the descent of many signs, a salmon-pink
+necktie had quarreled with a lavender shirt and retreated toward one
+ear, one cuff had broken loose and one sulked up the sleeve. His green
+serge pockets bulged in every direction, while the striped
+blue-and-white trousers, already outgrown, stuck to the knees and
+halted short of a pair of white socks that in turn disappeared into a
+pair of razor-pointed patent-leathers.
+
+Young Stover's career at Miss Wandell's Select Academy for boys and
+girls had been a tremendous success, for it had ended in a frank
+confession on Miss Wandell's part that her limited curriculum was
+inadequate for the abnormal activities of dangerous criminals.
+
+As Stover completed the transfer of the last trunk-checks the stage
+for Lawrenceville plodded cumbrously up, and from the box Jimmy hailed
+him.
+
+"Eh, there, young Sporting Life, bound for Lawrenceville? Step
+lively."
+
+Stover swung up, gingerly pushing ahead of him the battered bag.
+
+"Lawrenceville?" said the driver, looking at it suspiciously.
+
+"Right the first time."
+
+"What house?"
+
+"Oh, the Green will be good enough for me."
+
+"Well, tuck in above."
+
+"Thanks, I'll cuddle here," said Stover, slipping into the seat next
+to him, "just to look over the way you handle the ribbons and see if I
+approve."
+
+Jimmy, connoisseur of new arrivals, glanced behind at the only other
+passenger, a man of consular mould, and then looked at Stover in
+sardonic amusement.
+
+"Don't look at me like that, old Sport," said Stover impressively;
+"I've driven real coaches, sixteen horses, rip-snorters, and all that
+sort of thing."
+
+Jimmy, having guided the placid animals through the labyrinths of
+Trenton, gave them the rein on the long highway that leads to
+Lawrenceville and turned to examine Stover with new relish.
+
+"Say, Bub," he said at length, "you're goin' to have a great time at
+this little backwoods school--you're going to enjoy yourself."
+
+"Think I'm fresh, eh?"
+
+"Fresh?" said Jimmy thoughtfully. "Why, fresh ain't at all the word."
+
+"Well, I can take care of myself."
+
+"What did they fire you for?" said Jimmy, touching up the horses.
+
+"Who said they fired me?" said Stover, surprised.
+
+"Well, what was it?" said Jimmy, disdaining an explanation.
+
+"They fired me," said Stover, hesitating a moment--"they fired me for
+trying to kill a man."
+
+"You don't say so!"
+
+"I drew a knife on him," said Stover rapidly. "I'd 'a' done for him,
+too, the coward, if they hadn't hauled me off."
+
+At this there was a chuckle from the passenger behind who said with
+great solemnity:
+
+"Dear me, dear me, a dreadful state of affairs--quite thrilling."
+
+"I saw red, everything--everything red," said Stover, breathing hard.
+
+"What had he done to you?" said Jimmy, winking at Mr. Hopkins, alias
+Lucius Cassius, alias The Roman, master of the Latin line and
+distinguished flunker of boys.
+
+"He insulted my--my mother."
+
+"Your mother?"
+
+"She--she's dead," said Stover in a stage voice he remembered.
+
+At this Jimmy and Mr. Hopkins stopped, genuinely perplexed, and looked
+hard at Stover.
+
+"You don't mean it! Dear me," said The Roman, hesitating before a
+possible blunder.
+
+"It was long ago," said Stover, thrilling with the delight of
+authorship. "She died in a ship-wreck to save me."
+
+The Roman was nonplussed. There was always the possibility that the
+story might be true.
+
+"Ah, she gave her life to save yours, eh?" he said encouragingly.
+
+"Held my head above water, breeches buoy and all that sort of thing,"
+said Stover, remembering something in Dickens. "I was the only one
+saved, me and the ship's cat."
+
+"Well, well," said The Roman, with a return of confidence; "and your
+father--is he alive?"
+
+"Yes," said Stover, considering the distant woods; "but--but we don't
+speak of him."
+
+"Ah, pardon me," said The Roman, gazing on him with wonder. "Painful
+memories--of course, of course. And what happened to your brother?"
+
+Stover, perceiving the note of skepticism, turned and looked The Roman
+haughtily in the face, then, turning to Jimmy, he said in a half
+whisper:
+
+"Who's the old buck, anyhow?"
+
+Jimmy stiffened on the box as though he had received an electric
+shock; then, biting his lips, he answered with a vicious lunge at the
+horses:
+
+"Oh, he comes back and forth every now and then."
+
+They were now in the open country, rolling steadily past fields of
+sprouting things, with the warm scent of new-plowed earth borne to
+them on the gentle April breeze.
+
+All of a sudden Stover seemed to dive sideways from the coach and
+remained suspended by his razor-tipped patent-leathers.
+
+"Hi, there!" cried Jimmy, bringing the coach to a stop with a jerk,
+"what are you trying to do?"
+
+Stover reappeared.
+
+"Seeing if there are any females inside."
+
+"What's that to you?" said Jimmy indignantly.
+
+"Keep your eye peeled and I'll show you," said the urchin, standing
+up, freeing his belt and unbuttoning his vest. In a moment, by a
+series of contortions, he drew forth the three signs and proudly
+displayed them.
+
+"See these gilt ones," he said confidentially to the astounded Roman,
+"got 'em in the open car; stood right up and unscrewed them--penal
+offense, my boy. The tin one was easier, but it's a beaut. 'No
+loitering on these premises.' Cast your eye over that," he added,
+passing it to The Roman, who, as he gravely received it, gave Jimmy a
+dig that cut short a fit of coughing.
+
+"Pretty fine, eh?" said Stover.
+
+"Em, yes, quite extraordinary--quite so."
+
+"And what do you think of these?" continued Stover, producing two
+silver nickel-plated knobs ravished from the washbasin. "'Pull and
+Push'--that's my motto. Say, Bill, how does that strike you?"
+
+The Roman examined them and handed them back.
+
+"You'll find it rather--rather slow at the school, won't you?"
+
+"Oh, I'll put ginger into it."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"What's your line of goods, old Sport?" said Stover, examining Mr.
+Hopkins with a knowing eye.
+
+"Books," said The Roman with a slight jerk of his thin lips.
+
+"I see!"
+
+Jimmy stopped the horses and went behind, ostensibly to see if the
+door was swinging.
+
+"Let me drive?" said Stover, fidgeting after a moment's contemplation
+of Jimmy's method. "I'll show you a thing or two."
+
+"Oh, you will, will you?"
+
+"Let's have 'em."
+
+Jimmy looked inquiringly at Mr. Hopkins and, receiving a nod,
+transferred the reins and whip to Stover, who immediately assumed a
+Wild West attitude and said patronizingly:
+
+"Say, you don't get the speed out of 'em."
+
+"I don't, eh?"
+
+"Naw."
+
+They were at that moment reaching the brink of a hill, with a sharp
+though short descent below.
+
+"In my country," said Stover professionally, "we call a man who uses a
+brake a candy dude. The trick is to gallop 'em down the hills. Hang
+on!"
+
+Before he could be stopped he sprang up with an ear-splitting
+war-whoop and brought the whip down with a stinging blow over the ears
+of the indignant horses, who plunged forward with a frightened leap.
+The coach rose and rocked, narrowly missing overturning in its sudden
+headlong course. Jimmy clamped on the brakes, snatched the reins and
+brought the plunging team to a stop after narrowly missing the gutter.
+Stover, saved from a headlong journey only by the iron grip of The
+Roman, had a moment of horrible fear. But immediately recovering his
+self-possession he said gruffly:
+
+"All right, let go of me."
+
+"What in blazes were you trying to do, you young anarchist?" cried
+Jimmy, turning on him wrathfully.
+
+"Gee! Why don't you drive a couple of cows?" said Stover in disgust.
+"Why, in my parts we alway drive on two wheels."
+
+"Two wheels!" said Jimmy scornfully. "Guess you never drove anything
+that did have four wheels but a baby-buggy."
+
+But Stover, as though discouraged, disdained to reply, and sat in
+moody silence.
+
+The Roman, who was still interested in a possible brother or two,
+strove in vain to draw him out. Stover wrapped himself in a majestic
+silence. Despite himself, the mystery of the discoverer was upon him.
+His glance fastened itself on the swelling horizon for the school that
+suddenly was to appear.
+
+"How many fellows have you got here?" he said all at once to Jimmy.
+
+"About four hundred."
+
+"As much as that?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Big fellows?"
+
+"Sizable."
+
+"How big?"
+
+"Two-hundred-pounders."
+
+"When do we see the school?"
+
+"Top of next hill."
+
+The Roman watched him from the corner of his eye, interested in his
+sudden shift of mood.
+
+"What kind of a football team did they have?" said Stover.
+
+"Scored on the Princeton 'Varsity."
+
+"Jemima! You don't say so!"
+
+"Eight to four."
+
+"Great Heavens!"
+
+"Only game they lost."
+
+"The Princeton championship team, too," said Stover, who was not
+deficient in historical athletics. "Say, how's the nine shaping up?"
+
+"It's a winner."
+
+All at once Jimmy extended his whip. "There it is, over there--you'll
+get the water tower first."
+
+Stover stood up reverentially. Across the dip and swell of the hills a
+cluster of slated roofs, a glimpse of red brick through the trees, a
+touch of brownstone, a water tower in sharp outline against the sky,
+suddenly rose from the horizon. A continent had been discovered, the
+land of possible dreams.
+
+"It's ripping--ripping, isn't it?" he said, still standing eagerly.
+
+The Roman, gazing on it for the thousandth time, shook his head in
+musing agreement.
+
+Across the fields came the stolid ringing of the school bell, ringing
+a hundred laggards across the budding campus to hard seats and
+blackboarded walls, ringing with its lengthened, slow-dying,
+never-varying note.
+
+"That the bell?" said Stover, rebelling already at its summons.
+
+"That's it," said Jimmy.
+
+Stover sat down, his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees,
+gazing eagerly forward, asking questions.
+
+"I say, where's the Green House?"
+
+"Ahead on your left--directly."
+
+"That old, stone, block-house affair?"
+
+"You win."
+
+"Why, it's not on the campus."
+
+"No, it ain't," said Jimmy, flicking the flies off the near horse;
+"but they've got a warm bunch of Indians all the same." Then,
+remembering the Wild-Western methods of driving, he added: "Don't
+forget about the ginger. Sock it to them. Fare, please."
+
+"I'll sock it," said Stover with a knowing air. "I may be tender, but
+I'm not green."
+
+He slapped a coin into the outstretched hand and reached back for the
+battle-scarred valise, to perceive the keen eye of Mr. Hopkins set on
+him with amusement.
+
+"Well, Sport, ta-ta, and good luck," said Stover, who had mentally
+ticketed him as a commercial traveler. "Hope you sell out."
+
+"Thanks," said Mr. Hopkins, with a twitch to his lip. "Now just one
+word to the wise."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Don't get discouraged."
+
+"Discouraged!" said Stover disdainfully: "Why, old Cocky-wax, put this
+in your pipe and smoke it--I'm going to own this house. In a week I'll
+have 'em feeding from my hand."
+
+He sprang down eagerly. Before him, at the end of a flagged walk,
+under the heavy boughs of evergreens, was a two-story building of
+stone, and under the Colonial portico a group curiously watching the
+new arrival.
+
+The coach groaned and pulled heavily away. He was alone at the end of
+the interminable stone walk, clutching a broken-down bag ridiculously
+mended with strings, face to face with the task of approaching with
+dignity and ease these suddenly discovered critics of his existence.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+In all his fifteen years Stover had never been accused of standing in
+awe of anything or anybody; but at the present moment, as he balanced
+from foot to foot, calculating the unending distance of the stone
+flags, he was suddenly seized with an overpowering impulse to bolt.
+And yet the group at the steps were only mildly interested. An urchin
+pillowed on the knees of a Goliath had shifted so as languidly to
+command the approach; a baseball, traveling back and forth in lazy
+flight, had stopped only a moment, and then continued from hand to
+hand.
+
+Stover had thought of his future associates without much trepidation,
+as he had thought of the Faculty as Miss Wandell in trousers--being
+inferior to him in mental agility and resourcefulness who, he
+confidently intended, should shortly follow his desires.
+
+All at once, before he had spoken a word, before he had even seen the
+look on their countenances, he realized that he stood on the threshold
+of a new world, a system of society of which he was ignorant and by
+whose undivined laws he was suddenly to be judged.
+
+Everything was wrong and strangely uncomfortable. His derby hat was
+too small--as it was--and must look ridiculous; his trousers were
+short and his arms seemed to rush from his sleeves. He tried
+desperately to thrust back the cuff that had broken loose and stooped
+for his bag. It would have been wiser to have embraced it bodily, but
+he breathed a prayer and grasped the handle. Then he started up the
+walk; half way, the handle tore out and the bag went down with a
+crash.
+
+He dove at it desperately, poking back the threatened avalanche of
+linen, and clutching it in his arms as a bachelor carries a baby,
+started blindly for the house.
+
+A roar of laughter had gone up at his discomfiture, succeeded by a
+sudden, solemn silence. Then the White Mountain Canary pillowed
+against the knees of Cheyenne Baxter, spoke:
+
+"No old clothes, Moses; nothing to sell to-day."
+
+At this Butsey White's lathery face suddenly appeared at the
+second-story window.
+
+"He doesn't want to buy--he wants to sell us something," he said.
+"Patent underwear and all that sort of thing."
+
+Stover, red to the ears, advanced to the steps and stopped.
+
+"Well?" said the Coffee-colored Angel as the guardian of the steps.
+
+"I'm the new boy," said Stover in a gentle voice.
+
+"The what?"
+
+"The new boy."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"He's not!"
+
+"New boys always say 'sir,' and take off their hats politely."
+
+The White Mountain Canary looked at Tough McCarty, who solemnly
+interrogated the Coffee-colored Angel, who shook his head in utter
+disbelief and said:
+
+"I don't believe it. It's a blind. I wouldn't let him in the house."
+
+"Please, sir," said Stover hastily, doffing his derby, "I am."
+
+"Prove it," said a voice behind him.
+
+"Say, I'm not as green as all that."
+
+Stover smiled a sickly smile, shifted from foot to foot and glanced
+hopefully at his fellow-imps to surprise a look of amusement. But as
+every face remained blank, serious and extremely critical, the smile
+disappeared in a twinkling and his glance went abruptly to his toes.
+
+"He certainly should prove it," said the Coffee-colored Angel
+anxiously. "Can you prove it?"
+
+Stover gingerly placed the gaping valise on the top step and fumbled
+in his pockets.
+
+"Please, sir, I have a letter from--from the Doctor," he blurted out,
+finally extracting a crumpled envelope and tendering it to the
+Coffee-colored Angel, who looked it over with well-simulated surprise
+and solemnly announced:
+
+"My goodness gracious! Why, it is the new boy!"
+
+Instantly there was a change.
+
+"Freshman, what's your name?" said little Susie Satterly in his
+deepest tones.
+
+"Stover."
+
+"Sir."
+
+"Sir."
+
+"What's your full name?"
+
+"John Humperdink Stover, sir."
+
+"Humper--what?"
+
+"Dink."
+
+"Say it again."
+
+"Humperdink."
+
+"Say it for me," said the Coffee-colored Angel, with his hand to his
+ear.
+
+"Humperdink."
+
+"Accent the last syllable."
+
+"Humper--DINK!"
+
+"Are you trying to bluff us, Freshman?" said Cheyenne Baxter
+severely.
+
+"No, sir; that's my real name."
+
+"Humperdink?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, Rinky Dink, you've got a rotten name."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Stover, who never before had felt such a longing to
+agree.
+
+"How old?"
+
+"Fifteen, sir."
+
+"Weight?"
+
+"One hundred and thirty, sir."
+
+"Ever been in love?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Ever served a penal sentence?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Then where did you get these clothes?"
+
+The group slowly circulated about the embarrassed Stover, scanning the
+amazing costume. Cheyenne Baxter took up the inquisition.
+
+"Say, Dink, honest, are these your _own_ clothes?" he said with a
+knowing look.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Now, honest," continued Cheyenne in a whisper, bending forward and
+putting his hand to his ear as though inviting a confidence.
+
+Stover felt suddenly as though his own ears were swelling to alarming
+proportions--swelling and perceptibly reddening.
+
+"What do they feed you on, Rinky Dink?" said the White Mountain Canary
+softly.
+
+"Feed?" said Stover unwarily, not perceiving the intent of the
+question.
+
+"Do they give you many green vegetables?"
+
+Stover tried to laugh appreciatively, but the sound fizzled dolefully
+out.
+
+"Because, Dink," said the White Mountain Canary earnestly, "you must
+not eat green vegetables, really you must not. You're green enough
+already."
+
+"Why did they fire you?" said Tough McCarty.
+
+Stover raised his eyes instinctively. There was a new accent to the
+inquisition, different from all the other questions he had run. He
+looked at Tough McCarty's stocky frame and battling eyes, and suddenly
+knew that he was face to face with a human being between whom and
+himself there could never be a question of compromise or quarter.
+
+"Well, Freshman," said McCarty impatiently.
+
+"What did you ask me?" said Dink purposely.
+
+"Sir."
+
+"Sir."
+
+"What did they fire you for?"
+
+"They fired me," began Stover slowly, and then stopped to reconsider.
+The story he had told on the coach, somehow, did not seem quite in
+place here. The role of firebrand and hothead, drawing villainous
+knives on frightened boys, would not quite convince his present
+audience. To tell the truth was impossible--to admit himself the
+product of Miss Wandell's and coeducation would be fatal--and likewise
+the truth was, in his philosophy (and be this remembered), only a lazy
+expedient to a man of imagination. So he said slowly:
+
+"They fired me for bringing in a couple of rattlesnakes and--and
+assaulting a teacher."
+
+"My! You are a bad man, aren't you?" said Tough McCarty seriously.
+"I'm afraid you're too dangerous for the Green, Dink. Really I do."
+
+"He does look devilishly wicked, Tough."
+
+"Assaulting a teacher--how broo-tal."
+
+"Why, Rinky Dink," said the Coffee-colored Angel sadly, "don't you
+know that was very wicked of you? You should love your teachers."
+
+Stover suddenly perceived that his audience was unsympathetic.
+
+"Don't you know you should love your teachers?"
+
+Stover essayed a grin, then looked at the ground and stirred up a
+stone with his foot.
+
+"So you're fond of rattlesnakes?" said McCarty, persisting.
+
+"Ye-es, sir."
+
+"Very fond?"
+
+"I was brought up with them," said Stover, trying to fortify his
+position.
+
+"You don't mean it," said McCarty, looking hard at Baxter. "Cheyenne,
+he's just the man to train up that little pet rattler of yours."
+
+"Just the thing," said Cheyenne instantly; "we'll let him take out the
+fangs."
+
+Stover smiled a superior smile; he was not to be caught on such tales.
+
+"What are you smiling at, Freshman?" said McCarty immediately.
+
+"Nothing, sir."
+
+Butsey White, at the second-story window, scanning the road, perceived
+Mr. Jenkins approaching, and announced the fact, adding:
+
+"Send him up; he belongs to me."
+
+"Make a nice bow, Freshman," said McCarty. "Take your hat off, keep
+your heels together. Oh, that wasn't a very nice bow. Try again."
+
+At this moment Jimmy, returning on the stage, reined in with a sudden
+interest. Stover hastily executed a series of grotesque inclinations
+and, grasping the clumsy valise, disappeared behind the door, hearing;
+as he struggled up the stairs, the roar from without that greeted his
+departure.
+
+"The freshest of the fresh."
+
+"Green all over."
+
+"Will we tame him?"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+"And Butsey's got him."
+
+"Humper--DINK!"
+
+"Wow!"
+
+As Stover reached the head of the stairs a door was thrown open and
+Butsey White appeared in undress uniform. The next moment Stover found
+himself in a large double room gorgeously decorated with flags,
+pennants, sporting prints and souvenirs, while through the open window
+came a grateful feeling of quiet and repose.
+
+Butsey White, a roly-poly, comical fellow of sixteen or seventeen,
+with a shaving-brush in one hand, held out the other with an
+expression of lathery solicitude.
+
+"Well, Stover, how are you? How did you leave mother and the chickens?
+My name's White. Mr. White, please. I'm most particular."
+
+"How do you do, Mr. White?" said Stover, recovering some of his
+composure.
+
+"There's your kennel," said Butsey White, indicating the bed. "The
+washtrough's over here. Bath's down the corridor. Do you snore?"
+
+"What?" said Stover, taken back.
+
+"Oh, never mind. If you do I'll cure you," said White encouragingly.
+"What did they fire you for?"
+
+Stover, smarting at his humiliation below, seized the opportunity for
+revenge.
+
+"They fired me for drinking the alcohol out of the lamps," he said
+with his most convincing smile.
+
+Butsey White, who had returned to the painful task of shaving,
+suddenly straightened up and extended the deadly razor in angry
+rebuke.
+
+"There's a little too much persiflage around here," he said sternly.
+"We don't like it. We prefer to see young, unripe freshmen come in on
+their tiptoes and answer when they're spoken to. Young Stover, you've
+got in wrong. You're just about the freshest cargo we've ever had.
+You've got a lot to learn, and I'm going to start right in educating
+you. Savez?"
+
+"It was only a joke," said Stover, looking down.
+
+"A joke! I'll attend to any joking around here," said Butsey, with a
+reckless wave of his razor. "There may be a few patent, nickel-plated
+jokes roaming around here, soon, you hadn't thought of. Now, what did
+they fire you for?"
+
+"They fired me for kissing a teacher."
+
+"A teacher?"
+
+"The drawing teacher," said Stover hastily, perceiving the danger of
+the new assertion.
+
+The old boy looked at him hard, gave a sort of grunt and, turning his
+back, took up again the interrupted task of shaving. Stover, a little
+dismayed at his own audacity, sought to conciliate his future
+roommate.
+
+"Mister White, I say, where'll I stow my duds?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"I'm sorry--I didn't mean to be fresh. Which is my bureau?"
+
+The razor, suddenly extended, pointed between the windows. Stover,
+crestfallen, hastily sorted out the contents of his bag and silently
+ranged collars and neckties, waiting hopefully for a word. Suddenly he
+remembered the properties of the Pennsylvania Railroad and, sorting
+out the signs, he advanced on Butsey White, saying:
+
+"I brought these along--thought they might help decorate the room, Mr.
+White."
+
+Butsey White gazed at the three stolen signs and grunted a somewhat
+mollified approval.
+
+"Got anything else?"
+
+"A couple of sporting prints coming in the trunk, sir."
+
+"You want to get everything you can lay your hands on when you go
+home. Now run on down and report to Fuzzy-Wuzzy--Mr. Jenkins. He'll be
+waiting for you. After lunch I'll take you up to the village and fit
+you out."
+
+"I say, that's awfully good of you."
+
+"Oh, that's all right."
+
+"Say, I didn't mean to be fresh."
+
+"Well, you were."
+
+White, having carefully noted the ravages of the razor, turned from
+the looking-glass and surveyed the penitent Stover.
+
+"Well, what _did_ they fire you for?" he said point-blank.
+
+"They fired me----" began Stover slowly, and stopped.
+
+"Out with it," said Butsey militantly.
+
+But at that moment the voice of Mr. Jenkins summoned Stover below, and
+left the great question unanswered.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+The interview with the house master was not trying. Mr. Jenkins was a
+short, fuzzy little man, who looked him over with nervous concern,
+calculating what new strain on his temper had arrived; introduced him
+to Mrs. Jenkins, and seized the occasion of the luncheon-bell to cut
+short the conversation.
+
+At lunch Stover committed an unpardonable error which only those who
+have suffered can understand--he sent his plate up for a second
+helping of prunes.
+
+"What in the name of peanuts did you do that for?" said Butsey in a
+whisper, while the Coffee-colored Angel jabbed him with his elbow and
+trod on his toes. "Now you _have_ put your foot in it!"
+
+Stover looked up to behold every countenance grim and outraged.
+
+"What's wrong?" he said in a whisper.
+
+"Wrong? Didn't you ever have prunes and skimmed milk before, thousands
+and thousands of times?"
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"You don't like 'em, do you?"
+
+"Why, I don't know."
+
+"Do you want to have them five times a week--in springtime?"
+
+The plate, bountifully helped, returned from hand to hand down the
+table, laden with prunes and maledictions.
+
+"I didn't know," Stover said apologetically.
+
+"Well, now you know," said the Coffee-colored Angel vindictively,
+"don't you so much as stir 'em with your spoon. Don't you dare!"
+
+Stover, being thus forbidden, calmly, wickedly, chuckling inwardly,
+emptied his plate, smacked his lips and exclaimed:
+
+"My! those are delicious. Pass my plate up for some more, will you,
+Mr. White?"
+
+"Now, why did you do that?" said Butsey White when they were alone in
+their room.
+
+"I couldn't help it. I just couldn't help it," said Stover ruthfully.
+"It was such a joke!"
+
+"Not from you," said Butsey White with Roman dignity. "You've got the
+whole darn house down on you already, and the Coffee-colored Angel
+will never forgive you."
+
+"Just for that?"
+
+Butsey White disdained an answer. Instead, he scanned Stover's clothes
+with critical disfavor.
+
+"Say, if I'm going to lead you around by the hand you've got to come
+down on that color scheme of yours, or it's no go."
+
+Stover, surprised, surveyed himself in the mirror.
+
+"Why, I thought that pretty fine."
+
+"Say, have you got a pair of trousers that's related to a coat?"
+
+Stover dove into the trunk and produced a blue suit that passed the
+censor, who had in the meanwhile confiscated the razor-tipped
+patent-leathers and the red-visored cap, saying:
+
+"Now you'll sink into the landscape and won't annoy the cows. Stick on
+this cap of mine and hoof it; you're due at the Doctor's in half an
+hour, and I promised old Fuzzy-Wuzzy to show you the lay of the land
+and give you some pointers."
+
+Outside, Cheyenne Baxter, who was pitching curves to Tough McCarty,
+stopped them:
+
+"Hello, there, Rinky Dink: turn up here sharp at four o'clock."
+
+"What for--sir," said Stover, surprised.
+
+"We've got a game on with the Cleve. Play baseball?"
+
+"I--I'm a little out of practice," said Stover, who loathed the game.
+
+"Can't help it; you're it. You play in the field. Four o'clock sharp."
+
+"You're the ninth man in the house," Butsey explained as they started
+for the school. "Every one has to play. Are you any good?"
+
+Stover was tempted to let his imagination run, but the thought of the
+afternoon curbed it.
+
+"Oh, I used to be pretty fair," he said half-heartedly, plunging into
+the distant past.
+
+But Stover had no desire to talk; he felt the thrill of strange
+sensations. Scarcely did he heed the chatter of his guide that rattled
+on.
+
+The road lay straight and cool under the mingled foliage of the trees.
+Ahead, groups of boys crossed and recrossed in lazy saunterings.
+
+"There's the village," said Butsey, extending his hand to the left.
+"First bungalow is Mister Laloo's, buggies and hot dogs. There's Bill
+Appleby's--say, he's a character, rolling in money--we'll drop in to
+see him. Firmin's store's next and the Jigger Shop's at the end."
+
+"The Jigger Shop!" said Stover, mystified. "What's that?"
+
+"Where they make Jiggers, of course."
+
+"Jiggers?"
+
+"Oh, my beautiful stars, think of eating your first Jigger!" said
+Butsey White, the man of the world. "What wouldn't I give to be in
+your shoes! I say, though, you've got some tin?"
+
+"Sure," said Stover, sounding the coins in his change pocket.
+
+Butsey's face brightened.
+
+"You see, Al has no confidence in me just at present. It's a case of
+the regular table d'hôte for me until the first of the month. Say,
+we'll have a regular gorge. It'll be fresh strawberry Jiggers, too."
+
+They began to pass other fellows in flannels and jerseys, who
+exchanged greetings.
+
+"Hello, you, Butsey!"
+
+"Why, Egghead, howdy-do?"
+
+"Ah, there, Butsey White!"
+
+"Ta-ta, Saphead."
+
+"See you later, old Sport."
+
+"Four o'clock sharp, Texas."
+
+Under the trees, curled in the grass, a group of three were languidly
+working out a Greek translation.
+
+"Skin your eyes, Dink," said Butsey White, waving a greeting as they
+passed. "See the fellow this side? That's Flash Condit."
+
+"The fellow who scored on the Princeton Varsity?"
+
+"Oh, you knew, did you?"
+
+"Sure," said Stover with pride. "Gee, what a peach of a build!"
+
+"Turn to your left," said Butsey suddenly. "Here's Foundation House,
+where the Doctor lives. Just look at that doorway. Wouldn't it give
+you the chills?"
+
+They were in front of a red-brick house, hidden under dark trees and
+overgrown with vines that congregated darkly over the porte-cochère
+and gave the entrance a mysterious gloom that still lives in the
+memory of the generations.
+
+"It swallows you up, doesn't it?" said Dink, awed.
+
+"You bet it does, and it's worse inside," said Butsey comfortingly.
+"Come on; now I'll show you the real thing."
+
+They passed the surrounding trees and suddenly halted. Before them the
+campus burst upon them.
+
+"Well, Dink, what do you think of that?" said Butsey proudly.
+
+Stover plunged his hands in his trousers pockets and gazed awed.
+Before him extended an immense circle of greensward, dotted on the
+edge with apple trees in blossom, under which groups of boys were
+lolling, or tumbling over one another in joyous cublike romping. To
+the left, across the circle, half a dozen red-coated, slate-topped,
+portly houses, overgrown with ivy, were noisy with urchins hanging out
+of myriad windows, grouped on steps, chasing one another in twisting
+spirals over the lawns. Ahead, a massive brownstone chapel with
+pointed tower rose up, and to its right, in mathematical bulk, was the
+abode of Greek and Latin roots, syntax and dates, of blackboards, hard
+seats and the despotism of the Faculty. To the right, close at hand,
+was a large three-storied building with wonderful dormer windows
+tucked under the slanted slate roof, and below was a long stone
+esplanade, black with the grouped figures of giants. At the windows,
+propped on sofa cushions, chin in hand some few conned the approaching
+lesson, softening the task by moments of dreamy contemplation of the
+scuffle below or stopping to catch a tennis ball that traveled from
+the esplanade to the window. Meanwhile, a constant buzz of inquiry and
+exclamation continued:
+
+"Say, Bill, how far's the advance?"
+
+"Middle page ninety-two."
+
+"Gee, what a lesson!"
+
+"You bet--it's tough!"
+
+"Hi, there, give me a catch."
+
+"Look out! Biff!"
+
+"Oh, you, Jack Rabbit, come up and give me the advance!"
+
+"Can't. I'm taking my chances. Get hold of Skinny."
+
+"What time's practice?"
+
+"That's the Upper House, House of Lords, Abode of the Blessed," said
+Butsey with envious eyes. "That's where we'll land when we're
+fifth-formers--govern yourself, no lights, go to the village any time,
+and all that sort of thing. Say!" He swept the circle comprehensively
+with his arm. "What do you think of it? Pretty fine, eh--what?"
+
+"Gee!" said Stover with difficulty, then after a moment he blurted
+out: "It's--it's terrific!"
+
+"Oh, that's not all; there's the Hammil House in the village and the
+Davis and Rouse up the street. The baseball fields are past the
+chapel."
+
+"Why, it's like a small college," said Stover, whose gaze returned to
+the giants on the esplanade.
+
+"Huh!" said Butsey in sovereign contempt. "We'll wipe up anything in
+the shape of a small college that comes around here! Do you want to
+toddle around the circle?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, no!" said Stover, cold at the thought of running the
+inspection of hundreds of eyes. "Besides, I've got to see the Doctor."
+
+"All right. Stand right up to him now. Don't get scared," said Butsey,
+choosing the one method to arouse all latent fears.
+
+"What's he like?" said Stover, biting his nails.
+
+"There's nothing like him," said Butsey reminiscently. "He's got an
+eye that gives you the creeps. He knows everything that goes
+on--everything."
+
+Stover began to whistle, keeping an eye on the windows as they
+approached.
+
+"Well, ta-ta! I'll hang out at Laloo's for you," said Butsey, loping
+off. "Say, by the way, look out--he's a crackerjack boxer."
+
+Stover, like Æneas at the gates of Avernus, stood under the awful
+portals, ruminating uneasily on Butsey's last remark. There certainly
+was something dark and terrifying about the place, that cast cold
+shadows over the cheery April day. Then the door opened, he gave his
+name in blundering accents to the butler, and found himself in the
+parlor sitting bolt-upright on the edge of a gilded chair. The butler
+returned, picking up his steps and, after whispering that the Doctor
+would see him presently, departed, stealing noiselessly away.
+Abandoned to the classic stillness, nothing in the room reassured him.
+The carpets were soft, drowning out the sounds of human feet; the
+walls and corridors seemed horribly stilled, as if through them no
+human cry might reach the outer air. All about were photographs of
+broken columns--cold, rigid, ruined columns, faintly discerned in the
+curtained light of the room. The Doctor's study was beyond, through
+the door by which the butler had passed. Stover's glance was riveted
+on it, trying to remember whether the American Constitution prohibited
+head masters from the brutal English practice of caning and birching;
+and,--listening to the lagging tick of the mantel clock, he solemnly
+vowed to lead that upright, impeccable life that would keep him from
+such another soul-racking visit.
+
+The door opened and the Doctor appeared, holding out his hand.
+
+Stover hastily sprang up, found himself actually shaking hands and
+mumbling something futile and idiotic. Then he was drawn to the horror
+of horrors, and the door shut out all retreat.
+
+"Well, John, how do you like the school?"
+
+Stover, more terrified by this mild beginning than if the Doctor had
+produced a bludgeon from behind his back, stammered out that he
+thought the buildings were handsome, very handsome.
+
+"It's a pretty big place," said the Doctor, throwing his nervous little
+body back in an easy chair and studying the four-hundred-and-second
+problem of the year. "You'll find a good deal in it--a great many
+interests."
+
+"He certainly has a wicked eye," thought Stover, watching with
+fascination the glance that confronted him like a brace of pistols
+suddenly extended from under shaggy bushes. "Now he's sizing me
+up--wonder if he knows all?"
+
+"Well, John, what was the trouble?" said the Doctor from his easy,
+reclining position.
+
+"The trouble, sir? Oh," said Stover, sitting bolt-upright with every
+sinew stiffened. "You mean why they fired--why they expelled me, sir?"
+
+"Yes, why did they fire you?" said the Doctor, trying to descend.
+
+"For getting caught, sir."
+
+The Doctor gazed at him sharply, seeking to determine whether the
+answer was from impertinence or fright or a precocious judgment of the
+morals of the nation. Then he smiled and said:
+
+"Well, what was it?"
+
+"Please, sir, I put asafetida in the furnace," said Stover in
+frightened tones.
+
+"You put asafetida down the furnace?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"That was a very brilliant idea, wasn't it?"
+
+"No, sir," said Stover, drawing a long breath and wondering if he
+could possibly stay after such a confession.
+
+"Why did you do it?"
+
+Stover hesitated, and suddenly, yielding to an unaccountable impulse
+toward the truth that occasionally surprised him, blurted out:
+
+"I did it to make trouble, sir."
+
+"You didn't like the school?"
+
+"I hated it! There were a lot of girls around."
+
+"Well, John," said the Doctor with heroic seriousness, "it may be that
+you didn't have enough to do. You have evidently an active
+brain--perhaps imagination would be a fitter word. As I said, you'll
+find this a pretty big place, just the sort of opening an ambitious
+boy should delight in. You'll find here all sorts of boys--boys that
+count, boys you respect and want to respect you, and then there are
+other boys who will put asafetida in the furnace if you choose to
+teach them chemistry."
+
+"Oh, no, sir," said Stover, all in a gasp.
+
+"Your parents think you are hard to manage," said the Doctor, with the
+wisp of a smile. "I don't. Go out; make some organization; represent
+us; make us proud of you; count for something! And remember one thing:
+if you want to set fire to Memorial Hall or to dynamite this study do
+it because _you_ want to, and not because some other fellow puts it
+into your head. Stand on your own legs." The Doctor rose and extended
+his hand cordially. "Of course, I shall have my eye on you."
+
+Stover, dumbfounded, rose as though on springs. The Doctor, noticing
+his amazement, said:
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"Please, sir--is that all?"
+
+"That's all," said the Doctor seriously.
+
+Stover drew a long breath, shook hands precipitately and escaped.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The spell was still on him as he stumbled over the resounding steps.
+But, twenty feet from the door, the spirit of irreverence overtook
+him. Then, at the thought of the waiting Butsey, he began to pipe
+forth voluminously the martial strains of Sherman's March to the Sea,
+kicking enormous pebbles victoriously before him.
+
+Butsey White, sitting on the doorstep of Laloo's, gazed at him from
+the depths of a steaming frankfurter sandwich.
+
+"Well, you look cheerful," he said in surprise.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"How was he?"
+
+"Gentle as a kitten."
+
+"Come off! Were you scared?"
+
+"Scared! Lord, no! I enjoyed myself."
+
+"You're a cheerful liar, you are. What did he say to you?"
+
+"Hoped I'd enjoy the place and all that sort of thing. And--oh, yes,
+he spoke about you."
+
+"He did, did he?" said Butsey, precipitately leaving the frankfurter
+sandwich.
+
+"He hoped I'd have a good influence on you," said Stover, whose
+imagination had been too long confined.
+
+Butsey rose wrathfully, but the answer he intended could not be made,
+for, reckoning on his host, he was already in his third frankfurter,
+and there was the Jigger Shop yet to be visited.
+
+"Dink, if you ever have to tell the truth," he said, "it'll kill you.
+Come in and meet Mr. Laloo."
+
+Mr. Laloo was leaning gratefully on the counter--as, indeed, he was
+always leaning against something--his legs crossed, lazily plying the
+afternoon toothpick.
+
+"Laloo, shake hands with my friend, Mr. Stover," said Butsey White
+professionally. "Mr. Stover's heard about your hot dogs, way out in
+California."
+
+Laloo transferred the toothpick and gave Stover his hand in a tired,
+unenthusiastic way.
+
+"Well, now, they do be pretty good hot dogs," he drawled out. "Suppose
+you want one?" He looked at Stover in sleepy reproachfulness, and then
+slid around the counter in the shortest parabola possible.
+
+"Pick him out a nice, young Pomeranian," said Butsey, peering into the
+steaming tin.
+
+Laloo forked a frankfurter, selected a roll and looked expectantly at
+Stover.
+
+"What's the matter?" said Dink, mystified.
+
+"Mustard or no mustard?" Butsey said in explanation. "He likes to
+talk, but the doctor won't let him."
+
+"I'll have all that's coming to me," said Dink loudly.
+
+A second later his teeth had sunk into the odorous mass. He shut his
+eyes, gazed seraphically at the smooty ceiling and winked at Butsey.
+
+"Umm?" said Butsey.
+
+"Umm! Umm!"
+
+"Isn't he the fancy young dog-catcher?"
+
+"Well, I should rather!" said Dink, lost in the vapors. "I say, have
+another?"
+
+"Thanks, old chap, but I had a couple while you were chucking the
+Doctor under the chin," said Butsey glibly. "Save up now; we've got a
+couple more places to visit."
+
+"How much?" said Dink.
+
+Laloo, who was reclining against the nearest wall, elevated four
+fingers and gazed out the window.
+
+"Four!" said Stover.
+
+"One and three."
+
+"Three!" said Butsey in feigned surprise. "Oh, come, I didn't eat
+three--well, I never; what do you think of that?"
+
+Dink rubbed his ear thoughtfully, looked hard at Butsey and paid.
+Laloo followed them to the door, leaned against the jamb and gazed
+down the road.
+
+"Now for Bill Appleby's," said Butsey cheerily. "He's rolling--rolling
+in wealth. We'll go in later for lamps and crockery and all that sort
+of thing. I thought we might sort of wash down the hot dogs before we
+go up to the Jigger Shop--eh, what?"
+
+In Appleby's general merchandise store Stover gravely shook hands with
+a quick, business-like little man with a Western mustache, a Down-East
+twang and a general air of being on the trigger.
+
+"Well, Bill, how's business?" said Butsey affably, nudging Stover.
+
+"It's bad, boys, it's bad," said Bill mournfully.
+
+"Bad, you old robber," said Butsey; "why, that little iron safe of
+yours is just cracking open with coin. How's the rootbeer to-day?"
+
+"It's very nice, Mr. White. Just come in this morning."
+
+"Yes, it did! Bet it came in with the Ark," said Butsey, to Stover's
+great admiration. "Well, are you going to set us up to a couple of
+bottles, or have we got to pay for them?"
+
+"We've got some very fine Turkish paste, Mr. White," said Bill,
+producing the rootbeer.
+
+"Well?" said Butsey, looking at Stover.
+
+"Sure!"
+
+"I'd like to show you some of our new crockery sets, Mr. Stover," said
+Appleby softly. "Just come in this morning. Want a student's lamp?"
+
+"No time now, Bill," said Butsey, hastily consulting the clock. "See
+you later."
+
+Other groups came in; Appleby moved away. Stover, quenching the hot
+dogs in rootbeer, heard again the opening salutations:
+
+"Well, Bill, how's business?"
+
+"It's bad, Mr. Parsons. It's bad."
+
+"Well, Bill, ta-ta," said Butsey, as they moved off. "Seen Doc
+Macnooder this morning?"
+
+"No, Mr. White, I haven't saw him to-day."
+
+"Always make him answer that," said Butsey chuckling, "and always ask
+him about business. We all do. It's e-tiquette. There's Firmin's," he
+said, with a wave of his hand--"post-office, country store, boots and
+shoes and all that sort of thing. And here's the Jigger Shop!"
+
+Stover had no need of the explanation. Before a one-story,
+glass-fronted structure a swarm of boys of all ages, sizes and colors
+were clustered on steps and railings, or perched on posts and backs of
+chairs, all ravenously attacking the jigger to the hungry clink of the
+spoon against the glass. They elbowed their way in through the joyous,
+buzzing mass to where by the counter, Al, watchdog of the jigger,
+scooped out the fresh strawberry ice cream and gathered in the nickels
+that went before. At the moment of their arrival Al was in what might
+be termed a defensive formation. One elbow was leaning on the counter,
+one hand caressed the heavy, drooping mustache, one ear listened to
+the promises of a ravenous, impecunious group, but the long, pointer
+nose and the financial eyes were dreamily plunged on the group
+without.
+
+"Gee, did you ever see such an eye?" said Butsey, who had reasons of
+his own for quailing before it. "It's almost up to the Doctor's. You
+can't fool him--not for a minute. Talk about Pierpont Morgan! Why, he
+knows the whole blooming lot of us, just what we're worth. Why, that
+eye of his could put a hole right through any pocket. Watch him when
+he spots me." Pushing forward he exclaimed: "Hello, Al; glad to see
+me?"
+
+Al turned slowly, fastening his glance on him with stony intentness.
+
+"Don't bother me, you Butsey," he said shortly.
+
+"Al, I've sort of set my sweet tooth on these here strawberry jiggers
+of yours."
+
+The Guardian of the Jigger made a half motion in the air, as though to
+brush away an imaginary fly.
+
+"Two nice, creamy, double strawberry jiggers, Al."
+
+Al's eyes drooped wearily.
+
+"My friend, Mr. Vanastorbilt Stover, here's setting up," said Butsey
+in conciliating accents.
+
+The eyes opened and fastened on Stover, who advanced saying:
+
+"That goes."
+
+"Ring a couple of dimes down, Astorbilt," said Butsey. "Al's very fond
+of music."
+
+"Give me change for that," said Stover, rising to the occasion with a
+five-dollar bill.
+
+"And, for the love of Mike, hustle 'em," said Butsey White. "I've only
+got a second."
+
+The shop began to empty rapidly as the hour of the two o'clock
+recitation neared. Stover gazed into the pink, fruity depths of his
+first strawberry jigger, inserted his spoon gingerly and took a
+nibble. Then he drew a long, contented breath, gazed into the land of
+dreams, and gave himself up to the delights of a new, of an
+incomparable sensation.
+
+Butsey White, gobbling against time, flung out occasional,
+full-mouthed phrases:
+
+"Got to run--'xcuse us--jemima! Isn't it the stuff--see you at
+three--better bring some back in box--don't tell any one,
+though--especially the Coffee-colored Angel."
+
+Across the fields the bell suddenly, impatiently, brutally clanged
+out. With a last convulsive gulp Butsey White finished his glass, and
+burst from the shop in the helter-skelter company of the last
+laggards. Stover, left alone, looked inquiringly at Al.
+
+"Recitation," said Al. "They've got a two-twenty sprint before the
+bell stops. We're out of hours, now, except for the Upper House."
+
+"Meaning me?" said Stover, rising.
+
+"Sit where you are," said Al. "You're all right for to-day. Where do
+you hang out?"
+
+"Green House," said Dink, who, beginning to feel hungry, ordered
+another jigger and selected a chocolate éclair.
+
+"You're not rooming with Butsey White?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"You are?" said Al pityingly. "Well, just let me give you one word of
+advice, young fellow. Sew your shirt to your back, or he'll have it
+off while you're getting into your coat."
+
+"I wasn't born yesterday," said Dink impudently, gesturing with his
+spoon. "And I rather fancy I'm a pretty cute little proposition
+myself."
+
+"So!"
+
+"If any of these smart Alecs can get the best of me," said Dink
+grandiloquently, egged on by the other's tone of disbelief, "he'll
+have to get up with the chickens!"
+
+[Illustration: "WHY, SOME OF 'EM ARE SO SLICK THAT WHEN THEY COME IN
+I LOCK THE CASH DRAWER AND STUFF COTTON IN MY EARS"]
+
+"All clear," said the Tennessee Shad from the window.
+
+"All's well on the Rappahannock," returned the scout at the door.
+
+Macnooder, with a well-executed double shuffle, the Tennessee Shad,
+with a stiff-jointed lope of his bony body, advanced and shook hands.
+
+"Al, we come not to take your hard-earned money, but do you good,"
+said Macnooder as usual, genially shaking an imaginary hand.
+
+The Tennessee Shad camped on the back of a chair, drew up his thin,
+long legs, laid one bony finger against a bony nose and looked
+expectantly at Macnooder.
+
+Meanwhile Al, without turning his back, carefully moved over to the
+glass counter that sheltered appetizing trays of éclairs, plum cakes
+and cream puffs and, whistling a melancholy note, locked the door,
+scanned the counter, and placed a foot on the cover of the jigger tub.
+
+Doc Macnooder, whose round, bullet head and little rhinoceros eyes had
+followed the hostile preparation, said sorrowfully:
+
+"Al-bert, your conduct grieves us."
+
+"Go ahead, now," said Al in a tired voice.
+
+"Go ahead?" said Macnooder, looking in surprise at the equally
+impassive Tennessee Shad.
+
+"What's the flimflam to-day?"
+
+"Al," said Macnooder, in his most persuasive tones, "you wrong me. My
+motives are honorable. At four o'clock this very afternoon Turkey
+Reiter will proceed to cash a check and settle for a fountain pen, a
+pair of suspenders and a safety razor I sold him. Just trust me till
+then--will you?"
+
+"Nothing doing," said Al.
+
+"Honor bright, Al!"
+
+"No use."
+
+"You _must_ trust me till then."
+
+Al, producing a patent clipper, began to pare his nails.
+
+"Al?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Won't you trust me?"
+
+"Don't make me laugh!"
+
+"Al's right, Doc," said the Tennessee Shad, entering the discussion.
+"You ought to put up some guarantee."
+
+Al slowly turned his gaze on the Tennessee Shad and waited hopefully
+for the real attack.
+
+"Well, what?" said Macnooder.
+
+"How about your watch?"
+
+"It's loaned."
+
+"You haven't got a stick-pin on you?"
+
+"Left 'em at home--never thought Al would go back on me."
+
+Al smiled.
+
+"That's a very nice spring coat you've got on," said the Tennessee
+Shad, as though struck by an inspiration. "Why don't you put that up
+for a couple of hours?"
+
+"Not on your life," said Macnooder indignantly. "This coat's brand
+new, worth thirty dollars."
+
+Al, suddenly shifting, leaned forward, both elbows on the counter, and
+studied the coat with a reminiscent air.
+
+"Oh, put it up," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Never. I've got associations about this coat and, besides, I've got
+to make a swell call in Princeton to-morrow."
+
+"What's the diff?" said the Tennessee Shad, yawning. "It's only a
+couple of hours; and you know you said you were going to clean off the
+whole slate with Al, sure as Turkey boned up."
+
+Macnooder seemed to hesitate.
+
+"It's idiotic to put up a real, high-life coat for a couple of
+jiggers."
+
+"Hurry up; I'm hungry."
+
+"Stop," said Al, drawing back satisfied. "I wouldn't bother about that
+coat if I were you."
+
+"Why not?" exclaimed the two partners.
+
+"'Cause I remember that coat gag now," said Al with a far-off look. "I
+bit once--way back in '89. It's a good game, specially when the real
+owner comes ramping in the next day."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Doc Macnooder indignantly.
+
+"I mean that it don't button, you young pirate," said Al scornfully,
+but without malice. "When you try anything as slick as that again you
+want to be sure the real owner ain't been around. That coat belongs to
+Lovely Mead."
+
+Doc Macnooder looked at the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Have we really got to pay for them?" he said mournfully.
+
+"Looks that way."
+
+"Oh, well," said Doc, slapping down a quarter, "fill 'em up."
+
+Al heaped up the glasses, adding an appreciative extra dab with the
+magnanimity of the victor, and said:
+
+"Say, you boys want to rub up a little. Here's Stover, over there,
+just come. He's about your size."
+
+The Tennessee Shad and Doc Macnooder about faced and stared at Stover,
+who all the while had remained in quiet obscurity, dangling his legs
+over the counter.
+
+"Just come, Stover?" said Macnooder at last.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"On the noon stage?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What form?"
+
+"Second, sir."
+
+"Why, shake, then, brother," said the Tennessee Shad, offering his
+hand. "Shake hands with Doc Macnooder."
+
+Doc Macnooder grasped his hand with extra cordiality, saying:
+
+"What house?"
+
+"Green House, sir," said Stover, awed by the sight of a 'varsity
+jersey. "I'm rooming with--with Mr. White."
+
+"What'll you have?"
+
+"I beg pardon."
+
+"What'll you have?"
+
+"Why," said Stover, quite taken back by the offer, "I think it's up to
+me, sir."
+
+"Rats!" said Macnooder. "If you've been in tow of Butsey, I'll bet
+you've been paying out all day. Butsey White's a low-down,
+white-livered cuss, who'd take advantage of a freshman. Step up."
+
+"I'll have another one of these," said Stover gratefully, feeling his
+heart warm toward the unexpected friends.
+
+"Bet Butsey's stuck you pretty hard," said the Tennessee Shad, nodding
+wisely. "He's just loaded with the spondulix, too."
+
+"Well, he did sort of impose on me," said Stover, thinking of the
+frankfurters at Laloo's.
+
+"It's a shame," said Macnooder indignantly.
+
+"You're pretty slick?"
+
+"As slick as they make 'em."
+
+"Say, bub," said Al, with his dreamy drawl, "is this the line of talk
+you've been putting out to that bunch of Indians down in the Green?"
+
+"Oh, I'll put it out."
+
+"Say, you're going to have a wonderful time here!"
+
+"Watch me," said Dink, cocking his head; but with less confidence than
+when he had announced his intentions on the stage-coach.
+
+"Young fellow," said Al, leaning back and looking at him from under
+his eyelids, "you're in wrong. You don't know what you've come to.
+Why, there's a bunch of young stock jobbers around here that would
+make a Wall Street bunco-steerer take to raising chickens! Slick? Why,
+some of 'em are so slick that when they come in I lock the cash drawer
+and stuff cotton in my ears."
+
+"Bring 'em on," said Dink disdainfully.
+
+At this moment there was a loud flop by the window in the rear, and
+the Tennessee Shad rose slowly from the floor. At the same moment Doc
+Macnooder, ambling innocently by on the farther sidewalk, turned,
+dashed across the street, bounded into the shop and, returning to the
+door, carefully surveyed the approaches.
+
+"Glad to do it," said Macnooder, without enthusiasm. "Finish up and
+we'll fit you out in a jiffy."
+
+When the three went shuffling down the street Al did an unusual, an
+unprecedented thing. He actually made the turn of the counter and
+stationed himself at the door, watching the group depart--Macnooder
+with his arm on Stover's shoulder, the Tennessee Shad guarding the
+other side.
+
+When they disappeared beyond Bill Orum's, the cobbler's, in the
+direction of the Dickinson, he said slowly, in profound admiration:
+
+"Well, I'll be jiggered! If those body-snatchers don't get
+electrocuted, they'll own Fifth Avenue!"
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+"Come up to my room and we'll see what's on hand," said Doc, entering
+the Dickinson. "Too bad you're stuck down in the Green--no house
+spirit there--you must get in with us next year."
+
+"Doc's a great fellow," said the Tennessee Shad, as Macnooder went
+quickly ahead, "a great business man. He's a sort of clearing house
+for the whole school. Say, he's taken a regular fancy to you."
+
+"What did he get his 'L' for?" said Stover, as the Tennessee Shad, to
+gain time, showed him the lower floor.
+
+"Quarter on the eleven last fall. Here's the Triumphant Egghead's
+room. Isn't it a peach? They've got a good crowd here; you must be
+with them or us next year. Here's Turkey Reiter's and Butcher Stevens'
+quarters. They're crackerjacks, too; on the eleven and the nine. Come
+on, now. We'll strike Doc. You know he studies medicine and all that
+sort of thing. Wait till I give the countersign. Doc's most
+particular."
+
+Stover found himself in a den, a combination of drug-store,
+taxidermist's shop and general warehouse. All about the room were
+ranged an extraordinary array of bottles--green bottles that lurked
+under the bed, red, blue and white bottles that climbed the walls and
+crowded the mantelpiece, tops of bottles that peered out of
+half-opened boxes, all ticketed and mustered in regiments. From the
+ceiling a baby alligator swung on a wire, blinking at them horribly
+with shining glass eyes; a stuffed owl sat in one corner; while
+opposite, a muskrat peered into a crow's nest. The closet and all
+available floor space were heaped high with paper boxes and wooden
+cases, while over all were innumerable catalogues.
+
+"Pretty fine, isn't it?" said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"It's wonderful," said Stover, not quite at ease.
+
+"It's not bad," said Doc. "I'd like to have a nice, white skeleton
+over there in that corner; but they're hard to get, nowadays. Now
+let's get down to business. Sit down."
+
+Stover took the only chair; the Tennessee Shad curled up languidly on
+the bed, after brushing aside the débris; while Macnooder, perched on
+a drygoods box, poised a pencil over a pad of paper.
+
+"You want a crockery set, first; a student lamp, and an oil can to
+keep your oil in."
+
+"Especially the can," said the Tennessee Shad gravely. "Better get a
+padlock with it, or the whole Green House will be stealing from you."
+
+"I don't know whether I have a can on hand," said Macnooder anxiously.
+"But here's a lamp."
+
+He placed a rather battered affair in the middle of the floor, saying:
+
+"It's a little squee-geed, but you don't care about looks. They ask
+you all kinds of prices for them when they're new; but you can have
+this for two-twenty-five. There's a bite out of the shade, but you can
+turn that side to the wall. They're rather hard to get second hand."
+
+"All right," said Stover.
+
+"Better light it up first," said the Tennessee Shad professionally.
+
+"That's business-like," said Macnooder, who lit a match and, after an
+unsuccessful attempt, said: "There's no oil in it. Still, if Stover
+wants----"
+
+"Never mind that," said Stover loudly, to show his confidence.
+
+"Now for the toilet set."
+
+"Say, how about the can?"
+
+"Oh, the can. Let me look," said Macnooder, disappearing among the
+packing boxes in the closet.
+
+"You want that," said the Tennessee Shad confidentially.
+
+"Hope he's got one," said Stover.
+
+Macnooder reappeared with an ordinary kerosene can and a padlock,
+announcing:
+
+"This is the only one I've got on hand. It's my own."
+
+"Let him have it," said the Tennessee Shad. "No one can get in here;
+you're always locked and bolted."
+
+Macnooder hesitated.
+
+"How does it work?" said Stover, interested.
+
+"The spigot is plugged up and the top cover is padlocked to the side.
+See? Now no one can get it. I don't particularly care about selling
+it, but if you want it take it at one-twenty-five."
+
+"That's too much," said the Tennessee Shad. "One plunk's enough."
+
+"You're paying cash?" said Macnooder, considering.
+
+"Sure!" said Stover.
+
+"Well, call it one bone, then."
+
+Stover looked gratefully at the Tennessee Shad, who winked at him to
+show him he was his friend.
+
+"Now, about a crockery set," said Macnooder, scratching his head.
+"I've got two, plain and fancy, what we call a souvenir set--but you
+wouldn't understand that. I'll show you the regular kind."
+
+"What's a souvenir set?" said Dink, mystified.
+
+"Oh, it's a sort of school fad," said the Tennessee Shad, as Doc
+disappeared. "Every piece is different, collected from all sorts of
+places--swap 'em around like postage stamps, don't you know. We've got
+rather tired of the ordinary thing, you know."
+
+"Say, that's a bully idea," said Dink, whose imagination was appealed
+to.
+
+"Some of the fellows have perfect beauts," said the Tennessee Shad,
+yawning; "got at hotels, and house parties, and all that sort of
+thing."
+
+"Why, that beats hooking signs all hollow," said Dink, growing
+enthusiastic.
+
+"I didn't know you'd be interested," said the Tennessee Shad
+carelessly. "Like to see one?"
+
+"You bet I would."
+
+"I say, Doc, old boy," said the Tennessee Shad; "bring out the
+souvenir set, too, will you, like a good fellow?"
+
+"Wait till I get this out," said Macnooder, who, after much rummaging,
+puffed back with a blue-and-white set which he ranged on the floor.
+
+"How's that appeal to you?" he said with a flourish of his hand. "Good
+condition, too; only the soap dish has a nick. You can have it for
+two-fifty."
+
+But Dink had no eyes for the commonplace.
+
+"Could I see the other," he said, "before I decide?"
+
+Macnooder appeared loth to exert himself to no purpose.
+
+"You wouldn't cotton to it, bub," he said, with a shake of his head.
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," said the Tennessee Shad. "This chap's no
+bottle baby; he's more of a sport than you think. I'll bet you he's
+got a few swagger trophies, in the line of signs, himself."
+
+"I've got two or three might strike your fancy," said Dink with a
+reckless look.
+
+"Come on, Doc, don't be so infernally lazy. You're the deuce of a
+salesman. Out with the crockery."
+
+"What's the use?" said Doc half heartedly, moving back into the litter
+of the closet.
+
+"Don't get it unless you can afford it," said the Tennessee Shad in a
+friendly whisper.
+
+When at length the souvenir set had been carefully displayed on the
+top of a box, cleared for the occasion, Stover beheld a green and
+white pitcher, rising like a pond lily from the depths of a red and
+white basin, while a lavender tooth mug, a blue cup and a pink soap
+dish gave the whole somewhat the effect of an aurora-borealis.
+
+The Tennessee Shad sprang up and examined each piece with a
+connoisseur's enthusiasm. The lavender tooth mug, especially,
+attracted his curiosity. He looked it over, handled it gingerly,
+holding it to the light.
+
+"Don't think this is up to the rest," he said finally, looking at Doc.
+"It's cracked."
+
+"Suppose it is!" said Doc scornfully. "Do you know whose that is? That
+was swiped out of the set of Brother Baldwin."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Fact. Last day of spring term, when he was giving a math exam."
+
+"You don't say so!"
+
+"What are the rest?" said Stover, wondering what sum could possibly
+compensate for such treasures.
+
+"The rest are not so much; from the other houses, but they're good
+pieces. The water pitcher was traded by Cap Kiefer, catcher of the
+nine, you know. But there's one article," said Doc, pointing
+melodramatically, "that's worth the whole lot. Only I'll have to put
+you under oath--both of you."
+
+The Tennessee Shad, puzzled, looked hard at Macnooder and raised his
+right hand. Stover, blushing, followed suit.
+
+"That," said Macnooder, "came direct from Foundation House. That
+belonged to his Nibs himself!"
+
+"Come off!" said the Tennessee Shad, not daring to look at Macnooder.
+"That's a bunco game."
+
+"I didn't say it was swiped," said Macnooder indignantly. "Just give
+me a chance, will you? It was smashed up at the fire scare and thrown
+away with a lot of other things. Tough McCarty, down at the Green, I
+think, has got the slop jar."
+
+"Excuses!" said the Tennessee Shad. "I did think for a moment you were
+trying to impose on my young confidence. Gee! Just think, of it!
+Cracky, what a prize! The Doctor himself--well--well! Say, I'd like to
+make a bid myself."
+
+"It goes with the set," said Macnooder. "It ain't mine; I'm only
+getting the commission."
+
+Stover, having caressed each article, drew a long breath and said
+falteringly:
+
+"I suppose it comes pretty high!"
+
+"Of course it's worth more than the other set."
+
+"Oh, of course."
+
+"The price set on it was four flat."
+
+"That's a good deal of money," said the Tennessee Shad. "Specially
+when you've got to fit yourself out."
+
+"Well, the other's cheaper at two-fifty," said Macnooder.
+
+"Stover's sort of set his heart on this," said the Tennessee Shad.
+"Haven't you, Sport?"
+
+[Illustration: "CRACKY, WHAT A PRIZE! SAY, I'D LIKE TO MAKE
+A BID MYSELF."]
+
+Stover confessed that he had.
+
+"Come on; make him a better price, Doc.".
+
+"I'd have to consult my client."
+
+"Well, consult your old client."
+
+Macnooder disappeared.
+
+"Stand firm now," said the Tennessee Shad, "you can beat him down. Doc
+wants to make his commish. I tell you what I'd do if I were you."
+
+"What?"
+
+"If I were looking for a real trophy I'd make him a bid on this. This
+is the best thing in the whole caboodle. Come over here. Say, just
+cast your eyes on this!"
+
+Stover gazed in awe. On the wall, suspended on the red and black flag
+of the school, were a pair of battered and torn football shoes, while
+underneath was a photograph of Flash Condit and the score--Princeton
+'Varsity, 8; Lawrenceville, 4.
+
+"Gee!" said Stover. "He wouldn't sell those!"
+
+"He might," said the Tennessee Shad. "Between you and me and the
+lamppost, Doc is devilishly hard up. Offer him a couple of dollars and
+see."
+
+"The shoes that made the touchdown," said Dink reverentially. The
+Tennessee Shad did not contradict him.
+
+Half an hour later Dink Stover sallied forth with the ecstasy of a
+collector who has just discovered an old master. Klondike Jackson, who
+shook up the beds at the Dickinson, preceded him, drawing in an
+express wagon the lamp, the padlocked kerosene can and the souvenir
+set, slightly reduced. Wrapped in tissue paper, tucked under Stover's
+arm, were the precious shoes, which he had purchased on the distinct
+understanding that Macnooder should have the right to redeem them at
+any time before the end of the term, on the payment of costs and
+fifty-per-cent interest. In Stover's pocket was a new fountain pen, a
+box of elastics, a pair of Boston garters and a patent nail clipper.
+Only the limits of his exchequer had prohibited his availing himself
+of the opportunity to purchase, at a tremendous bargain, a pair of
+snow-shoes, a tobogganing cap and a pair of corduroy trousers,
+slightly spotted.
+
+Luckily for Dink, marching warily behind the vanguard, the three
+o'clock recitation had begun, and but a scattering of his schoolmates
+were abroad to witness his progress.
+
+He arrived thus, virtually unnoticed, at the Green and, with the help
+of Klondike, arranged his possessions so as to make the greatest
+display.
+
+He was standing in the middle of the floor, clutching the historic
+shoes and searching the walls for the proper place of honor, when
+Butsey White blew in.
+
+"Where in thunder have you been?" he exclaimed, and then stopped at
+the sight of the twisted lamp. He looked at Dink, gave a grunt and
+examined the new purchase.
+
+"Broken-winded, spavined, has the rickets--bet it leaks and won't
+burn. Where in----"
+
+All at once he perceived the kerosene can, with its attached padlock.
+
+"What's this thing?" he said, in genuine surprise, picking it up with
+two fingers and regarding it with a look of blank incomprehension.
+
+"That's the safety can," said Stover, yielding to a vague feeling of
+uneasiness.
+
+"What's this?"
+
+"That's a padlock."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Why, for the kerosene."
+
+"What kerosene?"
+
+"The kerosene for the lamp."
+
+"Why, you nincompoop, we don't furnish the kerosene."
+
+"We don't?" said Stover faintly, with a horrible sinking feeling.
+"Don't furnish the kerosene?"
+
+"Who got hold of you?" said Butsey, too astounded to laugh.
+
+"I met Macnooder----"
+
+"And the Tennessee Shad, I'll bet my pants on it," said Butsey.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What else did they unload on you?"
+
+"Why--why, I bought a souvenir set."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A souvenir toilet set."
+
+Butsey wheeled to the washstand, uttered a shriek and fell in
+convulsions on the bed.
+
+Stover stood stockstill, gazing in horror from the variegated crockery
+to Butsey, who was thrashing to and fro in hysterical flops, holding
+both the pillows where they would most ease the agony. Then, with a
+sudden deft movement, Dink dropped the historic shoes, sent them under
+the bed with a savage kick and, rushing to the window, threw the
+safety can into the tall grass of the fields beyond. Then he returned
+solemnly, sat down on the edge of the bed, took his head in his hands
+and began to do some rapid thinking. Butsey White, prone on the bed,
+burying his head in the covers, by painful degrees returned, gasping,
+to self-control.
+
+"Mr. White," said Dink solemnly.
+
+There was a slight commotion opposite and a hand fluttered
+beseechingly, while Butsey's weak voice managed to say:
+
+"Take it away--take it away."
+
+Dink rose and cast a towel over the set of seven colors, and then
+resumed his seat.
+
+"It's all right; I've hidden it," he said.
+
+Butsey rolled from the bed, tottered over to his own washstand and
+drank deeply from the water pitcher. Then he turned on the melancholy
+Stover.
+
+"Say!"
+
+"Go ahead! Soak it to me!"
+
+"I thought you were old enough to go out alone."
+
+"They lied to me," said Stover, kicking a chair.
+
+"Say that again."
+
+"They lied," repeated Dink, but with a more uncertain note.
+
+"This from you!" said Butsey maliciously.
+
+A great ethical light burst over Dink. He scratched his head and then
+looked at Butsey, grinning a sheepish grin.
+
+"Well, I guess it was coming to me--but they are wonders!" he said,
+with reluctant admiration. "I'll take my medicine, but I'll get back
+at them, by jiminy! You see if I don't."
+
+"For the love of Mike, give us the story!"
+
+"You'll keep it twenty-four hours?"
+
+"So help me----"
+
+"I'm a sucker, all right," said Dink ruefully. Then he stopped and
+blurted out: "Say, White, I guess it was about what I needed. I guess
+I'm not such a little wonder-worker, after all. I've been
+fresh--rotten fresh. But, say, from now on I'm holding my ear to the
+ground; and when it comes to humbly picking up a few crumbs of
+knowledge you'll find me ready and willing. I'm reformed. Now, here's
+the tale:"
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Dink, under the influence of the new emotion, made a fairly full
+confession, merely overlooking the shoes that Flash did not carry over
+the Princeton goal line, and suppressing that detail of the Foundation
+House's supposed contribution, which had lent such a peculiar value to
+the souvenir crockery set. By four o'clock Butsey White had
+sufficiently recovered to remember the afternoon baseball match.
+
+Ten minutes later Dink, lost in a lapping baseball suit lent by
+Cheyenne Baxter, re-enforced with safety pins, stationed himself in
+the outfield behind a catcher's mitt, for preliminary practice with
+little Susie Satterly and Beekstein Hall, who was shortsighted and
+wore glasses.
+
+The result of five minutes' frantic chasing was that Dink, who
+surprised every one by catching a fly that somehow stuck in his glove,
+was promoted to centerfield; Susie Satterly, who had stopped two
+grounders, took left; while Beekstein was ignominiously escorted to a
+far position in rightfield and firmly requested to stop whatever he
+could with his chest.
+
+The Cleve cohorts arrived, thirty strong, like banditti marching to
+sack a city, openly voicing their derision for the nine occupants of
+the Green House. The contest, which at first sight seemed unequal, was
+not in reality so, Tough McCarty and Cheyenne Baxter being an
+unusually strong battery, while the infield, with Butsey White at
+first, the White Mountain Canary at second, Stuffy Brown short-stop
+and the Coffee-colored Angel at third, quite outclassed the invaders.
+The trouble was in the outfield--where the trouble in such contests
+are sure to congregate.
+
+Stover had never been so thoroughly frightened in his life. His
+imagination, boylike, was aghast at the unknown. A great question was
+to be decided in a few minutes, when his turn would come to step up to
+the box and expose himself to the terrific cannonade of Nick Carter,
+the lengthy pitcher of the Cleve. The curious thing was that on this
+point Stover himself was quite undecided. Was he a coward, or was he
+not? Would his legs go back on him, or would he stand his ground,
+knowing that the stinging ball might strike anywhere--on the tender
+wrist bones, shattering the point of the elbow, or landing with a
+deadly thud right over his temple, which he remembered was an
+absolutely fatal spot?
+
+His first two innings in the field were a complete success--not a
+ball came his way. With his fielding average quite intact he came in
+to face the crisis.
+
+"Brown to the bat, Stover on deck, Satterly in the hole," came the
+shrill voice of Fate in the person of Shrimp Davis, the official
+scorer.
+
+Stover nervously tried one bat after another; each seemed to weigh a
+ton. Then Cheyenne Baxter joined him, crouching beside him for a word
+of advice.
+
+"Now, Dink," he said in a whisper, keeping his eye on Stuffy Brown,
+who, being unable to hit the straightest ball, was pawing the plate
+and making terrific preparatory swings with his bat. "Now, Dink,
+listen here. (Pick out an easy one, Stuffy, and bang it on the nose.
+Hi-yi, good waiting, Stuffy) Nick Carter's wild as a wet hen. All he's
+got is a fast outcurve. Now, what you want to do is to edge up close
+to the plate and let him hit you. (Oh, robber! That wasn't a strike!
+Say, Mr. Umpire, give us a square deal, will you?) Walk right into it,
+Dink, and if it happens to hit you on the wrist rub above the elbow
+like the mischief."
+
+"Above the elbow?" said Dink in a hollow voice.
+
+"That's it. You've got a chance to square yourself with the House.
+Step right into it. What? Three strikes? Say, Mr. Umpire, you're not
+taking Nick Carter's word for it, are you?"
+
+Amid a storm of execrations Stuffy Brown retired, appealing
+frantically to the four quarters of the globe for justice and a judge.
+
+Impelled by a resounding whack, Dink approached the plate as a balky
+horse tries his hoofs in a pool of water. He spread his feet and
+shouldered his bat, imitating the slightly-crouching position of
+Cheyenne Baxter. Then he looked out for a favorable opening. The field
+was thronged with representatives of the Cleve House. He turned to
+first base--it was miles away. He looked at Nick Carter, savagely
+preparing to mow him down, and he seemed to loom over him, infringing
+on the batter's box.
+
+"Why the devil don't they stick the pitcher back and give a fellow a
+chance?" he thought, eying uneasily the quick, jerky preparations.
+"Why, at this distance a ball could go right through you."
+
+"Come on, Nick, old boy," said a voice issuing from the iron mask at
+his elbow. "We've got an umpire that can't be bluffed. This is nothing
+but a Statue of Liberty. Chop him right down."
+
+Dink shivered from the ground up, Carter's long arms gyrated
+spasmodically, and the ball, like the sweep of a swallow from the
+ground, sprang directly at him. Stover, with a yell, flung himself
+back, landing all in a heap.
+
+"Ball one," said the umpire.
+
+A chorus of taunts rose from the Green House nine.
+
+"Trying to put him out, are you?"
+
+"Mucker trick!"
+
+"Put him out!"
+
+"Good eye, Dinky!"
+
+"That's the boy."
+
+Stover rose, found his bat and ruthfully forced himself back to his
+position.
+
+"I should have let it hit me," he said angrily, perceiving Baxter's
+frantic signals. "It might have broken a rib, but I'd have showed my
+nerve."
+
+Clenching his bat fiercely he waited, resolved on a martyr's death.
+But the next ball coming straight for his head, he ducked horribly.
+
+"Ball two--too high," said the umpire.
+
+Stover tightened his belt, rapped the plate twice with his bat, as
+Butsey had done, and resumed his position. But the memory of the sound
+the ball had made when it had whistled by his ears had unnerved him.
+Before he could summon back his heroic resolves Carter, with a sudden
+jerk, delivered the ball. Involuntarily Stover stepped back, the ball
+easily and slowly passed him and cut the corner of the plate.
+
+"Ball three," said the umpire hesitatingly.
+
+The Cleve catcher hurled his mask to the ground, Carter cast down his
+glove and trod on it, while the second baseman fell on his bag and
+wept.
+
+When order was restored Stover dodged the fourth wild ball and went in
+a daze to first, where to his amazement he was greeted with jubilant
+cheers.
+
+"You're the boy, Dinky."
+
+"You've got an eye like Charlie DeSoto."
+
+"They can't fool Rinky Dink."
+
+"Why, he's a wonder."
+
+"Watch him steal second."
+
+Stover slapped his foot on first base with the joy of unhoped-for
+victory. He glowered about his own possessions. The perspective had
+suddenly changed; the field was open, all his, the Cleve House
+representatives were a lot of dubs, butterfingers and fumblers,
+anyhow! Under Cheyenne Baxter's directions he went plunging down to
+second, slid, all arms and legs, safely on to the bag, thanks to a
+wild pitch, and rose triumphantly, blowing the dust from his mouth.
+
+There he remained, as Susie Satterly and Beekstein methodically struck
+out.
+
+But the joy of that double voyage was still on him as he went back to
+centerfield, ready to master the hottest liner or retrieve the
+sky-scraping fly. It was a great game. He felt a special aptitude for
+it and wondered why he had never discovered the talent before. He
+began to dream of sizzling two-baggers and long home-runs over the
+fence.
+
+"I wish I'd get a chance," he said, prancing about digging vicious
+holes in the glove, that looked like a chest protector. "I'd show 'em
+what I can do out here."
+
+But no chance came. The battle was between pitchers, and to the
+surprise of every one the Green House came up to the last inning with
+the score of 2 to 1 in their favor, the solitary run of the Cleve
+being due to a fly that Beekstein had failed to notice.
+
+The Green House nine went jubilantly out into the field for the last
+half of the ninth inning, determined to shut out the Cleve and end the
+season with at least one victory.
+
+Dink ran out on his tiptoes, encased himself in his mitt and turned,
+tense and alert. He had gone through his first ordeal triumphantly. No
+chances had come to him in the field, but at bat he had accidently
+succeeded in being hit, and though he had struck out the next time he
+had hit a foul and knew the jubilant feeling that came with the crack
+of the bat.
+
+"Give me a week and I'll soak 'em out," he said, moving restlessly,
+and he added to himself: "Strike 'em out, Cheyenne, old man! They're
+easy."
+
+But the Cleves suddenly woke up and began to fight. One man beat out a
+grounder, and one struck out; another error of the temperamental White
+Mountain Canary put a man on third and one on second. Then Cheyenne,
+pulling himself together, made his second strike-out.
+
+"Two out, play for the batter," came Cheyenne Baxter's warning hallo.
+
+"Two out," said Dink to his fellow-fielders. "One more and we spink
+'em. Come on, now!"
+
+Both sides settled for the final play, the man on second leading well
+up toward third.
+
+"Steady!" said Cheyenne.
+
+Stover drew in his breath and rose to his toes, as he had done thirty
+times already.
+
+Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and the ball meeting the bat,
+floated fair and free, out toward centerfield.
+
+Dink did not have to move a step; in fact, the ball rose and fell
+straight for the massive mitt as though it had chosen his glove from
+all the other gloves in the field. It came slowly, endlessly, the
+easiest, gentlest, most perfect fly imaginable, directly for the large
+brown mitt that looked like a chest protector.
+
+[Illustration: BEHIND HIM, PELL-MELL, SHRIEKING AND MURDEROUS--CAME
+THE VANQUISHED.]
+
+Stover, turned to stone, saw it strike fair in the middle, and then,
+irresistibly, slowly, while, horribly fascinated, he stood powerless,
+slowly trickle over the side of the mitt and drop to the ground.
+
+Dink did not stop for a look, for a second thought, to hesitate or to
+deliberate. He knew! He gave a howl and broke for the House, and
+behind him, pell-mell, shrieking and murderous, like a pack of hounds
+in full cry, came the vanquished, thirsting body of the Green.
+
+He cleared the fence with one hand, took the road with two bounds,
+fled up the walk, burst through the door, jumped the stairs, broke
+into his room, slammed the door, locked it, backed the bed against it
+and seized a chair.
+
+Then the Green House struck the door like a salvo of grapeshot.
+
+"Open up, you robber!"
+
+"Open the door, you traitor!"
+
+"You Benedict Arnold!"
+
+"Open up, you white-livered pup!"
+
+"You quitter!"
+
+"You chickenheart!"
+
+"You coward!"
+
+Stover, his hair rising, seized the wooden chair convulsively, waiting
+for the door to burst in.
+
+All at once the transom swung violently and the wolfish faces of
+Tough McCarty, the White Mountain Canary, Cheyenne and the
+Coffee-colored Angel crowded the opening.
+
+"Get back or I'll kill you," said Dink in frantic fear, and,
+advancing, he swung the chair murderously. In a twinkling the transom
+was emptied.
+
+The storm of voices rose again.
+
+"The freshest yet!"
+
+"The nerve of him!"
+
+"Let's break in the door!"
+
+"Come out!"
+
+"Come out, Freshman!"
+
+"He did it on purpose!"
+
+"He chucked the game!"
+
+"Wait till I get my hands on him!"
+
+"I'll skin him!"
+
+All at once the face of Butsey White appeared at the transom.
+
+"Dink, you let me right in, you hear?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"You let me in right off!"
+
+Still no answer.
+
+"It's my room; you let me in to my room, do you hear?"
+
+Stover continued silent.
+
+"Dink," said Butsey in his loudest tones, "I'm coming right over the
+transom. Don't you dare to touch me!"
+
+Stover again seized the chair.
+
+Butsey White, supported from behind, carefully drew up one foot, and
+then convulsively disappeared as Stover charged with the chair.
+
+There was a whispered consultation and then the battling face of Tough
+McCarty appeared with a new threat:
+
+"You lay a hand on me and I'll rip the hide off you!"
+
+"Keep back!" said Stover hoarsely.
+
+"Put down that chair, you little varmint; do you hear me?"
+
+"Don't you come over!"
+
+"Yes, I'm coming over, and you don't dare to touch me. You don't----"
+
+Stover was neither a coward nor a hero; he was simply in a panic and
+he was cornered. He rushed wildly to the breach and delivered the
+chair with a crash, Tough McCarty barely saving himself.
+
+This open defiance of the champion angered the attacking party.
+
+"He ought to be lynched!"
+
+"The booby!"
+
+"Wait till to-morrow!"
+
+Tough McCarty reappeared for a brief second.
+
+"I'll get you yet," he said, pointing a finger at the embattled
+Stover. "You're a muff, a low-down muff, in every sense of the
+word!"
+
+Then succeeded the Coffee-colored Angel:
+
+"Wait till I catch you, you Rinky Dink!"
+
+Followed the White Mountain Canary:
+
+"You'll reckon with _me_ for this!"
+
+Down to Beekstein Hall, with his black-rimmed spectacles, each member
+of the outraged nine climbed to the transom and expressed his
+unflattering opinion.
+
+Stover sat down, his chin in his hands, his eyes on the great,
+lumbering mitt that lay dishonored on the floor.
+
+"I'm disgraced," he said slowly, "disgraced. It's all over--all over.
+I'm queered--queered forever!"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+Until dusk, like Gilliatt in Victor Hugo's Toilers of the Sea, waiting
+for the tide to swallow him up, Stover sat motionless, brooding. There
+was only one thing to do--to run away. His whole career had been
+ruined in a twinkling. He knew. There could be no future for him in
+the school. What he had done was so awful that it could never be
+forgiven or forgotten. Why had he run? If only he had made a quick
+dive at the ball as it had trickled off the glove and caught it before
+it reached the ground, instead of standing there, horrified,
+hypnotized. Yes, he would escape, run off to sea somewhere--anywhere!
+But he wouldn't go home; no, never that! He would ship around the
+Horn, like the hero in that dreadful book, Two Years Before the Mast.
+He would run away that night, before the story spread over the whole
+school. He would never face them. He hated the school, he hated the
+Green, he hated every one connected with it!
+
+A tap came on the door, and the voice of Butsey White said coldly:
+
+"Open up! Fuzzy-Wuzzy's in the House; you're safe. Open up. I've got
+to get ready for supper."
+
+Stover drew back the bed, unlocked the door and waited with clenched
+fists for Butsey to spring at him. Butsey White, whose tempestuous
+rage had long since spent itself in hilarious laughter, as, indeed,
+had been the case with the rest, thought it best, however, for the
+purposes of authority, still to preserve a grave face.
+
+"You're a fine specimen!" he said curtly. "You've had a beautiful day
+of it."
+
+"Yes, I have," said Dink miserably, "a beautiful day!"
+
+Butsey, to whom the tragedy of the century was nothing but an
+incident, had not the slightest suspicion of Stover's absolute,
+overwhelming despair. Yet Butsey, too, had suffered, and profited by
+the suffering.
+
+"You better square up with Tough McCarty," he said, failing to read
+the anguish in Stover's eyes. "You certainly were the limit."
+
+"I hate him!" said Dink bitterly.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He's a bully."
+
+"Tough McCarty? Not a bit of it."
+
+"He tried to bully me."
+
+"Why didn't you let them in?" said Butsey, putting the part in the
+middle of his hair with a dripping comb.
+
+"Let them in!"
+
+"Why, what do you think they'd have done to you?"
+
+Stover had never thought of that. After all, what could they have done
+to him?
+
+"I didn't think----"
+
+"Rats!" said Butsey. "They might have pied you on the bed; but that's
+nothing if you lie face down and keep your elbows in. That's all you'd
+have got. Then it would have been over; now you've got to square
+yourself. Well, brush up and come down to supper, and for the love of
+Mike smile a little."
+
+Butsey White's sentiments neither consoled nor convinced. Stover was
+too firmly persuaded of the enormity of his offense and the depth of
+his ignominy.
+
+In all his life he had never done a more difficult thing than to
+follow Butsey into the dining-room and face the disdainful glances of
+those from whom he had so lately fled.
+
+He sat in abject mental and physical suffering, his eyes on his plate,
+tasting nothing of what went into his mouth, chewing mechanically.
+
+Mr. Jenkins, to be affable, asked him how he had enjoyed the day. He
+mumbled some reply, he never knew what, hearing only the dreadful
+snicker that ran the table. He refused the dessert and left the
+table. It had been a nightmare.
+
+He stayed in his room, watching from behind the curtains his
+fellow-beings romping and shrieking over a game of baby-in-the-hat.
+The bottom had, indeed, dropped out of things--the universe was
+topsy-turvy. More keenly than in the afternoon he felt the utter
+hopelessness of his disgrace. If he could only get away--escape from
+it all. If he only had had five dollars in his pocket he could have
+reached Trenton and worked his way to some seaport town. He looked at
+the now ridiculous souvenir toilet set and bitterly thought where the
+precious dollars had gone--that story, too, would be abroad by the
+morrow. The whole school would probably rise and jeer at him when he
+entered chapel the next morning. That night he crept into his bed to
+the stillness of the black room, to suffer a long hour that first
+overwhelming anguish that can only be suffered once, that no other
+suffering can compare to, that is complete, because the knowledge of
+other suffering has not yet come, and he who suffers suffers alone.
+Then the imagination came to the rescue. He fell into blissful
+unconsciousness by a process of consoling half dreams in which he
+vindicated himself by feats of extraordinary valor, carrying the
+suffocating Tough McCarty and the Coffee-colored Angel out of burning
+houses at the risk of his own life, and earning the plaudits of the
+whole school.
+
+Suddenly a peal of thunder shook the building; he landed all in a heap
+in the midst of the sunlit floor, rubbing his eyes. Outside, the
+morning came in with warm embrace; green things stirred against the
+window-panes; the flash of a robin's wing cut a swift shadow on the
+floor and was gone. Below, the horrid clanging of the gong rattled the
+walls and called on the dead to rise.
+
+Dink gazed at the opposite bed. Butsey, with the covers wound around
+him, with his knees under his chin, was actually asleep. In great
+alarm he went over and shook him gently. One eye opened and
+reproachfully fastened on him.
+
+"I say, the gong--the gong's rung, Mr. White," said Dink.
+
+"The rising gong?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, when the breakfast gong explodes wake me up."
+
+The eyes shut, but presently reopened and a muffled voice added:
+
+"Pour out water--washbasin--stick my shoes over here."
+
+Dink obeyed, mystified. Then, going to the window, he drank in all the
+zest and glory of green fields and blue skies with woolly clouds
+drifting over the tingling air. Joyfully he turned for a plunge in
+cold water and the unspeakable crockery set met his eye. Then he
+remembered. A shadow fell across the room; the day went into eclipse.
+Mechanically, heavily, he dressed, and the fever of yesterday sprang
+up anew.
+
+Meanwhile, not a sound in the House except down the hall a snore--a
+glorious, triumphant note. A second time the gong took up its
+discordant march. Then from the cocoon on the bed a flash of legs and
+arms sprang out and into the waiting garments. There was a splash in
+the basin that spattered the water far and near, and Butsey, enveloped
+in a towel, rushed into his upper garments, flung back his hair with a
+masterful swooping stroke of the comb, and bolted out of the door,
+buckling his belt and struggling into a sweater. Down the stairs they
+went in the midst of floating coats, collars to be buttoned and
+neckties to be tied; and when the last note of the gong had ended not
+a place was vacant, though every eye still drooped with drowsiness.
+
+Breakfast over, Dink followed Butsey to their room and, after the more
+permanent preparations had been attended to, they left for chapel.
+
+The much-dreaded breakfast had passed with but one incident; the
+Coffee-colored Angel, in passing him the sugar, had said in a terrific
+whisper:
+
+"I'll get you to-day. I'll tame you!"
+
+But, being still in a nodding state, his anger was contented with this
+slight expression. Tough McCarty had given him just one look, but
+somehow he remembered nothing else. The instinctive hostility he had
+felt at the first meeting of their eyes rose anew. The Coffee-colored
+Angel and the White Mountain Canary were but incidents; the enemy, _le
+sacré_ Albion, was Tough McCarty.
+
+He went in the current of boyhood past Foundation House and around the
+circle toward chapel. For the first time the immensity of the school
+was before him in the hundreds that, streaming across the campus in
+thin, dotted lines, swelled into a compact, moving mass at the chapel
+steps. It was more than an institution; it was a world, the complex,
+marvelously ordered World of Youth.
+
+Somehow, he did not attract the attention he had expected. His
+entrance into the pew was attended by no hilarious uprising _en
+masse_. He found his place in the gallery, between Pebble Stone and
+Duke Straus, who sleepily asked his name and went off for a
+supplementary nap on the shoulder of D. Tanner. Stone evidently had
+heard nothing of his disgrace, or else was too absorbed in a hurried
+conning of the Latin lesson to make remarks.
+
+Dink lifted his head a little and stole a glance--strange, no one
+seemed to be paying the slightest attention to him. Somewhat
+astonished and unutterably relieved he gazed down at the body of the
+school marshaled below, at the enormous fifth-formers who seemed--and
+never was that illusion to fade--the most terrifically immense and
+awesome representatives of manhood he had ever seen. The benches were
+hard, decidedly so; but he lost himself pleasantly in the vaulted
+roof, and gazed with respect at the distant pulpit.
+
+The Doctor ascended and swept the school with that glance peculiar to
+head masters which convinces each separate boy it is directed at him.
+Stover felt the impact on his own forehead and dropped his eyes
+uneasily. When the hymn began he looked curiously among his
+classmates, located Doc Macnooder and caught the eye of the Tennessee
+Shad, who winked at him to show him he was still his friend.
+
+Somehow, his awful disgrace seemed to slip from him--the Green House
+was but a grain in the sand. There were friends, undiscovered friends,
+in the mass before him, to be won and held. An easier feeling came to
+him. When the school shuffled out he sought the Tennessee Shad and,
+holding out his hand said:
+
+"Say, you are wonders; and I'm the only living sucker!"
+
+"Dink, you're a real sport," said the Tennessee Shad, pleased; "but we
+did come it pretty strong. Now, if you want to turn in those
+shoes----"
+
+"Not on your life!" said Dink. "I deserved it, but--but look out for
+next year!"
+
+"All right," said the Tennessee Shad with an approving look. "If you
+do us we'll take you into the firm. Tack on to me, and I'll pilot you
+to The Roman's."
+
+Following his lanky guide Stover went in the churning, lagging mass
+across to Memorial Hall, rubbing elbows with the heroes, who stalked
+majestically in their voluminous bulk, with the coveted 'Varsity caps
+riding on the backs of their cropped heads, or being jostled by the
+freckled imps who ran zigzag, shrieking chases past him.
+
+At the steps they divided, some surging upward and others crowding
+into the lower corridor.
+
+"Below for us," said the Tennessee Shad, pushing his way forward.
+
+Dink found himself outside of one of the dozen classrooms in a throng
+that waited hopefully, as other classes waited hopefully every hour
+of every day in the hopes of an improbable cut.
+
+"The Roman," said the Tennessee Shad wisely, "is the one master you
+want to stand in with. Study like the devil the first two weeks; and
+say, get up on the gerund and the gerundive--they're his pets."
+
+"I will," said Dink.
+
+"You can't bluff him and you can't beat his system," continued the
+Tennessee Shad. "If you guess don't hesitate; jump at it. The only
+thing you can do is to wait for his jokes, and then grab the desk and
+weep for salvation--it's his one weak spot."
+
+"I will," said Dink.
+
+A cry of dismay went up from the sentinels at the window.
+
+"Oh, rats! Here he comes."
+
+"Oh, peanuts!"
+
+"Oh, melancholy!"
+
+"All in!"
+
+Dink modestly took a seat in the back, at the end of the row of S's
+where he must sit. On four sides, like prison walls that no convict
+might hope to scale, the slippery blackboards rose up and bound them
+in. On a raised stand was the master's pulpit where presently The
+Roman would come and sit, like the watcher of the galley slaves in Ben
+Hur, with his eagle glance sweeping the desks that, in regimental
+file, ran back from him.
+
+Outside, through two open windows, was the warm, forbidden month of
+April, and the gateway to syntax-defying dreams. At this moment Dink's
+copy of Cæsar's Gallic Wars slid on to the floor. He bent down,
+laboriously collecting the scattered pages and straightened up. Then
+he glanced at the pulpit. Directly in front of him, his eyes on his
+eyes, sat the big consular frame of his stage companion of the day
+before.
+
+Dink gasped in horror; twice his hand went instinctively toward his
+lip, stopped half-way and dropped. Then his mouth opened, set, and
+galvanically he rose to his feet, while the room seemed to tip up.
+
+He grasped the desk to keep from slipping, never taking his eyes from
+the Ciceronian countenance and the twinkling orbits above the slightly
+twitching lips.
+
+"Dear me," said a low, mocking voice with a curious rising and falling
+infection, "who's here? Another delegate to this congress of
+scintillating intelligences?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Dink in a whisper.
+
+"Quite a valuable addition, I hope. Yes? What is the name?"
+
+"John."
+
+"Well--well?"
+
+"John Humperdink Stover," said Dink with difficulty.
+
+"Ah, yes, Stover: the name is familiar--very familiar," said The
+Roman, with a twitch to his lip and a sudden jump of the eyebrow.
+"Haven't we met before?"
+
+Dink, suffocating, nodded. The class, at a loss, turned from one to
+the other, watching for the cue.
+
+"Well, Stover, come a little nearer. Take the seat between Stone and
+Straus. Straus will be better able to take his little morning nap. A
+little embarrassed, Stover? Dear me! I shouldn't have thought that of
+you. Sit down now and--try to put a little ginger into the class,
+Stover."
+
+Dink looked down and blushed until it seemed as though his hair would
+catch on fire. The class, perceiving only that there was a point for
+laughter, burst into roars.
+
+"There--there," said The Roman, stilling the storm with one finger.
+"Just a little joke between us two; just a little confidential joke. Now
+for a bee-ootiful recitation. Splendid spring weather--yesterday was a
+cut; of course you all took the hour to study conscientiously--eager
+for knowledge. Fifth and sixth rows go to the board."
+
+While The Roman's modulated accents doled out conjugations and
+declensions Stover sat, without a thought in his head, his hands
+locked, staring out at the green and yellow necktie that rose on
+Pebble Stone's collar.
+
+"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" he said at last. "Dished! Spinked! He'll flunk
+me every day. I certainly am in wrong!"
+
+He raised his eyes at the enthroned Natural Enemy and mentally threw
+down the gage of battle with a hopeless, despairing feeling of the
+three years' daily conflict that was to come. For, of course, now
+there could be no question of The Roman's mortal and unsparing enmity.
+But after the first paralyzing shock Dink recovered himself. It was
+war, but the war he loved--the war of wits.
+
+The Roman, having flunked a dozen by this time, had Channing, the
+Coffee-colored Angel, on his feet, on delicate matters of syntax.
+
+"Top of page, third word, Channing--gerund or gerundive?" said The
+Roman.
+
+"Gerund, sir."
+
+"Too bad!" said The Roman musically, and on a lower octave repeated:
+"Too bad! Third line, fifth word--gerund or gerundive?"
+
+"Gerund, sir," said the Coffee-colored Angel with more conviction.
+
+"No luck, Channing, no luck. Tenth line, last word--gerund, Channing,
+or gerundive?"
+
+"Gerund-ive," said the Coffee-colored Angel hesitatingly.
+
+"Poor Channing, he didn't stick to his system. The laws of
+probability, Channing----"
+
+"I meant gerund," said the Coffee-colored Angel hastily.
+
+"Dear me! Really, Channing?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Positive?"
+
+"Absolutely, sir."
+
+"It _was_ the gerundive, Channing."
+
+The Coffee-colored Angel abruptly sat down.
+
+"Don't want to speculate any more, Channing?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"No feeling of confidence--no luck to-day? Try the gerundive
+to-morrow."
+
+The discouraged began to return from the boards, having writ in water.
+The Roman, without malice, passed over the rows and, from flunking
+them individually, mowed them down in sections.
+
+"Anything from the Davis House to-day? No, no? Anything from the Rouse
+House combination? Nothing at all? Anything from the Jackson twins?
+Alas! How about the D's this morning? Davis, Dark, Denton, Deer,
+Dickson, nothing from the D's. Let's try the F's. Farr, Fenton,
+Foster, Francis, Finch? Nothing from the F's--nothing from the D F's!
+Nothing at all?"
+
+Dink burst into laughter, and laughed alone. The Roman stopped. Every
+one looked surprised.
+
+"Ah, Stover has been coached--well coached," said The Roman. "But,
+Stover, this is not the place to laugh. The D F's are not a joke; they
+are painful, every day facts. Well, well, it has been a beautiful
+recitation in the review--not exceptional, not exceptional at all. Has
+any one the advance? Don't all rise at once. Strange what trying
+weather it is--too sunny, not enough rain--every one rises exhausted.
+Will Macnooder kindly lead the massacre?"
+
+Macnooder disdained to rise; one or two faltered and tripped along for
+brief spaces, and then sat down. The Roman, counting his dead,
+hesitated and called:
+
+"Stover."
+
+"Me, sir?" said Dink, too astonished to rise. "Why, I'm unprepared,
+sir."
+
+"Unprepared?" said The Roman with a wicked smile. "I never thought you
+would be unprepared, Stover."
+
+The smile decided Stover.
+
+"I'll try, sir," he said.
+
+"Very kind of you, Stover."
+
+Dink rose slowly, put the book on his desk, tightened his belt,
+buttoned his coat and took up the prosy records of Cæsar. Pebble Stone
+showed him the place. He straightened up and, glancing at the first
+line, saw:
+
+"_Ubi eo ventum est, Cæsar initio orationis_ ..."
+
+"Cæsar," began Dink in a firm voice.
+
+"Excellent!" said The Roman.
+
+"Cæsar, wherever the wind blew him, initiated the orators ..." Dink
+continued smoothly, after a rapid glance.
+
+The Roman, from a listless attitude, gripped the desk, pivoted clear
+on one leg of his chair, staring at the familiar text as though it had
+suddenly taken on life and begun to crawl about the page.
+
+Dink, resolved not to be bested, gravely and fluently continued to
+glide on, without pause or hitch, turning syllables into words,
+building sentences wherever he met an acquaintance. On and on he went,
+glib and eloquent, weaving out of the tangled text a picture that
+gradually, freeing itself from the early restraints, painted in vivid
+detail a spirited conference between Cæsar and the German envoys. The
+class, amazed, resorted to their books; many of the unprepared, quite
+convinced, stared at him as though a new rival to the high markers had
+suddenly appeared.
+
+The Roman, fascinated, never quitted the text, marveling as the tale
+ran on, leaping adverbs and conjunctions, avoiding whole phrases,
+undismayed by the rise of sudden, hostile nouns, impressing into
+service whatever suited it, corrupting or beating down all obstacles.
+
+Once or twice he twitched spasmodically, twice he switched the leg of
+his chair, murmuring all the while to himself. Finally he rose and,
+slowly approaching to where Stover stood, glanced incredulously at his
+book.
+
+"Shall I stop, sir?" said Stover.
+
+"Heaven forbid!"
+
+Stover completed the page with a graphic, rushing account of the
+athletic exercises of the ancient Germans, and sat down without a
+smile.
+
+The Roman, back at his post, wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and
+spoke:
+
+"Very well run, indeed, Stover; excellently well run. Take your
+breath. Very fluent, very vivid, very persuasive--a trifle free, a
+trifle--but, on the whole, a very creditable performance. Very! I was
+sure, whatever you did, Stover, you wouldn't bore us. Now, let us see
+how the same passage will appeal to a more prosaic, less
+richly-endowed mind."
+
+Then Red Dog rose and, unfeelingly, brought the scene back to Rome and
+the deliberations of the Senate.
+
+But this was a detail that did not interest Dink in the least. He had
+clashed with The Roman and not retreated. He had his first moment of
+triumph, attested by the admiring glances of the class and the muffled
+whisper of Straus, saying:
+
+"Gee, you're a peach!"
+
+The session ended with a solemn warning from The Roman.
+
+"One word," he said in his deepest tones, "just one word to the wise.
+We have journeyed together for two whole terms; there is only one more
+between you and reassignment. Candor compels me to say that you have
+acquired not even a flunking knowledge." He turned and raked the awed
+ranks with the sweep of a pivot gun, and then took up again in
+cutting, chilling, spaced syllables: "I have, in the course of my
+experience as a teacher, had to deal with imbeciles, had to deal with
+mere idiots; but for sheer, determined, _monumental_ asininity I have
+never met the equal of this aggregation. I trust this morning's
+painful, disgraceful, disheartening experience may never, never be
+repeated. You may go."
+
+And Stover, who had brazenly planned to remain and converse, went
+swiftly out with the rest, little imagining that he whom he had ranked
+as a deadly, unforgiving foe sat a long while chuckling over the
+marvelous route Dink had gone, murmuring gratefully to himself:
+
+"Wherever the wind blew him, Cæsar initiated the orators."
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+In the hallway the Coffee-colored Angel jabbed him with his elbow,
+muttering:
+
+"You laughed at me, you miserable Rinky Dink. I'll fix you for that."
+
+He disappeared swiftly. Before Dink could frame a reply he was
+surrounded by an admiring chorus. The Tennessee Shad and Macnooder
+shook hands with ceremony.
+
+"You'll do," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"You certainly will!" said Doc Macnooder.
+
+"You've made a hit with Lucius Cassius," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+Dink shook his head; he knew better.
+
+"You must always recite--always," said Doc Macnooder, from his great
+knowledge of the nature of masters. "Whether you're prepared or
+not--recite."
+
+"I will," said Dink.
+
+"And say, Dink," said Macnooder, "keep that outfit we sold you.
+There'll be more hayseeds in the fall."
+
+Dink had thought of that; he had thought of something else, too, which
+he craftily hid in his own memory.
+
+"Next fall I'll show them a thing or two," he said gleefully. "I'll
+make souvenir crockery sets the rage."
+
+The Coffee-colored Angel and the petty annoyances of the Green House
+forgot, he went with a hitch and a kick, loping along, while his
+delicately-balanced imagination, now soaring above the gloomy descents
+of the morning, swam joyfully in the realms of future triumphs.
+
+In this abstracted mood he passed Foundation's gloomy portals and
+Laloo standing in his door gazing down the road, and took the leafy
+path that led to the Green.
+
+All at once he heard a battle cry and, turning, beheld the
+Coffee-colored Angel and the White Mountain Canary spring from their
+concealment and bear down upon him with unmistakable intent. Now,
+whether in a former existence Dink had been parent to the fox, or
+whether the purely human instinct was quicker than the reason, before
+he knew what he had done he had bounded forward and burst for home in
+full flight, with his heart pumping at his ribs. Easily distancing his
+pursuers, he arrived at the Green House before it dawned upon him that
+he had been challenged and run away.
+
+He stopped abruptly with clenched fists, breathing deep.
+
+"Now let them come," he said, turning.
+
+But the Coffee-colored Angel and the White Mountain Canary, having
+abandoned the hopeless chase, had gone another way.
+
+Angry and ashamed, Dink went to his room, vowing terrific vengeance.
+He planted himself before the mirror and, doubling up either arm, felt
+the well-hardened muscles.
+
+"There were two of them, and I didn't have time to think," he said.
+"I'll fight 'em--any of 'em."
+
+Reassured by the scowling ferocity of his reflected countenance, he
+turned away. But, passing near the window, he saw the Coffee-colored
+Angel and the White Mountain Canary come militantly up the stone walk.
+A moment later their steps sounded on the stairs. He went hastily to
+the door and shot the key. An instant later the door was tried, and
+then the contemptuous face of the Coffee-colored Angel loomed through
+the transom.
+
+"I knew you were yellow the moment I looked at you," he said
+scornfully. "Pah!"
+
+Dink did not answer. He was all in a whirl. His action in locking the
+door, so contrary to his heroic resolutions, left him in confusion.
+
+"I wonder if I really am afraid," he said, sitting down-all in a heap.
+The look in the Coffee-colored Angel's eye had brought him an
+unpleasant creeping sensation in the region of the back.
+
+And yet the Coffee-colored Angel, bone for bone and inch for inch, was
+just what he was--only he had fled from him, inadvertently,
+instinctively, it is true, yet feeling the running menace at his back.
+
+"I'm a coward!" he said, staring at the opposite wall. "I must be a
+coward! If I weren't I would have opened that door."
+
+Now, Dink had never fought a real fight. He had had a few
+rough-and-tumble skirmishes, but a fight where you stood up and looked
+a man in the whites of the eyes, a deliberate, planned-out fight, was
+outside his knowledge, in the mists of the unknown. And so his
+imagination--which later should be his strength--recoiled before that
+unknown as it had recoiled the moment he stepped from the stage to
+face his new judges; as it had recoiled in the hushed parlor before
+the closed door of the head master's den, and again at the thought of
+stepping into the batter's box and risking his head against the deadly
+shoots of Nick Carter, of the Cleve. He had never fought, therefore he
+was aghast at the fear of being afraid.
+
+"Well, I won't run again," he said desperately. "I'll have it over
+with--he can only lick me."
+
+But he did run again, and often, despite all his resolves, impelled
+always by the psychological precedent that he had run before.
+
+The Coffee-colored Angel and the White Mountain Canary made a regular
+ceremony of it, raising a hue and cry at the sight of him and bursting
+into derisive laughter after short chases.
+
+Dink was miserable and now thoroughly frightened. He slunk into the
+solitude of his own company, avoiding the disdainful looks of his
+House mates. He knew now he was a coward and should never be anything
+else. He did not blame Butsey, who scarcely spoke to him. All he
+thought of was, by roundabout ways, to put off the dreadful hour when
+either the Coffee-colored Angel or the White Mountain Canary should
+catch him and beat him to a quivering, senseless pulp.
+
+Then the unexpected happened. One day, cutting across fields to avoid
+his persecutors, he was suddenly shut off by the White Mountain
+Canary, who rose from ambush, jeering horribly. Cut off from the
+Green, Dink returned post-haste up the village, when all at once the
+Coffee-colored Angel closed in on him. Only one way of escape was open
+to him, down an alley between two houses. With the Coffee-colored
+Angel at his heels he dashed ahead, turned the corner of the house
+and found himself caught in a blind area.
+
+Whereupon he turned on the Coffee-colored Angel and slathered him,
+drove him hither and thither with terrific blows, knocked him head
+over heels, caught him by the throat and beat him against a wall,
+rolled him on the ground and rubbed him in the dust, tore his clothes,
+blacked his eyes and left him beaten and supinely, passively
+wallowing.
+
+He walked out on his tiptoes, like a terrier, head erect, his chest
+out, fists still folded, tears in his eyes--tears of pride and relief.
+He had fought a fight, he had received terrific blows and minded them
+not. He had thrashed the Coffee-colored Angel: he could thrash or take
+a thrashing from any one. He had his first thrill, the thrill of
+conscious rage, comparable only to first love and first sorrow. He had
+licked the Coffee-colored Angel--he was not a coward!
+
+At this highly-auspicious moment the unsuspecting White Mountain
+Canary perceived the despised object of his chase and, raising a
+shout, triumphantly bore down upon him. With a rush he cleared the
+intervening space and then, catching sight of the new Dink, stopped as
+though he had been jerked in by a rope.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+A few moments later the group on the Green House steps were lazily
+working out a French translation, which Beekstein, the Secretary of
+the Department of Education, was reading to them, when suddenly, in
+the fields opposite, two figures appeared, zigzagging wildly.
+
+"Here comes the Dink again," said Stuffy Brown. "They'll get him this
+time."
+
+"Who's after him?" said Tough McCarty. "He's a disgrace to the House."
+
+"It's the White Mountain Canary," said Susie Satterly.
+
+"Hello!" said Cheyenne.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'll be darned--no--yes--dinged if it isn't the Dink chasing the
+Canary!"
+
+As they sprang up, amazed, Stover dove at the fleeing tormentor,
+caught him, and the two went down in a heap, thrashing to and fro.
+
+"Well, I'll be jig-swiggered!" said Cheyenne.
+
+"I'll eat my pants!"
+
+"The Dink!"
+
+At this moment the awful wreck of the Coffee-colored Angel limped up.
+A chorus broke out:
+
+"The Coffee-colored Angel!"
+
+"Shot to pieces!"
+
+"Massacred!"
+
+"Kicked by a horse!"
+
+"What hit you?"
+
+"Dink," said the Coffee-colored Angel, taking a tooth out of his
+muddy mouth. "I caught him."
+
+Presently they saw Stover arise and loose the battered White Mountain
+Canary, who broke wildly for shelter.
+
+"Well, anyhow," said the Coffee-colored Angel, "Dink's swallowed the
+Canary."
+
+"What's he up to now?" said Cheyenne.
+
+They watched him approach the fence, deliberately take off his coat,
+remove his collar and necktie, tighten his belt and methodically,
+slowly roll up his sleeves.
+
+"Here he comes," said the Coffee-colored Angel, moving swiftly away.
+"Why, he's crying!"
+
+Dink came up the path, choking with rage and the knowledge of his own
+tears, and in front of them all threw down his coat.
+
+"You thought I was afraid, did you? You thought I was a coward!" he
+sobbed. "Well, I'll show you whether I'm afraid of you, any of you,
+you big bullies! You big stuff, you, come on!"
+
+And suddenly advancing, he squared off and struck Tough McCarty a wild
+blow, crash on the nose.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+They adjourned to a sheltered spot back of the stump willows and chose
+a bare space of soft, green turf. At their sides the brook ran
+splashing over the cool stones.
+
+"Who'll be Dink's second?" said Cheyenne Baxter, the referee.
+
+There was an embarrassed pause.
+
+"Go on, any of you," said Tough McCarty generously.
+
+"I'll be," said the Coffee-colored Angel. "He licked me square."
+
+He stepped over and held out his hand.
+
+"I don't want you--I don't want your hand!" said Dink with a scream.
+"I don't want any second; I won't have any! I hate you--I hate the
+whole lot of you!"
+
+Cheyenne Baxter consulted with Tough McCarty and came over.
+
+"Say, Dink," he said kindly, "Tough doesn't want to fight you now; it
+isn't fair. He'll give you a fight any time you want--when you're
+fresh."
+
+"I don't want to wait," cried Stover, blubbering despite himself.
+"I'll fight him now. I'll show him if I'm afraid, the big bully!"
+
+"What rounds do you want?" said Cheyenne, seeing it was wisest not to
+interfere.
+
+"I don't want any rounds," cried Dink wildly. "I want to get at him,
+the great, big mucker!"
+
+Cheyenne went over to Tough, who stood apart, looking very
+uncomfortable.
+
+"Better go on, Tough. Don't hurt the little varmint any more than you
+have to."
+
+It was a strange fight. They stood around in silence, rather
+frightened at Stover's frenzy. Tough McCarty, overtopping his
+antagonist by four good inches, stood on the defensive, seeking only
+to ward off the storm of frantic blows that rained on him. For Dink
+cared not a whit what happened to him or how he exposed himself.
+
+Blinded by rage, crying from sheer excess of emotion, shrieking out
+inarticulate denunciations, he flung himself on McCarty with the
+recklessness of a mad dervish, crying:
+
+"You thought I was a coward,--darn you! You great, fat slob! You
+thought I was afraid of a licking, did you? I'll show you. Lick me now
+if you can, you big brute! Lick me every day! I'm not afraid of you!"
+
+"Confound the lunatic!" said Tough McCarty, receiving a solid thump in
+the ribs. "I can't stand here, getting pummeled all day. Got to hit
+him--ouch!"
+
+Dink, in his frantic rush, throwing himself under his enemy's guard,
+almost bore him to the ground by the shock of his onslaught. McCarty,
+angrily brushing the blood from his already outraged nose with the
+cuff of his sleeve, shook himself like an angry bear and, catching
+Stover with a straight-arm blow, sent him rolling on the turf.
+
+Back again and again came Stover, hurling himself wildly onto the
+scientific fists that sent him reeling back. The green arms of the
+trees, the gray faces of the onlookers, the blue of the tilting sky
+rushed into the reeling earth, confounded together. He no longer saw
+the being he was fighting, a white film slipped over everything and
+then all went out in blank unconsciousness.
+
+When he opened his eyes again he was on his back, looking up through
+the willows at a puffy cloud that turned against the blue. At his side
+the brook went softly, singing in whispers the note that stirred the
+leaves.
+
+Something wet fell on his face and trickled uncomfortably down his
+neck. Some one was applying a dripping cloth.
+
+"Coming to?" said Cheyenne Baxter.
+
+Then Dink remembered.
+
+"Where is he?" he cried, trying to spring up. "Fight him,--fight him
+to the end!"
+
+A strong hand pressed him down.
+
+"There, there, you fire-eater!" said Cheyenne. "Go easy. You've had
+enough blood for one afternoon. Lie back. Shut your eyes."
+
+He heard whispering and the sound of voices going, and lost
+consciousness again.
+
+When he saw the face of the day once more he was alone with Cheyenne,
+who was kneeling by his side, smiling as he watched him.
+
+"Better now?"
+
+"I'm all right."
+
+"Let me carry you."
+
+"I can stand."
+
+Cheyenne's good right arm caught him as he tottered and held him.
+
+"I'm all right," said Dink gruffly.
+
+Aided by Cheyenne, he went weakly back to the Green. At the steps
+Tough McCarty sprang up and advanced with outstretched hand, saying:
+
+"Put her here, Dink; you're dead game!"
+
+Stover put his hand behind his back.
+
+"I don't want to shake hands," he said, flushing and gazing at Tough
+McCarty until the pupils of his eyes seemed to dwindle, "with you or
+any of you. I hate you all; you're a gang of muckers. I'll fight you
+now: I'll fight you to-morrow. You're too big for me now; but I'll
+lick you--I'll lick you next year--you, Tough McCarty--or the year
+after that; you see if I don't!"
+
+Tough McCarty stood back, rightfully offended. Cheyenne led Dink up to
+his room and lectured him.
+
+"Now, young bantam, listen to me. You've shown your colors and we
+respect you for it. But you can't fight your way into being liked--put
+that in your pipe and smoke it. You've got to keep a civil tongue in
+your head and quit thinking this place was built for your special
+benefit. Savez? You've got to win your way if you want to be one of
+us. Now, when you get your head clear, go down and apologize to Tough
+McCarty and the Angel, like a man."
+
+The advice, which a day later would have been gratefully received,
+came inopportunely for Dink's overwrought nerves. He gave an angry
+answer--he did not want to be friends--he hated them all--he would
+never apologize--never.
+
+When Butsey White came with friendly offers he cut him short.
+
+"Don't _you_ come rubbering around now," he said scornfully. "You went
+back on me. You thought I was afraid. I'll do without your friendship
+now."
+
+When a calmer view had come to him he regretted what he had done. He
+eliminated Tough McCarty--that was a feud of the instincts--but it
+certainly had been white of the Coffee-colored Angel to offer to be
+his second; Cheyenne was every inch a leader, and Butsey really had
+been justified. Unfortunately, his repentance came too late; the
+damage had been done. Only one thing could right him--an apology to
+the assembled House; but as the courage to apologize is the last
+virtue to be acquired--if it ever is acquired--Dink in his pride would
+rather have chopped off his hand than admit his error. They had
+misjudged him; they would have to come to him. The breach, once made,
+widened rapidly--due, principally, to Dink's own morbid pride. Some of
+the things he did were simply ridiculous and some were flagrantly
+impudent.
+
+He was one against eight--but one who had learned his strength, who
+feared no longer the experiences he knew. He stood ready to back his
+acts of belligerency with his fists against any one--except, of
+course, Butsey White; for roommates do not fight unless they love one
+another.
+
+He had always in him the spirit of the rebel. To be forbid a thing,
+with him, was to do it instantly. He refused all the service a
+Freshman should do. At table he took a malignant delight in demanding
+loudly second and third helps of the abhorrent prunes--long after he
+had come to feel the universal antagonism. He would not wake Butsey
+in the morning, fill his basin or arrange his shoes. He would run no
+errands. He refused to say sir or doff his hat to his superiors in the
+morning; and, being better supplied with money, he took particular
+pleasure in entering the House with boxes of jiggers or tins of potted
+meats and a bottle of rootbeer, with which he openly gorged himself at
+night, while Butsey squirmed over the unappetizing pages of the Gallic
+Wars.
+
+Finally, the blow came. Cheyenne Baxter, as president of the House,
+appeared one evening and hurled on him the ban of excommunication--from
+that hour he was to be put in Coventry.
+
+From that moment no one spoke to him or by the slightest look noticed
+his existence. Dink at first attempted to laugh at this exile.
+
+At every opportunity he joined the group on the steps. No one
+addressed him. If he spoke no one answered. At table the
+Coffee-colored Angel no longer asked him to pass his plate, but passed
+it around the other way. He went out in the evenings and placed his
+cap in line with the other boys', but the ball never went into his
+hat. If he stood, hoping to be hit, no one seemed to notice that he
+was standing there. For several days he sought to brazen it out with a
+miserable, sinking feeling, and then he gave it up. He had thought he
+cared nothing for the company of his House mates--he soon discovered
+his error and recognized his offending. But apology was now out of the
+question. He was a pariah, a leper, and so must continue--a thing to
+be shunned.
+
+The awful loneliness of his punishment threw him on his own resources.
+At night he lay in his bed and heard Butsey steal out to a midnight
+spread behind closed doors, or to join a band that, risking the sudden
+creak of a treacherous step, went down the stairs and out to wend
+their way with other sweltering bands across the moonlit ways, through
+negro settlements, where frantic dogs bayed at the sticks they rattled
+over the picket fences, to the banks of the canal for a cooling frolic
+in the none too fragrant waters.
+
+In the morning he could not join the group that congregated to listen
+to Beekstein--Secretary of Education--straighten out the involved
+syntax or track an elusive x to its secret lair. In the afternoon he
+could not practice on the diamond with them, learning the trick of
+holding elusive flies or teaching himself to face thunderous outshoots
+at the plate.
+
+This enforced seclusion had one good result: left to his own devices
+his recitations improved tremendously, though this was scant
+consolation.
+
+He kept his own company proudly, reading long hours into the land of
+Dumas and Victor Hugo; straying up to the 'Varsity diamond, where he
+cast himself forlornly on the grass, apart from the groups, to watch
+Charlie DeSoto dash around the bases, and wonderful Jo Brown on third
+base scrape up the grounders and shoot them to first.
+
+He was too proud to seek other friends, for that meant confession.
+Besides, his own classmates were all busy on their own diamonds,
+working for the success of their own House nines.
+
+Only when there was a 'Varsity game and he was swallowed up in the
+indiscriminate mass that whooped and cheered back of first, thrilling
+at a sudden crisis, did he forget himself a little and feel a part of
+the great system. Once when, in a game with the Princeton Freshmen, Jo
+Brown cleared the bases with a sizzling three-bagger, a fourth-former
+he didn't know thumped him ecstatically on the back and he thrilled
+with gratitude.
+
+But the rest was loneliness, ever recurrent loneliness, day in and day
+out. His only friends were Charlie DeSoto and Butcher Stevens at
+first, whom he could watch and understand--feeling, also, the fierce
+spirit of battle cooped up and forbidden within him.
+
+One night in the second week of June, when Butsey White had gone to a
+festal spread in Cheyenne Baxter's rooms, Dink sat cheerlessly over
+the Latin page, seeing neither gerund nor gerundive.
+
+The windows were open to the multiplied chorus of distant frogs and
+the drone of near-by insects. The lamp was hot, his clothes steamed on
+his back. He thought of the rootbeer and sarsaparilla being consumed
+down the hall and, going to the closet, consulted his own store of
+comforting things.
+
+But to feast alone was no longer a feast at all. He went to the window
+and sniffed the warm air, trying to penetrate the outer darkness.
+Then, balancing carefully, he let himself out and, dropping on the
+yielding earth, went hungrily up to the campus.
+
+He had never been on the Circle before at night, with all the lights
+about him. It gave him a strange, breathless feeling. He sat down,
+hugging his knees, in the center of the Circle, where he could command
+the blazing windows of the Houses and the long, lighted ranks of the
+Upper, where the fourth-formers were singing on the Esplanade. The
+chapel at his back was only a shadow; Memorial Hall, a cloud hung
+lower than the rest.
+
+From his position of vantage he could hear scraps of conversation
+through the open windows, and see dark figures flitting before the
+mellow lamps. The fellowship in the Houses, the good times, the
+feeling of home that hung about each room came to him with acute
+poignancy as he sat there, vastly alone. In the whole school he had
+made not a friend. He had done nothing; no one knew him. No one cared.
+He had blundered from the first. He saw his errors now--only too
+plainly--but they were beyond retrieving.
+
+There was only a week more and then it would be over. He would never
+come back. What was the use? And yet, as he sat there outside the life
+and lights of it all, he regretted, bitterly regretted, that it must
+be so. He felt the tug at his heartstrings. It was something to win a
+place in such a school, to have the others look up to you, to have the
+youngsters turn and follow you as you passed, as they did with Charlie
+DeSoto or Flash Condit or Turkey Reiter or a dozen of others. Instead,
+he would drop out of the ranks, and who would notice it? A few who
+would make a good story out of that miserable game of baseball. A few
+who would speak of him as the freshest of the fresh, the fellow who
+had to be put in Coventry--if, indeed, any one would remember Dink
+Stover, the fellow who hadn't made good.
+
+The bell clanged out the summons to bed for the Houses. One by one
+the windows dropped back into the night; only the Upper remained
+ablaze.
+
+At this moment he heard somewhere in the dark near him the sound of
+scampering feet. The next moment a small body tripped over his legs
+and went sprawling.
+
+"What in the name of Willie Keeler!" said a shrill voice. "Is that a
+master or a human being?"
+
+"Hello!" said Stover gruffly, to put down the lump that had risen in
+his throat. "Who are you."
+
+"Me? Shall we tell our real names?" said the voice approaching and at
+once bursting out into an elfish chant:
+
+  _Wow, wow! Wow, wow, wow!
+    Oh, me father's name was Finnegan,
+  Me mother's name was Kate,
+    Me ninety-nine relations
+  To you I'll now relate._
+
+"Oh, you're Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, are you?" said Dink,
+laughing as he dashed his cuff across his eyes. "The kid that wrote
+the baseball story."
+
+"Sir, you do me honor," said Finnegan. "Who are you?"
+
+"I'm Stover."
+
+"The Dink?"
+
+"Yes, the Dink."
+
+"The cuss that translates at sight?"
+
+"You've heard of it?"
+
+"Cracky, yes! They say The Roman was knocked clean off his pins, first
+time in his life. I say----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Then you're the fellow down in the Green, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Dink, thinking only of the ban of excommunication.
+
+"Why, you're a regular cross-sawed, triple-hammered, mule-kick,
+beef-fed, rarin'-tearin' John L. Sullivan, ain't you?" said the
+exponent of the double adjective in rapid admiration.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, you're the cuss that smeared the Angel, swallowed the Canary,
+and bumped Tough McCarty, all at once."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"My dear boy, permit me--you're it, you're the real thing."
+
+Dink, with a feeling of wonder, shook hands, saying:
+
+"Well, they don't think so much of it at the Green."
+
+"Anything wrong?"
+
+"Nothing much."
+
+Finnegan, perceiving the ground was shaky, switched.
+
+"I say, you want to get into the Kennedy next year; we've got the A
+No. 1 crowd there. I'm there, the Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pup--he's
+the president of the Sporting Club, you know; prize-fights and all
+that sort of thing--and King Lentz and the Waladoo Bird, the finest
+guards Lawrenceville ever had. And say, you'n I and the Tennessee Shad
+could strike up a combine and get out a rip-snorting, muzzle-off,
+all-the-news, sporting-expert, battle-cry-of-freedom newspaper that
+would put the _Lawrence_ out of biz. I say, you must get in the
+Kennedy."
+
+"I'm not coming back."
+
+"What!"
+
+"I guess my par-ticular style of talent isn't suited around here."
+
+"What's wrong?"
+
+"Well, everything."
+
+"I say, Dink, confide in me!"
+
+Stover, at that moment, in his loneliness, would have confided in any
+one, especially the first human being who had given him a thrill of
+conscious pride.
+
+"It's just this, youngster," he said, wondering how to begin: "they
+don't like me."
+
+"You like the school, don't you?" said Finnegan in alarm.
+
+Dink had never had the question put to him before. He was silent and
+his look went swiftly over to the coveted House of Lords. He drew a
+long breath.
+
+"You bet I do. I love it!"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"I started wrong; didn't understand the game, I guess. They've put me
+in Coventry."
+
+"You must have been pretty fresh."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Oh, don't mind me," said Dennis cheerfully. "I'm fresher than you
+ever thought of being. I was the freshest bit of verdure, as the poet
+says, that ever greened the place. I'm the freshest still. But I'm
+different. I'm under six inches--that's the cinch of it."
+
+"Yes, I was fresh," said Dink, intensely relieved.
+
+"You're always fresh if you're any good, the first term," said
+Finnegan. "Don't mind that. Next year you'll be an old boy, and then
+they'll follow you around for sugar."
+
+"I hadn't thought of that," said Dink slowly.
+
+"Keep a-thinking. I'm off now. Ta-ta! Got to slink in Fatty Harris'
+room before The Roman makes his rounds. Proud to have met you. Au
+revoir!"
+
+Dink sat a long while thinking, and a lighter mood was on him. After
+all, he was not a blank. Some one had recognized him; some one had
+taken his hand in admiration. He rose and slowly made his way toward
+the singers on the Esplanade, and by the edge of the road camped under
+the shadows of an apple tree and leaned his back against the trunk.
+
+The groups of the Esplanade stood out in cut outlines against the warm
+windows of the Reading-room. Above, the open windows were tenanted by
+boys who pillowed their heads on one another and sent their treble or
+bass notes down to swell the volume below.
+
+Led by a tenor voice that soared clear and true above the rest came
+the melody to Stover huddled under the apple tree:
+
+  _At evening, when twilight is falling
+    And the birds to their nests are all gone,
+  We'll gather around in the gloaming,
+    And mingle our voices in song.
+                        Yes, in song.
+  The bright stars are shining above us,
+    Keeping their watch and ward.
+  We'll sing the old songs that we love, boys.
+    Out on the Esplanade._
+
+Stover listened, pressing his knuckles to his lips, raised out of
+himself by the accord of voices and the lingering note of melancholy
+that was in the hour, the note of the dividing of the ways.
+
+Again in deeper accents a song arose:
+
+  _We sing the campus, green and fair.
+    We sing the 'leven and nine
+  Who battle for the old school there
+    And guard the base and line.
+  No cause for fear when they appear
+    And the school flag floats above our head.
+  When the game begins 'tis Lawrence wins,
+    While we cheer the Black and Red.
+  When the game begins 'tis Lawrence wins,
+    While we cheer the Black and Red._
+
+The song ended in lingering accents. Dink shut his eyes, clenching his
+fists, seeing wonderful days when the school should gather to cheer
+him, too, and lay its trust in him.
+
+Suddenly near him in the road came the crunching sound of footsteps,
+and a voice said:
+
+"Is that you, Bill?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Bill, I wanted to say a word to you."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"We've only got a few days more in the old place. I don't want to go
+out with any hard feelings for anybody, do you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Let's call it off! Shake hands."
+
+Stover listened breathless, hearing little more, understanding only
+that a feud had ceased, that two enemies on the verge of the long
+parting had held each other's hands, slapped each other's backs with
+crude, embarrassed emotion, for the sake of the memories that lived in
+the shadow of a name. And something like a lump rose again in Dink's
+throat. He no longer thought of his loneliness. He felt in him the
+longing to live as they had lived through the glorious years, to know
+the touch of a friend's arm about his shoulders, and to leave a name
+to stand with the names that were going out.
+
+He raised his fists grotesquely, unconsciously, and swore an oath:
+
+"No, I won't give up; I'll never give up. I'll come back. I'll fight
+it out!" he said almost aloud. "I'll make 'em like me. I'll make 'em
+proud of me."
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+  _My father sent me here to Lawrenceville,
+  And resolved that for college I'd prepare;
+    And so I settled down
+    In this ancient little town,
+  About five miles away from anywhere._
+
+  _Five miles away from anywhere, my boys,
+  Where old Lawrenceville evermore shall stand.
+  For has she not stood since the time of the flood.
+  About five miles away from anywhere?_
+
+The school was returning after the long summer vacation, rollicking
+back over the dusty, Trenton highway, cheering and singing as they
+came.
+
+Jimmy, on the stage, was swallowed up in the mass of exultant boyhood
+that clustered on the top like bees on a comb of honey, and clung to
+step and strap. Inside, those who had failed of place stuck long legs
+out of the windows, and from either side beat the time of the
+choruses.
+
+"Next verse!" shouted Doc Macnooder as leader of the orchestra.
+
+  _The First Form then I gayly entered,
+  And did so well, I do declare,
+    When they looked my record o'er
+    All the masters cried "Encore!"
+  About five miles away from anywhere._
+
+"Chorus!" cried Macnooder. "Here, you legs, keep together! You're
+spoiling the effect."
+
+Dink Stover sat quietly on the second seat, joining in the singing,
+but without the rollicking abandon of the others. He had shot up
+amazingly during the vacation and taken on some weight, but the change
+was most marked in his face. The roundness was gone and with it the
+cherubic smile. The oval had lengthened, the mouth was straighter,
+more determined, and in the quiet set of eyes was something of the
+mental suffering of the last months. He had returned, wondering a
+little what would be his greeting. The first person he had met was the
+Coffee-colored Angel, who shook hands with him, pounded him on the
+back and called him "Good old Dink." He understood--the ban was
+lifted. But the lesson had been a rude one; he did not intend to
+presume. So he sat, an observer rather than a participant, not yet
+free of that timidity which, once imposed, is so difficult to shake
+off.
+
+The stage, which was necessarily making slow progress, halted at the
+first hill, with a sudden rebellion on the part of the long suffering
+horses.
+
+"All out!" shouted Macnooder.
+
+In a jiffy every boy was on the ground.
+
+"All push!"
+
+The stage, propelled by dozens of vigorous hands, went up the hill on
+a run.
+
+"Same places!"
+
+"All ready?"
+
+"Let her go!"
+
+Mamie Reilly, being discovered on the roof and selfishly claimed
+below, was thrust kicking and wriggling over the side and into the
+ready hands at the window.
+
+"All ready, orchestra?" said Macnooder.
+
+"Aye, aye, sir."
+
+"All legs in the air!"
+
+"Aye, me Lord!"
+
+"One, two, three!"
+
+  _And then the Second Form received me,
+  Where I displayed such genius rare,
+    That they begged me to refrain,
+    It was going to my brain.
+  About five miles away from anywhere!_
+
+Meanwhile, at the approach of the astounding coach, which looked like
+a drunken centipede, the farmers stopped their plows or came to the
+thresholds, shading their eyes; while the cattle in the fields put up
+their tails and bolted, flinging out their heels, amid triumphant
+cheers from the students.
+
+All the while, the bulk of the school in two seaters, and three
+seaters, the Fifth Formers, the new Lords of Creation, in buggies
+specially retained, went swirling by exchanging joyful greetings.
+
+"Oh you, Doc Macnooder!"
+
+"Why, Gutter Pup! You old son-of-a-gun!"
+
+"Look at the Coffee-Colored Angel!"
+
+"Where's Lovely Mead?"
+
+"Coming behind."
+
+"Hello, Skinny."
+
+"Why, you Fat Boy!"
+
+"See you later."
+
+"Meet me at the Jigger Shop."
+
+"There's Stuffy!"
+
+"Hello, Stuffy! Look this way!"
+
+"Look at the Davis House bunch!"
+
+"Whose legs are those?"
+
+  _Hallegenoo, nack, nack!
+  Hallegenoo, nack, nack!
+  Hooray! Hooray!
+  Lawrenceville!_
+
+"Next verse," shouted Doc Macnooder. "Legs at attention. More action
+there! La-da-da-dee! One, two, three!"
+
+  _In course of time, I reached the Third Form,
+  But was caught in examination's snare.
+    Reassignment played its part,
+    And it almost broke my heart,
+  About five miles away from anywhere._
+
+"What house are you in?" said the Coffee-Colored Angel to Stover,
+between breaths.
+
+"Kennedy."
+
+"The Roman, eh?"
+
+"Yes, he reached out and nabbed me," said Stover, who was persuaded
+that his new assignment was a special mark of malignant interest.
+
+"Who are you rooming with?"
+
+"The Tennessee Shad."
+
+"Well, you'll be a warm bunch!"
+
+A shout burst out from the back of the coach.
+
+"A race, a race!"
+
+"Here come the Tennessee Shad and Brian de Boru."
+
+"Turn out, Jimmy!"
+
+"Give 'em room!"
+
+"Go it, Dennis!"
+
+"Go it, Shad!"
+
+Two runabouts came up at a gallop, neck and neck, four boys in each,
+the Tennessee Shad standing at the reins in one, Dennis de Brian de
+Boru Finnegan in the other, each firmly clutched about the waist by
+the boy on whose knees he jolted and jostled.
+
+"Push on the reins!"
+
+"Home run, Dennis!"
+
+"Swim out, you Shad!"
+
+"Pass him, Dennis! Pass him!"
+
+"Shad wins!"
+
+"Look at his form, will you!"
+
+"Oh, you jockey!"
+
+"Shad wins!"
+
+"Hurrah!"
+
+"Hurray!"
+
+"Hurroo!"
+
+But at this moment, when it seemed as though the race was to go to the
+Tennessee Shad's nag, which had that superiority which one sacrificial
+horse in a Spanish bullfight ring has over another, Dennis de Brian de
+Boru suddenly produced the remnants of a bag of cream puffs and, by
+means of three well-directed, squashing shots on the rear quarters of
+his coal-black steed, plunged ahead and won the road, amid terrific
+cheering.
+
+"Dennis forever!"
+
+"Oh, you, Brian de Boru!"
+
+"Get an éclair, Shad!"
+
+"Get an omelet!"
+
+"Get a tomato!"
+
+"Get out and push!"
+
+The racers disappeared in mingled clouds of dust.
+
+Macnooder, whirling around like a dervish on the stage top, conducted
+the next verse. Suddenly another shout went up.
+
+"Here comes Charlie DeSoto and Flash Condit."
+
+"Three cheers for the football team!"
+
+"How are you, Charlie?"
+
+"Flash, old boy!"
+
+"What do you weigh?"
+
+"Pretty fit?"
+
+"Too bad you can't run, Flash!"
+
+"What'll we do to Andover?"
+
+DeSoto and Condit passed, acknowledging the salutations with joyful
+yelps.
+
+"Give 'em the Fifty-six to Nothing, boys," shouted Macnooder. "All you
+tenor legs get into this. Oom-pah! Oom-pah! Oom-pah! One, two, three!"
+
+  _There is a game called football,
+    And that's the game for me.
+  And Lawrenceville can play it,
+    As you will shortly see.
+  She goes to all the schools about,
+    And with them wipes the ground.
+  For it's fifty-six to nothing, boys,
+    When Lawrenceville's around._
+
+  _She has a gallant rush-line
+    That wears the Red and Black.
+  Each man can carry the ball through
+    With six men on his back.
+  They carry it through the middle
+    And then they touch it down.
+  For it's fifty-six to nothing, boys,
+    When Lawrenceville's around._
+
+Little by little Stover was drawn into the spirit of the song. He
+forgot his aloofness, he felt one of them, thrilling with the spirit
+of the coming football season.
+
+"Gee, it's great to be back," he found himself saying to Butcher
+Stevens next to him.
+
+"You bet it is!"
+
+"Charlie DeSoto looks fit, doesn't he?"
+
+"He's eight pounds heavier, Doc tells me."
+
+"By George, that's fine!"
+
+They stopped to sing the third verse.
+
+"It won't be any fifty-six to nothing when Andover comes around," said
+Butcher gruffly.
+
+"We've got to hustle?" asked Stover respectfully of the 'Varsity left
+tackle.
+
+"We certainly have!"
+
+"What's the prospects?"
+
+"Behind the line, corking. It's the line's the trouble--no weight."
+
+"There may be some new material."
+
+"That's so." Stevens looked him over with an appraising eye. "Played
+the game?"
+
+"No, but I'm going to."
+
+"What do you strip at?"
+
+"Why, about 140--138."
+
+"Light."
+
+"I thought I might try for the second eleven."
+
+"Perhaps. Better learn the game, though, with your House team."
+
+Hearing them talk football the crowd eagerly began to ask questions.
+
+"Who's out for center?"
+
+"Will they move Tough McCarty out to end?"
+
+"Naw, he's too heavy."
+
+"I'd play him at center, and stick the Waladoo Bird in at tackle."
+
+"You would, would you? Shows what you know about it."
+
+"Butcher, you'll be in at tackle, won't you?"
+
+"Hope so," said Stevens laconically.
+
+Stover, who had entered the observant stage of his development, noted
+the laconic, quiet answer and stored it away for classification and
+meditation among the many other details that his new attitude of
+watchful analysis was heaping up.
+
+"There's the water tower! I see the water tower!" cried a voice.
+
+"I see the Cleve!"
+
+"All up!"
+
+"Long cheer for the school!"
+
+"All together!"
+
+"Rip her out!"
+
+They gave a cheer and then two more.
+
+"Now, fellows," said Doc Macnooder shrilly, as master of ceremonies,
+"we want to pull this off in fine shape. We're going to drive around
+the Circle. And I want this orchestra to keep together. Whose legs are
+those with the cannon-cracker socks?"
+
+"Beekstein's," cried several voices from inside.
+
+"Well, he's rotten. He gums the whole show. Now, get together,
+fellows, will you?"
+
+"We will!"
+
+As they turned to enter the campus the voice of the master spoke,
+clanging its inexorable note from the old Gym. Instantly a shout broke
+out:
+
+"Hang the old thing!"
+
+"Drown it!"
+
+"Down with the Gym bell!"
+
+"Murder!"
+
+"Oh, Melancholy!"
+
+"Silence!" cried the bandmaster. "Give 'em The Gym Bell--all ready
+below! La-da-da-dee!"
+
+"Too high!"
+
+"La-da-da-_dum_. Slow and melancholy. One, two, three!"
+
+  _When the shades of night are falling
+    Round our campus, green and fair,
+  All the drowsy sons of Lawrence
+    To their couches then repair.
+  Soon the slumber god has bound them
+    With his spell of magic power,
+  And he holds them thus enchanted
+    Till the early morning hour._
+
+"Up legs and at 'em now, Rip her out--chorus!"
+
+  _Till awakened
+  By the clanging
+  And the banging
+  And the whanging
+  From the cupola o'erhanging,
+  Of that ancient Gym bell!_
+
+Cheered by the new fifth-formers, who came laughing to the windows to
+hail them, the stage went gloriously around the Circle and came to a
+stop.
+
+"Here we are back at the same old grind," said Butcher Stevens.
+
+"Frightful, isn't it?" said Stover; and the rest made answer:
+
+"Back at the grindstone!"
+
+"Hard luck!"
+
+"We're all slaves!"
+
+"Nothing to eat!"
+
+"Nothing to do!"
+
+"Stuck in a mudhole!"
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+At the Kennedy steps The Roman was waiting for him. Stover shook hands
+or, rather, allowed The Roman to pump him, as was the custom.
+
+"Why, dear me--dear me--this is actually Stover!" said The Roman.
+"Well, well! How you have grown--shouldn't have known you. Had a
+pleasant vacation? Yes? Glad to have you in the Kennedy. It's a good
+House--good boys--manly, self-reliant, purposeful. You'll like 'em."
+
+The Roman released Stover's hand, which had grown limp in the process,
+and said with a twinkle to his quick little eyes:
+
+"Don't put too much ginger into them, Stover."
+
+This remark confirmed Stover's darkest suspicions.
+
+"I'll scatter a little ginger around all right," he said under his
+breath, as he climbed the stairs to his room. "He thinks he has the
+laugh on me, does he? Well, we'll see who laughs last!"
+
+On the third floor the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Brian de Boru
+Finnegan, from their respective trunks, were volubly debating the
+merits of Finnegan's victory--the Tennessee Shad claiming that the
+external application of cream puffs was equivalent to doping and
+invalidated the result.
+
+"Hello!" said Dink.
+
+"Why, it's my honorable roommate," said the Tennessee Shad, emerging
+with a load of flannels.
+
+"It's the Dink himself," said Dennis, gamboling up. "Welcome to our
+city!"
+
+"I hear I'm rooming with you," said Stover, shaking hands with the
+Shad.
+
+"You certainly are, my bounding boy."
+
+"Where's the room?"
+
+"Straight ahead, turret room, finest on the campus, swept by ocean
+breezes and all that sort of thing."
+
+"Why, Dink," said Dennis de Brian de Boru in affectionate octaves,
+"you old, slab-sided, knock-kneed, baby-cheeked, wall-eyed, battling
+Dink. You've grown ee-normously."
+
+"How's your muscle?" said the Tennessee Shad, with an ulterior motive.
+
+"Feel it," said Stover, who had consecrated the summer to the same.
+
+"Hard as a goat," said Dennis after an admiring whistle. "All nice
+little cast-iron, jerky bunches, ready and willing. Been in training,
+Dink?"
+
+"Yes, just so."
+
+"Feels sort of soft to me," said the Tennessee Shad pensively.
+
+"Oh, it does?"
+
+"Question: what can you do with it? Lift a trunk as heavy as this?"
+
+"Huh!" said Stover, bending down. "Where do you want it?"
+
+"Gee! I do believe he can carry it almost to the room," said the
+Tennessee Shad, whose theory of life was to admire others do his work
+for him.
+
+Stover bore it proudly on his shoulders and set it down. Dennis,
+planting himself arms akimbo, surveyed him with melancholy
+disapproval.
+
+"Too bad, Dink! I had expected better things from you. You're still
+green, Dink. Been too much with the cows and chickens. Don't do it;
+don't do it!"
+
+Stover glanced at the Tennessee Shad, who, satisfied, had curled
+himself up on the bed, to rest himself after the exertion of walking.
+
+"I guess I am still a sucker," he said, scratching his head with a
+foolish grin, "I'll not be so easy next time."
+
+"Never mind, Dink," said Dennis comfortingly. "Your education's been
+neglected, but I'm here. Remember that, Dennis is here, ready and
+willing."
+
+Presently the Gutter Pup and Lovely Mead came tumbling in, and then
+the lumbering proportions of P. Lentz, King of the Kennedy, crowded
+through the doorway, and the conversation continued in rapid
+crossfire.
+
+"Who's seen the Waladoo Bird?"
+
+"Jock Hasbrouck's dropped into the third form."
+
+"What do you think of the electric lights they've given us?"
+
+"They've stuck an arc light in the Circle, too."
+
+"We'll fix that."
+
+"How's the new material, King?"
+
+"Rotten!"
+
+"Think we've a chance for the House championship?"
+
+"A fine chance--to finish last."
+
+"Say, who do you think they've stuck us with?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Beekstein."
+
+"Suffering Moses!"
+
+"Never mind. We've got the Dink."
+
+"What's he do?"
+
+"He's the champion truckman--carry your trunk for you anywhere you
+want."
+
+Dink, thus brought unwillingly into the conversation, blushed a warm
+red.
+
+"Truckman?" said P. Lentz, mystified.
+
+"Champion," said Finnegan. "The mysterious champion truckman of Broad
+Street Station, Philadelphia. Stand up, Dink, my man, and twitch your
+muscles."
+
+Stover squirmed uneasily on his chair. There was no malice in the
+teasing, and yet he was at a loss how to turn it.
+
+The Gutter Pup, as president of the Sporting Club and chief authority
+on the life and works of the late Marquis of Queensberry, examined the
+embarrassed Stover, running professional fingers over his legs and
+arms.
+
+"You're the fellow who tried to fight the whole Green House, aren't
+you?" he said, immensely interested.
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"Good nerve," said the Gutter Pup. "You've got something the style of
+Beans Middleton, who stood up to me for ten rounds in the days of the
+old Seventy-second Street gang. I'll train you up some time. You'd do
+well with the crouching style--good reach, quick on the trigger and
+all that sort of thing. Like fighting?"
+
+"Why, I--I don't know," said Stover helplessly, unable to make out
+whether the Gutter Pup spoke in jest.
+
+"Modest and brave!" said the irrepressible Finnegan.
+
+The conversation drifted away; Stover, with a sigh of relief,
+obliterated himself in a corner, feeling immense distances between
+himself and the laughing group that continued to exchange rapid
+banter.
+
+"Dennis, they tell me you're fresher than ever."
+
+"Sir, you compliment me."
+
+"Say, Boru, have they put you on the bottle yet?"
+
+"Not yet, Lovely. Waiting for you to drop it."
+
+It was not particularly brilliant, but it was good-natured, and there
+was a certain trick to it that he had lost in the long weeks of
+Coventry.
+
+Presently the group departed to take the keen edge off the approaching
+luncheon pangs by a trip to the Jigger Shop, the center of social
+life.
+
+"Coming, Dink?" said the Gutter Pup.
+
+"I--I'll be over a little later," said Stover, who did and did not
+want to go.
+
+Left alone, half angry at his own enforced aloofness, and yet desiring
+solitude, Stover stood among the litter of boxes and gaping trunks and
+surveyed the four bare walls that spelled for him the word home.
+
+"It's a bully room--bully," he said to himself with a tender feeling
+of possession. "The Shad's a bully fellow--bully! Dennis is a corker!
+I'm going to make good; see if I don't! But I'm going slow. They've
+got to come to me. I won't break in until they want me. Gee! What a
+peach of a room!"
+
+He went to the window and looked out at the whole panorama of the
+school that ran beneath him, from the long, rakish lines of the Upper,
+by Memorial Hall, to the chapel and the circle of Houses that ended at
+the rear with the Dickinson. Below, boys were streaking across the
+green depths like water-bugs over limpid surfaces, or hallooing
+joyfully from window to terrace, greeting one another with bearlike
+hugs, tumbling about in frolicking heaps. He was on the mountain, they
+on the plain. His was the imaginative perspective and the troubled
+vision of one who finds a strange city at his feet.
+
+"It's all there," he said lamely, confused by his own impressions.
+"All of it."
+
+"Homesick?" said a thin voice behind him.
+
+He turned to find Finnegan eyeing him uncertainly.
+
+"Why, you wild Irishman," Dink said, surprised. "Thought you'd gone
+with the crowd. Hello, what's up now?"
+
+Finnegan, with an air of great mystery, locked the door, extracted the
+key and, returning, enthroned himself on a chair which he had
+previously planted defiantly on a trunk.
+
+"That's so you can't throw me out."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I'm going to be fresh as paint."
+
+"You are?" said Stover, mystified and amused.
+
+"Fact," said Finnegan, who, having crossed his legs, plunged his hands
+into his pockets and cocked one eye, said impressively: "Dink, you're
+wrong."
+
+"I am--am I?"
+
+"But never mind; I'm here. Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan--ready and
+willing."
+
+"Irishman, I do believe you're embarrassed," said Stover, surprised.
+
+"I'm not," said Finnegan indignantly. "Only--only, I want to be
+impressive. Dink, you're getting in wrong again."
+
+"What in thunder----"
+
+"You are, Dink, you are. But don't worry; I'm here. In the first
+place, you can't forget what every one else has forgotten."
+
+"Forget what?"
+
+"The late unpleasantness," said Finnegan, with an expelling wave of
+his hand. "That's over, spiked, dished, set back, covered up,
+cobwebbed, no flowers and no tombstone."
+
+"I know."
+
+"No, you don't--that's just it. You've got it on your mind--brooding
+and all that sort of thing."
+
+Stover sat down and stared at the Lilliputian philosopher.
+
+"Well, I like your nerve!"
+
+"Don't--don't start in like that," said Finnegan, rolling up his
+sleeves over his funny, thin forearms, "cause I shall have to thrash
+you."
+
+"Well, go on," said Stover suddenly.
+
+"You're not in Coventry--you never have been. You're one of us," said
+Dennis glibly. "BUT--I repeat BUT--you can't be one of us if you don't
+believe in your own noddle that you are one of us! Get that? That's
+deep--no charge, always glad to oblige a customer."
+
+"Keep on," said Stover, leaning back.
+
+"With your kind permission, directly. It's all in this--you haven't
+got the trick."
+
+"The trick?"
+
+"The trick of conversation. That's not just it. The trick of answering
+back. Aha, that's better! Scratch out first sentiment. Change
+signals!"
+
+"There's something in that," said Stover, genuinely amazed.
+
+"You blush."
+
+"What?"
+
+"The word was blush," said Finnegan firmly. "I saw you--Finnegan saw
+you and grieved. And why? Because you didn't have the trick of
+answering back."
+
+"Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan," said Stover slowly, "I believe
+you are a whole-hearted little cuss. Also, you're not so far off,
+either. Now, since this is a serious conversation, this is where I
+stand: I went through Hades last spring--I deserved it and it's done
+me good. I've come back to make good. Savez? And that's a serious
+thing, too. Now if you have one particular theory about your art of
+conversation to elucidate--eluce."
+
+"One theory!" said Finnegan, chirping along as he perceived the
+danger-point passed. "I'm a theorist, and a real theorist doesn't have
+one theory; he has dozens. Let me see; let me think, reflect,
+cogitate, tickle the thinker. Best way is to start at the A, B,
+C--first principles, all that sort of thing. Supposin', supposin' you
+come into the room with that hat on--it's a bum hat, by the way--and
+some one pipes up; 'Get that at the fire sale?' What are you going to
+answer?"
+
+"Why, I suppose I'd grin," said Stover slowly, "and say: 'How did you
+guess it?'"
+
+"Wrong," said Finnegan. "You let him take the laugh."
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"Something in this style: 'Oh, no, I traded it for luck with a
+squint-eyed, humpbacked biter-off of puppy-dog tails that got it out
+of Rockefeller's ashcan.' See?"
+
+"No, Dennis, no," said Stover, bewildered. "I see, but there are some
+things beyond me. Every one isn't a young Shakspere."
+
+"I know," said Finnegan, accepting the tribute without hesitation.
+"But there's the principle. You go him one better. You make him look
+like a chump. You show him what you could have said in his place. That
+shuts him up, makes him feel foolish, spikes the gun, corks the
+bottle."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"It's what I call the Superiority of the Superlative over the
+Comparative."
+
+"It sounds simple," said Stover pensively.
+
+"When you know the trick."
+
+"You know, Dennis," said Stover, smiling reminiscently, "I used to
+have the gift of gab once, almost up to you."
+
+"Then let's take a few crouching starts," said Dennis, delighted.
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"Room full of fellows. You enter."
+
+"I enter."
+
+"I speak: 'Dink, I bet Bill here a quarter that you used a
+toothbrush.'"
+
+"You lose," said Stover; "I use a whisk-broom."
+
+"Good!" said Dennis professionally, "but a little quicker, on the
+jump, get on the spring-board. Try again. 'Why, Dink, how _do_ you
+get such pink cheeks?'"
+
+"That's a hard one," said Dink.
+
+"Peanuts!"
+
+"Let me think."
+
+"Bad, very bad."
+
+"Well, what would you say?"
+
+"Can't help it, Bill; the girls won't let me alone!"
+
+"Try me again," said Stover, laughing.
+
+"Say, Dink, did your mamma kiss you good-by?"
+
+"Sure, Mike," said Stover instantly; "combed my hair, dusted my hands,
+and told me not to talk to fresh little kids like you."
+
+"Why, Dink, come to my arms," said Dennis, delighted. "A Number 1.
+Mark 100 for the term. That's the trick."
+
+"Think I'll do?"
+
+"Sure pop. Of course, there are times when the digestion's jumping
+fences and you get sort of in the thunder glums. Then just answer, 'Is
+that the best you can do to-day?' or 'Why, you're a real funny man,
+aren't you?' sarcastic and sassy."
+
+"I see."
+
+"But better be original."
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Oh, it's all a knack."
+
+"And to think that's all there is to it!" said Stover, profoundly
+moved.
+
+"When you know," said Dennis in correction.
+
+"Dennis, I have a thought," said Stover suddenly. "Let's get out and
+try the system."
+
+"Presto!"
+
+"The Jigger Shop?"
+
+"Why tarry?"
+
+On the way over Dink stopped short with an exclamation.
+
+"What now?" said Finnegan.
+
+"Tough McCarty and a female," said Stover in great indignation.
+
+They stood aside, awkwardly snatching off their caps as McCarty and
+his companion passed them on the walk. Stover saw a bit of blue felt
+with the white splash of a wing across, a fluffy shirtwaist, and a
+skirt that was a skirt, and nothing else. His glance went to McCarty,
+meeting it with the old, measuring antagonism. They passed.
+
+"Damn him!" said Stover.
+
+"Why, Dink, how shocking!"
+
+"He's grown!"
+
+In the joy of his own increased stature he had never dreamed that like
+processes of Nature produce like results.
+
+"Ten pounds heavier," said Dennis. "He ought to make a peach of a
+tackle this year!"
+
+"Bringing girls around!" said Stover scornfully, to vent his rage.
+
+"More to be pitied than blamed," sang Dennis on a popular air. "It's
+his sister. Luscious eyes--quite the figure, too."
+
+"Figure--huh!" said Stover, who hadn't seen.
+
+At the Jigger Shop the Gutter Pup, looking up from a meringue entirely
+surrounded by peach jiggers, hailed them:
+
+"Hello, Rinky Dink! Changed your mind, eh? Thought you were homesick."
+
+"Sure I was, but Dennis came in with a bucket and caught the tears,"
+said Stover gravely. "I'll call you in next time. Al, how be you?
+Here's what I owe you. Set 'em up."
+
+"_Très bien_!" said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan.
+
+That night, as they started on the problem of interior decorations,
+Stover threw himself on the bed, rolling with laughter.
+
+"Well, I'm glad you've decided to be cheerful; but what in blazes are
+you hee-hawing at?" said the Tennessee Shad, mystified.
+
+"I'm laughing," said Stover, loud enough for Dennis down the hall to
+hear, "at the Superiority of the Superlative over the Comparative."
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+"Why, look at the Dink!" said Lovely Mead the next afternoon, as
+Stover emerged in football togs which he had industriously smeared
+with mud to conceal their novelty.
+
+"He must be going out for the 'Varsity!" said Fatty Harris
+sarcastically.
+
+"By request," said the Gutter Pup.
+
+"Why, who told you?" said Stover.
+
+"You trying for the 'Varsity?" said Lovely Mead incredulously. "Why,
+where did you play football?"
+
+"Dear me, Lovely," said Stover, lacing his jacket, "thought you read
+the newspapers."
+
+"Huh! What position are you trying for?"
+
+"First substitute scorer," said Stover, according to Finnegan's
+theory. "Any more questions?"
+
+Lovely Mead, surprised, looked at Stover in perplexity and remained
+silent.
+
+Dink, laughing to himself at the ease of the trick, started across the
+Circle for the 'Varsity football field, whither already the candidates
+were converging to the first call of the season.
+
+He had started joyfully forth from the skeptics on the steps, but once
+past the chapel and in sight of the field his gait abruptly changed.
+He went quietly, thoughtfully, a little alarmed at his own daring,
+glancing at the padded figures that overtopped him.
+
+The veterans with the red L on their black sweaters were apart,
+tossing the ball back and forth and taking playful tackles at one
+another. Stover, hiding himself modestly in the common herd, watched
+with entranced eyes the lithe, sinuous forms of Flash Condit and
+Charlie DeSoto--greater to him than the faint heroes of mythology--as
+they tumbled the Waladoo Bird gleefully on the ground. There was
+Butcher Stevens of the grim eye and the laconic word, a man to follow
+and emulate; and the broad span of Turkey Reiter's shoulders, a mark
+to grow to. Meanwhile, Garry Cockrell, the captain, and Mr. Ware, the
+new coach from the Princeton championship eleven, were drawing nearer
+on their tour of inspection and classification. Dink knew his captain
+only from respectful distances--the sandy hair, the gaunt cheek bones
+and the deliberate eye, whom governors of states alone might approach
+with equality, and no one else. Under the dual inspection the squad
+was quickly sorted, some sent back to their House teams till another
+year brought more weight and experience, and others tentatively
+retained on the scrubs.
+
+"Better make the House team, Jenks," said the low, even voice of the
+captain. "You want to harden up a bit. Glad you reported, though."
+
+Then Dink stood before his captain, dimly aware of the quick little
+eyes of Mr. Ware quietly scrutinizing him.
+
+"What form?"
+
+"Third."
+
+The two were silent a moment studying not the slender, wiry figure,
+but the look in the eyes within.
+
+"What are you out for?"
+
+"End, sir."
+
+"What do you weigh?"
+
+"One hundred and fifty--about," said Dink.
+
+A grim little twinkle appeared in the captain's eyes.
+
+"About one hundred and thirty-five," he said, with a measuring glance.
+
+"But I'm hard, hard as nails, sir," said Stover desperately.
+
+"What football have you played?"
+
+Stover remained silent.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I--I haven't played," he said unwillingly.
+
+"You seem unusually eager," said Cockrell, amused at this strange
+exhibition of willingness.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Good spirit; keep it up. Get right out for your House team----"
+
+"I won't!" said Stover, blurting it out in his anger and then
+flushing: "I mean, give me a chance, won't you, sir?"
+
+Cockrell, who had turned, stopped and came back.
+
+"What makes you think you can play?" he said not unkindly.
+
+"I've got to," said Stover desperately.
+
+"But you don't know the game."
+
+"Please, sir, I'm not out for the 'Varsity," said Stover confusedly.
+"I mean, I want to be in it, to work for the school, sir."
+
+"You're not a Freshman?" said the captain, and the accents of his
+voice were friendly.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"What's your name?" said Cockrell, a little thrilled to feel the
+genuine veneration that inspired the "sir."
+
+"Stover--Dink Stover."
+
+"You were down at the Green last year, weren't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Stover, looking down with a sinking feeling.
+
+"You're the fellow who tried to fight the whole House?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, Dink, this is a little different--you can't play football on
+nothing but nerve."
+
+"You can if you've got enough of it," said Stover, all in a breath.
+"Please, sir, give me a chance. You can fire me if I'm no good. I only
+want to be useful. You've got to have a lot of fellows to stand the
+banging and you can bang me around all day. I do know something about
+it, sir; I've practiced tackling and falling on the ball all summer,
+and I'm hard as nails. Just give me a chance, will you? Just one
+chance, sir."
+
+Cockrell looked at Mr. Ware, whose eye showed the battling spark as he
+nodded.
+
+"Here, Dink," he said gruffly, "I can't be wasting any more time over
+you. I told you to go back to the House team, didn't I?"
+
+Stover, with a lump in his throat, nodded the answer he could not
+utter.
+
+"Well, I've changed my mind. Get over there in the squad."
+
+The revulsion of feeling was so sudden that tears came into Stover's
+eyes.
+
+"You're really going to let me stay?"
+
+"Get over there, you little nuisance!"
+
+Dink went a few steps, and then stopped and tightened his shoelaces a
+long minute.
+
+"Too bad the little devil is so light," said Cockrell to Mr. Ware.
+
+"Best player I ever played against had no right on a football field."
+
+"But one hundred and thirty-five!"
+
+"Yes, that's pretty light."
+
+"What the deuce were you chinning so long about?" said Cheyenne Baxter
+to Dink, as he came joyfully into the squad.
+
+"Captain wanted just a bit of general expert advice from me," said
+Dink defiantly. "I've promised to help out."
+
+The squad, dividing, practiced starts. Stover held his own, being
+naturally quick; and though Flash Condit and Charlie DeSoto distanced
+him, still he earned a good word for his performances.
+
+Presently Mr. Ware came up with a ball and, with a few words of
+introduction, started them to falling on it as it bounded grotesquely
+over the ground, calling them from the ranks by name.
+
+"Hard at it, Stevens."
+
+"Dive at it."
+
+"Don't stop till you get it."
+
+"Oh, squeeze the ball!"
+
+Stover, moving up, caught the eye of Mr. Ware intently on him, and
+rose on his toes with the muscles in his arms strained and eager.
+
+"Now, Stover, hard!"
+
+The ball with just an extra impetus left the hand of Mr. Ware. Stover
+went at it like a terrier, dove and came up glorious and muddy with
+the pigskin hugged in his arms. It was the extent of his football
+knowledge, but that branch he had mastered on the soft summer turf.
+
+Mr. Ware gave a grunt of approval and sent him plunging after another.
+This time as he dove the ball took a tricky bounce and slipped through
+his arms. Quick as a flash Dink, rolling over, recovered himself and
+flung himself on it.
+
+"That's the way!" said Mr. Ware. "Follow it up. Can't always get it
+the first time. Come on, Baxter."
+
+The real test came with the tackling. He waited his turn, all eyes,
+trying to catch the trick, as boy after boy in front of him went
+cleanly or awkwardly out to down the man who came plunging at him.
+Some tackled sharply and artistically, their feet leaving the ground
+and taking the runner off his legs as though a scythe had passed under
+him; but most of the tackling was crude, and often the runner slipped
+through the arms and left the tackler prone on the ground to rise amid
+the jeers of his fellows.
+
+"Your turn, Stover," said the voice of the captain. "Wait a minute."
+He looked over the squad and selected McCarty, saying: "Here, Tough,
+come out here. Here's a fellow thinks all you need in this game is
+nerve. Let's see what he's got."
+
+Dink stood out, neither hearing nor caring for the laugh that went up.
+He glanced up fifteen yards away where Tough McCarty stood waiting the
+starting signal. He was not afraid, he was angry clean through, ready
+to tackle the whole squad, one after another.
+
+"Shall I take it sideways?" said Tough, expecting to be tackled from
+the side as the others had been.
+
+"No, head on, Tough. Let's see if you can get by him," said Cockrell.
+"Let her go!"
+
+McCarty, with the memory of past defiances, went toward Stover head
+down, full tilt. Ordinarily in practice the runner slackens just
+before the tackle; but McCarty, expecting slight resistance from a
+novice, arrived at top speed.
+
+Stover, instead of hesitating or waiting the coming, hurled himself
+recklessly forward. Shoulder met knee with a crash that threw them
+both. Stunned by the savage impact, Stover, spilled head over heels,
+dizzy and furious, instinctively flung himself from his knees upon the
+prostrate body of McCarty, as he had followed the elusive ball a
+moment before.
+
+"That's instinct, football instinct," said Mr. Ware to Cockrell, as
+they approached the spot where Dink, still dazed, was clutching Tough
+McCarty's knees in a convulsive hug.
+
+"Let go! Let go there, you little varmint," said Tough McCarty,
+considerably shaken. "How long are you going to hold me here?"
+
+Some one touched Dink on the shoulder; he looked up through the blur
+to see the captain's face.
+
+"All right, Dink, get up."
+
+But Stover released his grip not a whit.
+
+"Here, you young bulldog," said Cockrell with a laugh, "it's all over.
+Let go. Stand up. Sort of groggy, eh?"
+
+Dink, pulled to his feet, felt the earth slip under him in drunken
+reelings.
+
+"I missed him," he said brokenly, leaning against Mr. Ware.
+
+"H'm, not so bad," said the coach gruffly.
+
+"How do you feel?" said Garry Cockrell, looking at him with his quiet
+smile.
+
+Dink saw the smile and misjudged it.
+
+"Give me another chance," he cried furiously. "I'll get him."
+
+"What! Ready for another tackle?" said the captain, looking at him
+intently.
+
+"Please, sir."
+
+"Well, get your head clear first."
+
+"Let me take it now, sir!"
+
+"All right."
+
+"Hit him harder than he hits you, and grip with your hands," said the
+voice of Mr. Ware in his ear.
+
+Dink stood out again. The earth was gradually returning to a state of
+equilibrium, but his head was buzzing and his legs were decidedly
+rebels to his will.
+
+The captain, seeing this, to give him time, spoke to McCarty with just
+a shade of malice.
+
+"Well, Tough, do you want to take it again?"
+
+"Do I?" said McCarty sarcastically. "Oh, yes, most enjoyable! Don't
+let me interfere with your pleasure. Why don't you try it yourself?"
+
+"Would you rather watch?"
+
+"Oh, no, of course not. This is a real pleasure, thank you. The little
+devil would dent a freight train."
+
+"All ready, Stover?" said Cockrell.
+
+The players stood in two lines, four yards apart. No one laughed. They
+looked at Stover, thrilling a little with his communicated
+recklessness, grunting forth their approval.
+
+"Good nerve."
+
+"The real stuff."
+
+"Pure grit."
+
+"Little devil."
+
+Stover's face had gone white, the eyes had dwindled and set intensely,
+the line of the mouth was drawn taut, while on his forehead the wind
+lifted the matted hair like a banner. In the middle of the lane,
+crowding forward, his arms out, ready to spring, his glance fixed on
+McCarty, he waited like a champion guarding the pass.
+
+"All right, Stover?"
+
+Some one near him repeated the question.
+
+"Come on!" he answered.
+
+McCarty's one hundred and seventy pounds came rushing down. But this
+time the instinct was strong. He slacked a bit at the end as Stover,
+not waiting his coming, plunged in to meet him. Down they went again,
+but this time it was the force of Stover's impact that threw them.
+
+When Cockrell came up, Dink, altogether groggy, was entwined around
+one leg of McCarty with a gaunt grin of possession.
+
+They hauled him up, patted him on the back and walked him up and down
+in the cool breeze. Suddenly, after several minutes, the mist rose. He
+saw the fields and heard the sharp cries of the coaches prodding on
+the players. Then he looked up to find Garry Cockrell's arm about him.
+
+"All right now?" said the captain's voice.
+
+Stover hastily put the arm away from him.
+
+"I'm all right."
+
+"Did I give you a little too much, youngster?"
+
+"I'm ready again," said Stover instantly.
+
+Cockrell laughed a short, contented laugh.
+
+"You've done enough for to-day."
+
+"I'll learn how," said Dink doggedly.
+
+"You know the real things in football now, my boy," said the captain
+shortly. "We'll teach you the rest."
+
+Dink thought he meant it sarcastically.
+
+"You will give me a chance, won't you?" he said.
+
+"Yes," said the captain, laying his hand on his shoulder with a smile.
+"You'll get chance enough, my boy. Fact is, I'm going to start you in
+at end on the scrub. You'll get all the hard knocks you're looking for
+there. You won't get any credit for what you do--but you boys are
+what's going to make the team."
+
+"Oh, sir, do you mean it?"
+
+"I'm in the habit of meaning things."
+
+"I'll--I'll----" began Stover, and then stopped before the
+impossibility of expressing how many times his life should be thrown
+to the winds.
+
+"I know you will," said the captain, amused. "And now, you young
+bulldog, back to your room and shake yourself together."
+
+"But I want to go on; I'm feeling fine."
+
+"Off the field," said the captain with terrific sternness.
+
+Dink went like a dog ordered home, slowly, unwillingly, turning from
+time to time in hopes that his captain would relent.
+
+When he had passed the chapel and the strife of the practice had
+dropped away he felt all at once sharp, busy pains running up his back
+and over his shoulders. But he minded them not. At that moment with
+the words of the captain--_his_ captain forever now--ringing in his
+ears, he would have gone forth gratefully to tackle the whole team,
+one after another, from wiry little Charlie DeSoto to the elephantine
+P. Lentz.
+
+Suddenly a thought came to him.
+
+"Gee, I bet I shook up Tough McCarty, anyhow," he said grimly. And
+refreshed by this delightful thought he went briskly across the
+Circle.
+
+At the steps Finnegan, coming out the door, hailed him excitedly:
+
+"Hi, Dink, we've got a Freshman who's setting up to jiggers and
+éclairs. Hurry up!"
+
+"No," said Dink.
+
+"What?" said Dennis faintly.
+
+"I can't," said Dink, bristling; "I'm in training."
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+The Tennessee Shad, reclining in an armchair softened by sofa
+cushions, gave critical directions to Dink Stover and Dennis de Brian
+de Boru Finnegan, to whom, with great unselfishness, he had
+surrendered all the privileges of the hanging committee.
+
+"Suppose _you_ agitate yourself a little," said Dink, descending from
+a rickety chair which, placed on a table, had allowed him to suspend a
+sporting print from the dusty moulding.
+
+"The sight of you at hard labor," said Finnegan, from a bureau on the
+other side of the room, "would fill me with cheer, delectation and
+comfort."
+
+The Tennessee Shad, by four convulsive processes, reached his feet.
+
+"Oh, very well," he said carelessly. "Thought you preferred to run
+this show yourselves."
+
+Picking up a poster, he selected with malicious intent the most
+unsuitable spot in the room and started to climb the bureau,
+remarking:
+
+"This is about it, I should say."
+
+The artistic souls of Dink and Dennis protested.
+
+"Murder, no!"
+
+"You chump!"
+
+"Too big for it."
+
+"Well, if you know so much," said the Tennessee Shad, halting before
+the last upward struggle and holding out the poster, "where would you
+put it?"
+
+Stover and Dennis indignantly bore the poster away and with much
+effort and straining tacked it in an appropriate place.
+
+"Why, that is better," said the Tennessee Shad admiringly, regaining
+his chair, not too openly. "Much better. Looks fine! Great! Say, I've
+got an idea. Stick the ballet girl under it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"You're crazy!"
+
+"Well, where would you put it?"
+
+"Here, you chump."
+
+"Why, that's not half bad, either," said the Tennessee Shad, once more
+back among the cushions. "A trifle more to the left, down--now
+up--good--make fast. First rate; guess you have the best eye. Now
+where are you going to put this?"
+
+By this process of self-debasement and generous exterior admiration
+the Tennessee Shad successfully perceived the heavy hanging and
+arranging brought to a satisfactory conclusion.
+
+The vital touches were given, the transom was hung with heavy black
+canvas; a curtain of the same was so arranged as to permit its being
+drawn over the telltale cracks of the door. Dennis and Stover, sent to
+reconnoiter from the hall, waited while the Tennessee Shad passed a
+lighted candle back and forth over the sealed entrance. One traitor
+crack was discovered and promptly obliterated.
+
+"Now we're secure," said the Tennessee Shad. "Cave of Silence and all
+that sort of thing. The Old Roman would have to smell us to get on."
+
+"How about the windows?" said Dink.
+
+"They're a cinch," said the Shad. "When you get the shade down and the
+shutters closed a blanket will fix them snug as a bug in a rug. Now,
+at nine o'clock we can go to bed without suffering from drafts. Ha,
+ha--joke."
+
+"Burn the midnight oil, etceteray--etcetera."
+
+"To-morrow," said the Tennessee Shad, "Volts Mashon is going to
+install a safety light for us."
+
+"Elucidate," said Dink.
+
+"A safety light is a light that has a connection with the door. Shut
+door, light; open door, where is Moses? Midnight reading made a
+pleasure."
+
+"Marvelous!"
+
+"Oh, I've heard of that before," said Finnegan.
+
+The Tennessee Shad, meanwhile, had been busy stretching a string from
+his bed to the hot-air register and from a stick at the foot of his
+bed to a pulley at the top.
+
+Stover and Finnegan waited respectfully until the Shad, having
+finished his operations, deigned to give a practical exhibition.
+
+"This thing is simple," said he, stretching out on his bed and pulling
+a string at one side. "Opens hot-air register. No applause necessary.
+But this is a little, comforting idea of my own. Protection from
+sudden change of temperature without bodily exposure." Extending his
+hand he pulled the other rope, which, running through the pulley over
+his head, brought the counterpane quickly over him. "How's that? No
+sitting up, reaching down, fumbling about in zero weather."
+
+"That's good as far as it goes," said Dennis, whose natural state was
+not one of reverence; "but how about the window? Some one has to get
+up and shut the window."
+
+"Simple as eggs," said the Shad, yawning disdainfully. "A string and a
+pulley do the trick, see? Down comes the window. All worked at the
+same exchange. Well, Dink, you may lead the cheer."
+
+Now, Stover suddenly remembered a device he had been told of, and,
+remembering it, to give it the appearance of improvisation he
+pretended to deliberate.
+
+"Well," said the Tennessee Shad, surprised, "my humble little
+inventions don't seem to impress you."
+
+"Naw."
+
+"They don't, eh! Why not?"
+
+"Oh, it's the right principle," said Stover, assuming a deliberate
+look; "but crude, very crude, backwoods, primitive, and all that sort
+of thing."
+
+The Tennessee Shad, amazed, looked at Finnegan, who spoke:
+
+"Crude, Dink?"
+
+"Why, yes. All depends on whether the Shad wakes up or not. And then,
+why hand labor?"
+
+"I suppose you have something more recherché to offer," said the
+Tennessee Shad cuttingly, having recovered.
+
+"Why, yes, I might," said Stover coolly. "A real inventor would run
+the whole thing by machinery. Who's got an alarm clock?"
+
+Dennis, mystified, returned running with his.
+
+Stover, securing it with strings, fastened it firmly on the table,
+which he moved near the scene of operations. He then lowered the upper
+half of the window, assuring himself that a slight impetus would start
+it. To the sash he attached a stout string which he ran through a
+pulley fixed to the top of the window frame; to the string he fastened
+a weight which he carefully balanced on the edge of a chair; to the
+weight, thus fastened, he attached another string which he led to the
+clock and made fast to the stem that wound the alarm. Then he
+straightened up, cast a glance over the Shad's handiwork and went to
+the register.
+
+"When the window shuts it should open the register, of course--first
+principles," he said crushingly. He disconnected the string from the
+bed and arranged it on the window. Having wound the clock he addressed
+his audience:
+
+"It's a simple little thing," he said with a wave of his hand. "I
+happened to remember that the key of an alarm clock turns as the alarm
+works. That's all there is to it. Set the alarm when you want to wake
+up--see--like this. Alarm goes off, winds up spring, throws weight off
+balance, weight falls, shuts the window, opens the register and you
+stay under the covers. Practical demonstration now proceeding."
+
+The mechanism worked exactly as he had predicted. The Tennessee Shad
+and the Wild Irishman, transfixed with awe, watched with dropped
+mouths the operation. Finnegan, the first to recover, salaamed in true
+Oriental fashion.
+
+"Mr. Edison," he said in a whisper, "don't take advantage of two
+innocent babes in the wood. Did you honestly just work this out?"
+
+"Oh, no, of course not," said Dink loftily. "My father told me,--it
+cost him a fortune; he gave years of his life to perfecting it!"
+
+"And this to me!" said the exponent of the superlative reproachfully.
+
+The Tennessee Shad rose and offered his hand with a gesture worthy of
+Washington.
+
+"Sir to you. I am your humble servant. Wonderful! Marvelous! Smashing!
+Terrific! Sublime!"
+
+"Do it again," said Dennis de Brian de Boru.
+
+The alarm being wound and set, the operation was repeated with the
+same success, while Dennis danced about excitedly and the Tennessee
+Shad contemplated it with dreamy absorption.
+
+"Jemima!" said Dennis. "And it works for any time?"
+
+"Any time," said Dink, with one hand gracefully resting on his hip.
+
+"Cracky!" exclaimed Dennis, prancing excitedly toward the door. "I'll
+get the whole House up."
+
+"Dennis!"
+
+Finnegan stopped, surprised at the note of authority in the Tennessee
+Shad's voice.
+
+"Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan; back and sit down."
+
+"What's wrong?"
+
+"You would call in the whole House, would you?"
+
+"Why not?" said Dink, thirsting for the applause of the multitude.
+
+"Dink, oh, Dink!" said the Shad, in profound sorrow. "You would throw
+away a secret worth millions, would you?"
+
+Dink looked at Dennis, who returned the look, and then with a
+simultaneous motion they sat down.
+
+"This invention has millions in it, millions," said the Tennessee
+Shad, promoter. "It is simple, but revolutionary. Every room in the
+school must be equipped with it."
+
+"Then there's all the apartment houses," said Dennis eagerly.
+
+"That will come later," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"We'll patent it," said Stover, seeing clouds of gold.
+
+"Certainly," said the promoter. "We will patent the principle."
+
+"Let's form a company."
+
+The three rose and solemnly joined hands.
+
+"What shall we call it?"
+
+"The Third Triumvirate?" said Dennis.
+
+"Good!" said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"What shall we charge?" said Dink.
+
+"We must make a dollar profit on each," said the Tennessee Shad. "That
+means--four hundred fellows in the school--allowing for roommates;
+we should clear two hundred and ten dollars at the lowest. That means
+seventy dollars apiece profit."
+
+"Let's begin," said Dennis.
+
+"I'm unalterably opposed," said Dink, "to allowing Doc Macnooder in
+the firm."
+
+"Me, too," said Dennis.
+
+"Doc is strong on detail," said the Tennessee Shad doubtfully.
+
+"I'm unalterably opposed," said Dink, "to allowing Doc Macnooder to
+swallow this firm."
+
+"Me, too," said Dennis.
+
+"Doc has great business experience," said the Tennessee Shad;
+"wonderful, practical mind."
+
+"I'm unalterably----" said Dink and stopped, as the rest was
+superfluous.
+
+"Me, too," said Dennis.
+
+"Some one's got to work for us in the other Houses."
+
+"Make him our foreign representative," said Stover.
+
+"And give him a commission?"
+
+"Sure--ten per cent."
+
+"No more," said Dennis. "Even that cuts down our profits."
+
+"All right," said the Tennessee Shad. "As you say, so be it. But
+still I think Doc Macnooder's business sagacity----"
+
+At this moment Doc Macnooder walked into the room. The three future
+millionaires responded to his greeting with dignity, keeping in mind
+that distance which should separate a board of directors from a mere
+traveling man.
+
+"Hello," said Macnooder glibly. "All ship-shape and ready for action.
+Tea served here and chafing-dish ready for the midnight rabbit. Ha,
+ha, Dink, still got the souvenir toilet set, I see."
+
+"Still, but not long," said Dink. "But that story comes later. Sit
+down, Doc, and pay attention."
+
+"Why so much chestiness?" said Doc, puzzled. "I haven't sold anything
+to any of you, have I?"
+
+"Doc," said Stover, "we have formed a company and we want to talk
+business."
+
+"What company?"
+
+"The Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company," said Dennis.
+
+"What does it manufacture?"
+
+"This," said Stover, indicating the appliance. "A combined window
+closer and alarm clock that also opens the register."
+
+"Let's see it," said Macnooder, all excitement.
+
+The demonstration took place. Macnooder the enthusiast was conquered,
+but Macnooder the financier remained cold and controlled. He sat down,
+watched by three pairs of eyes, took from his pocket a pair of
+spectacles, placed them on his nose and said indifferently:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What do you think of it?"
+
+"It's a beaut!"
+
+"I say, Doc," said Finnegan, "now, won't every fellow in the school be
+crying for one, won't be happy till he gets it, and all that sort of
+thing?"
+
+"Every fellow in the school will have one," said Macnooder carefully,
+making a distinction which was perceived only by the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Now, Doc," said Dink, still glowing with his triumph over the
+Tennessee Shad, "let's talk business."
+
+Macnooder took off the glasses and minutely polished them with his
+handkerchief.
+
+"You've formed a company, eh?"
+
+"The Third Triumvirate--the three of us."
+
+"Well, where do I come in?"
+
+"You're to be our foreign representative."
+
+"Commission ten per cent," added Finnegan carefully.
+
+The Tennessee Shad said nothing, waiting expectantly. Macnooder rose
+whistling through his teeth and stood gazing down at the alarm clock.
+
+"Foreign representative, commission ten per cent," he said softly.
+
+"We thought we'd give you first whack at it," said Stover in a
+careless, business-like way.
+
+"So. What's your idea of developing it?"
+
+"Why, we thought of installing it for a dollar."
+
+"With the clock?"
+
+"Oh, no! The clock extra."
+
+"Charging a dollar for string and pulley?"
+
+"And the invention."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+"Well, Doc, is it a go?" said Dink, observing him fall into a revery.
+
+"No, I guess I'm not much interested in this," said Macnooder, taking
+up his hat. "There's no money in it."
+
+"Why, Doc," said Finnegan, aghast, "you said yourself every fellow
+would have to have it."
+
+"Would have it," said Macnooder in correction. "The invention's all
+right, but it's not salable."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Nothing to sell. First fellow who sees it can do it himself."
+
+Finnegan looked at Stover, who suddenly felt his pockets lighten.
+
+"Doc is very strong on detail," said the Tennessee Shad softly, in a
+reminiscent way.
+
+"You might sell it to one fellow," said Macnooder, "without telling
+him. But soon as you set it up every one will copy it."
+
+"Great business head," continued the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"It's a good idea," said Macnooder condescendingly. "You might get a
+vote of thanks, but that's all you would get. Do you see the rub?"
+
+"I see," said Dink.
+
+"Me, too," said Dennis.
+
+"And a wonderful practical mind," concluded the Tennessee Shad
+dreamily.
+
+"Well, let's be public benefactors then," said Dennis in a melancholy
+tone.
+
+"And such a beautiful idea," said Dink mournfully.
+
+"I move the Third Triumvirate disband," said the Tennessee Shad; and
+there was no objection.
+
+"Now," said Doc Macnooder briskly, sitting down, "I'll put my own
+proposition to you amateurs. There's only one way to make the thing
+go, and I've got the way. I take all responsibility and all risks. All
+I ask is control of the stock--fifty-one per cent."
+
+Ten minutes later the Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company was
+reformed on the following basis:
+
+  PRESIDENT       Doc Macnooder, 51 shares.
+  ADVISORY BOARD  The Third Triumvirate.
+  TREASURER       Doc Macnooder.
+
+  PAID-UP CAPITAL
+
+  Macnooder                   $5.10
+  The Tennessee Shad           1.70
+  Dink Stover                  1.70
+  Dennis de B. de B. Finnegan  1.50
+
+"Now," said Macnooder, when the articles were safely signed and the
+capital paid up, "here's the way we work it. We've got to do two
+things: first, conceal the way it's done until we sell it; and second,
+keep those who buy from letting on."
+
+"That's hard," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"But necessary. I'm thinking out a plan."
+
+"Of course the first part is a cinch," said Dennis. "A few extras,
+etcetera, etceteray. It's putting the ribbons in the lingerie, that's
+all."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"You don't think it's selling goods under false pretenses?"
+
+"Naw," said Macnooder. "Same principle as the patent medicine--the
+only wheel that goes round there is a nice, fat temperance measure of
+alcohol, isn't it? We'll have the first public demonstration
+to-morrow afternoon. I'll distribute a few more pearls to-night. Ta,
+ta."
+
+The three sat quietly, listening to the fall of his departing steps.
+
+"If we'd asked him in the first place," said the Tennessee Shad,
+gazing out the window, "we'd only given up twenty-five per
+cent.--great business head, Doc; great mind for detail."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Macnooder, that night, formed the Eureka Purchasing Company,
+incorporated himself, and secured, at jigger rates, every second-hand
+alarm clock on which he could lay his hands--but more of that
+hereafter.
+
+At five o'clock the next afternoon the combined Kennedy House packed
+itself into the Tennessee Shad's room, where Doc Macnooder rose and
+addressed them:
+
+"Gentlemen of the Kennedy: I will only detain you an hour or so; I
+have only a few thousand words to offer. We are gathered here on an
+auspicious occasion, a moment of history--the moment _is_ historical.
+Your esteemed Housemate, Mr. Dink Stover, has completed, after years
+of endeavor, an invention that is destined to be a household word from
+the northernmost wilds of the Davis House to the sun-kissed fragrance
+of the Green, from the Ethiopian banks of the fur-bearing canal to the
+Western Tins of Hot-dog Land! Gentlemen, I will be frank----"
+
+"Cheese it!" said a voice.
+
+"I will be frank," repeated Macnooder, turning on them a countenance
+on which candor struggled with innocence. "I did not wish or
+encourage the present method of procedure. As a member of the
+Dickinson House I combated the proposition of Mr. Stover and his
+associates to make this invention a Kennedy House sinecure. I still
+combat it--but I yield. If they wish to give away their profits they
+can. Gentlemen, in a few moments I shall have the pleasure of placing
+before you an opportunity to become shareholders in one of the most
+epoch-making inventions the world has ever known."
+
+"What's it called?" said a voice.
+
+"It's called," said Macnooder slowly, secure now of the attention of
+his audience, "it's called The Complete Sleep Prolonger. The title
+itself is a promise and a hope. I will claim nothing for this
+wonderful little invention. It not only combats the cold, but it
+encourages the heat; it prolongs not only the sleep, but the
+existence; it will increase the stature, make fat men thin, thin men
+impressive, clear the complexion, lighten the eye and make the hair
+long and curly."
+
+"Let's have it," cried several voices.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Macnooder, seeing that no further delay was
+possible, "our first demonstration will be entitled The Old Way."
+
+Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, in pajamas, appeared from a closet,
+went to the window, opened it, shut the register, yawned, went to his
+bed and drew the covers over his head. The faint sounds of a mandolin
+were heard from the expert hands of the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Scene," said Macnooder, fitting his accents to low music as is the
+custom of vaudeville--"scene represents the young Lawrenceville boy,
+exhausted by the preparation of the next day's lessons, seeking to
+rest his too conscientious brain. The night passes, the wind rises. It
+grows cold. Hark the rising bell. He hears it not. What now? He rises
+in his bed, the room is bitter cold. He bounds to the window over the
+frozen ground. He springs to the register and back to his bed. He
+looks at his watch. Heavens! Not a moment to lose. The room is bitter
+cold, but he must up and dress!"
+
+Finnegan, completing the pantomime, returned with thunders of
+applause.
+
+"Gentlemen," cried Macnooder, "is this picture a true one?"
+
+And the roar came back:
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"Our next instructive little demonstration is entitled The Scientific
+Way or The Sleep Prolonger Watches Over Him. Observe now the modest
+movements of the Dink, the Kennedy House Edison."
+
+Dink, thus introduced, connected the hot-air register to the window
+sash, the window sash to the weight--specially covered with tin
+foil--and brought forth the table on which was the now completed Sleep
+Prolonger. Only the face of the clock appeared, the rest was buried
+under an arrangement of cardboard boxes and perfectly useless spools,
+that turned with the rope that took a thrice devious way to the alarm
+key. In front, two Kennedy House flags were prominently displayed.
+
+"Is everything ready, Mr. Stover?" said Macnooder, while the crowd
+craned forth, amazed at the intricacy of the machine.
+
+"Ready, Mr. President."
+
+"Second demonstration," said Macnooder.
+
+Finnegan again entered, fixed the register, lowered the window and,
+going to the clock, set the alarm.
+
+"He sets the alarm for half-past seven," said Macnooder in cadence.
+"One half-hour gained. The night passes. The wind rises. It grows
+cold. Hark the rising bell. He hears it not; he doesn't have to. The
+Sleep Prolonger is there."
+
+The alarm shot off with a suddenness that brought responsive jumps
+from the audience, the weight fell, and to the amazement of all, the
+window closed and the register opened.
+
+"Watch him now, watch him," cried Macnooder, hushing the tumult of
+applause. "Observe the comfort and the satisfaction in his look. He
+has not stirred, not a limb of his body has been exposed, and yet the
+room grows warm. His eye is on the clock; he will rise in time, and he
+will rise in comfort!
+
+"Gentlemen, this great opportunity is now before you. This marvel of
+human ingenuity, this baffling example of mechanical intricacy is now
+within your reach. It can do anything. It is yours. It is yours at
+prices that would make a miner turn from picking up gold nuggets. It
+is yours for one dollar and twenty-five cents--twenty-five cents is
+our profit, gentlemen, and you get one profit-sharing bonus. And,
+furthermore, each of the first fifteen purchasers who will pay the sum
+of one-fifty will receive not one, but three eight-per-cent.,
+accumulative, preferred bonuses."
+
+"Bonus for what?" said an excited voice.
+
+"Twenty-five per cent. of the net profits," cried Macnooder, thumping
+the table, "will be set aside for pro-rata distribution. The device
+itself remains for three days a secret, until the completion of the
+patents. Orders from the model set up and installed in twenty-four
+hours now acceptable, cash down. No crowding there, first fifteen get
+three bonuses--one at a time; keep back there--no crowding, no
+pushing--no pushing, boys. Here, stop! Owing to the extraordinary
+demand, have I the advisory board's consent to give every purchaser
+present who pays one-fifty three bonuses? I have? Let her go! Mr.
+Finnegan, take down the names. Cash, right over here!"
+
+"I don't like this idea of bonuses," said Finnegan, when the rooms had
+returned to their quiet again.
+
+"Twenty-five per cent., Doc!" said the Tennessee Shad reproachfully.
+
+"Why, you chump," said Macnooder proudly, "that's what's called the
+profit-sharing system. It keeps 'em quiet, and it also keeps 'em from
+going out and giving the game away. Mark my words."
+
+"But twenty-five per cent.," said the Tennessee Shad, shaking his
+head.
+
+"Of the profits--net profits," said Macnooder. "There's a way to get
+around that. I'll show you later."
+
+"We must get to work and round up some alarm clocks," said Stover.
+
+"I've already thought of that," said Doc, as he took his leave. "Don't
+worry about that. Now I'll canvas the Dickinson."
+
+"A slight feeling of uneasiness," said the Tennessee Shad solemnly,
+when Macnooder had departed--"a slight feeling of uneasiness is
+stealing over me, as the poet says."
+
+"Let's have a look at the articles of incorporation," said Stover, who
+sat down with Dennis to study them.
+
+"We're the advisory board," said Dennis stoutly.
+
+"He's got fifty-one per cent. of the stock, though," said Dink.
+
+"But we've got forty-nine!"
+
+The Tennessee Shad, who had not risen from his chair as it involved
+extraordinary exertion, was heard repeating in a lonely sort of way to
+himself:
+
+"A slight feeling of uneasiness."
+
+By the next nightfall every room in the Kennedy was equipped with a
+Complete Sleep Prolonger. Their reception was exactly as Macnooder had
+foreseen. At first a roar went up as soon as the simplicity of the
+device was unearthed, but the thought of the precious bonuses soon
+quelled the revolt.
+
+Besides, there was no doubt of the great humanizing effects of the
+invention, and the demand that it would awaken throughout the whole
+school.
+
+But an obstacle arose to even the deep-laid plans of Macnooder
+himself. As the Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company had bought
+its stock from the Eureka Purchasing Company--which had cornered the
+alarm-clock market--it followed that the alarm clocks were distinctly
+second rate.
+
+The consequence was that, though all were set for half-past seven, the
+first gun went off at about quarter-past two in the morning, bringing
+Mr. Bundy, the assistant house master, to the middle of the floor in
+one terrified bound, and starting a giggle that ran the darkened house
+like an epidemic.
+
+At half-past three another explosion took place, aggravated this time
+by the fact that, the window pulleys being worn, the sash flew up with
+enough force to shatter most of the glass.
+
+At four o'clock, when three more went off in friendly conjunction, The
+Roman met Mr. Bundy in the hall in light marching costume, and made a
+few very forcible remarks on the duties of subordinates--the same
+being accentuated by the wailing complaint of the youngest Roman which
+resounded through the house.
+
+From then on the musketry continued intermittently until half-past
+seven, when such a salvo went off that the walls of the house seemed
+jarred apart.
+
+The Third Triumvirate went down to breakfast with small appetite. To
+add to their apprehension, during the long wakeful reaches of the
+night there had been borne to their ears faint but unmistakable sounds
+from the opposite Dickinson and the Woodhull, which had convinced them
+that there, too, the great invention of the age had been betrayed by
+defective supplies.
+
+The Roman looked haggard; Mr. Bundy haggard and aggressive.
+
+"Northwester coming," said the Tennessee Shad under his breath. "I
+know the signs."
+
+"It's all Macnooder," said Stover bitterly.
+
+At first recitation The Roman flunked Stover on the review, on the
+gerund and gerundive, on the use of hendiadys--a most unfair
+exhibition of persecution--on several supines, and requested him to
+remain after class.
+
+"Ahem, John," he said, bringing to bear the batteries of his eyes on
+the embattled Dink, "you were, I take it, at the bottom, so to speak,
+of last night's outrage. Yes? Speak up."
+
+"May I ask, sir," said Dink, very much aggrieved--for masters should
+confine themselves to evidence and not draw deductions--"I should like
+to know by what right you pick on me?"
+
+The Roman, knowing thoroughly the subject under hand, did not
+condescend to argue, but smiled a thin, wan smile.
+
+"You were, John, weren't you?"
+
+"I was--that is, I invented it."
+
+"Invented it?" said The Roman, sending one eyebrow toward the ceiling.
+"Invented what?"
+
+"The Sleep Prolonger," said Dink very proudly.
+
+"Prolonger!" said The Roman, with the jarring memories of the night
+upon him. "Explain, sir!"
+
+Dink went minutely over the detailed construction of the invention of
+the age. By request, he repeated the same while The Roman followed,
+tracing a plan upon his pad. At the conclusion Dink waited
+aggressively, watching The Roman, who continued to stare at his
+sketch.
+
+"One question, John," he said, without raising his eyes. "Was the
+Kennedy the only house thus favored?"
+
+"No, sir. Macnooder installed them in the Dickinson and the Woodhull."
+
+"Ah!" As though finding comfort in this last statement, The Roman
+raised his head and said slowly: "Dear me! I see, I see now. Quite a
+relief. It is evident from your recital, John, that at least there was
+no concerted effort to destroy the property of the school. I withdraw
+the term outrage, in so far as it may suggest outrages of pillage or
+anarchy. As to the continued usefulness of what you so felicitously
+term the Sleep Prolonger, that will have to be a subject of
+consultation with the Doctor, but--but, as your friend, I should
+advise you, for the present, not to risk any further capital in the
+venture. Don't do it, John, don't do it."
+
+"Tyrant!" said Stover to himself. Aloud he asked: "Is that all, sir?"
+
+"One moment--one moment, John. Are you contemplating any further
+inventions?"
+
+"Why, no, sir."
+
+"On your honor, John?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir."
+
+"Good--very good. You may go now."
+
+At noon, by virtue of an extraordinary order from headquarters, all
+alarm clocks were confiscated and ordered to be surrendered.
+
+"It's all the Old Roman," said Stover doggedly. "He knew it was my
+invention. He's got it in for me, I tell you."
+
+"Anyhow," said Finnegan, "since Doc planted a few Prolongers in the
+Dickinson and the Woodhull we ought to be able to stack up a few nice,
+round plunks."
+
+The Tennessee Shad looked very thoughtful.
+
+At this moment the Gutter Pup and P. Lentz, representing the
+profit-sharing stockholders, called to know when the surplus was to be
+divided.
+
+"Macnooder is now at work on the books," said Dink. "We expect him
+over at any time."
+
+But when at eight o'clock that evening no word had been received from
+the president, the Third Triumvirate held a meeting and sent the
+Tennessee Shad over to the Dickinson, with orders to return only with
+the bullion, for which purpose he was equipped with a small, black
+satchel.
+
+Just before lights the Tennessee Shad's dragging step was heard
+returning.
+
+"I don't like the sound," said Dink, listening.
+
+"He always shuffles his feet," said Dennis, clinging to hope.
+
+The door opened and the Tennessee Shad, carrying the black satchel,
+solemnly entered. Dink flung himself on the bag, wrenched it open and
+let it drop, exclaiming:
+
+"Nothing!"
+
+"Nothing?" said Dennis, rising.
+
+"Nothing," said the Tennessee Shad, sitting down.
+
+"But the profits?"
+
+"The profits," said the Tennessee Shad, pointing sarcastically to the
+bag, "are in there."
+
+"Do you mean to say----" began Dink and stopped.
+
+"I mean to say that the Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company is
+insolvent, bankrupt, busted, up the spout."
+
+"But then, who's got the coin?"
+
+"Doc Macnooder," said the Tennessee Shad, "and it's all legal."
+
+"Legal?"
+
+"All legal. It's this way. Our profits depended upon the price we paid
+for alarm clocks. See? Well, when Doc Macnooder, as president of the
+Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company looked around for clocks, he
+found that Doc Macnooder, as president of the Eureka Purchasing
+Company, had cornered the market and could dictate the price."
+
+"So that?" said Stover indignantly.
+
+"So that each clock was charged up to us at a rate ranging from one
+dollar and forty cents to one dollar and fifty."
+
+"By what right?" said Dennis.
+
+"It's what is called a subsidiary company," said the Tennessee Shad.
+"It's quite popular nowadays."
+
+"But where's the stock we subscribed?" said Dennis, thinking of his
+one dollar and fifty cents. "We get that back?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What!" said the two in unison.
+
+"It's this way. Owing to executive interference, the Third Triumvirate
+Manufacturing Company is liable to the Eureka Purchasing Company for
+ten alarm clocks, which it has ordered and can't use."
+
+"But then, out of the whole, blooming mess," said Dennis, quite
+overcome, "where do I stand?"
+
+The Tennessee Shad unfolded a paper and read:
+
+"You owe the Eureka, as your share of the assessment, two dollars and
+forty cents."
+
+"Owe!" said Finnegan with a scream.
+
+"Just let him come," said Dink, doubling up his fists. "Let him come
+and assess us!"
+
+The three sat in long silence. Finally the Tennessee Shad spoke:
+
+"I am afraid Doc was sore because we tried to freeze him out at first.
+It was a mistake."
+
+No one noticed this.
+
+"Great Willie Keeler!" said Dennis suddenly. "If this thing had been a
+success we'd have been ruined!"
+
+"But what right," said Dink, unwilling to give up the fight, "had he
+to pay the Eureka such prices. Who authorized him?"
+
+"A vote of fifty-one per cent. of the stock," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"But he never said anything to us--the forty-nine per cent. Has the
+minority no rights?"
+
+"The minority," said the Tennessee Shad, speaking beyond his horizon,
+"the minority has only one inalienable right, the right to indorse."
+
+"I'll get even with him," said Dink, after a blank period.
+
+"I suppose," said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, "that's what's
+called Finance."
+
+And the Tennessee Shad nodded assent:
+
+"Higher Finance, Dennis."
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+During the busy October week Dink found little time to vent the
+brewing mischief within him. The afternoons were given over to the
+dogged pursuit of the elusive pigskin. In the evenings he resolutely
+turned his back on all midnight spreads or expeditions to the
+protecting shadows of the woods to smoke the abhorrent cigarette, for
+the joy of the risk run. At nine o'clock promptly each night he dove
+into bed, wrapped the covers about his head and, leaving the Tennessee
+Shad deep in the pages of Dumas, went soaring off into lands where
+goals are kicked from the center of the field, winning touchdowns
+scored in the last minute of play and bonfires lighted for his special
+honor. He was only end on the scrub, eagerly learning the game; but
+with the intensity of his nature that territory, which each afternoon
+he lined up to defend, was his in sacred trust; and he resolved that
+the trust of his captain should not be misplaced if it lay in his
+power to prevent it.
+
+However, the busy mind was not entirely inactive. With the memory of
+his financial disappointment came the resolve to square himself with
+The Roman and turn the tables on Doc Macnooder.
+
+The opportunity to do the first came in an unexpected way.
+
+One evening P. Lentz came in upon them in great agitation.
+
+"Why, King," said Dennis, who was lolling around, "you're excited,
+very, very much excited!"
+
+"Shut up!" said the King of the Kennedy, who was in anything but a
+good humor. "It's the deuce to pay. I've had a first warning."
+
+At this every one looked grave, and Dink, the loyalist, said:
+
+"Oh, King, how could you!"
+
+For another warning meant banishment from the football team and all
+the devastation that implied.
+
+"That would just about end us," said Dennis. "Might as well save
+Andover the traveling expenses."
+
+"I know, I know!" said P. Lentz furiously. "I've had it all said to
+me. Beautifully expressed, too. Question is, what's to be done? It's
+all the fault of old Baranson. He's been down on me ever since we
+licked the Woodhull."
+
+"We must think of something," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"How about a doctor's certificate?"
+
+"Rats!"
+
+"We might get up a demonstration against Baranson."
+
+"Lot's of good that'll do me!"
+
+Various suggestions were offered and rejected.
+
+"Well, King," said the Tennessee Shad at last, "I don't see there's
+anything to it but you'll have to buckle down and study."
+
+"Study?" said P. Lentz. "Is that the best you can produce?"
+
+"It seems the simplest."
+
+"I came here for consolation," said P. Lentz, who thereupon departed
+angrily.
+
+"Still, it'll come to that," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"P. Lentz study?" said Finnegan contemptuously. "Can a duck whistle?"
+
+"Then we'll have to tutor him."
+
+"What says Dink?"
+
+"Don't bother me, I'm thinking."
+
+"Gracious, may I watch you?"
+
+"Shad," said Stover, ignoring Dennis, "did it ever occur to you how
+unscientific this whole game is?"
+
+"What game?"
+
+"This chasing the Latin root, wrestling with the unknown equation, and
+all that sort of thing."
+
+"Proceed."
+
+"Why are we smashed up? Because we are discouraged all fighting alone,
+unscientifically. Does the light dawn?"
+
+"Very slowly," said the Tennessee Shad. "Keep dawning."
+
+"I am thinking of organizing," said Stover impressively, "The Kennedy
+Co-operative Educational Institute."
+
+"Aha!" said the Tennessee Shad. "_Video, je vois_, I see. All
+third-formers in the house meet, divide up the lesson and then
+fraternize."
+
+"Where do I come in?" said Finnegan, who was two forms below.
+
+"A very excellent idea," said the Tennessee Shad in final approval.
+
+"I've a better one now," said Stover.
+
+"Why, Dink!"
+
+"It begins by chucking the Co-operative idea."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"There's no money in that," said Stover. "We must give the courses
+ourselves, see?"
+
+"Give?" said the Tennessee Shad. "We two shining marks!"
+
+"No," said Stover contemptuously. "We hire the lecturers and collect
+from the lectured."
+
+"Why, Shad," said Finnegan, in wide-eyed admiration, "our boy is
+growing up!"
+
+"He is, he certainly is. I love the idea!"
+
+"Why, I think it's pretty good myself," said Dink.
+
+"It has only one error--the lecturers."
+
+"Why, that's the finest of the fine," said Dink indignantly. "You see
+what I do. Here's Beekstein and Gumbo Binks been laying around as
+waste material and the whole house kicking because we've been stuck
+with two midnight-oilers. Now what do I do? I utilize them. I make
+them a credit to the house, useful citizens."
+
+"True, most true," said the Tennessee Shad. "But why pay? Never pay
+any one anything."
+
+Stover acknowledged the superior financial mind, while Finnegan
+remained silent, his greatest tribute.
+
+"I suppose we might lasso them," said Stover, "or bring them up in
+chains."
+
+"That's only amateurish and besides reprehensible," said the Tennessee
+Shad. "No, the highest principle in finance, the real cream de la
+crème, is to make others pay you for what you want them to do."
+
+Stover slowly assimilated this profound truth.
+
+"We'll charge twenty-five cents a week to students and we'll make
+Beekstein and Gumbo disgorge half a plunk each for letting us listen
+to them."
+
+"I am ready to be convinced," said Dink, who still doubted.
+
+"I'll show you how it's done," said the Tennessee Shad, who, going to
+the door, called out: "Oh, you Beekstein!"
+
+"Profound, profound mind," said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan. "Doc
+Macnooder is better on detail, but when it comes to theory the
+Tennessee Shad is the Willie Keeler boy every time!"
+
+"I've another idea," said Stover, "a way to get even with The Roman,
+too."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"To signal the gerund and the gerundive."
+
+"Magnificent and most popular!" said the Tennessee Shad. "We'll put
+that in as a guaranty. Who'll signal?"
+
+"I'll signal," said Stover, claiming the privilege. "It's my right!"
+
+Beekstein, who might be completely described as a pair of black-rimmed
+spectacles riding an aquiline nose, now shuffled in with his
+dictionary under his arm, his fingers between the leaves of a Cicero
+to which he still clung.
+
+"Mr. Hall," said the Tennessee Shad with a flourish, "take any chair
+in the room."
+
+Beekstein, alarmed by such generosity, sat down like a ramrod and cast
+a roving, anxious glance under the beds and behind the screen.
+
+"Beekstein," said the Tennessee Shad, to reassure him, "we have just
+organized the Kennedy Educational Quick Lunch Institute. The purpose
+is fraternal, patriotic and convivial. It will be most exclusive and
+very secret." He explained the working scheme and then added
+anxiously: "Now, Beekstein, you see the position of First Grand Hot
+Tamale will be the real thing. He will be, so to speak, Valedictorian
+of the Kennedy and certainly ought to be elected secretary of the
+house next year. Now, Beekstein, what we got you here for is this.
+What do you think of Gumbo for the position? Well, what?"
+
+Beekstein, in his agitation, withdrew his finger from the Orations of
+Cicero.
+
+"What's the matter with me?" he said directly. "Gumbo is only a
+second-rater."
+
+"He's very strong in mathematics."
+
+"That's the only thing he beats me on!"
+
+"Yes, but, Beekstein, there is another thing--a delicate subject. I
+don't know how to approach it. You see, we don't know how you're fixed
+for the spondulix," said the Tennessee Shad, who knew perfectly well
+the other's flourishing condition. "You see, this is not only
+educational, but a very select body, quite a secret society,--with a
+midnight spread now and then. Of course there are dues, you see. It
+would cost you a half a week."
+
+"Is that all?" said Beekstein, who had never belonged to a secret
+society in his life. "Here's the first month down. Right here."
+
+"I don't know how far we are committed to Gumbo," said the Tennessee
+Shad, not disdaining to finger the two-dollar bill. "But I'll do
+everything I can for you."
+
+Gumbo Binks, being consulted as to the qualifications of Beekstein,
+fell into the same trap. He was a monosyllabic, oldish little fellow,
+whose cheeks had fallen down and disturbed the balance of his already
+bald head. He had but one emotion and one enthusiasm, a professional
+jealousy of Beekstein, who was several points ahead of him in the race
+for first honors. Under these conditions the Tennessee Shad proceeded
+victoriously. Having made sure of each, he next informed them that,
+owing to a wide divergence of opinion, a choice seemed impossible.
+Each should have two months' opportunity to lecture before the Quick
+Lunchers before a vote would be taken.
+
+Under these successful auspices the Institute met enthusiastically the
+following day, both the lecturers and the lectured ignoring the
+financial status of the others. It was found on careful compilation
+that, by close and respectful attention to Professors Beekstein and
+Gumbo, twenty minutes would suffice for the rendering of the Greek and
+Latin test; while only ten minutes extra were needed to follow the
+requirements of mathematics.
+
+The clause in the constitution which pledged defiance to The Roman and
+guaranteed protection on the gerund and gerundive was exceedingly
+popular. The signals were agreed upon. Absolute rigidity on Stover's
+part denounced the gerund, while a slight wriggling of his sensitive
+ears betrayed the approach of the abhorrent gerundive.
+
+In his resolve to destroy forever the peace of mind of The Roman, Dink
+sat an extra period under Beekstein, stalking and marking down the
+lair of these enemies of boykind.
+
+On the following morning The Roman lost no time in calling up P.
+Lentz, who, to his amazement, recited creditably.
+
+"Dear me," said The Roman, quite astonished, "the day of miracles is
+not over--most astounding! Bring your book to the desk, Lentz--hem!
+Everything proper! Profuse apologies, Lentz, profuse ones! The
+suspicion is the compliment. I'm quite upset, quite so. First time
+such a thing has happened." He hesitated for a moment, debating
+whether to allow him to retire with the honors, but his curiosity
+proving strong he said: "And now, Lentz, third line, second
+word--gerund or gerundive?"
+
+"Gerundive, sir," said P. Lentz promptly, observing Stover's ears in
+a state of revolution.
+
+"Fortunate youth! Next line, third word, gerund or gerundive?"
+
+"Gerund, sir."
+
+"Still fortunate! Once more, make your bet, Lentz, red or black?" said
+The Roman, smiling, believing Lentz was risking his fortunes on the
+alternating system. "Once more. Sixth line, first word, gerund or
+gerundive?"
+
+"Gerund, sir."
+
+"Is it possible--is it possible?" said The Roman. "Have I lived to see
+it! Sit down, _Mr._ Lentz, sit down."
+
+He sat silent a moment, his lips twitching, his eyebrows alternately
+jumping, gazing from the text to P. Lentz and back.
+
+Stover, in the front row, was radiant.
+
+"Gee, that's a stiff one for him to swallow!" he said, chuckling
+inwardly. "P. Lentz, of all muts!"
+
+As luck would have it the next boy called up, not being from the
+Kennedy, flunked and somewhat restored The Roman's equanimity.
+
+"Now he feels better," thought Dink. "Wait till the next jolt comes,
+though!"
+
+"Lazelle," said The Roman.
+
+The Gutter Pup rose, translated fluently and, with his eyes on Dink's
+admonitory ears, grappled with the gerund and threw the gerundive.
+
+"Mead," said The Roman, now thoroughly alert.
+
+Lovely, with a show of insouciance, bagged three gerunds and one
+gerundive.
+
+The Roman thought a moment and, carefully selecting the experts, sent
+Beekstein, Gumbo Binks, the Red Dog and Poler Fox to the blackboards.
+Having thus removed the bird dogs, The Roman called up Fatty Harris.
+
+Stover, struggling to maintain his seriousness, grudgingly admired the
+professional manner with which The Roman attacked the mystery, the
+more so as it showed the wisdom of his own planning; for, had the
+signals been left with either Beekstein or Gumbo, the plot would have
+been instantly exposed.
+
+As it was, The Roman, to his delighted imagination, at each successful
+answer seemed to rise under an electric application.
+
+Stover went out radiant, to receive the delighted congratulations of
+the Institute and the recognition of those who were not in the secret.
+
+"We've got him going," he said, skipping over the campus arm in arm
+with the Tennessee Shad. "He's nervous as a witch! It's broken him all
+up. He won't sleep for a week."
+
+"He'll spot it to-morrow," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"I'll lay a bet on it."
+
+The next day The Roman, at the beginning of the lesson, ordered all
+the books to the desk and fruitlessly examined them. Macnooder, as
+spokesman for the justly indignant class, at once expressed the pain
+felt at this evidence of suspicion and demanded an explanation. This
+highly strategic manoeuver, which would have tripped up a younger
+master, received nothing but a grim smile from The Roman who waved
+them to their seats and called up P. Lentz.
+
+"Gerund or gerundive?" he began directly, at the same time rising and
+scanning the front ranks.
+
+"Why, gerund, sir," said P. Lentz instantly.
+
+"What, again?" said The Roman, who then called upon Stover.
+
+Dink arose, watched with some trepidation by the rest; for being in
+the front row he could receive no signal.
+
+"First paragraph, third word, gerund or gerundive, Stover?"
+
+Dink took a long time, shifting a little as though trying to glance
+from side to side, and finally named haltingly:
+
+"Gerund, sir."
+
+"Next line, first word, gerund or gerundive? Look in front of you,
+Stover. Look at me."
+
+Dink purposely called it wrong, likewise the next; thereby completing
+the mystification of The Roman, who now concentrated his attention on
+Macnooder and the Tennessee Shad, as being next in order of suspicion.
+The day ended victoriously.
+
+"He won't live out the week," announced Dink. "There are circles under
+his eyes already."
+
+"Better quit for a day or two," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Never!"
+
+Now the advantage of Dink's method of signaling was in its absolute
+naturalness. For the growing boy wiggles his ears as a pup tries his
+teeth or a young goat hardens his horns. Moreover, as Dink held to his
+plan of judicious flunking, The Roman's suspicions were completely
+diverted. For three days more the lover of the gerund and the
+gerundive sought to localize and detect the sources of information
+without avail.
+
+Finally on the sixth day The Roman arrived with a briskness that was
+at once noted and analyzed. P. Lentz was called and translated.
+
+"We will now take up our daily recreation," said The Roman, in a
+gentle voice. "It has been a matter of pleasure to me--not unmixed
+with a little surprise, incredulous surprise--to note the sudden
+affection of certain members of this class for those elusive forms of
+Latin grammar known as the gerund and the gerundive. I had despaired,
+in my unbelief I had despaired, of ever satisfactorily impressing
+their subtle distinctions on certain, shall we say athletic,
+imaginations. It seems I was wrong. I had not enough faith. I am
+sorry. It is evident that these Scylla and Charybdis of prosody have
+no longer any terrors for you, Lentz. Am I right?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said P. Lentz hesitatingly.
+
+"So--so--no terrors? And now, Lentz, take up your book, take it up.
+Direct your unfailing glance at the first paragraph, page sixty-two.
+Is it there?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Pick out the first gerund you see."
+
+P. Lentz, beyond the aid of human help, gazed into the jungle and
+brought forth a supine.
+
+"Is it possible, Lentz?" said The Roman. "Is it possible? Try once
+more, but don't guess. Don't guess, Lentz; don't do it."
+
+P. Lentz closed the book and sat down.
+
+"What! A sudden indisposition? Too bad, Lentz, too bad. Now we'll try
+Lazelle. Lazelle won't fail. Lazelle has not failed for a week."
+
+The Gutter Pup rose in a panic, guessed and fell horribly over an
+ordinary participle.
+
+"Quite mysterious!" said The Roman, himself once more. "Sudden change
+of weather. Mead, lend us the assistance of your splendid faculties.
+What? Unable to rise? Too bad. Dear me--dear me--quite the feeling of
+home again--quite homelike."
+
+The carnage was terrific, the scythe passed over them with the
+old-time sweep, laying them low. Once maliciously, when Fatty Harris
+was on his feet, The Roman asked:
+
+"Top of page, fifth word, gerund or gerundive?"
+
+"Gerund," said Harris instantly.
+
+"Ah, pardon----" said The Roman, bringing into play both eyebrows. "My
+mistake, Harris, entirely my mistake. Go down to the next paragraph
+and recognize a gerundive. No? Sit down--gently. Too bad--old methods
+must make way for new ideas. Too bad, then you did have one chance in
+two and now, where in the whole wide world will you find a friend to
+help you? Class is dismissed."
+
+"I told you you couldn't beat The Roman," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"I made him change his system, though," said Dink gloriously, "and he
+never caught me."
+
+"Well, if you have, how are you going to spot the gerund and the
+gerundive?"
+
+"I don't need to; I've learned 'em," said Dink, laughing.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+The Kennedy House Educational Quick Lunch Institute broke up in wrath
+a week later when an innocent inquiry of Beekstein's for the passwords
+revealed the direction of the club's finances.
+
+Meanwhile, true to his resolve, Dink, with the assistance of Finnegan
+and the Tennessee Shad, had started the fad of souvenir toilet sets;
+which, like all fads, ran its course the faster because of its high
+qualities of absurdity and uselessness. Dink's intention of recouping
+himself by selling his own set of seven colors at a big advance was
+cut short by a spontaneous protest to the Doctor from the house
+masters, whose artistic souls were stirred to wrath at the hideous
+invasion. The subject was then so successfully treated from the
+pulpit, with all the power of sarcasm that it afforded, that the only
+distinct artistic movement of New Jersey expired in ridicule.
+
+Dink took this check severely to heart and, of course, beheld in this
+thwarting of his scheme to dispose of the abhorrent set with honor a
+fresh demonstration of the implacability of The Roman.
+
+He wandered gloomily from Laloo's and Appleby's to the Jigger Shop;
+where, after pulling his hat over his eyes, folding his arms
+inconsolably, he confided his desires of revenge on Doc Macnooder to
+the sympathetic ears of the guardian of the Jigger.
+
+"Why not get up a contest and offer it as a prize?" said Al.
+
+"Have you seen it?" said Dink, who then did the subject full justice.
+
+Al remained very thoughtful for a long while, running back dreamily
+through the avenues of the past for some stratagem.
+
+"I remember way back in the winter of '88," he said at last, "there
+was a slick coot by the name of Chops Van Dyne, who got strapped and
+hit upon a scheme for decoying the shekels."
+
+"What was that?" said Dink hopefully.
+
+"He got up a guessing contest with a blind prize."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A blind prize all done up in tissue paper and ribbons, and no one was
+to know what was in it until it was won. It certainly was amazing the
+number of suckers that paid a quarter to satisfy their curiosity."
+
+"Well, what was inside?" said Dink at once.
+
+"There you are!" said Al. "Why, nothing, of course--a lemon,
+perhaps--but the point is, every one just had to know."
+
+"Not a word!" said Dink, springing up triumphantly.
+
+"Mum as the grave," said Al, accepting his handshake.
+
+Dink went romping back like a young spring goat, his busy mind seizing
+all the ramifications possible from the central theory. He found the
+Tennessee Shad and communicated the great idea.
+
+"I don't like the guessing part," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Nor I. We must get up a contest."
+
+"A championship."
+
+"Something devilishly original."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"We must think."
+
+The day was passed in fruitless searching but the next morning brought
+the answer in the following manner: Dink and the Tennessee Shad--as
+the majority of trained Laurentians--were accustomed to wallow
+gloriously in bed until the breakfast gong itself. At the first crash
+they would spring simultaneously forth and race through their dressing
+for the winning of the stairs. Now this was an art in itself and many
+records were claimed and disputed. The Tennessee Shad, like most lazy
+natures, when aroused was capable of extraordinary bursts of speed and
+was one of the claimants for the authorized record of twenty-six and a
+fifth seconds from the bed to the door, established by the famous
+Hickey Hicks who--as has been related--had departed to organize the
+industries of his country. Of a consequence Stover was invariably
+still at his collar button when the thin shadow of the Shad glided out
+of the door. But on the present morning, the shoe laces of the
+Tennessee Shad snapping in his hand, Dink reached the exit a bare yard
+in advance. Suddenly he stopped, clasped the Tennessee Shad by the
+middle and flung him toward the ceiling.
+
+"I have it," he cried. "We'll organize the dressing championship of
+the school!"
+
+That very evening a poster was distributed among the houses, thus
+conceived:
+
+  FIRST AMATEUR DRESSING CHAMPIONSHIP
+  OF THE SCHOOL
+
+  under the management of that well-known
+
+  Sporting Promoter
+  MR. DINK STOVER
+
+  FOR THE BELT OF THE SCHOOL
+
+  and
+
+  A SEALED MYSTERIOUS PRIZE
+
+  Guaranteed to be Worth Over $3.50
+
+  Entrance Fee 25c    Books Close at 6 P. M.
+
+  To-morrow
+
+  For Conditions and Details Consult
+    MR. DENNIS DE B. DE B. FINNEGAN, Secretary.
+
+While the announcement was running like quicksilver through the school
+the souvenir toilet set was encased in cotton, packed in the smallest
+compass, stowed in a wooden box, which was then sewed up in a gunny
+sacking. This in turn was wrapped in colored paper, tied with bows of
+pink ribbon and sealed with blue sealing wax stamped with the crest of
+the school--VIRTUS SEMPER VIRIDIS. The whole was placed on a table at
+the legs of which were grouped stands of flags.
+
+By noon the next day one-half of the school had passed around the
+table, measuring the mysterious package, touching the seals with
+itching fingers and wanting to know the reason for such secrecy.
+
+"There are reasons," said Stover, in response to all inquiries.
+"Unusual, mysterious, excellent reasons. We ask no one to enter. We
+only guarantee that the prize is worth over three dollars and fifty
+cents. No one is coaxing you. No one will miss you. The entrance list
+is already crowded. We are quite willing it should be closed. We urge
+nobody!"
+
+Macnooder came among the first, scratching his head and walking around
+the prize as a fox about a tainted trap. Stover, watching from the
+corner of his eye, studiously appeared to discourage him. Macnooder
+sniffed the air once or twice in an alarmed sort of way, grunted to
+himself and went off to try to pump Finnegan.
+
+Finally, just before the closing of the entries, he shambled up with
+evident dissatisfaction and said:
+
+"Here's my quarter. It's for the championship, though, and not on
+account of any hocus pocus in the box."
+
+"Do I understand?" said Dink instantly, "that if you win you are
+willing to let the prize go to the second man?"
+
+"What are you making out of this?" said Doc hungrily, disdaining an
+answer.
+
+The contest, which began the next afternoon with thirty-one entries,
+owing to certain features unusual to athletic contests, produced such
+a furor of interest that the limited admissions to the struggle
+brought soaring prices.
+
+Everything was conducted on lines of exact formality.
+
+Each contestant was required to don upper and lower unmentionables,
+two socks, two shoes, which were to be completely laced and tied, a
+dickey--formed by a junction of two cuffs, a collar and one
+button--one necktie, one pair of trousers and one coat. Each
+contestant was required satisfactorily to wash and dry both hands and
+put into his hair a recognizable part.
+
+The contestants were allowed to arrange on the chair their wearing
+apparel according to their own theories, were permitted to fill the
+wash basin with water, leaving the comb and towel on either side. In
+order to prevent the formation of two classes, pajamas were suppressed
+and each contestant, clothed in a nightshirt, was inducted under the
+covers and his hair carefully disarranged.
+
+Time was taken from the starting gun to the moment of the arrival of
+the fully clothed, reasonably washed and apparently brushed candidate
+at the door. Each time was to be noted and the two lowest scores were
+to compete in the finals. A time limit of forty-five seconds was
+imposed, after which the contestant was to be ruled out.
+
+The first heat began with the Triumphant Egghead in the bed for the
+Dickinson, Mr. Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan on the stop watch, Mr.
+Dink Stover as master of ceremonies and Mr. Turkey Reiter, Mr.
+Cheyenne Baxter and Mr. Charlie DeSoto as jurors.
+
+The entries were admitted by all to be the pick of the school; while
+the champions most favored, were the Tennessee Shad for the Kennedy,
+Doc Macnooder for the Dickinson and the White Mountain Canary for the
+Woodhull.
+
+A certain delay took place on the third heat owing to Susie Satterly,
+of the Davis House, refusing to compete unless there was less
+publicity, and being peremptorily ruled out on a demand for a screen.
+
+"The next on the program," said Stover, as master of ceremonies, "is
+the champion of the Dickinson, the celebrated old-clothes man, Doctor
+Macnooder."
+
+Macnooder gracefully acknowledged the applause which invariably
+attended his public performances and asked leave to make a speech,
+which was unanimously rejected.
+
+"Very well, gentlemen," said Macnooder, taking off his coat and
+standing forth in a sudden blaze of rainbow underwear. "I will simply
+draw attention to this neat little bit of color that I have the honor
+to present to your inspection. It is the latest thing out in dainty
+fancies and I stand ready to fill all orders. It is rather springy,
+but why fall when you can spring? Don't applaud--you'll wake the
+baby. It is light, it is warm, it gives a sense of exhilaration to
+the skin. It endears you to your friends, and not even a Lawrenceville
+suds-lady would bite a hole in it----"
+
+"If you don't get into bed," said Dink, "I'll rule you out."
+
+Macnooder, thus admonished, hastened to his post, merely remarking on
+the distinction of his garters and impressionistic socks and the fact
+that he had incurred great expense to afford his schoolmates an equal
+opportunity.
+
+"Are you ready?" said Turkey Reiter, for the indignant jury.
+
+"One moment."
+
+Macnooder, in bed, glanced carefully at the preparations without,
+turned on his side and brought his knees up under his chin.
+
+"All ready?"
+
+"Go!"
+
+With a circular kick, something like the flop of a whale's tail,
+Macnooder drove the covers from him and sprang into the doubled
+trousers.
+
+A cheer went up from the spectators.
+
+"Gee, what a dive!"
+
+"Faster, Doc!"
+
+"Wash carefully!"
+
+"Behind the ears!"
+
+"Don't forget the buttons!"
+
+"That's the boy!"
+
+"Come on, Doc, come on!"
+
+"Oh, you Dickinson!"
+
+"Hurray!"
+
+"Time--twenty-seven seconds flat," said Dennis de Brian de Boru
+Finnegan. "Best yet. Twenty-seven and four-fifths seconds, next on the
+list, made by the White Mountain Canary and the Gutter Pup."
+
+"Next contestant," said Dink, in sing-song, "is the champion of the
+Rouse, Mr. Peanuts Biddle."
+
+But here a difficulty arose.
+
+"Please, sir," said the candidate, who as a freshman was visibly
+embarrassed at the ordeal before him--"Please, sir, I don't part my
+hair."
+
+Every eye went to the pompadour, cropped like a scrubbing brush, and
+recognized the truth of this assertion.
+
+"Please, sir, I don't see why I should have to touch a comb."
+
+A protest broke forth from the other candidates.
+
+"Rats!"
+
+"Penalize him!"
+
+"Why part my hair?"
+
+"I always do that with my fingers when I'm skating down the stairs."
+
+"Why wash till afterward?"
+
+"No favoritism!"
+
+The jury retired to deliberate and announced amid cheers that to
+equalize matters Mr. Peanuts Biddle would be handicapped two-fifths of
+a second. The candidate took this ruling very much to heart and
+withdrew.
+
+The Tennessee Shad, closing the list of entries, slouched up to the
+starting-line amid great excitement to better the record of Doc
+Macnooder.
+
+He first inspected the washstand, filling the basin higher than
+customary and exchanging the stiff face towel for a soft bath towel,
+which would more quickly absorb the moisture.
+
+Doc Macnooder, who followed these preparations with a hostile eye,
+protested against this last substitution, but was overruled.
+
+The Tennessee Shad then divested himself of his coat and undergarments
+amid cries of:
+
+"Oh, you ribs!"
+
+"What do they feed you?"
+
+"Oh, you wish-bones!"
+
+"Oh, you shad-bones!"
+
+Macnooder then claimed that the undershirt was manifestly sewed to the
+coat. The allegation was investigated and disproved, without in the
+slightest ruffling the composure of the Tennessee Shad, who continued
+his calculations while making a toothpick dance through his lips. By
+means of safety pins, he next fastened the back and one wing of his
+collar to his coat, so that one motion would clothe his upper half.
+
+"I protest," said Doc Macnooder.
+
+"Denied," said Turkey Reiter, as foreman of the jury.
+
+The Tennessee Shad, donning the nightshirt, carefully unloosened the
+laces of his low shoes, drew them off and arranged the socks inside of
+them so as to economize the extra movement.
+
+"The socks aren't his!" said Macnooder. "They're big enough for P.
+Lentz."
+
+"Proceed," said Turkey Reiter.
+
+The Tennessee Shad then unloosened his belt and the trousers slipped
+down him as a sailor down a greased pole.
+
+Macnooder once more protested and was squelched.
+
+The Tennessee Shad arranged the voluminous trousers, cast a final
+glance, placed the toothpick on the table and went under the covers.
+
+"All ready?" said Dink.
+
+"Wait!" With the left hand he clutched the covers, with the right his
+nightshirt, just back of the neck. "Ready now."
+
+"Go!"
+
+With one motion the Tennessee Shad flung the covers from him, tore off
+his nightshirt and sprang from the bed like Venus from the waves.
+
+The audience burst into cheers:
+
+"Holy Mike."
+
+"Greased lightning!"
+
+"Oh, you Shad!"
+
+"Gee, right through the pants!"
+
+"Suffering Moses!"
+
+"Look at him stab the shoes!"
+
+"Right into the coat!"
+
+"Go it, Shad!"
+
+"Out for the record!"
+
+"Gee, what a wash!"
+
+"Come on, boy, come on!"
+
+"Now for the part!"
+
+"Hurray!"
+
+"Hurrah!"
+
+"Hurroo!"
+
+"Time--twenty-six and one-fifth seconds," cried the shrill voice of
+Dennis de Brian de Boru. "Equalizing the world's unchallenged
+professional, amateur and scholastic record made by the late Hickey
+Hicks! The champion's belt is now the Tennessee Shad's to have and to
+hold. According to the program the champion and Doc Macnooder,
+second-best score, will now run another heat for the mysterious sealed
+prize, guaranteed to be worth over three dollars and fifty cents!"
+
+Macnooder, adopting the Shad's theories of preparation, made an
+extraordinary effort and brought his record down to twenty-six and
+four-fifths seconds. The Tennessee Shad then, according to the plan
+agreed upon with Stover, purposely broke a shoe-lace and lost the
+match.
+
+Dink, in a speech full of malice, awarded the mysterious sealed prize
+to Doc Macnooder, with a request to open it at once.
+
+Now, Macnooder, who had been busy thinking the matter over, had
+sniffed the pollution in the air and, perceiving a wicked twinkle in
+the eye of Stover, shifted the ground by carrying off the box despite
+a storm of protests to his room in the Dickinson, where strategically
+proving his title to Captain of Industry, he charged ten cents
+admission to all who clamored to see the clearing up of the mystery.
+
+Having thus provided a substantial consolation against discomfiture
+and joined twenty other curiosity-seekers to his own fortunes, he
+opened the box and beheld the prodigal souvenir set. At the same
+moment Dink stepped forward and presented him with his own former bill
+for three dollars and seventy-five cents.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+That night, after Stover had returned much puffed up with the
+congratulations of his schoolmates on the outwitting of Macnooder,
+the Tennessee Shad took him to task from a philosophical point of
+view.
+
+"Baron Munchausen, a word."
+
+"Lay on."
+
+"You must come down to earth."
+
+"Wherefor?"
+
+"You must occasionally, my boy, just as a matter of safeguarding
+future ventures, start in and scatter a few truths."
+
+"Pooh!" said Stover, with the memory of cheers. "Any fool can tell the
+truth."
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"It's such a lazy way!"
+
+"Still----"
+
+"Enervating!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Besides, now they expect something more from me."
+
+"True," said the Tennessee Shad, "but don't you see, Dink, if you do
+tell the truth no one will believe you."
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+  _Oh, we'll push her over
+   Or rip the cover--
+     Too bad for the fellows that fall!
+   They must take their chances
+   Of a bruise or two
+     Who follow that jolly football._
+
+So sang the group on the Kennedy steps, heralding the twilight; and
+beyond, past the Dickinson, a chorus from the Woodhull defiantly flung
+back the challenge. For that week the Woodhull would clash with the
+Kennedy for the championship of the houses.
+
+The football season was drawing to a close, only the final game with
+Andover remained, a contest awaited with small hopes of victory. For
+the season had been disastrous for the 'Varsity; several members of
+the team had been caught in the toils of the octopus examination and,
+what was worse among the members, ill-feeling existed due to past
+feuds.
+
+Stover, in the long grueling days of practice, had won the respect of
+all. Just how favorable an impression he had made he did not himself
+suspect. He had instinctive quickness and no sense of fear--that was
+something that had dropped from him forever. It was not that he had to
+conquer the impulse to flinch, as most boys do; it simply did not
+exist with him. The sight of a phalanx of bone and muscle starting for
+his end to sweep him off his feet roused only a sort of combative
+rage, the true joy of battle. He loved to go plunging into the
+unbroken front and feel the shock of bodies as he tried for the
+elusive legs of Flash Condit or Charley DeSoto.
+
+This utter recklessness was indeed his chief fault; he would rather
+charge interference than fight it off, waiting for others to break it
+up for him and so make sure of his man.
+
+Gradually, however, through the strenuous weeks, he learned the deeper
+lessons of football--how to use his courage and the control of his
+impulses.
+
+"It's a game of brains, youngster, remember that," Mr. Ware would
+repeat day after day, hauling him out of desperate plunges. "That did
+no good; better keep on your feet and follow the ball. Above all,
+study the game."
+
+His first lesson came when, at last being promoted to end on the
+scrub, he found himself lined up against Tough McCarty, the opposing
+tackle. Stover thought he saw the intention at once.
+
+"Put me against Tough McCarty, eh?" he said, digging his nails into
+the palms of his hands. "Want to try out my nerve, eh? I'll show 'em!"
+
+Now McCarty did not relish the situation either; foreseeing as he did
+the long weeks of strenuous contact with the one boy in the school who
+was vowed to an abiding vengeance. The fact was that Tough McCarty,
+who was universally liked for his good nature and sociable
+inclination, had yielded to the irritation Stover's unceasing enmity
+had aroused and had come gradually into something of the same attitude
+of hostility. Also, he saw in the captain's assigning Stover to his
+end a malicious attempt to secure amusement at his expense.
+
+For all which reasons, when the scrub first lined up against the
+'Varsity, the alarum of battle that rode on Stover's pugnacious front
+was equaled by the intensity of his enemy's coldly-calculating glance.
+
+"Here's where I squash that fly," thought McCarty.
+
+"Here's where I fasten to that big stuff," thought Dink, "and sting
+him until the last day of the season!"
+
+The first direct clash came when the scrubs were given the ball and
+Dink came in to aid his tackle box McCarty for the run that was
+signaled around their end.
+
+Tough made the mistake of estimating Stover simply by his lack of
+weight, without taking account of the nervous, dynamic energy which
+was his strength. Consequently, at the snap of the ball, he was taken
+by surprise by the wild spring that Stover made directly at his throat
+and, thrown off his balance momentarily by the frenzy of the impact,
+tripped and went down under the triumphant Dink, who, unmindful of the
+fact that the play had gone by, remained proudly fixed on the chest of
+the prostrate tackle.
+
+"Get off," said the muffled voice.
+
+Stover, whose animal instincts were all those of the bulldog, pressed
+down more firmly.
+
+"Get off of me, you little blockhead," said McCarty growing furious as
+he heard the jeers of his teammates at his humiliating reversal.
+
+"Hurry up there, you Stover!" cried the voice of the captain,
+unheeded, for Dink was too blindly happy with the thrill of perfect
+supremacy over the hated McCarty to realize the situation.
+
+"Stover!!!"
+
+At the shouted command Dink looked up and at last perceived the play
+was over. Reluctantly he started to rise, when a sudden upheaval of
+the infuriated McCarty caught him unawares and Tough's vigorous arm
+flung him head over heels.
+
+Down went Dink with a thump and up again with rage in his heart. He
+rushed up to McCarty as in the mad fight under the willows and struck
+him a resounding blow.
+
+The next moment not Tough, but Cockrell's own mighty hand caught him
+by the collar and swung him around.
+
+"Get off the field!"
+
+"What?" said Dink, astounded, for in his ignorance he had expected
+complimentary pats on his back.
+
+"Off the field!"
+
+Dink, cold in a minute, quailed under the stern eye of the supreme
+leader.
+
+"I did sling him pretty hard, Garry," said Tough, taking pity at the
+look that came into Dink's eyes at this rebuke.
+
+"Get off!"
+
+Dink, who had stopped with a sort of despairing hope, went slowly to
+the side-lines, threw a blanket over his head and shoulders and
+squatted down in bitter, utter misery. Another was in his place,
+plunging at the tackle that should have been his, racing down the
+field under punts that made the blood leap in his exiled body. He did
+not understand. Why had he been disgraced? He had only shown he
+wasn't afraid--wasn't that why they had put him opposite Tough
+McCarty, after all?
+
+The contending lines stopped at last their tangled rushes and
+straggled, panting, back for a short intermission. Dink, waiting under
+the blanket, saw the captain bear down upon him and, shivering like a
+dog watching the approach of his punishment, drew the folds tighter
+about him.
+
+"Stover," said the dreadful voice, loud enough so that every one could
+hear, "you seem to have an idea that football is run like a
+slaughterhouse. The quicker you get that out of your head the better.
+Now, do you know why I fired you? Do you?"
+
+"For slugging," said Dink faintly.
+
+"Not at all. I fired you because you lost your head; because you
+forgot you were playing football. If you're only going into this to
+work off your private grudges, then I don't want you around. I'll fire
+you off and keep you off. You're here to play football, to think of
+eleven men, not one. You're to use your brains, not your fists. Why,
+the first game you play in some one will tease you into slugging him
+and the umpire will fire you. Then where'll the team be? There are
+eleven men in this game on your side and on the other. No matter what
+happens don't lose your temper, don't be so stupid, so brainless--do
+you hear?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Dink, who had gradually retired under his blanket
+until only the tip of the nose showed and the terror-stricken eyes.
+
+"And don't forget this. You don't count. It isn't the slightest
+interest to the team whether some one whales you or mauls you! It
+isn't the slightest interest to you, either. Mind that! Nothing on
+earth is going to get your mind off following the ball, sizing up the
+play, working out the weak points--nothing. Brains, brains, brains,
+Stover! You told me you came out here because we needed some one to be
+banged around--and I took you on your word, didn't I? Now, if you're
+going out there as an egotistical, puffed-up, conceited individual
+who's thinking only of his own skin, who isn't willing to sacrifice
+his own little, measly feelings for the sake of the school, who won't
+fight for the team, but himself----"
+
+"I say, Cap, that's enough," said Dink with difficulty; and
+immediately retired so deep that only the mute, pleading eyes could be
+discerned.
+
+Cockrell stopped short, bit his lip and said sternly: "Line up now.
+Get in, Stover, and don't let me ever have to call you down again.
+Tough, see here." The two elevens ran out. The captain continued:
+"Tough, every chance you get to-day give that little firebrand a jab,
+understand? So it can't be seen."
+
+The 'Varsity took the ball and for five minutes Dink felt as though
+he were in an angry sea, buffeted, flung down and whirled about by
+massive breakers. Without sufficient experience his weight was
+powerless to stop the interference that bore him back. He tried to
+meet it standing up and was rolled head over heels by the brawny
+shoulders of Cheyenne Baxter and Doc Macnooder. Then, angrily, he
+tried charging into the offenses and was drawn in and smothered while
+the back went sweeping around his unprotected end for long gains.
+
+Mr. Ware came up and volunteered suggestions:
+
+"If you're going into it dive through them, push them apart with your
+hands--so. Keep dodging so that the back won't know whether you're
+going around or through. Keep him guessing and follow up the play if
+you miss the first tackle."
+
+Under this coaching Dink, who had begun to be discouraged, improved
+and when he did get a chance at his man he dropped him with a fierce,
+clean tackle, for this branch of the game he had mastered with
+instinctive delight.
+
+"Give the ball to the scrubs," said the captain, who was also
+coaching.
+
+Stover came in close to his tackle. The third signal was a trial at
+end. He flung himself at McCarty, checked him and, to his amazement,
+received a dig in the ribs. His fists clenched, went back and then
+stopped as remembering, he drew a long breath and walked away, his
+eyes on the ground; for the lesson was a rude one to learn.
+
+"Stover, what are you doing?" cried the captain, who had seen all.
+
+Dink, who had expected to be praised, was bewildered as well as hurt.
+
+"What are you stopping for? You're thinking of McCarty again, aren't
+you? Do you know where your place was? Back of your own half. Follow
+up the play. If you'd been there to push there'd been an extra yard.
+Think quicker, Stover."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Stover, suddenly perceiving the truth. "You're right,
+I wasn't thinking."
+
+"Look here, boy," said the captain, laying his hand on his shoulders.
+"I have just one principle in a game and I want you to tuck it away
+and never forget it."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Dink reverently.
+
+"When you get in a game get fighting mad, but get cold mad--play like
+a fiend--but keep cold. Know just what you're doing and know it all
+the time."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Dink, who never forgot the theory, which had a
+wider application than Garry Cockrell perhaps suspected.
+
+"You laid it on pretty strong," said Mr. Ware to Cockrell, as they
+walked back after practice.
+
+"I did it for several reasons," said Garry; "first, because I believe
+the boy has the makings of a great player in him; and second, I was
+using him to talk to the team. They're not together and it's going to
+be hard to get them together."
+
+"Bad feeling?"
+
+"Yes, several old grudges."
+
+"What a pity, Garry," said Mr. Ware. "What a pity it is you can only
+have second and third formers under you!"
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Because they'd follow you like mad Dervishes," said Mr. Ware,
+thinking of Dink.
+
+Stover, having once perceived that the game was an intellectual one,
+learned by bounds. McCarty, under instructions, tried his best to
+provoke him, but met with the completest indifference. Dink found a
+new delight in the exercise of his wits, once the truth was borne in
+on him that there are more ways of passing beyond a windmill than
+riding it down. Owing to his natural speed he was the fastest end on
+the field to cover a punt, and once within diving distance of his man
+he almost never missed. He learned, too, that the scientific
+application of his one hundred and thirty-eight pounds, well timed,
+was sufficient to counterbalance the disadvantage in weight. He never
+loafed, he never let a play go by without being in it, and at
+retrieving fumbles he was quick as a cat.
+
+Meanwhile the house championships had gone on until the Woodhull and
+the Kennedy emerged for the final conflict. The experience gained in
+these contests, for on such occasions Stover played with his House
+team, had sharpened his powers of analysis and given him a needed
+acquaintance with the sudden, shifting crises of actual play.
+
+Now, the one darling desire of Stover, next to winning the fair
+opinion of his captain, was the rout of the Woodhull, of which Tough
+McCarty was the captain and his old acquaintances of the miserable
+days at the Green were members--Cheyenne Baxter, the Coffee-colored
+Angel and Butsey White. This aggregation, counting as it did two
+members of the 'Varsity, was strong, but the Kennedy, with P. Lentz
+and the Waladoo Bird and Pebble Stone, the Gutter Pup, Lovely Mead and
+Stover, all of the scrub, had a slight advantage.
+
+Dink used to dream of mornings, in the lagging hours of recitation, of
+the contest and the sweet humiliation of his ancient foes. He would
+play like a demon, he would show them, Tough McCarty and the rest,
+what it was to be up against the despised Dink--and dreaming thus he
+used to say to himself, with suddenly tense arms:
+
+"Gee, I only wish McCarty would play back of the line so I could get a
+chance at him!"
+
+But on Tuesday, during the 'Varsity practice, suddenly as a scrimmage
+ended and sifted open a cry went up. Ned Banks, left end on the
+'Varsity, was seen lying on the ground after an attempt to rise. They
+gathered about him with grave faces, while Mr. Ware bent over him in
+anxious examination.
+
+"What is it?" said the captain, with serious face.
+
+"Something wrong with his ankle; can't tell yet just what."
+
+"I'll play Saturday, Garry," said Banks, gritting his teeth. "I'll be
+ready by then. It's nothing much."
+
+The subs carried him off the field with darkened faces--the last hopes
+of victory seemed to vanish. The gloom spread thickly through the
+school, even Dink, for a time, forgot the approaching hour of his
+revenge in the great catastrophe. The next morning a little comfort
+was given them in the report of Doctor Charlie that there was no
+sprain but only a slight wrenching, which, if all went well, would
+allow him to start the game. But the consolation was scant. What
+chance had Banks in an Andover game? There would have to be a shift;
+but what?
+
+"Turkey Reiter will have to go from tackle to end," said Dink, that
+afternoon, as in football togs they gathered on the steps before the
+game, "and put a sub in Turkey's place."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"I guess you don't."
+
+"Might bring Butcher Stevens back from center."
+
+"Who'd go in at center?"
+
+"Fatty Harris, perhaps."
+
+"Hello--here's Garry Cockrell now," said P. Lentz. "He don't look
+particular cheerful, does he?"
+
+The captain, looking indeed very serious, arrived, surveyed the group
+and called Stover out. Dink, surprised, jumped up, saying:
+
+"You want me, sir?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Cockrell put his arm under his and drew him away.
+
+"Stover," he said, "I've got bad news for you."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"Yes. I'm not going to let you go in the Woodhull game this
+afternoon."
+
+Stover received the news as though it had been the death of his entire
+family, immediate and distant. His throat choked, he tried to say
+something and did not dare trust himself.
+
+"I'm sorry, my boy--but we're up against it, and I can't take any
+risks now of your getting hurt."
+
+"It means the game," said Dink at last.
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+"We've no one to put in my place--no one but Beekstein Hall," said
+Stover desperately. "Oh, please, sir, let me play; I'll be awfully
+careful. It's only a House game."
+
+"Humph--yes, I know these House games. I'm sorry, but there's no help
+for it."
+
+"But I'm only a scrub, sir," said Stover, pleading hard.
+
+"We're going to play you at end," said Cockrell suddenly, seeing he
+did not understand, "just as soon as we have to take Banks out; and
+Heaven only knows when that'll be."
+
+Dink was aghast.
+
+"You're not going--you're not going----" he tried to speak, and
+stopped.
+
+"Yes, we've talked it over and that seems best."
+
+"But--Turkey Reiter--I--I thought you'd move him out."
+
+"No, we don't dare weaken the middle; it's bad enough now."
+
+"Oh, but I'm so light."
+
+The captain watched the terror-stricken look in his face and was
+puzzled.
+
+"What's the matter? You're not getting shaky?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir," said Dink, "it's not that. It--it seems so awful that
+you've got to put me in."
+
+"You're better, my boy, than you think," said Cockrell, smiling a
+little, "and you're going to be better than you know how. Now you
+understand why you've got to keep on the side-lines this afternoon.
+You're too fragile to take risks on."
+
+"Yes, I understand."
+
+"It comes hard, doesn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir, it does; very hard."
+
+When the Kennedy and the Woodhull lined up for play an hour later
+little Pebble Stone was at end in place of Stover, who watched from
+his post as linesman the contest that was to have been his
+opportunity. He heard nothing of the buzzing comments behind, of the
+cheers or the shouted entreaties. Gaze fixed and heart in throat, he
+followed the swaying tide of battle, imprisoned, powerless to rush in
+and stem the disheartening advance.
+
+The teams, now more evenly matched, both showed the traces of tense
+nerves in the frequent fumbling that kept the ball changing sides and
+prevented a score during the first half.
+
+In the opening of the second half, by a lucky recovery of a blocked
+kick, the Kennedy scored a touchdown, but failed to kick the goal,
+making the score four to nothing. The Woodhull then began a determined
+assault upon the Kennedy's weak end. Stover, powerless, beheld little
+Pebble Stone, fighting like grim death, carried back and back five,
+ten yards at a time as the Woodhull swept up the field.
+
+"It's the only place they can gain," he cried in his soul in bitter
+iteration.
+
+He looked around and caught the eye of Captain Cockrell and sent him a
+mute, agonizing, fruitless appeal.
+
+"Kennedy's ball," came the sharp cry of Slugger Jones, the umpire.
+
+Dink looked up and felt the blood come back to his body again--on the
+twenty-five yard line there had been a fumble and the advance was
+checked. Twice again the battered end of the Kennedy was forced back
+for what seemed certain touchdowns, only to be saved by loose work on
+the Woodhull's part. It was getting dark and the half was ebbing
+fast--three minutes more to play. A fourth time the Woodhull furiously
+attacked the breach, gaining at every rush over the light opposition,
+past the forty-yard line, past the twenty-yard mark and triumphantly,
+in the last minute of play, over the goal for a touchdown. The ball
+had been downed well to the right of the goal posts and the trial for
+goal was an unusually difficult one. The score was a tie, everything
+depended on the goal that, through the dusk, Tough McCarty was
+carefully sighting. Dink, heartbroken, despairing, leaning on his
+linesman's staff, directly behind the ball, waited for the long,
+endless moments to be over. Then there was a sudden movement of
+McCarty's body, a wild rush from the Kennedy and the ball shot high in
+the air and, to Stover's horror, passed barely inside the farther
+goalpost.
+
+"No goal," said Slugger Jones. "Time up."
+
+Dink raised his head in surprise, scarcely crediting what he had
+heard. The Woodhull team were furiously disputing the decision,
+encouraged by audible comments from the spectators. Slugger Jones,
+surrounded by a contesting, vociferous mass, suddenly swept them aside
+and began to take the vote of the officials.
+
+"Kiefer, what do you say?"
+
+Cap Kiefer, referee, shook his head.
+
+"I'm sorry, Slugger, it was close, very close, but it did seem a goal
+to me."
+
+"Tug, what do you say?"
+
+"Goal, sure," said Tug Wilson, linesman for the Woodhull. At this,
+jeers and hoots broke out from the Kennedy.
+
+"Of course he'll say that!"
+
+"He's from the Woodhull."
+
+"What do you think?"
+
+"Justice!"
+
+"Hold up, hold up, now," said Slugger Jones, more excited than any
+one. "Don't get excited; it's up to your own man. Dink, was it a goal
+or no goal?"
+
+Stover suddenly found himself in a whirling, angry mass--the decision
+of the game in his own hands. He saw the faces of Tough McCarty and
+the Coffee-colored Angel in the blank crowd about him and he saw the
+sneer on their faces as they waited for his answer. Then he saw the
+faces of his own teammates and knew what they, in their frenzy,
+expected from him.
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Goal or no goal?" cried the umpire, for the second time.
+
+Then suddenly, face to face with the hostile mass, the fighting blood
+came to Dink. Something cold went up his back. He looked once more
+above the riot, to the shadowy posts, trying to forget Tough McCarty,
+and then, with a snap to his jaws, he answered:
+
+"Goal."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Dink returned to his room in a rage against everything and every one,
+at Slugger Jones for having submitted the question, at Tough McCarty
+for having looked as though he expected a lie, and at himself for ever
+having acted as linesman.
+
+If it had not been the last days before the Andover match he would
+have found some consolation in rushing over to the Woodhull and
+provoking McCarty to the long-deferred fight.
+
+"He thought I'd lie out of it," he said furiously. "He did; I saw it.
+I'll settle that with him, too. Now I suppose every one in this
+house'll be down on me; but they'd better be mighty careful how they
+express it."
+
+For as he had left the field he had heard only too clearly how the
+Kennedy eleven, in the unreasoning passion of conflict, had expressed
+itself. At present, through the open window, the sounds of violent
+words were borne up to him from below. He approached and looked down
+upon the furious assembly.
+
+"Damn me up and down, damn me all you want," he said, doubling up his
+fists. "Keep it up, but don't come up to me with it."
+
+Suddenly, back of him, the door opened and shut and Dennis de Brian de
+Boru Finnegan stood in the room.
+
+"I say, Dink----"
+
+"Get out," said Stover furiously, seizing a pillow.
+
+Finnegan precipitately retired and, placing the door between him and
+the danger, opened it slightly and inserted his freckled little nose.
+
+"I say, Dink----"
+
+"Get out, I told you!" The pillow struck the door with a bang. "I
+won't have any one snooping around here!"
+
+The next instant Dennis, resolved on martyrdom, stepped inside,
+saying:
+
+"I say, old man, if it'll do you any good, take it out on me."
+
+Stover, thus defied, stopped and said:
+
+"Dennis, I don't want to talk about it."
+
+"All right," said Dennis, sitting down.
+
+"And I want to be alone."
+
+"Correct," said Dennis, who didn't budge.
+
+They sat in moody silence, without lighting the lamp.
+
+"Pretty tough," said Dennis at last.
+
+Stover's answer was a grunt.
+
+"You couldn't see it the way the umpire did, could you?"
+
+"No, I couldn't."
+
+"Pretty tough!"
+
+"I suppose," said Dink finally, "the fellows are wild."
+
+"A little--a little excited," said Dennis carefully. "It was
+tough--pretty tough!"
+
+"You don't suppose I wanted that gang of muckers to win, do you?" said
+Stover.
+
+"I know," said Dennis sympathetically.
+
+The Tennessee Shad now returned from the wars, covered with mud and
+the more visible marks of the combat.
+
+"Hello," he said gruffly.
+
+"Hello," said Stover.
+
+The Tennessee Shad went wearily to his corner and stripped for the
+bath.
+
+"Well, say it," said Stover, who, in his agitation, had actually
+picked up a textbook and started to study. "Jump on me, why don't
+you?"
+
+"I'm not going to jump on you," said the Tennessee Shad, who weakly
+pulled off the heavy shoes. "Only--well, you couldn't see it as the
+umpire did, could you?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"What a day--what an awful day!"
+
+Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, with great tact, rose and hesitated:
+
+"I'm going--I--I've got to get ready for supper," he said desperately.
+Then he went lamely over to Stover and held out his hand: "I know how
+you feel old man, but--but--I'm glad you did it!"
+
+Whereupon he disappeared in blushing precipitation.
+
+Stover breathed hard and tried to bring his mind to the printed
+lesson. The Tennessee Shad, sighing audibly, continued his ablutions,
+dressed and sat down.
+
+"Dink."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why did you do it?"
+
+Then Stover, flinging down his book with an access of rage, cried out:
+
+"Why? Because you all, every damn one of you, expected me to _lie_!"
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The next day Stover, who had firmly made up his mind to a sort of
+modified ostracism, was amazed to find that over night he had become a
+hero. By the next morning the passion and the bitterness of the
+struggle having died away, the house looked at the matter in a calmer
+mood and one by one came to him and gripped his hand with halting,
+blurted words of apology or explanation.
+
+Utterly unprepared for this development, Stover all at once realized
+that he had won what neither courage nor wit had been able to bring
+him, the something he had always longed for without being quite able
+to name it--the respect of his fellows. He felt it in the looks that
+followed him as he went over to chapel, in the nodded recognition of
+Fifth Formers, who had never before noticed him, in The Roman himself,
+who flunked him without satire or aggravation. And not yet knowing
+himself, his impulses or the strange things that lay dormant beneath
+the surface of his everyday life, Stover was a little ashamed, as
+though he did not deserve it all.
+
+That afternoon as Dink was donning his football togs, preparing for
+practice, a knock came at the door which opened on a very much
+embarrassed delegation from the Woodhull--the Coffee-colored Angel,
+Cheyenne Baxter and Tough McCarty.
+
+"I say, is that you, Dink?" said the Coffee-colored Angel.
+
+"It is," said Stover, with as much dignity as the state of his
+wardrobe would permit.
+
+"I say, we've come over from the Woodhull, you know," continued the
+Coffee-colored Angel, who stopped after this bit of illuminating news.
+
+"Well, what do you want?"
+
+"I say, that's not just it; we're sent by the Woodhull I meant to say,
+and we want to say, we want you to know--how white we think it was of
+you!"
+
+"Old man," said Cheyenne Baxter, "we want to thank you. What we want
+to tell you is how white we think it was of you."
+
+"You needn't thank me," said Stover gruffly, pulling his leg through
+the football trousers. "I didn't want to do it."
+
+The delegation stood confused, wondering how to end the painful scene.
+
+"It was awful white!" said the Coffee-colored Angel, tying knots in
+his sweater.
+
+"It certainly was," said Cheyenne.
+
+As this brought them no further along the Coffee-colored Angel
+exclaimed in alarm:
+
+"I say, Dink, will you shake hands?"
+
+Stover gravely extended his right.
+
+Cheyenne next clung to it, blurting out:
+
+"Say, Dink, I wish I could make you understand--just--just how white
+we think it was!"
+
+The two rushed away leaving Tough McCarty to have his say. Both stood
+awkwardly, frightened before the possibility of a display of
+sentiment.
+
+"Look here," said Tough firmly, and then stopped, drew a long breath
+and continued: "Say, you and I have sort of formed up a sort of
+vendetta and all that sort of thing, haven't we?"
+
+"We have."
+
+"Now, I'm not going to call that off. I don't suppose you'd want it,
+either."
+
+"No, I wouldn't!"
+
+"We've got to have a good, old, slam-bang fight sooner or later and
+then, perhaps, it'll be different. I'm not coming around asking you to
+be friends, or anything like that sort of rot, you know, but what I
+want you to know is this--is this--what I want you to understand is
+just how darned _white_ that was of you!"
+
+"All right," said Stover frigidly, because he was tremendously moved
+and in terror of showing it.
+
+"That's not what I wanted to say," said Tough, frowning terrifically
+and kicking the floor. "I mean--I say, you know what I mean, don't
+you?"
+
+"All right," said Stover gruffly.
+
+"And I say," said Tough, remembering only one line of all he had come
+prepared to say, "if you'll let me, Stover, I should consider it an
+honor to shake your hand."
+
+Dink gave his hand, trembling a little.
+
+"Of course you understand," said Tough who thought he comprehended
+Stover's silence, "of course we fight it out some day."
+
+"All right," said Stover gruffly.
+
+Tough McCarty went away. Dink, left alone, clad in his voluminous
+football trousers, sat staring at the door, clasping his hands tensely
+between his knees, and something inside of him welled up, dangerously
+threatening his eyes--something feminine, to be choked instantly down.
+
+He rose angrily, flung back his hair and filled his lungs. Then he
+stopped.
+
+"What the deuce are they all making such a fuss for?" he said. "I only
+told the truth."
+
+He struggled into his jersey, still trying to answer the problem. In
+his abstraction he drew a neat part in his hair before perceiving the
+_faux pas_, he hurriedly obliterated the effete mark.
+
+"I guess," he said, standing at the window still pondering over the
+new attitude toward himself--"I guess, after all, I don't know it all.
+Tough McCarty--well, I'll be damned!"
+
+Saturday came all too soon and with it the arrival of the stocky
+Andover eleven. Dink dressed and went slowly across the campus--every
+step seemed an effort. Everywhere was an air of seriousness and
+apprehension, strangely contrasted to the gay ferment that usually
+announced a big game. He felt a hundred eyes on him as he went and
+knew what was in every one's mind. What would happen when Ned Banks
+would have to retire and he, little Dink Stover, weighing one hundred
+and thirty-eight, would have to go forth to stand at the end of the
+line. And because Stover had learned the lesson of football, the
+sacrifice for an idea, he too felt not fear but a sort of despair that
+the hopes of the great school would have to rest upon him, little Dink
+Stover, who weighed only one hundred and thirty-eight pounds.
+
+He went quietly to the Upper, his eyes on the ground like a guilty
+man, picking his way through the crowds of Fifth Formers, who watched
+him pass with critical looks, and up the heavy stairs to Garry
+Cockrell's room, where the team sat quietly listening to the final
+instructions. He took his seat silently in an obscure corner, studying
+the stern faces about him, hearing nothing of Mr. Ware's staccato
+periods, his eyes irresistibly drawn to his captain, wondering how
+suddenly older he looked and grave.
+
+By his side Ned Banks was listening stolidly and Charlie DeSoto,
+twisting a paper-weight in his nervous fingers, fidgeting on his chair
+with the longing for the fray.
+
+"That's all," said the low voice of Garry Cockrell. "You know what you
+have to do. Go down to Charlie's room; I want a few words with
+Stover."
+
+They went sternly and quickly, Mr. Ware with them. Dink was alone,
+standing stiff and straight, his heart thumping violently, waiting for
+his captain to speak.
+
+"How do you feel?"
+
+"I'm ready, sir."
+
+"I don't know when you'll get in the game--probably before the first
+half is over," said Cockrell slowly. "We're going to put up to you a
+pretty hard proposition, youngster." He came nearer, laying his hand
+on Stover's shoulder. "I'm not going to talk nerve to you, young
+bulldog, I don't need to. I've watched you and I know the stuff that's
+in you."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"Not but what you'll need it--more than you've ever needed it before.
+You've no right in this game."
+
+"I know it, sir."
+
+"Tough McCarty won't be able to help you out much. He's got the
+toughest man in the line. Everything's coming at you, my boy, and
+you've got to stand it off, somehow. Now, listen once more. It's a
+game for the long head, for the cool head. You've got to think
+quicker, you've got to out-think every man on the field and you can do
+it. And remember this: No matter what happens never let up--get your
+man back of the line if you can, get him twenty-five yards beyond you,
+get him on the one-yard line,--but get him!"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And now one thing more. There's all sorts of ways you can play the
+game. You can charge in like a bull and kill yourself off in ten
+minutes, but that won't do. You can go in and make grandstand plays
+and get carried off the field, but that won't do. My boy, you've got
+to last out the game."
+
+"I see, sir."
+
+"Remember there's a bigger thing than yourself you're fighting for,
+Stover--it's the school, the old school. Now, when you're on the
+side-lines don't lose any time; watch your men, find out their tricks,
+see if they look up or change their footing when they start for an end
+run. Everything is going to count. Now, come on."
+
+They joined the eleven below and presently, in a compact body, went
+out and through Memorial and the chapel, where suddenly the field
+appeared and a great roar went up from the school.
+
+"All ready," said the captain.
+
+They broke into a trot and swept up to the cheering mass. Dink
+remembered seeing the Tennessee Shad, in his shirt sleeves,
+frantically leading the school and thinking how funny he looked. Then
+some one pulled a blanket over him and he was camped among the
+substitutes, peering out at the gridiron where already the two elevens
+were sweeping back and forth in vigorous signal drill.
+
+He looked eagerly at the Andover eleven. They were big, rangy fellows
+and their team worked with a precision and machine-like rush that the
+red and black team did not have.
+
+"Trouble with us is," said the voice of Fatty Harris, at his elbow,
+"our team's never gotten together. The fellows would rather slug each
+other than the enemy."
+
+"Gee, that fellow at tackle is a monster," said Dink, picking out
+McCarty's opponent.
+
+"Look at Turkey Reiter and the Waladoo Bird," continued Fatty Harris.
+"Bad blood! And there's Tough McCarty and King Lentz. We're not
+together, I tell you! We're hanging apart!"
+
+"Lord, will they ever begin!" said Dink, blowing on his hands that had
+suddenly gone limp and clammy.
+
+"We've won the toss," said another voice. "There's a big wind, we'll
+take sides."
+
+"Andover's kick-off," said Fatty Harris.
+
+Stover sunk his head in his blanket, waiting for the awful moment to
+end. Then a whistle piped and he raised his head again. The ball had
+landed short, into the arms of Butcher Stevens, who plunged ahead for
+a slight gain and went down under a shock of blue jerseys.
+
+Stover felt the warm blood return, the sinking feeling in the pit of
+his stomach left him, he felt, amazed, a great calm settling over
+him, as though he had jumped from out his own body.
+
+"If Flash Condit can once get loose," he said quietly, "he'll score.
+They ought to try a dash through tackle before the others warm up.
+Good!"
+
+As if in obedience to his thought Flash Condit came rushing through
+the line, between end and tackle, but the Andover left half-back, who
+was alert, caught him and brought him to the ground after a gain of
+ten yards.
+
+"Pretty fast, that chap," thought Dink. "Too bad, Flash was almost
+clear."
+
+"Who tackled him?" asked Fatty Harris.
+
+"Goodhue," came the answer from somewhere. "They say he runs the
+hundred in ten and a fifth."
+
+The next try was not so fortunate, the blue line charged quicker and
+stopped Cheyenne Baxter without a gain. Charlie DeSoto tried a
+quarter-back run and some one broke through between the Waladoo Bird
+and Turkey Reiter.
+
+"Not together--not together," said the dismal voice of Fatty Harris.
+
+The signal was given for a punt and the ball lifted in the air went
+soaring down the field on the force of the wind. It was too long a
+punt for the ends to cover, and the Andover back with a good start
+came twisting through the territory of Ned Banks who had been blocked
+off by his opponent.
+
+"Watch that Andover end, Stover," said Mr. Ware. "Study out his
+methods."
+
+"All right, sir," said Dink, who had watched no one else.
+
+He waited breathless for the first shock of the Andover attack. It
+came with a rush, compact and solid, and swept back the Lawrenceville
+left side for a good eight yards.
+
+"Good-by!" said Harris in a whisper.
+
+Dink began to whistle, moving down the field, watching the backs.
+Another machine-like advance and another big gain succeeded.
+
+"They'll wake up," said Dink solemnly to himself. "They'll stop 'em in
+a minute."
+
+But they did not stop. Rush by rush, irresistibly the blue left their
+own territory and passed the forty-five yard line of Lawrenceville.
+Then a fumble occurred and the ball went again with the gale far out
+of danger, over the heads of the Andover backs who had misjudged its
+treacherous course.
+
+"Lucky we've got the wind," said Dink, calm amid the roaring cheers
+about him. "Gee, that Andover attack's going to be hard to stop. Banks
+is beginning to limp."
+
+The blue, after a few quick advances, formed and swept out toward
+Garry Cockrell's end.
+
+"Three yards lost," said Dink grimly. "They won't try him often. Funny
+they're not onto Banks. Lord, how they can gain through the center of
+the line. First down again." Substitute and coach, the frantic school,
+alumni over from Princeton, kept up a constant storm of shouts and
+entreaties:
+
+"Oh, get together!"
+
+"Throw 'em back!"
+
+"Hold 'em!"
+
+"First down again!"
+
+"Hold 'em, Lawrenceville!"
+
+"Don't let them carry it seventy yards!"
+
+"Get the jump!"
+
+"There they go again!"
+
+"Ten yards around Banks!"
+
+Stover alone, squatting opposite the line of play, moving as it moved,
+coldly critical, studied each individuality.
+
+"Funny nervous little tricks that Goodhue's got--blows on his
+hands--does that mean he takes the ball? No, all a bluff. What's he do
+when he does take it? Quiet and looks at the ground. When he doesn't
+take it he tries to pretend he does. I'll tuck that away. He's my man.
+Seems to switch in just as the interference strikes the end about ten
+feet beyond tackle, running low--Banks is playing too high; better,
+perhaps, to run in on 'em now and then before they get started.
+There's going to be trouble there in a minute. The fellows aren't up
+on their toes yet--what is the matter, anyhow? Tough's getting boxed
+right along, he ought to play out further, I should think. Hello, some
+one fumbled again. Who's got it? Looks like Garry. No, they recovered
+it themselves--no, they didn't. Lord, what a butter-fingered lot--why
+doesn't he get it? He has--Charlie DeSoto--clear field--can he make
+it?--he ought to--where's that Goodhue?--looks like a safe lead; he'll
+make the twenty-yard line at least--yes, fully that, if he doesn't
+stumble--there's that Goodhue now--some one ought to block him off,
+good work--that's it--that makes the touchdown--lucky--very lucky!"
+
+Some one hit him a terrific clap on the shoulder. He looked up in
+surprise to behold Fatty Harris dancing about like a crazed man. The
+air seemed all arms, hats were rising like startled coveys of birds.
+Some one flung his arms around him and hugged him. He flung him off
+almost indignantly. What were they thinking of--that was only one
+touchdown--four points--what was that against that blue team and the
+wind at their backs, too. One touchdown wasn't going to win the game.
+
+"Why do they get so excited?" said Dink Stover to John Stover,
+watching deliberately the ball soaring between the goalposts; "6 to
+0--they think it's all over. Now's the rub."
+
+Mr. Ware passed near him. He was quiet, too, seeing far ahead.
+
+"Better keep warmed up, Stover," he said.
+
+"Biting his nails, that's a funny trick for a master," thought Dink.
+"He oughtn't to be nervous. That doesn't do any good."
+
+The shouts of exultation were soon hushed; with the advantage of the
+wind the game quickly assumed a different complexion. Andover had
+found the weak end and sent play after play at Banks, driving him back
+for long advances.
+
+"Take off your sweater," said Mr. Ware.
+
+Dink flung it off, running up and down the side-lines, springing from
+his toes.
+
+"Why don't they take him out?" he thought angrily, with almost a
+hatred of the fellow who was fighting it out in vain. "Can't they see
+it? Ten yards more, oh, Lord! This ends it."
+
+With a final rush the Andover interference swung at Banks, brushed him
+aside and swept over the remaining fifteen yards for the touchdown. A
+minute later the goal was kicked and the elevens again changed sides.
+The suddenness with which the score had been tied impressed every
+one--the school team seemed to have no defense against the well-massed
+attacks of the opponents.
+
+"Holes as big as a house," said Fatty Harris. "Asleep! They're all
+asleep!"
+
+Dink, pacing up and down, waited the word from Mr. Ware, rebelling
+because it did not come.
+
+Again the scrimmage began, a short advance from the loosely-knit
+school eleven, a long punt with the wind and then a quick,
+business-like line-up of the blue team and another rush at the
+vulnerable end.
+
+"Ten yards more; oh, it's giving it away!" said Fatty Harris.
+
+Stover knelt and tried his shoelaces and rising, tightened his belt.
+
+"I'll be out there in a moment," he said to himself.
+
+Another gain at Banks' end and suddenly from the elevens across the
+field the figure of the captain rose and waved a signal.
+
+"Go in, Stover," said Mr. Ware.
+
+He ran out across the long stretch to where the players were moving
+restlessly, their clothes flinging out clouds of steam. Back of him
+something was roaring, cheering for him, perhaps, hoping against hope.
+
+Then he was in the midst of the contestants, Garry Cockrell's arm
+about his shoulders, whispering something in his ear about keeping
+cool, breaking up the interference if he couldn't get his man,
+following up the play. He went to his position, noticing the sullen
+expressions of his teammates, angry with the consciousness that they
+were not doing their best. Then taking his stand beyond Tough McCarty,
+he saw the Andover quarter and the backs turn and study him curiously.
+He noticed the half-back nearest him, a stocky, close-cropped,
+red-haired fellow, with brawny arms under his rolled-up jersey, whose
+duty it would be to send him rolling on the first rush.
+
+"All ready?" cried the voice of the umpire. "First down."
+
+The whistle blew, the two lines strained opposite each other. Stover
+knew what the play would be--there was no question of that.
+Fortunately the last two rushes had carried the play well over to his
+side--the boundary was only fifteen yards away. Dink had thought out
+quickly what he would do. He crept in closer than an end usually plays
+and at the snap of the ball rushed straight into the starting
+interference before it could gather dangerous momentum. The back,
+seeing him thus drawn in, instinctively swerved wide around his
+interference, forced slightly back. Before he could turn forward his
+own speed and the necessity of distancing Stover and Condit drove him
+out of bounds for a four-yard loss.
+
+"Second down, nine yards to go!" came the verdict.
+
+"Rather risky going in like that," said Flash Condit, who backed up
+his side.
+
+"Wanted to force him out of bounds," said Stover.
+
+"Oh--look out for something between tackle and guard now."
+
+"No--they'll try the other side now to get a clean sweep at me," said
+Stover.
+
+The red-haired half-back disappeared in the opposite side and, well
+protected, kept his feet for five yards.
+
+"Third down, four to gain."
+
+"Now for a kick," said Stover, as the Andover end came out opposite
+him. "What the deuce am I going to do to this coot to mix him up. He
+looks more as though he'd like to tackle me than to get past." He
+looked over and caught a glance from the Andover quarter. "I wonder.
+Why not a fake kick? They've sized me up for green. I'll play it
+carefully."
+
+At the play, instead of blocking, he jumped back and to one side,
+escaping the end who dove at his knees. Then, rushing ahead, he
+stalled off the half and caught the fullback with a tackle that
+brought him to his feet, rubbing his side.
+
+"Lawrenceville's ball. Time up for first half."
+
+Dink had not thought of the time. Amazed, he scrambled to his feet,
+half angry at the interruption, and following the team went over to
+the room to be talked to by the captain and the coach.
+
+It was a hang-dog crowd that gathered there, quailing under the
+scornful lashing of Garry Cockrell. He spared no one, he omitted no
+names. Dink, listening, lowered his eyes, ashamed to look upon the
+face of the team. One or two cried out:
+
+"Oh, I say, Garry!"
+
+"That's too much!"
+
+"Too much, too much, is it?" cried their captain, walking up and down,
+striking the flat of his hand with the clenched fist. "By heavens,
+it's nothing to what they're saying of us out there. They're ashamed
+of us, one and all! Listen to the cheering if you don't believe it!
+They'll cheer a losing team, a team that is being driven back foot by
+foot. There's something glorious in that, but a team that stands up to
+be pushed over, a team that lies down and quits, a team that hasn't
+one bit of red fighting blood in it, they won't cheer; they're ashamed
+of you! Now, I'll tell you what's going to happen to you. You're going
+to be run down the field for just about four touchdowns. Here's Lentz
+being tossed around by a fellow that weighs forty pounds less. Why,
+he's the joke of the game. McCarty hasn't stopped a play, not one!
+Waladoo's so easy that they rest up walking through him. But that's
+not the worst, you're playing wide apart as though there wasn't a man
+within ten miles of you; not one of you is helping out the other. The
+only time you've taken the ball from them is when a little shaver
+comes in and uses his head. Now, you're not going to win this game,
+but by the Almighty you're going out there and going to hold that
+Andover team! You've got the wind against you; you've got everything
+against you; you've got to fight on your own goal line, not once, but
+twenty times. But you've got to hold 'em; you're going to make good;
+you're going to wipe out that disgraceful, cowardly first half! You're
+going out there to stand those fellows off! You're going to make the
+school cheer for you again as though they believed in you, as though
+they were proud of you! You're going to do a bigger thing than beat a
+weaker team! You're going to fight off defeat and show that, if you
+can't win, you can't be beaten!"
+
+Mr. Ware, in a professional way, passed from one to another with a
+word of advice: "Play lower, get the jump--don't be drawn in by a fake
+plunge--watch Goodhue."
+
+But Dink heard nothing; he sat in his corner, clasping and unclasping
+his hands, suffering with the moments that separated him from the
+fray. Then all at once he was back on the field, catching the force of
+the wind that blew the hair about his temples, hearing the
+half-hearted welcome that went up from the school.
+
+"Hear that cheer!" said Garry Cockrell bitterly.
+
+From Butcher Stevens' boot the ball went twisting and veering down the
+field. Stover went down, dodging instinctively, hardly knowing what he
+did. Then as he started to spring at the runner an interferer from
+behind flung himself on him and sent him sprawling, but not until one
+arm had caught and checked his man.
+
+McCarty had stopped the runner, when Dink sprang to his feet, wild
+with the rage of having missed his tackle.
+
+"Steady!" cried the voice of his captain.
+
+He lined up hurriedly, seeing red. The interference started for him,
+he flung himself at it blindly and was buried under the body of the
+red-haired half. Powerless to move, humiliatingly held under the
+sturdy body, the passion of fighting rose in him again. He tried to
+throw him off, doubling up his fist, waiting until his arm was free.
+
+"Why, you're easy, kid," said a mocking voice. "We'll come again."
+
+The taunt suddenly chilled him. Without knowing how it happened, he
+laughed.
+
+"That's the last time you get me, old rooster," he said, in a voice
+that did not belong to him.
+
+He glanced back. Andover had gained fifteen yards.
+
+"That comes from losing my head," he said quietly. "That's over."
+
+It had come, the cold consciousness of which Cockrell had spoken,
+strange as the second wind that surprises the distressed runner.
+
+"I've got to teach that red-haired coot a lesson," he said. "He's a
+little too confident. I'll shake him up a bit."
+
+The opportunity came on the third play, with another attack on his
+end. He ran forward a few steps and stood still, leaning a little
+forward, waiting for the red-haired back who came plunging at him.
+Suddenly Dink dropped to his knees, the interferer went violently over
+his back, something struck Stover in the shoulder and his arms closed
+with the fierce thrill of holding his man.
+
+"Second down, seven yards to gain," came the welcome sound.
+
+Time was taken out for the red-haired half-back, who had had the wind
+knocked out of him.
+
+"Now he'll be more respectful," said Dink, and as soon as he caught
+his eye he grinned. "Red hair--I'll see if I can't get his temper."
+
+Thus checked and to use the advantage of the wind Andover elected to
+kick. The ball went twisting, and, changing its course in the
+strengthening wind, escaped the clutches of Macnooder and went
+bounding toward the goal where Charlie DeSoto saved it on the
+twenty-five-yard line. In an instant the overwhelming disparity of the
+sides was apparent.
+
+A return kick at best could gain but twenty-five or thirty yards. From
+now on they would be on the defensive.
+
+Dink came in to support his traditional enemy, Tough McCarty. The
+quick, nervous voice of Charlie DeSoto rose in a shriek: "Now,
+Lawrenceville, get into this, 7--52--3."
+
+Dink swept around for a smash on the opposite tackle, head down, eyes
+fastened on the back before him, feeling the shock of resistance and
+the yielding response as he thrust forward, pushing, heaving on, until
+everything piled up before him. Four yards gained.
+
+A second time they repeated the play, making the first down.
+
+"Time to spring a quick one through us," he thought.
+
+But again DeSoto elected the same play.
+
+"What's he trying to do?" said Dink. "Why don't he vary it?"
+
+Some one hauled him out of the tangled pile. It was Tough McCarty.
+
+"Say, our tackle's a stiff one," he said, with his mouth to Stover's
+ear. "You take his knees; I'll take him above this time."
+
+Their signal came at last. Dink dove, trying to meet the shifting
+knees and throw him off his balance. The next moment a powerful arm
+caught him as he left the ground and swept him aside.
+
+"Any gain?" he asked anxiously as he came up.
+
+"Only a yard," said McCarty. "He got through and smeered the play."
+
+"I know how to get him next time," said Dink.
+
+The play was repeated. This time Stover made a feint and then dove
+successfully after the big arm had swept fruitlessly past. Flash
+Condit, darting through the line, was tackled by Goodhue and fell
+forward for a gain.
+
+"How much?" said Stover, rising joyfully.
+
+"They're measuring."
+
+The distance was tried and found to be two feet short of the necessary
+five yards. The risk was too great, a kick was signaled and the ball
+was Andover's, just inside the center of the field.
+
+"Now, Lawrenceville," cried the captain, "show what you're made of."
+
+The test came quickly, a plunge between McCarty and Lentz yielded
+three yards, a second four. The Andover attack, with the same
+precision as before, struck anywhere between the tackles and found
+holes. Dink, at the bottom of almost every pile, raged at Tough
+McCarty.
+
+"He's doing nothing, he isn't fighting," he said angrily. "He doesn't
+know what it is to fight. Why doesn't he break up that interference
+for me?"
+
+When the attack struck his end now it turned in, slicing off tackle,
+the runner well screened by close interference that held him up when
+Stover tackled, dragging him on for the precious yards. Three and four
+yards at a time, the blue advance rolled its way irresistibly toward
+the red and black goal. They were inside the twenty-yard line now.
+
+Cockrell was pleading with them. Little Charlie DeSoto was running
+along the line, slapping their backs, calling frantically on them to
+throw the blue back.
+
+And gradually the line did stiffen, slowly but perceptibly the advance
+was cut down. Enmities were forgotten with the shadow of the
+goalposts looming at their backs. Waladoo and Turkey Reiter were
+fighting side by side, calling to each other. Tough McCarty was
+hauling Stover out of desperate scrimmages, patting him on the back
+and calling him "good old Dink." The fighting blood that Garry
+Cockrell had called upon was at last there--the line had closed and
+fought together.
+
+And yet they were borne back to their fifteen-yard line, two yards at
+a time, just losing the fourth down.
+
+Stover at end was trembling like a blooded terrier, on edge for each
+play, shrieking:
+
+"Oh, Tough, get through--you must get through!"
+
+He was playing by intuition now, no time to plan. He knew just who had
+the ball and where it was going. Out or in, the attack was
+concentrating on his end--only McCarty and he could stop it. He was
+getting his man, but they were dragging him on, fighting now for
+inches.
+
+"Third down, one yard to gain!"
+
+"Watch my end," he shouted to Flash Condit, and hurling himself
+forward at the starting backs dove under the knees, and grabbing the
+legs about him went down buried under the mass he had upset.
+
+It seemed hours before the crushing bodies were pulled off and some
+one's arm brought him to his feet and some one hugged him, shouting in
+his ear:
+
+"You saved it, Dink, you saved it!"
+
+Some one rushed up with a sponge and began dabbing his face.
+
+"What the deuce are they doing that for?" he said angrily.
+
+Then he noticed that an arm was under his and he turned curiously to
+the face near him. It was Tough McCarty's.
+
+"Whose ball is it?" he said.
+
+"Ours."
+
+He looked to the other side. Garry Cockrell was supporting him.
+
+"What's the matter?" he said, trying to draw his head away from the
+sponge that was dripping water down his throat.
+
+"Just a little wind knocked out, youngster--coming to?"
+
+"I'm all right."
+
+He walked a few steps alone and then took his place. Things were in a
+daze on the horizon, but not there in the field. Everything else was
+shut out except his duty there.
+
+Charlie DeSoto's voice rose shrill:
+
+"Now, Lawrenceville, up the field with it. This team's just begun to
+play. We've got together, boys. Let her rip!"
+
+No longer scattered, but a unit, all differences forgot, fighting for
+the same idea, the team rose up and crashed through the Andover line,
+every man in the play, ten--fifteen yards ahead.
+
+"Again!" came the strident cry.
+
+Without a pause the line sprang into place, formed and swept forward.
+It was a privilege to be in such a game, to feel the common frenzy,
+the awakened glance of battle that showed down the line. Dink, side by
+side with Tough McCarty, thrilled with the same thrill, plunging ahead
+with the same motion, fighting the same fight; no longer alone and
+desperate, but nerved with the consciousness of a partner whose
+gameness matched his own.
+
+For thirty yards they carried the ball down the field, before the
+stronger Andover team, thrown off its feet by the unexpected frenzy,
+could rally and stand them off. Then an exchange of punts once more
+drove them back to their twenty-five-yard line.
+
+A second time the Andover advance set out from the fifty-yard line and
+slowly fought its way to surrender the ball in the shadow of the
+goalposts.
+
+Stover played on in a daze, remembering nothing of the confused shock
+of bodies that had gone before, wondering how much longer he could
+hold out--to last out the game as the captain had told him. He was
+groggy, from time to time he felt the sponge's cold touch on his face
+or heard the voice of Tough McCarty in his ear.
+
+"Good old Dink, die game!"
+
+How he loved McCarty fighting there by his side, whispering to him:
+
+"You and I, Dink! What if he is an old elephant, we'll put him out the
+play."
+
+Still, flesh and blood could not last forever. The half must be nearly
+up.
+
+"Two minutes more time."
+
+"What was that?" he said groggily to Flash Condit.
+
+"Two minutes more. Hold 'em now!"
+
+It was Andover's ball. He glanced around. They were down near the
+twenty-five-yard line somewhere. He looked at McCarty, whose frantic
+head showed against the sky.
+
+"Break it up, Tough," he said, and struggled toward him.
+
+A cry went up, the play was halted.
+
+"He's groggy," he heard voices say, and then came the welcome splash
+of the sponge.
+
+Slowly his vision cleared to the anxious faces around him.
+
+"Can you last?" said the captain.
+
+"I'm all right," he said gruffly.
+
+"Things cleared up now?"
+
+"Fine!"
+
+McCarty put his arm about him and walked with him.
+
+"Oh, Dink, you will last, won't you?"
+
+"You bet I will, Tough!"
+
+"It's the last stand, old boy!"
+
+"The last."
+
+"Only two minutes more we've got to hold 'em! The last ditch, Dink."
+
+"I'll last."
+
+He looked up and saw the school crouching along the line--tense drawn
+faces. For the first time he realized they were there, calling on him
+to stand steadfast.
+
+He went back, meeting the rush that came his way, half-knocked aside,
+half-getting his man, dragged again until assistance came. DeSoto's
+stinging hand slapped his back and the sting was good, clearing his
+brain.
+
+Things came into clear outline once more. He saw down the line and to
+the end where Garry Cockrell stood.
+
+"Good old captain," he said. "They'll not get by me, not now."
+
+He was in every play it seemed to him, wondering why Andover was
+always keeping the ball, always coming at his end. Suddenly he had a
+shock. Over his shoulder were the goalposts, the line he stood on was
+the line of his own goal.
+
+He gave a hoarse cry and went forward like a madman, parting the
+interference. Some one else was through; Tough was through; the whole
+line was through flinging back the runner. He went down clinging to
+Goodhue, buried under a mass of his own tacklers. Then, through the
+frenzy, he heard the shrill call of time.
+
+He struggled to his feet. The ball lay scarcely four yards away from
+the glorious goalposts. Then, before the school could sweep them up;
+panting, exhausted, they gathered in a circle with incredulous,
+delirious faces, and leaning heavily, wearily on one another gave the
+cheer for Andover. And the touch of Stover's arm on McCarty's shoulder
+was like an embrace.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+At nine o'clock that night Stover eluded Dennis de Brian de Boru
+Finnegan and the Tennessee Shad and went across the dusky campus,
+faintly lit by the low-hanging moon. Past him hundreds of gnomelike
+figures were scurrying, carrying shadowy planks and barrels, while
+gleeful voices crossed and recrossed.
+
+"There's a whole pile back of Appleby's."
+
+"We've got an oil barrel."
+
+"Burn every fence in the county!"
+
+"Who cares!"
+
+"Where did you get that plank?"
+
+"Up by the Rouse."
+
+"Gee, we'll have a bonfire bigger'n the chapel!"
+
+"More wood, Freshmen!"
+
+"Rotten lot, those Freshmen!"
+
+"Hold up your end, Skinny. Do you think I'm a pack mule?"
+
+Dink pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and slunk away, not to
+be recognized. He went in a roundabout way past the chapel. He had
+just one desire, to stand under the goalposts they had defended and to
+feel again the thrill.
+
+"Who's that?" The voice was Tough McCarty's.
+
+"It's me. It's Dink," said Stover.
+
+"I came down here," said McCarty, appearing from under the goalposts
+and hesitating a little, "well, just to feel how it felt again."
+
+"So did I."
+
+Dink stood by the posts, taking one affectionately in his hand, and
+said curiously: "They tell me, Tough, we held 'em four times inside
+the ten-yard line."
+
+"Four times, old boy."
+
+"Funny I don't remember but two. Guess I was groggy."
+
+"You didn't show it."
+
+"It was you pulled me through, Tough."
+
+"Rats!"
+
+"It was. There at the last, I remember when you gripped me." As this
+was perilously near sentiment he stopped. "I say, how many of us
+tackled that fellow the last time?"
+
+"The whole bunch. I say, Dink."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Stand out here--that's it, knee to knee. Can't you just feel it
+behind you?"
+
+"Yes," said Dink, surprised that in the big body there was an
+imagination akin to his own. Then he said abruptly:
+
+"Tough, I guess there won't be any fight."
+
+"No--not after this."
+
+"What the deuce did we get a grudge for, anyway?"
+
+"I always liked you, Dink, but you wouldn't have it."
+
+"I was a mean little varmint!"
+
+"Rats! I say, Dink, we've got two years more on the old team. There's
+nothing going to get around our end, is there, old boy?"
+
+"You bet there isn't!"
+
+All at once a flame ran up the towering bonfire and belched toward the
+sky.
+
+"Are you going to let them get you?" said McCarty.
+
+"Me? Oh, Lord, no--I can't make a speech!"
+
+"Neither can I!" said Tough mendaciously. "I wouldn't go back there
+for the world!"
+
+The thin posts stood out against the sheet of flame, gaunt, rigid,
+imbued with a certain grandeur.
+
+"I say, Dink," said McCarty.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I say, we're going to have some great old fights together. But, do
+you know, I sort of feel after all, this will be the best."
+
+Then a chorus of thin shrieks rose about them. They started
+half-heartedly to run, pretending fury. A swarm of determined boyhood
+rushed over them and flung them kicking, struggling into the air.
+
+"Tough McCarty and Dink Stover!"
+
+"We've got 'em!"
+
+"On to the bonfire!"
+
+"They're ours!"
+
+"Hurray!"
+
+"Help!"
+
+"Help! We've got McCarty and Stover!"
+
+Boys by the score came tearing out. The little knot under Dink became
+a thick, black shadow, rushing forward with hilarious, triumphant
+shouts. Then all at once he landed all-fours on a cart before the
+flaming stack, greeted by fishhorns and rattles, his name shrieked out
+in a wild acclaim.
+
+"Three cheers for good old Dink!"
+
+"Three cheers for honest John Stover!"
+
+"Three cheers for the little cuss!"
+
+He drew himself up, fumbling at his cap, terrified at the multiplied
+faces that danced before his eyes.
+
+"I say, fellows----"
+
+"Hurray!"
+
+"Good boy!"
+
+"Orator!"
+
+"I say, fellows, I don't see why you've got me up here."
+
+"You don't!"
+
+"We'll show you!"
+
+"Dink, you're the finest ever!"
+
+"You're the stuff!"
+
+"Three cheers for good old Rinky Dink!"
+
+"Fellows, I'm no silver-tongued orator----"
+
+"Don't believe it!"
+
+"You are!"
+
+"Fellows, I haven't got anything to say----"
+
+"That's the stuff!"
+
+"Hurray!"
+
+"Keep it up!"
+
+"Oh, you bulldog!"
+
+"Fellows, they were good----"
+
+A derisive shout went up.
+
+"Fellows, they were very good----"
+
+"Yes, they were!"
+
+"Fellows, they were re-markably good--but _they didn't beat the old
+school team_! That's all."
+
+He dove headlong into the crowd, unaware that he had repeated for the
+sixth time the stock oration of the evening.
+
+"Good old Dink! Good old Rinky Dink!"
+
+The cry stuck in his memory all through the jubilant night and long
+after, when in his delicious bed he tossed and worried over the
+tackles he had missed.
+
+"It's a bully nickname--bully!" he repeated drowsily, again and again.
+"It sounds as though they liked you! And Tough McCarty, what a bully
+chap--bully! We're going to be friends--pals--what a bully fellow!
+Everything is bully--everything!"
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+With the close of the football season and the advent of December, with
+its scurries of snow and sleet, what might be termed the open season
+for masters began.
+
+A school of four hundred fellows is a good deal like a shaky monarchy:
+the football and baseball seasons akin to foreign wars; so long as
+they last the tranquillity of the state is secure, but with the return
+of peace a state of fermentation and unrest is due.
+
+The three weeks that lead to the Christmas vacation are too filled
+with anticipation to be dangerous. It is the long reaches after
+January fifth, the period of arctic night that settles down until the
+passing of the muddy month of March, that tries the souls of the
+keepers of these caged menageries.
+
+Since those days a humane direction has built a gymnasium to lighten
+the condition of servitude, preserve the health and prolong the lives
+of the Faculty. But at this time, with the shutting of the door on the
+treadmills of exercise, the young assistant master arranged his warm
+wrapper and slippers at the side of his bed and went to sleep with one
+ear raised.
+
+Dink Stover entered this season of mischief with all the ardor and
+intensity of his nature, the more so because, owing to his weeks of
+strict training and his virtual isolation of the year before, it was
+all strange to him. And at that period what is forbidden, dangerous
+and, above all, untried, must be attempted at least once.
+
+Now, owing to the foresight of a wise father, Dink had never been
+forbidden to smoke. Of a consequence when, at an early age, he
+practiced upon an old corncob pipe and found it violently disagreed
+with him, the desire abruptly ceased and, as the athletic ardor came,
+he consecrated his years to the duty of growing, with not the
+slightest regret.
+
+But between smoking under permission and squeezing close to a cold-air
+ventilator, stealthily, in the pin-drop silences of the night, with
+frightful risks of detection, was all the difference in the world. One
+was a disagreeable, thoroughly unsympathetic exercise; the other was a
+romantic, mediæval adventure.
+
+So when Slops Barnett, who roomed below and was the proprietor of a
+model air flue with direct, perpendicular draught, said to him with an
+air of mannish _insouciance_:
+
+"I say, old man, I've got a fat box of 'Gyptians. Glad to have you
+drop in to-night if you like the weed."
+
+Dink answered with blasé familiarity:
+
+"Why, thankee, I've been aching for just a good old coffin-nail."
+
+He slipped down the creaking, nervous stairs, and found Slops
+luxuriously reclining before the ventilator, on a mattress re-enforced
+by yellow and green sofa pillows, that gave the whole somewhat of the
+devilishly dissipated effect of the scenes from Oriental lands that
+fascinated him on the covers of cigarette boxes.
+
+Slops made him a sign in the deaf-and-dumb language to extinguish the
+light and creep to his side.
+
+"Comfy?" said Slops, whispering from the darkness.
+
+"Out of sight!"
+
+"Here's the filthy weed."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"Always keep the cig in front of the ventilator," said Slops, applying
+his lips to Dink's ear. "Get a light from mine. Talk in whispers."
+
+Stover filled his cheeks cautiously and blew out after a sufficient
+period.
+
+"You inhale?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Inhale a cigar?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"It's awful the way I inhale," said Slops with a melancholy sigh. "I'm
+undermining my constitution. Ever see my hand? Shakes worse'n jelly.
+Can't help it, though; can't live without the weed. I'm a regular cig
+fiend!"
+
+Stover, holding his cigarette gingerly, keeping the sickly smoke at
+the end of his tongue, looked over at Slops' stupid little face,
+flashing out of the darkness at each puff. He was no longer the
+useless Slops Barnett, good only to fetch and carry the sweaters of
+the team, but Barnett, man of the world, versed in deadly practices.
+
+"I say, Slops----"
+
+"Hist--lower."
+
+"I say, Slops, what would they do if they caught us?"
+
+"Bounce us."
+
+"For good?"
+
+"Sure! P. D. Q."
+
+The cigarette suddenly had a new delight to Dink. He was even tempted
+to inhale a small, very small puff, but immediately conquered this
+enthusiastic impulse.
+
+"Isn't this the gay life, though?" said Slops carelessly.
+
+"You bet," said Dink.
+
+From down the flue came three distinct taps.
+
+"That's the Gutter Pup signaling," said Slops, putting his finger
+over Dink's mouth. "Bundy is snooping around. Mum's the word."
+
+Presently, as Dink sat there in the darkness, trying desperately to
+breathe noiselessly, the sound of slipping footsteps was heard in the
+hall. Slops' hand closed over his. The steps stopped directly outside
+their door, waited a long moment and went on.
+
+"Bundy?" said Dink in a whisper.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why did he stop?"
+
+"He's got me spotted. He's seen the nicotine on my finger," said
+Slops, showing a finger under a sudden glow of his cigarette.
+
+A half-hour later when Dink crept up the stairs, homeward bound, he
+swelled with a new sensation. Yesterday was months away; then he was a
+boy, now that he had smoked up a cold-air ventilator, with Bundy
+outwitted by the door, he had aged with a jump--he must be at last a
+man.
+
+The next week he added to his stature by going to P. Lentz's room for
+a midnight session of the national game, where, after a titanic
+struggle of three hours, he won the colossal sum of forty-eight cents.
+
+Having sunk to these depths he began to listen to the Sunday sermons
+with a thrill of personal delight--there being not the slightest
+doubt that they were directly launched at him. Sometimes he wondered
+how the Doctor and The Roman could remain ignorant of the extent of
+his debauches, his transgressions were so daring and so complete. He
+stood shivering up the Trenton road, under the shadow of an icy trunk,
+of Sunday mornings, and met Blinky, the one-eyed purveyor of illicit
+cigarettes and the forbidden Sunday newspapers, which had to be
+wrapped around his body and smuggled under a sweater.
+
+Secretly he rubbed iodine on his fingers to simulate the vicious stain
+of nicotine that was such a precious ornament to Slops' squat fingers.
+Only one thing distressed him, and that was his invincible dislike for
+the cigarette itself.
+
+Being now a celebrity, many doors were thrown invitingly open to him,
+invitations that flattered him, without his making a distinction. He
+went over to the Upper at times and into rooms where he had no
+business, immensely proud that he was called in to share the delights
+and liberties of the lords of the school.
+
+At the Kennedy he was in constant rebellion against established
+precedent, constantly called below to be lectured by The Roman. In
+revenge for which at night he made the life of Mr. Bundy one of
+constant insomnia, and, by soaping the stairs or strewing tacks in the
+hall, seriously interfered with that inexperienced young gentleman's
+nightly exercises.
+
+The deeper he went the deeper he was determined to go; doggedly
+imagining that the whole Faculty, led by The Roman, were bending every
+effort to bring him down and convict him.
+
+The Tennessee Shad had no inclinations toward sporting life--greatly
+to Stover's surprise. When Dink urged him to join the clandestine
+parties he only yawned in a bored way.
+
+"Come on now, Shad, be a sport," said Dink, repeating the stock
+phrase.
+
+"You're not sports," said the Tennessee Shad in languid derision,
+"you're bluffs. Besides, I've been all through it, two years ago.
+Hurry up with your dead-game sporting phase, if you've got to, but get
+through it; 'cause now you're nothing but a nuisance."
+
+Dink felt considerably grieved at his roommate's flippant attitude
+toward his career of vice. Secretly, he felt that a word of kindly
+remonstrance, some friendly effort to pull him back from the frightful
+abyss into which he was sinking, would have been more like a friend
+and a roommate.
+
+This same callous indifference to the fate of his roommate's soul so
+incensed Stover that, to bring before the Shad's eyes the really
+desperate state of his morals, he appointed a Welsh-rabbit party in
+their room for the following night.
+
+"Don't mind, do you?" he said carelessly.
+
+"Not if I don't have to eat it!"
+
+"It's going to be a real one," said Stover, "making a distinction."
+
+"Come off!"
+
+"Fact. It is not going to be flavored with rootbeer, toothwash,
+condensed milk or russet polish; it is going to be the genuine,
+satisfaction guaranteed, or you get your money back."
+
+"With beer?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Yes, it is!"
+
+"It is."
+
+"Where'll you get it?"
+
+"I have ways."
+
+"Oh," said the Tennessee Shad sarcastically, "this is one of your
+real, sporting-life parties, is it?"
+
+Stover disdained to answer.
+
+"Is that bunch of slums going to be here?"
+
+"Are you referring to my friends?" said Stover.
+
+"I am," said the Tennessee Shad, "and all I ask while this feast of
+bacchanalian orgies is going on, is that _I_ be allowed to sleep."
+
+At eleven o'clock Stover, holding his shoes in his hand, went down the
+stairs to meet Slops in Fatty Harris' room and thence into the
+outlawed night. They stole over the crinkling snow, burying their
+noses in their sweaters, until, having climbed several fences, they
+arrived behind a shed of particularly cavernous appearance.
+
+"Make the signal," said Slops, sheltering himself behind Stover.
+
+Blinky appeared like a monster of the night.
+
+"Hist, Blinky, O. K.?" said Slops, who, having his shoulder to Dink's
+recovered his sporting manner. "Got the booze?"
+
+"I got it," said Blinky in husky accents, with his hand behind his
+back. "What's youse got?"
+
+"The cash is here all right. How many bots did you bring?"
+
+Blinky slowly brought forward one bottle.
+
+"What, only one?" said Slops the bacchanalian, in dismay.
+
+"All's left," said Blinky, with a double meaning.
+
+"How much?"
+
+"One dollar."
+
+"What! You robber!"
+
+"Take it or leave it--don't care," said Blinky, who sat down and
+hugged the bottle to him like a baby.
+
+They paid the extortion and slunk back.
+
+"We'll have to cook up a story," said Dink.
+
+"Sure!"
+
+"Still, it's beer."
+
+"It certainly is!"
+
+"It's expulsion if we're caught."
+
+"And a penal offense, don't forget that!"
+
+Somewhat consoled by this delightful thought they cautiously tapped on
+Fatty Harris' window and, removing their boots, tiptoed upstairs like
+anarchists with a price on their heads.
+
+In Stover's room three more desperate characters were waiting about
+the chafing dish, Fatty Harris, Slush Randolph and Pee-wee Norris, all
+determined on a life of crime--but all slightly nervous.
+
+The Tennessee Shad, rolled into a ball on his bed, was venting his
+scorn with an occasional snore.
+
+Stover held up the lonely bottle.
+
+"Is that all?" exclaimed the three in indignant whispers.
+
+"All, and mighty lucky to get that," said Dink valiantly. "We were
+chased by the constable, terrific time, pounced on us, desperate
+struggle, just got away with our skins."
+
+At this a distinct snort was heard from the direction of the Tennessee
+Shad's bed.
+
+"I say, isn't it rather--rather dangerous?" said Pee-wee Norris, with
+his ears horribly strained.
+
+"What of it?"
+
+"Suppose he goes to the Doctor?"
+
+"We'll have to take the risk."
+
+"I say, though, let's be quick about it."
+
+An uncongenial chill began to pervade the room. Fatty Harris, as
+master cook, visibly hastened the operations.
+
+The Tennessee Shad was now heard to say in a mumbled jumble:
+
+"Hurrah for crime! Never say die, boys--dead game sports--give us a
+drink, bartender!"
+
+The revelers stood at the bed looking wrathfully down at the cynic,
+who snored heavily and said drowsily:
+
+"Talks in his sleep, he talks in his sleep, poor old Pol!"
+
+"Don't pay any attention to him," said Stover angrily. "He's a cheap
+wit. What are you doing at the door, Pee-wee?"
+
+"I'm listening," said Norris, turning guiltily.
+
+"You're afraid!"
+
+"I'm not; only let's hurry it up."
+
+Fatty Harris, watching the swirling yellow depths of the rabbit with
+evident anxiety, emptied a third of the beer into it and held out the
+bottle, saying:
+
+"Here, sports, fill up the glasses with the good old liquor."
+
+When the three glasses and two toothmugs had received their exact
+portion of the bitter stuff, which had been allowed to foam copiously
+in order to eke out, the five desperadoes solemnly touched glasses and
+Slops Barnett, who had visited in Princeton, led them in that
+whispered toast that is the acme of devilment:
+
+  "_Then stand by your glasses steady,_
+    _This world is a world full of lies._
+  _Then here's to the dead already dead,_
+    _And here's to the next man who dies!"_
+
+It was terrific. Stover, quite moved, looked about the circle, thought
+that Pee-wee looked the nearest to the earthworm and repeated
+solemnly:
+
+"To the next man who dies."
+
+At this moment the Tennessee Shad was heard derisively intoning:
+
+  "_Ring around a rosie,
+  Pocket full of posie.
+  Oats, peas, beans and barley grows.
+  Open the ring and take her in
+  And kiss her when you get her in!_"
+
+They paid no heed. They felt too acutely the solemnity of life and the
+fleeting hour of pleasure to be deterred by even the lathery aspect of
+their own faces, which emerged from the suds of the beer ready for the
+barber.
+
+"Dish out the bunny," said Slops, putting down his mug with a reckless
+look.
+
+Suddenly there came an impressive knock and the voice of Mr. Bundy
+saying:
+
+"Open the door, Stover!"
+
+In a thrice the revelry broke up, the telltale bottle and glasses were
+stowed under the window-seat, the visiting sporting gentlemen
+precipitately groveled to places of concealment, while Stover
+extinguished the lights and softly stole into bed.
+
+"Open the door at once!"
+
+"Who's there?" said Dink with a start.
+
+"Open the door!"
+
+All sleepy innocence Dink opened the door, rubbing his eyes at the
+sudden glow.
+
+"Up after lights?" said Mr. Bundy, marching in.
+
+"I, sir?" said Dink, astounded.
+
+All at once Mr. Bundy perceived the chafing-dish and descended upon
+it. Stover's heart sank--if he tasted it they were lost; no power
+could save them. Mr. Bundy turned and surveyed the room; one by one
+the terrified roués were dragged forth and recognized, while the
+Tennessee Shad sat on the edge of his bed, reflectively sharpening his
+fingers on the pointed knee-caps.
+
+Then, to the horror of all, Mr. Bundy, sniffing the chafing-dish,
+inserted a spoon and tasted it. Immediately he set the spoon down with
+a crash, gave a furious glance at Stover and departed, after ordering
+them to their rooms.
+
+The dead game sports, white and shaky, went without stopping.
+
+"They're a fine sample of vicious bounders, they are!" said the
+Tennessee Shad. "Bet that Slops Barnett is weeping to his pillow now!"
+
+"I'm sorry I got you into this," said Stover gloomily.
+
+"You've brought my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave!" said the
+Tennessee Shad solemnly.
+
+"Don't jest," said Dink in a still voice. "It's all up with me, but
+I'll square you."
+
+"Don't worry," said the Tennessee Shad, smiling. "I may not be a tin
+sport, but I keep my thinker going all the time."
+
+"Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean you'll get twigged for a midnight spread, that's all."
+
+"But the beer. Bundy tasted the beer."
+
+"Taste it yourself," said the Tennessee Shad, with a wave of his hand.
+
+Stover hurriedly dipped in a spoon, tasted it and uttered an
+execration.
+
+"Murder, what did you put in it?"
+
+"About half a bottle of horse liniment," said the Tennessee Shad,
+crawling back into bed. "Only, don't tell the others if you want to
+see how much dead game sportiness there is in them by to-morrow
+morning."
+
+The affair made a great noise and, as Stover suppressed the
+transformation worked by the Tennessee Shad, Slops Barnett and his
+companions did not exactly show those qualities of Stoic resignation
+which might be expected from brazen characters with their view of
+life.
+
+Meanwhile, the skies cleared and the earth hardened, and the air
+resounded with the cries of baseball candidates.
+
+Much to his surprise, Dink found at the end of the strenuous day no
+impelling desire to plunge into fast life. Still the conviction
+remained for a long time that his soul had been surrendered, that not
+only was he destined for the gallows in this world, but that only the
+prayers of his mother might save him from being irrevocably damned in
+the next. It was a terrific thought, and yet it brought a certain
+pleasure. He was different from the rest. He was a man of the world.
+He had known--LIFE!
+
+The episode ended as episodes in the young days end--in a laugh.
+
+"I say, Dink," said the Tennessee Shad one afternoon in April, as,
+gloriously reveling on the warm turf, they watched the 'Varsity nine.
+
+"Say it."
+
+"In your dead-game sporting days did you ever, by chance, paint your
+nicotine fingers with iodine?"
+
+"How in blazes did you know?"
+
+"Used to do it myself," said the Shad reminiscently. Then he added:
+"Thought yourself a lost soul?"
+
+Stover began to laugh.
+
+"All alone in a cold, cold world--wicked, very wicked?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"And it was rather a nice feeling, too, wasn't it?"
+
+"I didn't know, you----" said Dink, blushing to find himself back in
+the common herd.
+
+"Me, too," said the Tennessee Shad, sucking a straw. "Good old
+sporting days!" Presently he began mischievously:
+
+  "_Then stand by your glasses steady,
+  This world is a----_"
+
+But here Dink, rising up, tumbled him over.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+With the complete arrival of the spring came also a lessening of
+Dink's requested appearances at Faculty meetings, his little evening
+chats in The Roman's study on matters of disciplinary interpretation
+and the occasional summons through the gates of Avernus to quail
+before the all-seeing eye.
+
+It was not that the spirit of Spartacus was faint, or that his enmity
+had weakened toward The Roman--who, of course, without the slightest
+doubt, was always the persecutor responsible for his summons before
+the courts of injustice. The truth was, Stover had suddenly begun to
+age and to desire to put from himself youthful things. This
+extraordinary phenomenon that somehow does happen was in some measure
+a reflex action.
+
+Ever since the stormy afternoon on which he had decided against his
+own eleven, he had slowly come to realize that he had won a peculiar
+place in the estimation of the school--somewhat of the dignity of the
+incorruptible judges that existed in former days. He became in a small
+way a sort of court of arbitration before which questions of more or
+less gravity were submitted. This deference at first embarrassed, then
+amused, then finally pleased him with an acute, mannish pleasure.
+
+The consequence was that Stover, who until this time had only looked
+forward and up at the majestic shadows of the fourth and fifth
+formers, now looked backward and down, and became pleasurably aware
+that leagues below him was the large body of the first and second
+forms. Having perceived this new adjustment he woke with a start and,
+rubbing his eyes, took stock of his amazing knowledge of life and
+again said to himself that now, finally, he certainly must have
+arrived at man's estate.
+
+On top of which, having been asked to referee several disputes in his
+character of Honest John Stover, Dink, while holding himself in
+reserve to direct operations on a dignified and colossal scale against
+the Natural Enemy, decided that it was unbecoming of a man of his
+position, age and reputation, who had the entrée of the Upper House,
+to go skipping about the midnight ways, in undignified costume, with
+such rank shavers as Pebble Stone and Dennis de B. de B. Finnegan.
+
+So when Dennis arrived after lights, like a will-o'-the-wisp, with a
+whispered:
+
+"I say, Dink, all ready."
+
+Stover replied:
+
+"All ready in bed."
+
+"What," said Dennis aghast, "you're not with us?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Aren't you feeling well?"
+
+"First rate."
+
+"But I say, Dink, there's half a dozen of us. We've got all the
+laundry bags in the house heaped up just outside of Beekstein's door
+and, I say, we're going to pile 'em all up on top of him and then jump
+on and pie him, and scoot for our rooms before old Bundy can jump the
+stairs and nab us. It'll be regular touch and go--a regular lark! Come
+on!"
+
+A snore answered him.
+
+"You won't come?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Are you mad at me?"
+
+"No, I'm sleepy!"
+
+"Sleepy!" said Dennis in such amazement that he no longer had any
+strength to argue, and left the room convinced that Stover was
+heroically concealing an agony of pain.
+
+Stover immediately settled his tired body, sunk his nose to the level
+of the covers and floated blissfully off into the land of dreams. The
+next night and the next it was the same. For a whole month Dink slept,
+wasting not a one of the precious moments of the night, sleeping
+through the slow-moving recitations, sleeping on the green turf of
+afternoons, pillowed on Tough McCarty or the Tennessee Shad, and
+watching others scampering around the diamond in incomprehensible
+activity; but the month was the month of April and his years sixteen.
+In the first week of May Stover awakened, the drowsiness dropped from
+him and the spirit of perpetual motion again returned. Still, the
+distance between himself and his past remained. He had changed, become
+graver, more laconic, moving with sedateness, like Garry Cockrell,
+whose tricks of speech and gestures he imitated, holding himself
+rather aloof from the populace, curiously conscious that the change
+had come, and sometimes looking back with profound melancholy on the
+youth that had now passed irrevocably away.
+
+During this period of somewhat fragile self-importance, the
+acquaintance with Tough McCarty had strengthened into an eternal
+friendship in a manner that had a certain touch of humor.
+
+McCarty, after the close of the football season, had repeatedly sought
+out his late antagonist, but, though Dink at the bottom of his soul
+was thrilled with the thought that here at last was the friend of
+friends, the Damon to his Pythias, the chum who was to stand shoulder
+to his shoulder, and so on, still there was too much self-conscious
+pride in him to yield immediately to this feeling.
+
+McCarty perceived the reserve without quite analyzing it, and was
+puzzled at the barriers that still intervened.
+
+During the winter, when Dink was resolutely set in the pursuit of that
+beau-ideal, which had a marked resemblance with a certain creation of
+Bret Harte's, Mr. Jack Hamlin, "gentleman sport," as Dennis would have
+called him, McCarty found little opportunity for friendly intercourse.
+He disapproved of many of Dink's friendships, not so much from a
+moralistic point of view as from Stover's not exercising the principle
+of selection. As this phase was intensified and Stover became the
+object of criticism of his classmates for hanging at the heels of
+fifth-formers and neglecting his own territory, McCarty resolved that
+the plain duty of a friend required him to administer a moral lecture.
+
+This heroic resolve threw him into confusion for a week, for, in the
+first place, he had been accustomed to receive rather than to give
+words of warning and, in the second place, he was fully aware of the
+difficulties of opening up the subject at all.
+
+After much anxious and gloomy cogitation he hit upon a novel plan
+and, approaching Stover at the end of the last recitation, gave him a
+mysterious wink.
+
+"What's up?" said Dink instantly.
+
+McCarty pulled him aside:
+
+"I've got a couple of A. No. 1 millionaire cigars," he said in a
+whisper. "If you've got nothing better, why, come along."
+
+"I'm yours on the jump," said Dink, trying to give to his words a joy
+which he was far from feeling in his stomach.
+
+"You smoke cigars?"
+
+"Do I!"
+
+"Come on, then!"
+
+It was the last day of March, which had gone out like a lamb, leaving
+the ground still chill and moist with the memory of departed snows.
+They went down by the pond in the shelter of the grove and McCarty
+proudly produced two cigars coated with gilt foil.
+
+"They look the real thing to me," said Dink, eying the long
+projectiles with a rakish, professional look.
+
+Now, Dink had never smoked a cigar in his life and was alarmed at the
+thought of the task before him; but he was resolved to die a lingering
+death rather than allow that humiliating secret to be discovered.
+
+"You bet they're the real thing," said Tough McCarty, slipping off
+the foil. "Real, black beauties! Get the flavor?"
+
+Dink approached the ominous black cigar to his nose, sniffed it
+rapturously and cocked a knowing eye.
+
+"Aha!"
+
+"Real Havanas!"
+
+"They certainly smell good!"
+
+"Swiped 'em off my brother-in-law, forty-five centers."
+
+"I believe it. Say, what do you call 'em?"
+
+"Invincibles."
+
+The name threw a momentary chill over Stover, but he instantly
+recovered.
+
+"I say, we ought to have a couple of hatpins," he said, turning the
+cigar in his fingers.
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Smoke 'em to the last puff!"
+
+"We'll use our penknives."
+
+"All right--after you."
+
+Stover cautiously drew in his first puff. To his surprise nothing
+immediate happened.
+
+"How is it?" said McCarty.
+
+"Terrific!"
+
+"Do you inhale?"
+
+"Sometimes," said Stover, with an inconsequential wave of his hand.
+
+This gave McCarty his opening; besides, he was deceived by Stover's
+complete manner.
+
+"Dink, I'm afraid you're smoking too much," he said
+earnestly, puffing on his cigar.
+
+"Oh, no," said Dink, immensely flattered by this undeserved accusation
+from McCarty, who smoked forty-five-cent cigars.
+
+"Yes, you are. I know it. Trouble with you is, old boy, you never do
+anything by halves. I know you."
+
+"Oh, well," said Stover loftily.
+
+"You're smoking too much, and that's not all, Dink. I--I've wanted to
+have a chance at you for a long while, and now I'm going for you."
+
+"Hello----"
+
+"Now, look here, boy," said Tough McCarty, filling the air with the
+blue smoke, "I'm not a mammy boy nor a goody-goody, and I don't like
+preaching; but you've got too much ahead of you, old rooster, to go
+and throw it away."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Dink, champing furiously on his cigar, as he
+had seen several stage villains do.
+
+"I mean, old socks," said Tough, frowning with his effort--"I mean
+there are some fellows here who are worth while and some who are not,
+who won't do you any good, who don't amount to a row of pins, and
+aren't up to you in any way you look at it."
+
+"Are you criticising my friends?" said Stover, who had just passed an
+even more unflattering judgment, due to the Welsh-rabbit episode.
+
+"I am," said McCarty, passing his hand over his forehead with
+difficulty.
+
+Stover was just about to make an angry reply when he looked at
+McCarty, who suddenly leaned back against the tree. At the same moment
+a feeling of insecurity overtook him. He started again to make an
+angry answer and then all pugnacious thoughts left him. He sat down
+suddenly, his head swam on his shoulders and about him the woods
+danced in drunken reelings, sweeping grotesque boughs over him. Only
+the earth felt good, the damp, muddy earth, which he all at once
+convulsively embraced.
+
+"Dink!"
+
+The sound was far off, weak and fraught with mortal distress.
+
+"Has it hit you, too?"
+
+Dink's answer was a groan. He opened one eye; McCarty, prone at his
+side, lay on his stomach, burying his head in his arms.
+
+At this moment a light patter sounded about them.
+
+"It's beginning to rain."
+
+"I don't care!"
+
+"Neither do I."
+
+Stover lay clutching the earth, that somehow wouldn't kept still,
+that moved under him, that swayed and rose and fell. Then things began
+to rush through his brain: armies of football-clad warriors, The Roman
+whirling by on one leg of his chair, Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan
+prancing impishly, sticking out his tongue at him, whole flocks of
+Sunday preachers gesticulating in his direction, crowds of faces,
+legs, arms, an old, yellow dog with a sausage in his mouth----
+
+Suddenly near him McCarty began to move.
+
+"Where are you going?" he managed to say. "For Heaven's sake, don't
+leave me."
+
+"To the pond--drink."
+
+McCarty, on his hands and knees, began to crawl. Stover raised himself
+up and staggered after. The rain came down unheeded--nothing could add
+to his misery. They reached the pond and drank long copious drinks,
+plunging their dripping heads in the water.
+
+Gradually the vertigo passed. Faint and weak they sat propped up
+opposite each other, solemnly, sadly, glance to glance, while
+unnoticed the rain spouted from the ends of their noses.
+
+"Oh, Dink!" said Tough at last.
+
+"Don't!"
+
+"I thought I was going to die."
+
+"I'm not sure of it yet."
+
+"I had a lot I wanted to say to you," said Tough painfully, feeling
+the opportunity was slipping away.
+
+"You said I was smoking too much," said Dink maliciously.
+
+"Ugh! Don't--no, that wasn't it."
+
+"Shut up, old cockalorum," said Dink pleasantly. "I know all you want
+to say--found it out myself--it's all in one word--swelled head!"
+
+"Oh!" said Tough deprecatingly, now that Dink had turned accuser.
+
+"I've been a little, fluffy ass!" said Dink, marvelously stimulated to
+repentance by the episode which had gone before. "But that's over. My
+head's subsiding."
+
+"What?"
+
+The two burst into sympathetic laughter.
+
+"You--you didn't mind my sailing into you, old horse?" said Tough.
+
+"Not now."
+
+McCarty looked mystified.
+
+"Tough," said Dink with a queer look, "if you had smoked that black
+devil and I hadn't--all would have been over between us. As it is----"
+
+"Well?" said Tough.
+
+"As it is--Tough, here's my hand--let's swear an eternal friendship!"
+
+"Put it there!"
+
+"I say, Tough----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Now, on your honor--did you ever smoke a cigar before?"
+
+"Never," said McCarty. "And I'll never smoke another. So help me."
+
+"Nor I. I say, what was that name?"
+
+"Invincibles."
+
+"That's where we should have stopped!"
+
+"Dink, I begin to feel a little chilly."
+
+"Tough, that's a good sign; let's up."
+
+Arm in arm, laughing uproariously, they went, still a little shaky,
+back toward the school.
+
+"I say, Tough," said Dink, throwing his arm affectionately about the
+other's shoulders. "I've been pretty much of a jackass, haven't I?"
+
+"Oh, come, now!"
+
+"I'm afraid I'm not built for a sport," said Dink, with a lingering
+regret. "But I say, Tough----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I may be the prodigal son, but you're the devil of a moral lecturer,
+you are!"
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+One Wednesday afternoon, as Dink was lolling gorgeously on his
+window-seat, sniffing the alert air and waiting for the moment to go
+skipping over to the 'Varsity field for the game with a visiting
+school, a voice from below hailed him:
+
+"Oh, you, Rinky Dink!"
+
+Stover languidly extended his head and beheld Tough McCarty.
+
+"Hello there, Dink."
+
+"Hello yourself."
+
+"Come over to the Woodhull and meet my family."
+
+"What!" said Dink in consternation.
+
+"They're over for the game. Hurry up now and help me out!"
+
+Dink tried frantically to call him back, but Tough, as though to shut
+off a refusal, disappeared around the house. Dink returned to the room
+in a rage.
+
+"What's the matter?" said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"I've got to go over and meet a lot of women," said Dink in disgust.
+"Confound Tough McCarty! That's a rotten trick to play on me. I'll
+wring his neck!"
+
+"Go on now, make yourself beautiful!" said the Tennessee Shad,
+delighted. "Remember the whole school will be watching you."
+
+"Shut up!" said Dink savagely, making the grand toilet, which
+consisted in putting on a high collar, exchanging his belt for a pair
+of suspenders and donning a pair of patent-leathers. "The place for
+women is at home! It's an outrage!"
+
+He tied his necktie with a vicious lunge, ran the comb once through
+the tangled hair, glanced at his hands, decided that they would pass
+muster, slapped on his hat and went out, kicking the door open.
+
+At the Woodhull, Tough hailed him from his window. Dink went up, bored
+and rebellious. The door opened, he found himself in Tough McCarty's
+room in the vortex of a crowd of fellow-sufferers. Over by the
+window-seat two fluffy figures, with skirts and hats on, were seated.
+He shook hands with both; one was Mrs. McCarty, the other was the
+daughter, he wasn't quite sure which. He said something about the
+delight which the meeting afforded him, and, gravitating into a
+corner, fell upon Butsey White, with whom he gravely shook hands.
+
+"Isn't this awful?" said Butsey in a confidential whisper.
+
+"Frightful!"
+
+"What the deuce's got into Tough?"
+
+"It's a rotten trick!"
+
+"Let's hook it."
+
+"All right. Slide toward the door."
+
+But at this moment, when deliverance seemed near, Tough bore down and,
+taking Stover by the arm, drew him aside.
+
+"I say, stick by me on this, old man," he said desperately. "Take 'em
+to the game with me, will you?"
+
+"To the game!" cried Dink in horror. "Oh, Tough, come now, I say, I'm
+no fusser. I'm tongue-tied and pigeon-toed. Oh, I say, old man, do get
+some one else!"
+
+But as Tough McCarty kept a firm grip on the lapel of his coat Dink
+suddenly found himself, with the departure of the other guests, a
+helpless captive. The first painful scraps of conversation passed in a
+blur. Before he knew it he was crossing the campus, actually walking,
+in full view of the school, at the side of Miss McCarty.
+
+Her unconsciousness was paralyzing, perfectly paralyzing! Dink,
+struggling for a word in the vast desert of his brain, was overwhelmed
+with the ease with which his companion ran on. He stole a glance under
+the floating azure veil and decided, from the way the brilliant blue
+parasol swung from her hand, that she must be a woman of the
+world--thirty, at least.
+
+He extracted his hands precipitately from the trousers pockets in
+which they had been plunged and buttoned the last button of his coat.
+Somehow, his hands seemed to wander all over his anatomy, like jibs
+that had broken loose. He tried to clasp them behind his back, like
+the Doctor, or to insert one between the first and second button of
+his coat, the characteristic pose of the great Corsican, according to
+his history. For a moment he found relief by slipping them, English
+fashion, into his coat pockets; but at the thought of being detected
+thus by the Tennessee Shad he withdrew them as though he had struck a
+hornet's nest.
+
+The school, meanwhile, had gamboled past, all snickering, of course,
+at his predicament. In this state of utter misery he arrived at last
+at the field, where, to his amazement, quite a group of Fifth-Formers
+came up and surrounded Miss McCarty, chattering in the most
+bewildering manner. Dink seized the opportunity to drop back, draw a
+long sigh, reach madly behind for his necktie, which had climbed
+perilously near the edge of his collar, and shoot back his cuffs. He
+saw the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Boru grinning at him from the
+crowd, and showed them his fist with a threatening gesture.
+
+Then the game began and he was seated by Miss McCarty, unutterably
+relieved that the tension of the contest had diverted the entire
+attention of the school from his particular sufferings.
+
+The excitement of the play for the first time gave him an opportunity
+to study his companion. His first estimate was undoubtedly correct;
+she was plainly a woman of the world. No one else could sit at such
+perfect ease, the cynosure of so many eyes. Her dress was some
+wonderful creation, from Paris, no doubt, that rustled with an
+alluring sound and gave forth a pleasant perfume.
+
+The more he looked the more his eye approved. She was quite
+unusual--quite. She had style--a very impressive style. He had never
+before remembered any one who held herself quite so well, or whose
+head carried itself so regally. There was something Spanish, too,
+about her black hair and eyes and the flush of red in her cheeks.
+
+Having perceived all this Dink began to recover from his panic and,
+with a desire to wipe out his past awkwardness, began busily to search
+for some subject with which gracefully to open up the conversation.
+
+At that moment his eye fell upon his boot carelessly displayed and, to
+his horror, beheld there a gaping crack. This discovery drove all
+desire for conversation at once out of his head. By a covert movement
+he drew the offending shoe up under the shadow of the other.
+
+"You hate this, don't you?" said a laughing voice.
+
+He turned, blushing, to find Miss McCarty's dark eyes alive with
+amusement.
+
+"Oh, now, I say, really----" he began.
+
+"Of course, you loathe being dragged out this way," she said, cutting
+in. "Confess!"
+
+Dink began to laugh guiltily.
+
+"That's better," said Miss McCarty approvingly. "Now we shall get on
+better."
+
+"How did you know?" said Dink, immensely mystified.
+
+Miss McCarty wisely withheld this information, and before he knew it
+Dink was in the midst of a conversation, all his embarrassment forgot.
+The game ended--it had never been really important--and Dink found
+himself, actually to his regret, moving toward the Lodge.
+
+There, as he was saying good-by with a Chesterfieldian air, Tough
+plucked him by the sleeve.
+
+"I say, Dink, old man," he said doubtfully, "I'd like you to come over
+and grub with us. But I don't want to haul you over, you know----"
+
+"My dear boy, I should love to!" said Dink, squeezing his arm eagerly.
+
+"Honest?"
+
+"Straight goods!"
+
+"Bully for you!"
+
+He had three-quarters of an hour to dress before dinner. He went to
+his room at a gallop, upsetting Beekstein and Gumbo on his volcanic
+way upward. Then for half an hour the Kennedy was thrown into a
+turmoil as the half-clothed figure of Dink Stover flitted from room to
+room, burrowed into closets, ransacked bureaus and departed, bearing
+off the choicest articles of wearing apparel. Meanwhile, the corridors
+resounded with such unintelligible cries as these:
+
+"Who's got a collar, fourteen and a half?"
+
+"Darn you, Dink, bring back my pants!"
+
+"Who swiped my blue coat?"
+
+"Who's been pulling my things to pieces?"
+
+"Hi there, bring back my shoes!"
+
+"Dinged if he hasn't gone off with my cuff buttons, too!"
+
+"Oh you robber!"
+
+"Body snatcher!"
+
+"Dink, the fusser!"
+
+"Who'd have believed it!"
+
+Meanwhile, Dink, returning to his room laden with the spoils of the
+house, proceeded to adorn himself on the principle of selection,
+discarding the Gutter Pup's trousers for the gala breeches of the
+Tennessee Shad, donning the braided cutaway of Lovely Mead's in
+preference to an affair of Slush Randolph's which was too tight in the
+chest.
+
+The Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pup and Dennis de Brian de Boru watched
+the proceedings, brownie fashion, across the transom, volunteering
+advice.
+
+"Why, look at Dink wash!"
+
+"It's a regular annual, isn't it?"
+
+"Look out for my pants!"
+
+"I say, Dink, your theory's wrong. You want to begin by parting your
+hair--soak it into place, you know."
+
+Stover, struck by this expert advice, approached the mirror and seized
+his comb and brush with determination. But the liberties of a
+rebellious people, unmolested for sixteen years, were not to be
+suddenly abolished. The more he brushed the more the indignant locks
+rose up in revolt. He broke the comb and threw it down angrily.
+
+"Wet your hair," said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Soak it in water," said the Gutter Pup.
+
+"Soak it in witch-hazel," said Dennis. "It will make it more
+fragrant."
+
+Dink hesitated:
+
+"Won't it smell too much?"
+
+"Naw. It evaporates."
+
+Stover seized the bottle and inundated his head, made an exact part in
+the middle and drew the sides back in the fashion of pigeon wings.
+
+"Now clap on a dicer," said the Gutter Pup approvingly, "and she'll
+come up and feed from your hand."
+
+"Are you really in love?" said Dennis softly.
+
+Stover, ignoring all comments, tied a white satin four-in-hand with
+forget-me-not embossings, which had struck his fancy in Fatty Harris'
+room, and inserted a stick-pin of Finnegan's.
+
+"You ought to have a colored handkerchief to stick in your breast
+pocket," said the Gutter Pup, who began to yield to the excitement.
+
+"Up his sleeve is more English, don't you know," said Dennis.
+
+Stover stood brazenly before the mirror, looking himself over. The
+scrubbing he had inflicted on his face had left red, shining spots in
+prominent places, while his hair, slicked back and plastered down,
+gave him somewhat the look of an Italian barber on a Sunday off. He
+felt the general glistening effect without, in his innocence, knowing
+the remedy.
+
+"Dink, you are bee-oo-tiful!" said Dennis.
+
+"Be careful how you sit down," said the Tennessee Shad, thinking of
+the trousers.
+
+"How are the shoes?" asked the Gutter Pup solicitously.
+
+"Tight as mischief," said Dink, with a wry face.
+
+"Walk on your heels."
+
+Stover, with a last deprecating glance, opened the door and departed,
+amid cheers from the contributing committee.
+
+When he arrived at the Lodge the dusky waitress who opened the door
+started back, as he dropped his hat, and sniffed the air. He went into
+the parlor, spoiling his carefully-planned entrance by tripping over
+the rug.
+
+"Heavens!" said Tough, "what a smell of witch-hazel. Why, it's Dink.
+What have you been doing?"
+
+Stover felt the temperature rise to boiling.
+
+"We had a bit of a shindy," he said desperately, trying to give it a
+tragic accent, "and I bumped my head."
+
+"Well, you look like a skinned rat," said Tough to put him thoroughly
+at his ease.
+
+The angel, however, came to his rescue with solicitous inquiries and
+with such a heavenly look that Stover only regretted that he could not
+appear completely done up in bandages.
+
+They went in to dinner, where Dink was so overwhelmed by the vision
+of Miss McCarty in all her transcendent charms that the effort of
+swallowing became a painful physical operation.
+
+Afterward, Tough and his mother went over to Foundation House for a
+visit with the Doctor, and Dink found himself actually alone,
+escorting Miss McCarty about the grounds in the favoring dusk of the
+fast-closing twilight.
+
+"Let's go toward the Green House," she said. "Will you take my cloak?"
+
+The cloak settled the perplexing question of the hands. He wondered
+uneasily why she chose that particular direction.
+
+"Are you sure you want to go there?" he said.
+
+"Quite," she said. "I want to see the exact spot where the historic
+fight took place."
+
+Stover moved uneasily.
+
+"Dear me, what's the matter?"
+
+"I never go there. I hate the place."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I was miserable there," said Dink abruptly. "Hasn't Tough told you
+about it?"
+
+"Tell me yourself," said the angelic voice.
+
+Stover felt on the instant the most overpowering desire to confide his
+whole life's history, and being under the influence of a genuine
+emotion as well as aided by the obliterating hour, he began straight
+forward to relate the story of his months of Coventry in tense,
+direct sentences, without pausing to calculate either their vividness
+or their effect. Once started, he withheld nothing, neither the agony
+of his pride nor the utter hopelessness of that isolation. Once or
+twice he hesitated, blurting out:
+
+"I say, does this bore you?"
+
+And each time she answered quickly:
+
+"No, no--go on."
+
+They went back in the fallen night to the campus, and there he pointed
+out the spot where he had stood and listened to the singing on the
+Esplanade and made up his mind to return. All at once, his story ended
+and he perceived, to his utter confusion, that he had been pouring out
+his heart to some one whose face he couldn't see, some one who was
+probably smiling at his impetuous confidence, some one whom he had met
+only a few hours before.
+
+"Oh, I say," he said in horror, "you must think me an awful fool to go
+on like this."
+
+"No."
+
+"You made me tell you, you know," he said miserably, wondering what
+she could think of him. "I never talked like this before--to any one.
+I don't know what made me confide in you."
+
+This was untrue, for he knew perfectly well what had led him to speak.
+So did she and, knowing full well what was working in the tense,
+awkward boy beside her, she had no feeling of offense, being at an age
+when such tributes, when genuine, are valued, not scorned.
+
+"I can just feel how you felt--poor boy," she said, perhaps not
+entirely innocent of the effect of her words. "But then, you have won
+out, haven't you?"
+
+"I suppose I have," said Stover, almost suffocated by the gentleness
+of her voice.
+
+"Charlie's told me all about the rest," she said. "Every one looks up
+to you now--it's quite a romance, isn't it?"
+
+He was delighted that she saw it thus, secretly wondering if she
+really knew every point that could be urged in his favor.
+
+"I suppose I'll kick myself all over the lot to-morrow," he said,
+choosing to be lugubrious.
+
+"Why?" she said, stopping in surprise.
+
+"For talking as I've done."
+
+"You don't regret it?" she said softly, laying her hand on his arm.
+
+Stover drew a long breath--a difficult one.
+
+"No, you bet I don't," he said abruptly. "I'd tell you anything!"
+
+"Come," she said, smiling to herself, "we must go back--but it's so
+fascinating here, isn't it?"
+
+He thought he had offended her and was in a panic.
+
+"I say, you did not understand what I meant."
+
+"Oh, yes, I did."
+
+"You're not offended?"
+
+"Not at all."
+
+This answer left Stover in such a state of bewilderment that all
+speech expired. What did she mean by that? Did she really understand
+or not?
+
+They walked a little way in silence, watching the lights that fell in
+long lines across the campus, hearing through the soft night the
+tinkling of mandolins and the thrumming of guitars, a vibrant,
+feverish life that suddenly seemed unreal to him. They were fast
+approaching the Lodge. A sudden fear came to him that she would go
+without understanding what the one, the only night had been in his
+life.
+
+"I say, Miss McCarty," he began desperately.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I wish I could tell you----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I wish I could tell you just what a privilege it's been to meet you."
+
+"Oh, that's very nice."
+
+He felt he had failed. He had not expressed himself well. She did not
+understand.
+
+"I shall never forget it," he said, plunging ahead.
+
+She stopped a little guiltily and looked at him.
+
+"You queer boy," she said, too pleasantly moved to be severe. "You
+queer, romantic boy! Why, of course you're going to visit us this
+summer, and we're going to be good chums, aren't we?"
+
+He did not answer.
+
+"Aren't we?" she repeated, amused at a situation that was not entirely
+strange.
+
+"No!" he said abruptly, amazed at his own audacity; and with an
+impulse that he had not suspected he closed the conversation and led
+the way to the Lodge.
+
+When at last he and Tough were homeward bound he felt he should die if
+he did not then and there learn certain things. So he began with
+Machiavellian adroitness:
+
+"I say, Tough, what a splendid mother you've got. I didn't get half a
+chance to talk to her. I say, how long will she be here?"
+
+"They're going over to Princeton first thing in the morning," said
+Tough, who was secretly relieved.
+
+A button on the borrowed vest popped with Stover's emotion.
+
+"How did you get on with Sis?"
+
+"First rate. She's--she's awful sensible," said Dink.
+
+"Oh, yes, I suppose so."
+
+"I say," said Dink, seeing that he made no progress, "she's been all
+around--had lots of experience, hasn't she?"
+
+"Oh, she's bounded about a bit."
+
+"Still, she doesn't seem much older than you," said Dink craftily.
+
+"Sis--oh, she's a bit older."
+
+"About twenty-two, I should say," said Dink hopefully.
+
+"Twenty-four, my boy," said Tough unfeelingly. "But I say, don't give
+it away; she'd bite and scratch me all over the map for telling."
+
+Stover left him without daring to ask any more questions--he knew what
+he wanted to know. He could not go to his room, he could not face the
+Tennessee Shad, possessor of the trousers. He wanted to be alone--to
+wander over the unseen earth, to gulp in the gentle air in long,
+feverish breaths, to think over what she had said, to grow hot and
+cold at the thought of his daring, to reconstruct the world of
+yesterday and organize the new.
+
+He went to the back of chapel and sat down on the cool steps, under
+the impenetrable clouds of the night.
+
+"She's twenty-four, only twenty-four," he said to himself. "I'm
+sixteen, almost seventeen--that's only seven years' difference."
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+When Stover awoke the next morning it was to the light of the blushing
+day. He thought of the events of the night before and sprang up in
+horror. What had he been thinking of? He had made an ass of himself, a
+complete, egregious ass. What had possessed him? He looked at himself
+in the glass and his heart sunk at the thought of what she must be
+thinking. He was glad she was going. He did not want to see her again.
+He would never visit Tough McCarty. Thank Heaven it was daylight again
+and he had recovered his senses.
+
+Indignant at every one, himself most of all, he went to chapel and to
+recitations, profoundly thankful that he would not have to face her in
+the mocking light of the day. That he never could have done, never,
+never!
+
+As he left second recitation Tough McCarty joined him.
+
+"I say, Dink, they both wanted to be remembered to you, and here's a
+note from Sis."
+
+"A note?"
+
+"Here it is."
+
+Stover stood staring at a violet envelope, inscribed in large,
+flowing letters: "Mr. John H. Stover."
+
+Then he put it in his pocket hastily and went to his room. Luckily the
+Tennessee Shad was poaching in the village. He locked the door,
+secured the transom and drew out the note. It was sealed with a crest
+and perfumed with a heavenly scent. He held it in his hand a long
+while, convulsively, and then broke the seal with an awkward finger
+and read:
+
+  _Dear Mr. Stover_: Just a word to thank you for being my
+  faithful cavalier. Don't forget that you are to pay us a
+  good, long visit this summer, and that we are to become
+  the best of chums.
+
+    Your very good _friend_,
+      JOSEPHINE MCCARTY.
+
+P. S. Don't dare to "kick yourself about the place,"
+whatever that may mean.
+
+When Dink had read this through once he immediately began it again.
+The second reading left him more bewildered than ever. It was the
+first time he had come in contact with a manifestation of the workings
+of the feminine mind. What did she intend him to understand?
+
+"I'll read it again," he said, perching on the back of a chair. "Dear
+Mr. Stover!" He stopped and considered. "My dear Mr. Stover--Dear Mr.
+Stover--well, that's all right. But what the deuce does she mean by
+'faithful cavalier'--I wonder now, I wonder. She wants me to visit
+her--she can't be offended then. 'Your very good friend,' underlined
+twice, that sounds as though she wanted to warn me. Undoubtedly I made
+a fool of myself and this is her angelic way of letting me down.
+'Friend'--underlined twice--of course that's it. What a blooming,
+sentimental, moon-struck jay I was. Gee, I could kick myself to
+Jericho and back!" But here his eye fell on the postscript and his jaw
+dropped. "Now how did she guess that? That sounds different from the
+rest, as though--as though she understood."
+
+He went to the window frowning, and then to the mirror, with a new
+interest in this new Mr. John H. Stover who received perplexing notes
+on scented paper.
+
+"I must get some decent collars," he said pensively. "How the deuce
+does Lovely Mead keep his tie tight--mine's always slipping down,
+showing the stud." He changed his collar, having detected a smirch,
+and tried the effect of parting his hair on the side, like Garry
+Cockrell.
+
+"She's a wonderful woman--wonderful," he said softly, taking up the
+letter again. "What eyes! Reminds me of Lorna Doone. Josephine--so
+that's her name, Josephine--it's a beautiful name. I wish the deuce I
+knew just what she did mean by this!"
+
+By nightfall he had written a dozen answers which had been torn up in
+a panic as soon as written. Finally, he determined that the craftiest
+way would be to send her his remembrances by Tough--that would express
+everything as well as show her that he could be both discreet and
+dignified.
+
+In the afternoon he added a dozen extra high collars to his wardrobe
+and examined hesitatingly the counter of Gent's Bon-Ton socks, spring
+styles, displayed at Bill Appleby's.
+
+The collars, the latest cut, he tried on surreptitiously. They were
+uncomfortable and projected into his chin, but there was no question
+of the superior effect. Suddenly a new element in the school came to
+his notice--fellows like Lovely Mead, Jock Hasbrouk and Dudy Rankin,
+who wore tailor-made clothes, rainbow cravats, who always looked
+immaculate and whose trousers never bagged at the knees.
+
+No sooner was this borne in upon him than he was appalled at the state
+of his wardrobe. He had outgrown everything. Everything he had bagged
+at the elbows as well as the knees. His neckties were frazzled and
+his socks were all earthy-browns and oat-meal grays.
+
+His first step was to buy a blacking brush and his next to press his
+trousers under his mattress, with the result that, being detected and
+diverted by Dennis, they appeared next morning with a cross-gartered
+effect.
+
+At nights, especially moonlight nights, under pretense of insomnia, he
+drew his bed to the open window and gazed sentimentally into the
+suddenly discovered starry system.
+
+"What the deuce are you mooning about?" said the Tennessee Shad on the
+first occasion.
+
+"I'm studying astronomy," said Dink with dignity.
+
+The Tennessee Shad gave a snort and soon went loudly off to sleep.
+
+Dink, unmolested, soared away into his own domain. It is true that,
+having read Peter Ibbetson, he tried for a week to emulate that
+favored dreamer, throwing his arms up, clasping his hands behind his
+head and being most particular in the crossing of the feet. He
+dreamed, but only discouraging, tantalizing dreams, and the figure his
+magic summoned up was not the angelic one, but invariably the elfish
+eyes and star-pointing nose of Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan.
+
+But the dreams that lay like shadows between the faltering eyelids and
+the shut were real and magic. Then all the difficulties were swept
+away, no cold chill ran up his back to stay the words that rushed to
+his lips. Conversations to defy the novelist were spun out and, having
+periodically saved her from a hundred malignant deaths, he continued
+each night anew the heroic work of rescue with unsatiated delight. At
+times, in the throbs of the sacred passion, he thought with a start of
+his blackened past and the tendencies to crime within him.
+
+"Lord!" he said with a gasp, thinking of the orgy in beer, "what would
+have become of me--it's like an act of Providence. I wish I could let
+her know what a--what a good influence she's been. I don't know what
+I'd 'a' done--if I hadn't met her! I was in a dreadful way!"
+
+By this time, having had the advantage of countless midnight walks,
+not to mention the familiarizing effect of several scores of desperate
+adventures, the character of Miss Lorna Doone McCarty had been
+completely unfolded to the reverential Dink. He saw her, he conversed
+with her, he knew her. She was a sort of heavenly being, misunderstood
+by her family--especially her brother, who had not the slightest
+comprehension. She was like Dante's Beatrice, as the pictures, not the
+dreadful text, represent that lady--and only seven years older than
+Mr. John H. Stover. There was Napoleon, who had married a woman older
+than he was--Napoleon and hosts of others.
+
+With the sudden fear of being dropped a year he began to study with
+such assiduity that, as is the way with newly-sprouted virtue in a
+cynical world, his motives were suspected by the masters, who, of
+course, could know nothing of the divine transformation, and by his
+classmates, who secretly credited him with some new method of
+cribbing.
+
+Meanwhile, as the year neared its close, the inventive minds of Dennis
+de Brian de Boru Finnegan and the Tennessee Shad conceived the idea of
+a monster mass meeting and illustrative parade, which should down the
+hereditary foe--the steam laundry.
+
+Up to this time the columns of _The Lawrence_ had been flooded with
+communications couched in the style of the oration against Catiline,
+demanding to know how long the supine Lawrenceville boy would bear in
+silence the return of his shirt with added entrances and exits, and
+collars that enclosed the neck with a cheval-de-frise.
+
+This verbal, annual outbreak was succeeded, as usual, by House to
+House mutinies on the occasion of the arrival of the weekly boxes,
+without the protest taking further head or front. But at the opening
+of the last week of the school year, whether a machine had suddenly
+jumped its fences or whether the ladies of the washtubs desired to
+open the way for the new summer styles; however it may have been, the
+laundry returned like the battle flags of the republic to the outraged
+school. Windows were flung open and indignant boys appeared, with
+white shreds in hand, and vociferously appealed to the heavens above
+and the green lands below for justice and indemnification.
+
+A meeting of determined spirits was speedily held under the leadership
+of the Tennessee Shad and Doc Macnooder, and it was decided that a
+demonstration should take place instanter, the Houses to form and
+march with complete exhibits to the Upper House, where the
+fifth-formers should likewise display their grievances and join them
+in a mammoth protest.
+
+Dink, at the first sounds of martial organization, pricked up his ears
+and summoned the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan
+to explain why he had been left out of such an important enterprise.
+
+"Why have we left you out?" said the Tennessee Shad indignantly.
+"What's happened to you these last three weeks? You've had a fighting
+grouch--no one dared to speak to you for fear of being bitten!"
+
+"In fact," said Dennis, with his sharp, little glance, "you are under
+the gravest suspicion."
+
+Seeing his secret in peril, Stover assumed a melancholy, injured air.
+
+"You don't know what I've had to worry me," he said, looking out the
+window, "family matters--financial reverses."
+
+"Oh, I say, Dink, old boy," said the Tennessee Shad, in instant
+contrition.
+
+"You don't mean it's anything that might keep you from coming back
+next year?" said Dennis, aghast. "Oh, Dink!"
+
+"I had rather not talk about it," said Stover solemnly.
+
+Dennis and the Shad were overwhelmed with remorse--they offered him at
+once the Grand Marshalship, which he refused with still offended
+dignity, but promised his fertile brain to the common cause.
+
+Now Dink's sentimental education, which had progressed with a rush,
+had just begun to languish on insufficiency of food and a little
+feeling of staleness on having exhausted the one thousand and one
+possible methods of saving a heroine's life and wringing the consent
+of her parents.
+
+He felt a species of guilt in the accusation of his roommate and a
+sudden longing to be back among mannish pursuits. In an hour, with
+delighted energy, he had organized the banner and effigy committees of
+the demonstration and had helped concoct the fiery speech of protest
+that Doc Macnooder, as spokesman, was solemnly pledged to deliver for
+the embattled school.
+
+Four hours later the Kennedy House, led by Toots Cortell and his
+famous Confederate bugle, defiled and formed the head of the
+procession. Each member carried a pole attached to which was some
+article that had been wholly or partly shot to pieces. The Dickinson
+contingent, led by Doc Macnooder, marched in a square, supporting four
+posts around which ran a clothesline decked out with the dreadful
+débris of the house laundry.
+
+The Woodhull proudly bore as its battle flag a few strings of linen
+floating from a rake, with this inscription underneath:
+
+  THE GRAND OLD SHIRT OF THE WOODHULL!
+  WASHED 16 TIMES AND STILL IN THE GAME!
+
+Several poles, adorned with single hosing in the fashion of liberty
+caps, were labeled:
+
+  WHERE IS MY WANDERING SOCK TO-NIGHT?
+
+The Davis House was headed by Moses Moseby in a tattered nightshirt,
+backed up by an irreverent placard:
+
+  HOLY MOSES!
+
+But the premier exhibit of the parade was admitted by all to be the
+Kennedy float, conceived and executed by the Honorable Dink Stover.
+
+On a platform carried by eight hilarious members, was displayed Dennis
+de Brian de Boru Finnegan, clothed in a suit of dark gymnasium tights,
+over which were superimposed a mangled set of upper and lower
+unmentionables, whose rents and cavities stood admirably out against
+the dark background, while the Irishman sat on a chair and alternately
+stuck a white foot through the bottomless socks that were fed him.
+
+Above the platform was the flaring ensign:
+
+  RATHER FRANK NUDITY THAN THIS!
+
+Now it happened that at the auspicious moment when Dink Stover led the
+apparently scantily-clothed Finnegan and the procession of immodest
+banners around to the Esplanade of the Upper, the Doctor suddenly
+appeared through the shrubbery that screens Foundation House from the
+rest of the campus, with a party of ladies, relatives, as it
+unfortunately happened, of one of the trustees of the school.
+
+One glance of horror and indignation was sufficient for him to wave
+back the more modest sex and to advance on the astounding procession
+with fury and determination.
+
+Before Jove's awful look the spirit of '76 vanished. There was a cry
+of warning and the hosts hesitated, shivered and scampered for
+shelter.
+
+Now, at any other time the Doctor--who suffered, too, from the common
+blight--would have secretly if not openly enjoyed the joke; but at
+that moment the circumstances were admittedly trying. Besides, there
+was the delicate explanation to be offered to the ladies, who were
+relatives of one of the influential members of the board of trustees
+of the Lawrenceville School, John C. Green Foundation. As a
+consequence, in a towering rage, he summoned the ringleaders, chief
+among whom he had recognized Dink Stover and, corraling them in his
+study that night, exposed to them the enormity of their offense
+against the sex of their mothers and sisters, common decency, morals
+and morality, the ideals of the school, and the hope that the Nation
+had a right to place in a body of young men nurtured in such homes and
+educated at such an institution.
+
+The ringleaders, being veterans, viewed the speech from the point of
+view of artists, and were unanimous in their appreciation. The episode
+had for Stover, however, unfortunate complications. With the closing
+of the scholastic season came the elections in the Houses. The Kennedy
+House, unanimously and with much enthusiasm, chose the Honorable
+Honest John Stover to succeed the Honorable King Lentz as
+administrator and benevolent despot for the ensuing year.
+
+This election, coming as it did as a complete surprise to Stover, was
+naturally a source of deep gratification. His enjoyment, however, was
+rudely shocked when, the next morning after chapel, the Doctor stopped
+him and said:
+
+"Stover, I am considerably surprised at the choice of the Kennedy
+House and I am not at all sure that I shall ratify it. Nothing in your
+career has indicated to me your fitness for such a place of
+responsibility. I shall have a further talk with Mr. Hopkins and let
+him know my decision."
+
+The Roman! Of course it was The Roman! Of course he had been raging at
+the thought of his elevation to the presidency! Dink, forgetting the
+hundred and one times he had met the Faculty in the Monday afternoon
+deliberations, rushed out to spread the news of The Roman's vindictive
+persecution. Every one was indignant, outraged at this crowning insult
+to a free electorate. The whole House would protest _en masse_ if the
+despot's veto was exercised.
+
+At the hour of these angry threats The Roman, persecutor of Dink, was
+actually saying to the tyrant:
+
+"Doctor, I think it would be the best thing--the very best. It will
+bring out the manliness, the serious earnestness that is in the boy."
+
+"What, you say that!" said the Doctor, a little impatiently, for it
+was only the morrow of the parade. "I should think your patience would
+be exhausted. The scamp has been in more mischief than any other boy
+in the school. He's incorrigibly wild!"
+
+"No--no. I shouldn't say that. Very high spirited--excess of
+energy--too much imagination--that's all. There's nothing vicious
+about the boy."
+
+"But as president, Hopkins, not as president!"
+
+"No one better," said The Roman firmly. "The boy is bound to lead. I
+know what's in him--he will rise to his responsibility. Doctor, you
+will see. I have never lost confidence in him."
+
+The Doctor, unconvinced, debated at length before acceding. When he
+finally gave his ratification he added with a smile:
+
+"Well, Hopkins, I do this on your judgment. You may be right, we shall
+see. By the way, Stover must have led you quite a dance over in the
+Kennedy. What is it you like in him?"
+
+The Roman reflected and then, his eye twitching reminiscently:
+
+"Fearlessness," he said, "and--and a diabolical imagination."
+
+When The Roman returned to the Kennedy he summoned Stover to his
+study. He knew that Dink misunderstood his attitude and he would have
+liked to enlighten him. Unfortunately, complete confidence in such
+cases is sometimes as embarrassing as the relations between father and
+son. The Roman, pondering, twisted a paper-cutter and frowned in front
+of him.
+
+"Stover," he said at last. "I have talked with the Doctor. He has seen
+best to approve of your election."
+
+Dink, of course, perceiving the hesitation, went out gleefully,
+persuaded that the decision was gall and wormwood to his inveterate
+foe.
+
+The last day of school ended. He drove to Trenton in a buggy with
+Tough McCarty as befitted his new dignity. He passed the Green House
+with a strange thrill. The humiliation of a year before had well been
+atoned, and yet the associations somehow still had power to rise up
+and wound him.
+
+"Lord, you've changed!" said Tough, following his thoughts.
+
+"Improved!" said Dink grimly.
+
+"I was an infernal nuisance myself when I landed," said Tough,
+President of the Woodhull, evasively. "I say, Dink, next year we'll be
+licking the cubs into shape ourselves."
+
+"That's so," said Stover. "Well, by this time next year I probably
+won't be so popular."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm going to put an end to a lot of nonsense," said Dink solemnly.
+"I'm going to see that my kids walk a chalk-line."
+
+"So am I," said McCarty, with equal paternity. "What a shame we can't
+room together, old boy!"
+
+"That'll come in the Upper, and afterward!"
+
+They drove sedately, amid the whirling masses of the school that went
+hilariously past them. They were no longer of the irresponsible; the
+cares of the state were descending on their shoulders and a certain
+respect was necessary:
+
+"Good-by, old Sockbuts," said Tough, departing toward New York.
+"Good-by, old geezer!"
+
+"Au revoir."
+
+"Mind now--fifteenth of July and you come for one month."
+
+"You bet I will!"
+
+"Take care of yourself!"
+
+"I say, Tough," said Dink, with his heart in his mouth. McCarty,
+laden with valises, stopped:
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Remember me to your mother, will you?"
+
+"Oh, sure."
+
+"And--and to all the rest of the family!" said Dink, who thereupon
+bolted, panic-stricken.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+When John Stover, President of the Kennedy House, arrived at the
+opening of the new scholastic year, he arrived magnificently in a
+special buggy, his changed personal appearance spreading wonder and
+incredulity before him. He was stylishly encased in a suit of tan
+whipcord, with creases down his trousers front that cut the air like
+the prow of a ship. On his head, rakishly set, was a Panama hat, over
+his arm was a natty raincoat and he wore gloves.
+
+"Who is it?" said the Tennessee Shad faintly.
+
+"It's the gas inspector," said Dennis de Brian de Boru, who, though
+now long of trousers, continued short of respect.
+
+"Goodness gracious," said the Tennessee Shad, "can it be the little
+Dink who came to us from the Green House?"
+
+Stover approached serenely and shook hands.
+
+"Heavens, Dink," said the Gutter Pup, "what has happened? Have you
+gone into the clothing business?"
+
+"Like my jibs?" said Stover, throwing back his coat. "Catch this!"
+
+The front rank went over like so many nine pins. Stover, pleased with
+the effect, waved his hand and disappeared to pay his militant
+respects to The Roman who led him to the light and looked him over
+with unconcealed amazement.
+
+When Dink had gone to his old room the Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pup
+and Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan were already awaiting him, with
+heads critically slanted.
+
+"Tell us the worst," said the Gutter Pup.
+
+"Are you married?" said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"Let's see her photograph," said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan.
+
+Now, Stover had foreseen the greeting and the question and had come
+prepared. He opened his valise and, taking out a case, arranged a
+dozen photographs on his bureau, artfully concealing the one and only
+in a temporarily subordinate position.
+
+The three village loungers arose and stationed themselves in front of
+the portrait gallery.
+
+"Why, he must be perfectly irresistible!" said the Gutter Pup.
+
+"Dink," said Dennis, "do all these girls love you?"
+
+Stover, disdaining a reply, selected another case.
+
+"Razors!" said the Tennessee Shad.
+
+"What for?" said Dennis.
+
+"Oh, I shave, too," said the Gutter Pup, in whom the spirit of envy
+was beginning to work.
+
+"And now, boys," said Stover briskly, taking off his coat, folding it
+carefully over a chair and beginning to unpack, "sit down. Don't act
+like a lot of hayseeds on a rail, but tell me what the Freshmen are
+like."
+
+The manner was complete--convincing, without a trace of embarrassment.
+The three wits exchanged foolish glances and sat down.
+
+"What do you weigh?" said the Gutter Pup faintly.
+
+"One hundred and fifty-five, and I've grown an inch," said Stover,
+ranging on a ring a score of flashy neckties.
+
+"I wish Lovely Mead could see those," said the Gutter Pup with a last
+appearance of levity.
+
+"Call him up. Look at them yourself," said Stover, tendering the
+neckwear. "I think they're rather tasty myself."
+
+Before such absolute serenity frivolity died of starvation. They made
+no further attempt at sarcasm, but sat awed until Stover had departed
+to carry the glad news of his increased weight to Captain Flash
+Condit.
+
+"Why he's older than The Roman," said the Tennessee Shad, the first to
+recover.
+
+"He's in love," said Dennis, who had intuitions.
+
+"No, be-loved," said the Gutter Pup with a sigh, who was suffering
+from the first case, but not from the second.
+
+The amazement of rolling, old Sir John Falstaff at the transformation
+of Prince Hal was nothing to the consternation of the Kennedy House at
+the sudden conversion of Dink Stover, the fount of mischief, into a
+complete disciplinarian.
+
+Now the cardinal principle of House government is the division of the
+flock by the establishing of an age line. The control of the
+youngsters is almost always vigorously enforced, and though the
+logical principles involved are sometimes rather dubious they are
+adequate from the fact that they are never open to argument.
+Occasionally, however, under the leadership of some president either
+too indolent or incapable of leadership, this strict surveillance over
+the habits and conduct of youth is relaxed, with disastrous results to
+the orderly reputation of the House.
+
+Stover, having been the arch rebel and fomenter of mischief, had the
+most determined ideas as to the discipline he intended to enforce and
+the respect he should exact.
+
+The first clash came with the initial House Meeting, over which he
+presided. Now in the past these occasions had offered Dennis de Brian
+de Boru Finnegan and his attendant imps unlimited amusement, as King
+Lentz had been almost totally ignorant of the laws of parliamentary
+procedure.
+
+Of a consequence, no sooner was a meeting fairly under way, than some
+young scamp would rise and solemnly move the previous question, which
+never failed to bring down a storm of hoots at the complete
+mystification of the perplexed chairman, who never to his last day was
+able to solve this knotty point of procedure.
+
+Now, Dennis, while he had been impressed by Stover's new majesty,
+retained still a feeling of resistance. So the moment the gavel
+declared the meeting open he bobbed up with a wicked gleam and shrilly
+announced:
+
+"Mr. Chairman, I move the previous question."
+
+"Mr. Finnegan will come to order," said Stover quietly.
+
+"Oh, I say, Dink!"
+
+"Are you addressing the chair?" said Stover sternly.
+
+"Oh, no," said Finnegan, according to his usual manner, "I was just
+whistling through my teeth, gargling my larynx, trilling----"
+
+Crash came the gavel and the law spoke forth:
+
+"Mr. Finnegan will come to order?"
+
+"I won't!"
+
+"Mr. Finnegan either apologizes to the chair, or the chair will see
+that Mr. Finnegan returns to short trousers and stays there. Mr.
+Finnegan has exactly one minute to make up his mind."
+
+Dennis, crimson and gasping, stood more thoroughly amazed and
+nonplussed than he had ever been in his active existence. He opened
+his mouth as though to reply, and beheld Stover calmly draw forth his
+watch. Had it been any one else, Dennis would have hesitated; but he
+knew Stover of old and what the chilly, metallic note was in his
+voice. He chose the lesser of two evils and gave the apology.
+
+"The chair will now state," said Stover, replacing his watch, "for the
+benefit of any other young, transcendent jokers that may care to
+display their side-splitting wit, that the chair is quite capable of
+handling the previous question, or any other question, and that these
+meetings are going to be orderly proceedings and not one-ring circuses
+for the benefit of the Kennedy Association of Clowns. The question
+before the House is the protest against compulsory bath. The chair
+recognizes Mr. Lazelle to make a motion."
+
+The cup of Finnegan's bitterness was not yet filled. Stover's first
+act of administration was to forbid the privileges of the cold-air
+flues and the demon cigarette to all members of the House who had not
+attained, according to his judgment, either a proper age or a
+sufficient display of bodily stature. Among the proscribed was Dennis
+de Brian de Boru Finnegan, whose legs, clothed in new dignity, fairly
+quivered under the affront, as he tearfully protested:
+
+"I say, Dink, it's an outrage!"
+
+"Can't help it. It's for your own good."
+
+"But I'm fifteen."
+
+"Now, see here, Dennis," said Stover firmly, "your business is to grow
+and to be of some use. No one's going to know about it unless you yell
+it out, but I'm going to see that you turn out a decent, manly chap
+and not another Slops Barnett."
+
+"But you went with Slops yourself."
+
+"I did--but you're not going to be such a fool."
+
+"Why, you're a regular tyrant!"
+
+"All right, call it that."
+
+"And I elected you," said Dennis, the aggrieved and astounded modern
+politician. "This is Goo-gooism!"
+
+"No, it isn't," said Stover indignantly. "I'm not interfering with any
+fellow who's sixteen--they can do what they darn please. But I'm not
+going to have a lot of kids in this House starting sporting life until
+they've grown up to it, savez? They're going to be worth living with
+and having around, and not abominations in the sight of gods and men.
+Pass the word along."
+
+The revolt, for a short while, was furiously indignant, but the
+prestige of Stover's reputation forestalled all thought of
+disobedience. In such cases absolute power is in the hands of him who
+can wield it, and Stover could command.
+
+In short order he had reduced the youngsters to respect and
+usefulness, with the following imperial decrees:
+
+  1. All squabs are to maintain in public a deferential and
+  modest attitude.
+
+  2. No squab shall talk to excess in the presence of his
+  elders.
+
+  3. No squab shall habitually use bad language, under
+  penalty of an application of soap and water.
+
+  4. No squab shall use tobacco in any form.
+
+  5. No squab shall leave the House after lights without
+  express permission.
+
+These regulations were not simply an exercise of arbitrary authority,
+for in the House itself were certain elements which Dink perfectly
+understood, and whose spheres of influence he was resolved to confine
+to their own limits.
+
+"How're you going to enforce, Sire, these imperial decrees?" asked the
+Tennessee Shad, who, however, thoroughly approved.
+
+"I have a method," said Stover, with an interior smile. "It's what I
+call a Rogues' Gallery."
+
+"I don't see," said the Tennessee Shad, puzzled.
+
+"You will."
+
+The first rebel was a Freshman, Bellefont, known as the Millionaire
+Baby, who, due to a previous luxurious existence, had acquired manly
+practices at an early age. Bellefont was detected with the odor of
+tobacco.
+
+"Young squab, have you been smoking?" said Stover.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do about it?" said the youngster
+defiantly.
+
+"Gutter Pup, get your camera," said Stover.
+
+The Gutter Pup, mystified, returned. The autocrat seized the young
+rebel, slung him paternally across his knee and with raised hand
+spoke:
+
+"Gutter Pup, snap a couple of good ones. We'll make this Exhibit A in
+our Rogues' Gallery."
+
+Bellefont, at the thought of this public perpetuation, set up a howl
+and kicked as though mortally stung. Stover held firm. The snapshots
+were taken, developed and duly posted.
+
+From that moment, in public at least, Stover's slightest gesture was
+obeyed as promptly as the lifting of an English policeman's finger.
+
+The yoke once accepted became popular alike with the older members,
+who ceased to be annoyed, and with the squabs themselves, who, finding
+they were protected from bullying or unfair exactions, soon adopted
+toward Stover an attitude of reverent idolatry that was not without
+its embarrassments. He was called upon at all hours to render
+decisions on matters political and philosophical, with the knowledge
+that his opinion would instantly be adopted as religion. Before him
+were brought all family quarrels, some serious, some grotesque; but
+each class demanding a settlement in equity.
+
+One afternoon Dennis maliciously piloted to his presence Pee-wee
+Norris and his new roommate, a youngster named Berbacker, called
+Cyclops from the fact that one eye was glass, a gift that brought him
+a peculiar admiration and envy.
+
+Stover, observing the cunning expression on Finnegan's face, scented a
+trap. The matter was, indeed, very grave.
+
+"See here, Dink," said Pee-wee indignantly; "I leave it to you. How
+would you like to stumble upon a loose eye all over the room?"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A loose eye. This fellow Cyclops is all the time leaving his glass
+eye around in my diggin's and I don't like it. It's the deuce of a
+thing to find it winking up at you from the table or the window-seat.
+It gives me the creeps."
+
+"What have you got to say, Cyclops?" said Stover, assuming a judicial
+air.
+
+"Well, I've always been used to takin' the eye out," said Cyclops,
+with an injured look. "Most fellows are glad to see it. But, I say,
+I'm the fellow who has the kick. The whole thing started by Norris
+hiding it on me."
+
+"Did you swipe his eye?" said Stover severely.
+
+"Well, yes, I did. What right's he got to let it out loose?"
+
+"I want him to leave my eye alone," said Cyclops.
+
+"I want him to keep his old eye in his old socket," said Pee-wee.
+
+"Oh, Solomon, what is thy judgment?" said Dennis, who had engineered
+it all.
+
+"I'll give my judgment and it'll settle it," said Dink firmly. "But
+I'll think it over first."
+
+True to his word, he deliberated long and actively and, as the
+judgment had to be given, he called the complaining parties before him
+and said:
+
+"Now, look here, Pee-wee and Cyclops; you fellows are rooming together
+and you've got to get on. If you fight, keep it to yourselves; don't
+shout it around. But get together--agree. You've got to go on, and
+the more you agree--ahem--the less you'll disagree, see? It's just
+like marriage. Now you go back and live like a respectable married
+couple, and if I hear any more about this glass eye I'll spank you
+both and have you photographed for the Rogues' Gallery."
+
+Among the members of the Kennedy House there were two who defied his
+authority and gave him cause for dissatisfaction--the Millionaire
+Baby, who was a nuisance because he had been pampered and impressed
+with his own divine right, and a fellow named Horses Griffin, who was
+unbearable because, owing to his size and strength, he had never had
+the blessing of a good thrashing.
+
+Now when Stover promulgated his laws for the protection of Squabs he
+had served notice on the sporting centers that he expected their
+adherence. Fellows like Slops Barnett and Fatty Harris, who, to do
+them justice, approved of segregation, made no defiance. Griffin,
+though, who was a hulking, rather surly, self-conscious fellow,
+secretly rebelled at this act of authority, and gave asylum to
+Bellefont, from whom he was glad to accept the good things that
+regularly arrived in boxes from a solicitous mother.
+
+Stover had seen from the first how the issue would have to be met,
+and met it at the first opportunity. Griffin having defied his
+authority by openly inviting the Millionaire Baby up for the nefarious
+practice of matching pennies, Dink marched up the stairs and entered
+the enemy's room.
+
+A moment later the group expectantly gathered in the hall heard
+something within that resembled an itinerant cyclone, then the door
+blew open and Griffin shot out and raced for the stairs, while behind
+him--like an angry tom-cat--came Stover, in time to give to the
+panicky champion just that extra impetus that allowed him, as Dennis
+expressed it, to establish a new record--flying start--for the
+twenty-six steps. After this little explanation Griffin showed a
+marked disinclination for the company of Bellefont, and became,
+indeed, quite a useful member of the community, though he always
+retained such acute memories that an angry tone from Stover would
+cause him to fidget and calculate the distance to the door.
+
+Griffin subdued, the Millionaire Baby still remained. The problem was
+a knotty one, for as Bellefont was still of sub-stature the means of
+correction were limited.
+
+"What worries your Majesty?" said Dennis de Brian de Boru, perceiving
+Stover in stern meditation. "Is it that beautiful specimen of
+flunky-raised squab entitled the Millionaire Baby?"
+
+"It is," said Dink. Between him and Dennis peace had long since been
+concluded.
+
+"He is a very precious hothouse flower," said Dennis sarcastically.
+
+"He is the most useless, pestiferous, conceited little squirt I ever
+saw," said Dink.
+
+"I love him not."
+
+"But I'll get that flunky smell out of him yet!"
+
+"The pity is he has such fat, juicy boxes from home."
+
+"He has--how often?"
+
+"Every two weeks."
+
+"It oughtn't to be allowed."
+
+"What are you going to do? You can't take 'em by force."
+
+"No--that wouldn't do."
+
+"Still," said Dennis regretfully, "he's so young it is just ruining
+his little digestion."
+
+They sat a moment deliberating. Finally Dink spoke rapturously:
+
+"I have it. We'll organize the Kennedy Customs House."
+
+"Aha!"
+
+"Everything imported must pass the Customs House."
+
+"Pass?"
+
+"Certainly; everything must be legal."
+
+"What am I to be?"
+
+"Appraiser."
+
+"I'd rather be first taster."
+
+"Same thing."
+
+"You said pass," said Dennis obstinately. "I don't like that word."
+
+"Purely technical sense."
+
+"But there will be duties imposed?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Aha!" said Dennis brightening. "Very high duties?"
+
+"The maximum duty on luxuries," said Dink. "We're all good
+Republicans, aren't we?"
+
+"I am, if I can write the tariff schedule," said Dennis, who, as may
+be seen, was orthodox.
+
+When, on the following week, young Bellefont received his regular
+installment of high-priced indigestibles he was amazed to see the
+Gutter Pup and Lovely Mead appear with solemn demeanor.
+
+"Hello," said the Millionaire Baby, placing himself in front of the
+half-open box.
+
+"See these badges," said Lovely Mead, pointing to their caps, around
+which were displayed white bandages inscribed "inspector."
+
+"Sure."
+
+"We're in the Customs House."
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"And we have received information that you are systematically
+smuggling goods into this territory."
+
+The Millionaire Baby looked as though a ghost had arisen.
+
+"Aha!" said the Gutter Pup, perceiving the box. "Here's the evidence
+now. Officer, seize the goods and the prisoner."
+
+"What are you going to do to me?" said the culprit in great alarm.
+
+"Take you before the Customs Court."
+
+The Customs Court was sitting, without absentees, in Stover's
+room--appraisers, weighers, adjusters and consulting experts, all
+legally ticketed and very solemn. The prisoner was stood in a corner
+and the contents of the box spread on the floor.
+
+"First exhibit--one plum cake," announced Beekstein, who was in a
+menial position.
+
+"Duty sixty-five per cent," said Dennis de Brian de Born Finnegan,
+consulting a book. "Raisins and spices."
+
+"Two bottles of anchovy olives."
+
+"Duty fifty per cent, imported fruits."
+
+"Only fifty per cent?" said Stover, who had a preference for the same.
+
+"That's all."
+
+"What's it on?"
+
+"Imported fruits."
+
+"How about spiced fish?" said the Tennessee Shad, coming to the
+rescue, "and, likewise, Italian glass?"
+
+The Millionaire Baby gave a groan.
+
+"Imported fish, forty per cent," said Dennis, "glass--Venetian
+glass--thirty-five per cent. He owes us thirty per cent on this."
+
+"Continue," said Stover, casting a grateful glance at the Tennessee
+Shad.
+
+"Two boxes of candied prunes, that's vegetables, twenty-five per
+cent."
+
+"They're preserved in sugar, aren't they?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"There's a duty of fifty per cent on sugar."
+
+"Long live the Sugar Trust."
+
+"Doggone robbers!" said the Millionaire Baby tearfully.
+
+"Three boxes salted almonds, one large box of chocolate bonbons, one
+angel cake and six tins of candied ginger."
+
+The judges, deliberating, assessed each article. Stover rose to
+announce the decree.
+
+"The clerk of the court will return to the importer thirty-five per
+cent of the plum cake, twenty-five per cent of the candied prunes, one
+box of salted almonds and two tins of ginger."
+
+The Millionaire Baby breathlessly contained his wrath.
+
+Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan addressed the court:
+
+"Your Honor."
+
+"Mr. Finnegan."
+
+"I beg to call to your Honor's attention that these goods have been
+seized and are subject to a fine."
+
+"True," said Stover, glancing sternly at the frothing Bellefont. "I
+would be inclined to be lenient, but I am informed that this is not
+the defendant's first offense. The clerk of the court will, therefore,
+confiscate the whole."
+
+The Millionaire Baby, with a howl, began to express himself in the
+language of the stables.
+
+"Gag him," said Stover, "and let him be informed that the duties will
+be lightened if in the future he declares his imports."
+
+The government then applied the revenues to the needs of the
+department of the interior.
+
+"The duty on anchovy olives is too high," said Finnegan, looking
+fondly down a bottle.
+
+"How so?"
+
+"It will stop the imports."
+
+"True--we might reduce it."
+
+"We must encourage imports," said the Gutter Pup firmly.
+
+And the chorus came full mouthed:
+
+"Sure!"
+
+The Millionaire Baby received three more boxes--that is, he received
+the limited portion that a paternal government allowed him. Then,
+being chastened, he took a despicable revenge--he stopped the supply.
+
+"Well, it was sweet while it lasted," said Dennis regretfully.
+
+"We've stopped toadyism in the House," said Stover virtuously. "We
+have eliminated the influence of money."
+
+"That is praiseworthy, but it doesn't fill me with enthusiasm."
+
+"Dink," said the Tennessee Shad, "I must say I consider this one of
+your few failures. You're a great administrator, but you don't
+understand the theory of taxation."
+
+"I don't, eh? Well, what is the theory?"
+
+"The theory of taxation," said the Tennessee Shad, "is to soak the
+taxed all they'll stand for, but to leave them just enough, so they'll
+come again."
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+No sooner had Mr. John H. Stover returned from the serious
+developments of the summer, arranged his new possessions and brought
+forward the photograph of Miss McCarty to a position on the edge of
+his bureau, where he could turn to it the last thing at night and
+again behold it with his waiting glance, than a horrible coincidence
+appeared.
+
+Among the festive decorations that made the corporate home of Dink and
+the Tennessee Shad a place to visit and admire was, as has been
+related, a smashing poster of a ballet dancer in the costume of an
+amazon parader. Up to now Dink had shared the just pride of the
+Tennessee Shad in this rakish exhibit that somehow gave the possessor
+the reputation of having an acquaintance with stage entrances. But on
+the second morning when his faithful glance turned to the protecting
+presence of Miss McCarty resting among the brushes, it paused a moment
+on the representative of the American dramatic profession, who was
+coquettishly trying to conceal one foot behind her ear.
+
+Then he sat bolt upright with a start. By some strange perversion of
+the fate that delights in torturing lovers, the features of the
+immodestly clothed amazon bore the most startling resemblance to that
+paragon of celestial purity, Miss Josephine McCarty.
+
+The more he gazed the more astounding was the impression. He gazed and
+then he did not gaze at all--it seemed like a profanation. The
+resemblance, once perceived, positively haunted him; stand where he
+might his eyes could see nothing but the seraphic head of Miss McCarty
+upon the unspeakable body of the amazon--and then those legs!
+
+For days this centaurian combination tortured him without his being
+able to evolve a satisfactory method of removing the blasphemous
+poster. A direct attack was quite out of the question, for manifestly
+the Tennessee Shad would demand an adequate explanation for the
+destruction of his treasured possession. There could be no explanation
+except the true one, and such a confession was unthinkable, even to a
+roommate under oath.
+
+For two solid weeks Stover, brooding desperately, sought to avert his
+glance from the profane spectacle before chance came to his rescue.
+One Saturday night, after a strenuous game with the Princeton
+Freshmen, Dink, afraid of going stale, decided to quicken his jaded
+appetite by an application of sardines, deviled ham and rootbeer.
+
+The feasting-table happened to be directly beneath the abhorrent
+poster, so that Stover, as he lifted the bottle to open it, beheld
+with fury the offending tights. He gave the bottle instinctively a
+shake and with that disturbing motion suddenly came his plan.
+
+"This rootbeer has been flat as the deuce lately," he said.
+
+"They're selling us poor stuff," said the Tennessee Shad, with the
+tail of a sardine disappearing within.
+
+"I wonder if I could put life in the blame thing if I shook it up a
+bit," said Stover, suiting the action to the word.
+
+Now, the Tennessee Shad knew from experience what that result would
+be, but as Stover was holding the bottle he dissembled his knowledge.
+
+"Give it a shake," he said.
+
+Stover complied.
+
+"Shake her again."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"Once more. It'll be just like champagne."
+
+Stover gave it a final vigorous shake, pointed the nozzle toward the
+poster and cut the cork. There was an explosion and then the contents
+rose like a geyser and spread over the ceiling and the luckless
+ballet dancer who dared to resemble Miss McCarty.
+
+By the next morning the poster was unrecognizable under a coating of
+dried reddish spots and was ignominiously removed, to the delight of
+Stover, whose illusions were thus preserved, as well as his secret.
+
+Now, the month spent at the McCartys' had strengthened his honorable
+intentions and given them that definite purpose that is sometimes
+vulgarly ticketed--object matrimony.
+
+It is not that Dink could return over the romantic days of his visit
+and lay his finger on any particular scene or any definite word that
+could be construed as binding Miss McCarty. But, on the other hand,
+his own actions and expressions, he thought, must have been so capable
+of but one interpretation that, as a man of honor, he held himself
+morally as well as willingly bound. Of course, she had understood his
+attitude; she must have understood. And, likewise, there were events
+that made him believe that she, in her discreet way, had let him see
+by her actions what she could not convey by her words. For, of course,
+in his present position of dependence on his father, nothing could be
+said. He understood that. He would not have changed it. Still, there
+were unmistakable memories of the preference he had enjoyed. There
+had been, in particular, an ill-favored dude, called Ver Plank, who
+had always been hanging around with his tandem and his millions, who
+had been sacrificed a dozen times by the unmercenary angel to his,
+John H. Stover's, profit. That was clear enough, and there had been
+many such incidents.
+
+The only thing that disappointed Dink was the polite correctness of
+her letters. But then something, he said to himself, must be allowed
+for maiden modesty. His own letters were the product of afternoons and
+evenings. The herculean difficulty that he experienced in covering
+four sheets of paper--even when writing a flowing hand and allowing
+half a page for the signature--secretly worried him. It seemed as
+though something was lacking in his character or in the strength of
+his devotion.
+
+On the day after the final disappearance of the brazen amazon Dink
+pounced upon a violet envelope in the well-known handwriting and bore
+it to a place of secrecy. It was in answer to four of his own painful
+compositions.
+
+He gave three glances before reading, three glances that estimate all
+such longed-for epistles. There were five pages, which brought him a
+thrill; it was signed "as ever, Josephine," which brought him a doubt;
+and it began "Dear Jack," which brought him nothing at all.
+
+Having thus passed from hot to cold, and back to a fluctuating
+temperature, he began the letter--first, to read what was written, and
+second, to read what might be concealed between the lines:
+
+  DEAR JACK: Since your last letter I've been in a perfect whirl of
+  gayety--dances, coaching parties and what-not. Really, you would say
+  that I was nothing but a frivolous butterfly of fashion. Next week I
+  am going to the Ver Planks' with quite a party and we are to coach
+  through the Berkshires. The Judsons are to be along and that pretty
+  Miss Dow, of whom I was so jealous when you were here, do you
+  remember? I met a Mr. Cockrell, who, it seems, was at Lawrenceville.
+  He told me you were going to be a phenomenal football player,
+  captain of the team next year, and all sorts of wonderful things. He
+  _admires_ you _tremendously_. I was so pleased! Don't forget to
+  write soon.
+
+    As ever,
+      JOSEPHINE.
+
+This letter, as indeed all her letters did, left Dink trapezing, so to
+speak, from one emotion to another. He had not acquired that
+knowledge, which indeed is never acquired, of valuing to a nicety the
+intents, insinuations and complexities of the feminine school of
+literature.
+
+There were things that sent him soaring like a Japanese kite and there
+were things, notably the reference to Ver Plank, that tumbled him as
+awkwardly down.
+
+He immediately seized upon pen and paper. It had, perhaps, been his
+fault. He would conduct the correspondence on a more serious tone. He
+would be a little--daring.
+
+At the start he fell into the usual inky deliberation. "Dear
+Josephine" was so inadequate. "My dear Josephine" had--or did it not
+have--just an extra little touch of tenderness, a peculiar claim to
+possession. But if so, would it be too bold or too sentimental? He
+wrote boldly:
+
+"My dear Josephine:"
+
+Then he considered. Unfortunately, at that time the late lamented Pete
+Daly, in the halls of the likewise lamented Weber and Fields, was
+singing dusky love songs to a lady likewise entitled "My Josephine."
+The connection was unthinkable. Dink tore the page into minute bits
+and, selecting another, sighed and returned to the old formula.
+
+Here another long pause succeeded while he searched for a sentiment or
+a resolve that would raise him in her estimation. It is a mood in
+which the direction of a lifetime is sometimes bartered for a phrase.
+So it happened with Dink. Suddenly his face lit up and he started to
+write:
+
+  DEAR JOSEPHINE: Your letter came to me just as I was writing you of
+  a plan I have been thinking of for weeks. I have decided not to go
+  to college. Of course, it would be a great pleasure and, perhaps, I
+  look upon life too seriously, as you often tell me; but I want to
+  get to work, to feel that I am standing on my own feet, and four
+  years seems an awful time to wait,--for that. What do you think? I
+  do hope you understand just _what_ I mean. It is very serious to me,
+  the most serious thing in the world.
+
+  I'm glad you're having a good time.
+
+  Don't write such nonsense about Miss Dow; you know there's nothing
+  in that direction. Do write and tell me what you think about my
+  plan.
+
+    Faithfully yours,
+      JACK.
+
+  P. S. When are you going to send me that new photograph? I have only
+  three of you now, a real one and two kodaks. I'm glad you're having
+  a good time.
+
+No sooner was this letter dispatched and Stover had realized what had
+been in his mind for weeks than he went to Tough McCarty to inform
+him of his high resolve.
+
+"But, Dink," said Tough in dismay, "you can't be serious! Why, we were
+going through college together!"
+
+"That's the hard part of it," said Dink, looking and, indeed, feeling
+very solemn.
+
+"But you're giving up a wonderful career. Every one says you'll be a
+star end. You'll make the All-American. Oh, Dink!"
+
+"Don't," said Dink heroically.
+
+"But, I say, what's happened?"
+
+"It's--it's a family matter," said Stover, who on such occasions, it
+will be perceived, had a strong family feeling.
+
+"Is it decided?" said Tough in consternation.
+
+"Unless stocks take a turn," said Dink.
+
+McCarty was heartbroken, Dink rather pleased, with the new role that,
+somehow, lifted him from his fellows in dignity and seriousness and
+seemed to cut down the seven years. All that week he waited hopefully
+for her answer. She must understand now the inflexibility of his
+character and the intensity of his devotion. His letter told
+everything, and yet in such a delicate manner that she must honor him
+the more for the generous way in which he took everything upon
+himself, offered everything and asked nothing. He was so confidently
+happy and elated with the vexed decision of his affairs that he even
+took the Millionaire Baby over to the Jigger Shop and stood treat,
+after a few words of paternal advice which went unheeded.
+
+Toward the beginning of the third week in the early days of November,
+as the squad was returning from practice Tough said casually:
+
+"I say, did you get a letter from Sis?"
+
+"No," said Dink with difficulty.
+
+"You probably have one at the house. She's engaged."
+
+"What?" said Dink faintly. The word seemed to be spoken from another
+mouth.
+
+"Engaged to that Ver Plank fellow that was hanging around. I think
+he's a mutt."
+
+"Oh, yes--Ver Plank."
+
+"Gee, it gave me quite a jolt!"
+
+"Oh, I--I rather expected it."
+
+He left Tough, wondering how he had had the strength to answer.
+
+"Look out, you're treading on my toes," said the Gutter Pup next him.
+
+He mumbled something and his teeth closed over his tongue in the
+effort to bring the sharp sense of pain. He went to his box; the
+letter was there. He went to his room and laid it on the table, going
+to the window and staring out. Then he sat down heavily, rested his
+head in his hands and read:
+
+  DEAR JACK: I'm writing to you among the first, for I want you
+  particularly to know how happy I am. Mr. Ver Plank----
+
+He put the letter down; indeed, he could not see to read any further.
+There was nothing more to read--nothing mattered. It was all over, the
+light was gone, everything was topsy-turvy. He could not
+understand--but it was over--all over. There was nothing left.
+
+Some time later the Tennessee Shad came loping down the hall, tried
+the door and, finding it locked, called out:
+
+"What the deuce--open up!"
+
+Dink, in terror, rose from the table where he had remained motionless.
+He caught up the letter and hastily stuffed it in his desk, saying
+gruffly:
+
+"In a moment."
+
+Then he dabbed a sponge over his face, pressed his hands to his
+temples and, steadying himself, unlocked the door.
+
+"For the love of Mike!" said the indignant Tennessee Shad, and then,
+catching sight of Dink, stopped. "Dink, what is the matter?"
+
+"It's--it's my mother," said Dink desperately.
+
+"She's not dead?"
+
+"No--no----" said Dink, now free to suffocate, "not yet."
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+This providential appearance of his mother mercifully allowed Dink an
+opportunity to suffer without fear of disgrace in the eyes of the
+unemotional Tennessee Shad.
+
+That very night, as soon as the Shad had departed in search of
+Beekstein's guiding mathematical hand, Dink sat down heroically to
+frame his letter of congratulations. He would show her that, though
+she looked upon him as a boy, there was in him the courage that never
+cries out. She had played with him, but at least she should look back
+with admiration.
+
+"Dear Miss McCarty," he wrote--that much he owed to his own dignity,
+and that should be his only reproach. The rest should be in the tone
+of levity, the smile that shows no ache.
+
+  DEAR MISS MCCARTY: Of course, it was no surprise to me. I saw it
+  coming long ago. Mr. Ver Plank seems to me a most estimable young
+  man. You will be very congenial, I am sure, and very happy. Thank
+  you for letting me know among the first. That was _bully_ of you!
+  Give my very best congratulations to Mr. Ver Plank and tell him I
+  think he's a very lucky fellow.
+
+    Faithfully yours,
+      JACK.
+
+He had resolved to sign formally "Cordially yours--John H. Stover."
+But toward the end his resolution weakened. He would be faithful, even
+if she were not. Perhaps, when she read it and thought it over she
+would feel a little remorse, a little acute sorrow. Imbued with the
+thought, he stood looking at the letter, which somehow brought a
+little consolation, a little pride into the night of his misery. It
+was a good letter--a very good letter. He read it over three times and
+then, going to the washstand, took up the sponge and pressed out a
+lachrymal drop that fell directly over the "Faithfully yours."
+
+It made a blot that no one could have looked at unmoved.
+
+He hastily sealed the letter and slipping out the house, went over and
+mailed it with his own hands. It was the farewell--he would never toil
+out his heart over another. And with it went John Stover, the faithful
+cavalier. Another John Stover had arisen, the man of heroic sorrows.
+
+For a whole week faithfully he was true to his grief, keeping his own
+company, eating out his heart, suffering as only that first deception
+can inflict sorrow. And he sought nothing else. He hoped--he hoped
+that he would go on suffering for years and years, saddened and
+deceived.
+
+But, somehow--though, of course, deep down within him nothing would
+ever change--the gloom gradually lifted. The call of his fellows began
+to be heard again. The glances of the under formers that followed his
+public appearances with adoring worship began to please him once more.
+
+Finally, one afternoon, he stopped in at Appleby's to inspect a new
+supply of dazzling cravats.
+
+"You've got the first choice, Mr. Stover," said Appleby in his
+caressing way. "No one's had a look at them before you."
+
+"Well, let's look 'em over," said Stover, with a beginning of
+interest.
+
+"Look at them," said Appleby; "you're a judge, Mr. Stover. You know
+how to dress in a tasty way. Now, really, have you ever seen anything
+genteeler than them?"
+
+Stover fingered them and his eye lit up. They certainly were
+exceptional and just the style that was becoming to his blond
+advantages. He selected six, then added two more and, finally, went to
+his room with a dozen, where he tried them, one after the other,
+before his mirror, smiling a little at the effect.
+
+Then he went to his bureau and relegated the photograph of the future
+Mrs. Ver Plank to the rear and promoted Miss Dow to the place of
+honor.
+
+"That's over," he said; "but she nearly ruined my life!"
+
+In which he was wrong, for if Miss McCarty had not arrived Appleby,
+purveyor of Gents' Fancies, would never have sold him a dozen most
+becoming neckties.
+
+When the Tennessee Shad came in, he looked in surprise.
+
+"Hello, better news to-day?" he said sympathetically.
+
+"News?" said Dink in a moment of abstraction.
+
+"Why, your mother."
+
+"Oh, yes--yes, she's better," said Dink hastily, and to make it
+convincing he added in a reverent voice, "thank God!"
+
+The next day he informed McCarty that he had changed his mind. He was
+going to college; they would have four glorious years together.
+
+"What's happened?" said Tough mystified. "Better news from home?"
+
+"Yes," said Dink, "stocks have gone up."
+
+But the tragedy of his life had one result that came near wrecking
+his career and the school's hope for victory in the Andover game.
+During the early weeks of the term Dink had been too engrossed with
+his new responsibilities to study, and during the later weeks too
+overwhelmed by the real burden of life to think of such technicalities
+as lessons. Having studied the preferences and dislikes of his tyrants
+he succeeded, however, in bluffing through most of his recitations
+with the loyal support of Beekstein. But The Roman was not thus to be
+circumvented, and as Dink, in the Byronic period of grief, had no
+heart for florid improvisations of the applause of the multitude he
+contented himself, whenever annoyed by his implacable persecutor, The
+Roman, by rising and saying with great dignity:
+
+"Not prepared, sir."
+
+The blow fell one week before the Andover game, when such blows always
+fall. The Roman called him up after class and informed him that, owing
+to the paucity of evidence in his daily appearances, he would have to
+put him to a special examination to determine whether he had a passing
+knowledge.
+
+The school was in dismay. A failure, of course, meant disbarment from
+the Andover game--the loss of Stover, who was the strength of the
+whole left side.
+
+To Dink, of course, this extraordinary decree was the crowning
+evidence of the determined hatred of The Roman. And all because he
+had, years before, mistaken him for a commercial traveler and called
+him "Old Cocky-wax!"
+
+He would be flunked--of course he would be flunked if The Roman had
+made up his mind to do it. He might have waited another week--after
+the Andover game. But no, his plan was to keep him out the game, which
+of course, meant the loss of the captaincy, which every one accorded
+him.
+
+These opinions, needless to say, were shared by all well-wishers of
+the eleven. There was even talk, in the first moments of excitement,
+of arraigning The Roman before the Board of Trustees.
+
+The examination was to be held in The Roman's study that night.
+Beekstein and Gumbo hurried to Dink's assistance. But what could that
+avail with six weeks' work to cover!
+
+In this desperate state desperate means were suggested by desperate
+characters. Stover should go the examination padded with interlinear,
+friendly aids to translation. A committee from outside should then
+convey the gigantic water cooler that stood in the hall to the upper
+landing. There it should be nicely balanced on the topmost step and a
+string thrown out the window, which, at the right time, should be
+pulled by three patriots from other Houses. The water cooler would
+descend with a hideous clatter, The Roman would rush from his study,
+and Stover would be given time to refresh his memory.
+
+Now, Stover did not like this plan. He had never done much direct
+cribbing, as that species of deception made him uncomfortable and
+seemed devoid of the high qualities of dignity that should attend the
+warfare against the Natural Enemy.
+
+At first he refused to enter this conspiracy, but finally yielded in a
+half-hearted way when it was dinned in his ears that he was only
+meeting The Roman at his own game, that he was being persecuted, that
+the school was being sacrificed for a private spite--in a word, that
+the end must be looked at and not the means and that the end was moral
+and noble.
+
+Thus partly won over, Dink entered The Roman's study that night with
+portions of interlinear translations distributed about his person and
+whipped up into a rage against The Roman that made him forget all
+else.
+
+The study was on the ground floor--the conspirators were to wait at
+the window until Stover should have received the examination paper and
+given the signal.
+
+The Roman nodded as Stover entered and, motioning him to a seat, gave
+him the questions, saying:
+
+"I sincerely hope, John, you are able to answer these."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Stover with great sarcasm.
+
+He went to the desk by the window and sat down, taking out his pencil.
+
+There was a shuffling of feet and the scraping of a chair across the
+room. Stover looked up in surprise.
+
+"Take your time, John," said The Roman, who had risen. Then, without
+another word, he turned and left the room.
+
+Stover smiled to himself. He knew that trick. He waited for the sudden
+reopening of the door, but no noise came. He frowned and, mechanically
+looking at the questions, opened his book at the place designated.
+Then he raised his head and listened again.
+
+All at once he became very angry. The Roman was putting him on his
+honor--he had no right to do any such thing! It changed all their
+preparations. It was a low-down, malignant trick. It took away all the
+elements of danger that glorified the conspiracy. It made it easy and,
+therefore, mean.
+
+At the window came a timid scratching. Stover shook his head. The
+Roman would return. Then he would give the signal willingly. So he
+folded his arms sternly and waited--but no footsteps slipped along
+outside the door. The Roman had indeed left him to his honor.
+
+A great, angry lump came in his throat, angry tears blurred his eyes.
+He hated The Roman, he despised him; it was unfair, it was malicious,
+but he could not do what he would have done. There _was_ a difference.
+
+All at once the bowels of the House seemed rent asunder, as down the
+stairs, bumping and smashing, went the liberated water cooler.
+Instantly a chorus of shrieks arose, steps rushing to and fro, and
+then quiet.
+
+Still The Roman did not come. Stover glanced at the paragraphs
+selected, and oh, mockery and bitterness, two out of three happened to
+be passages he had read with Beekstein not an hour before. His eye
+went over them, he remembered them perfectly.
+
+"If that ain't the limit!" he said, choking. "To know 'em after all.
+Of course, now I can't do 'em. Of course, now if I hand 'em in the old
+rhinoceros will think I cribbed 'em. Of all the original Jobs I am the
+worst! This is the last straw!"
+
+When half an hour later The Roman returned Stover was sitting erect,
+with folded arms and lips compressed.
+
+"Ah, Stover, all through?" said The Roman, as though the House had not
+just been blown asunder. "Hand in your paper."
+
+Stover stiffly arose and handed him the foolscap. The Roman took it
+with a frowning little glance. At the top was written in big, defiant
+letters: "John H. Stover."
+
+Below there was nothing at all.
+
+Stover stood, swaying from heel to heel, watching The Roman.
+
+"What the deuce is he looking at?" he thought in wonder, as The Roman
+sat silently staring at the blank sheet.
+
+Finally he turned over the page, as though carefully perusing it,
+poised a pencil, and said in a low voice, without glancing up:
+
+"Well, John, I think this will just about pass."
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+The football season had ended victoriously. The next week brought the
+captaincy for the following year to Stover by unanimous approval. But
+the outlook for the next season was of the weakest; only four men
+would remain. The charge that he would have to lead would be a
+desperate one. This sense of responsibility was, perhaps, more acute
+in Stover than even the pleasure-giving sense of the attendant
+admiration of the school whenever he appeared among them.
+
+Other thoughts, too, were working within him. Ever since the
+extraordinary outcome of his examination at the hands of The Roman
+Stover had been in a ferment of confusion. The Roman's action amazed,
+then perplexed, then doubly confounded him.
+
+If The Roman was not his enemy, had not been all this time his
+persistent, malignant foe, what then? What was left to him to cling
+to? If he admitted this, then his whole career would have to be
+reconstructed. Could it be that, after all, month in and month out, it
+had been The Roman himself who had stood as his friend in all the
+hundred and one scrapes in which he had tempted Fate? And pondering on
+this gravely, Dink Stover, in the portion of his soul that was
+consecrated to fair play, was mightily exercised.
+
+He consulted Tough McCarty, as he consulted him now on everything that
+lay deeper than the lip currency of his fellows. They were returning
+from a long walk over the early December roads in the grays and drabs
+of the approaching twilight. Stover had been unusually silent, and the
+mood settled on him, as, turning the hill, they saw the clustered
+skyline of the school through the bared branches.
+
+"What the deuce makes you so solemncholy?" said Tough.
+
+"I was thinking," said Dink with dignity.
+
+"Excuse me."
+
+"I was thinking," said Dink, rousing himself, "that I've been all
+wrong."
+
+"I don't get that."
+
+"I mean The Roman."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Tough, you know down at the bottom I have a sneaking suspicion that
+he's been for me right along. It's a rotten feeling, but I'm afraid
+it's so."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder. Have you spoken to him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm not sure. And then, I don't know just how to get to it."
+
+"Jump right in and tackle him around the knees," said Tough.
+
+"I think I will," said Dink, who understood the metaphor.
+
+They went up swinging briskly, watching in silence the never stale
+spectacle of the panorama of the school.
+
+"I say, Dink," said Tough suddenly, "Sis is going to put the clamps on
+that T. Willyboy, Ver Plank."
+
+"Really--when?" said Dink, surprised that the news brought him no
+emotion.
+
+"Next month."
+
+Stover laughed a little laugh.
+
+"You know," he said with a bit of confusion, "I fancied I was terribly
+in love with Josephine myself--for a little while."
+
+"Sure," said Tough without surprise. "Jo would flirt with anything
+that had long pants on."
+
+"Yes, she's a flirt," said Stover, and the judgment sounded like the
+swish of shears cutting away angels' wings.
+
+They separated at the campus and Stover went toward the Kennedy.
+Half-way there an excited little urchin came rushing up, pulling off
+his cap.
+
+"Well, what is it, youngster?" said Stover, who didn't recognize him.
+
+"Please, sir," said the young hero worshiper, producing a photograph
+of the team from under his jacket, "would you mind putting your name
+on this? I should be awfully obliged."
+
+Stover took it and wrote his name.
+
+"Who is this?"
+
+"Williams, Jigs Williams, sir, over in the Cleve."
+
+"Well, Jigs, there you are."
+
+"Oh, thank you. Say----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Aren't you going to have an individual photograph?"
+
+"No, of course not," said Stover with only outward gruffness.
+
+"All the fellows are crazy for one, sir."
+
+"Run along, now," said Stover with a pleased laugh. He stood on the
+steps, watching the elated Jigs go scudding across the Circle, and
+then went into the Kennedy. In his box was a letter of congratulation
+from Miss Dow. He read it smiling, and then took up the photograph and
+examined it more critically.
+
+"She's a dear little girl," he said. "Devilish smart figure."
+
+Miss Dow, of course, was very young. She was only twenty.
+
+That night, after an hour's brown meditation, he suddenly rose and,
+descending the stairs, knocked at the sanctum sanctorum.
+
+"Come in," said the low, musical voice.
+
+Stover entered solemnly.
+
+"Ah, it's you, John," said The Roman with a smile.
+
+"Yes, sir, it's me," said Stover, leaning up against the door.
+
+The Roman glanced up quickly and, seeing what was coming, took up the
+paper-cutter and began to twist it through his fingers. There was a
+silence, long and painful.
+
+"Well?" said The Roman in a queer voice.
+
+"Mr. Hopkins," said Dink, advancing a step. "I guess I've been all
+wrong. I haven't come to you before, as I suppose I ought, because
+I've had to sort of think it over. But now, sir, I've come in to have
+it out."
+
+"I'm glad you have, John."
+
+"I want to ask you one question."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Have you, all this time, really been standing by me, yanking me out
+of all the messes I got in?"
+
+"Well, that expresses it, perhaps."
+
+"Then I've been way off," said Stover solemnly. "Why, sir, all this
+time I thought you were down on me, had it in for me, right from the
+first."
+
+"From our first meeting?" said The Roman, with a little chuckle.
+"Perhaps, John, you didn't give me credit--shall I say, for a sense of
+humor?"
+
+"Yes, sir." Stover looked a moment at his polished boot and then
+resolutely at The Roman. "Mr. Hopkins, I've been all wrong. I've been
+unfair, sir; I want to apologize to you."
+
+"Thank you," said The Roman, and then because they were Anglo-Saxons
+they shook hands and instantly dropped them.
+
+"Mr. Hopkins," said Stover after a moment, "I must have given you some
+pretty hard times?"
+
+"You were always full of energy, John."
+
+"I don't see what made you stand by me, sir."
+
+"John," said The Roman, leaning back and caging his fingers, "it is a
+truth which it is, perhaps, unwise to publish abroad, and I shall have
+to swear you to the secret. It is the boy whose energy must explode
+periodically and often disastrously, it is the boy who gives us the
+most trouble, who wears down our patience and tries our souls, who is
+really the most worth while."
+
+"Not the high markers and the gospel sharks?" said Stover, too amazed
+to choose the classic line.
+
+"Sh!" said the Roman, laying his finger on his lips.
+
+Stover felt as though he held the secret of kings.
+
+"And now, John," said The Roman in a matter-of-fact tone, "since you
+are behind the scenes, one thing more. The real teacher, the real
+instructor, is not I, it is you. We of the Faculty can only paint the
+memory with facts that are like the writing in the sand. The real
+things that are learned are learned from you. Now, forgive me for
+being a little serious. You are a leader. It is a great
+responsibility. They're all looking up at you, copying you. You set
+the standard; set a manly one."
+
+"I think, sir, I've tried to do that--lately," said Stover, nodding.
+
+"And now, in the House--bring out some of the younger fellows."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"There's Norris. Perhaps a little serious talk--only a word dropped."
+
+"You're right, sir; I understand what you mean."
+
+"Then there's Berbecker."
+
+"He's only a little fresh, sir; there's good stuff in him."
+
+"And then, John, there's a boy who's been under early disadvantages,
+but a bright boy, full of energy, good mind, but needs to be taken in
+hand, with a little kindness."
+
+"Who, sir?"
+
+"Bellefont."
+
+"Bellefont!" said Stover, exploding. "I beg your pardon, sir. You're
+wrong there. That kid is hopeless. Nothing will do him any good. He's
+a perfect little nuisance. He's a thoroughgoing, out-and-out little
+varmint!"
+
+The Roman tapped the table and, looking far out through the darkened
+window, smiled the gentle smile of one who has watched the
+ever-recurrent miracle of humanity, the struggling birth of the man
+out of the dirtied, hopeless cocoon of the boy.
+
+And Stover, suddenly beholding that smile, all at once stopped,
+blushed and understood!
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Varmint, by Owen Johnson and F. R. Gruger
+
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