A MASTER'S DEGREE By Margaret Hill McCarter TO THE KANSAS BOYS AND GIRLS WHO HAVE NOT YET EARNED THEIR DEGREES; AND TO THOSE OLDER IN YEARS, EVERYWHERE, "CAPTAINS OVER HUNDREDS, " WHO WOULD WIN TO THE LARGER MASTERY. In the old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them gently forth toward a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child's. GEORGE ELIOT CONTENTS CHAPTER THE MEETING I. "DEAN FUNNYBONE" II. POTTER'S CLAY III. PIGEON PLACE IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL V. THE STORM VI. THE GAME VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS XII. THE SILVER PITCHER XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE XIV. THE DERELICTS XV. THE MASTERY THE PARTING A MASTER'S DEGREE THE MEETING ... There is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth! KIPLING IT happened by mere chance that the September day on which ProfessorVincent Burgess, A. B. , from Boston, first entered Sunrise College asinstructor in Greek, was the same day on which Vic Burleigh, overgrowncountry boy from a Kansas claim out beyond the Walnut River, signed upwith the secretary of the College Board and paid the entrance fee forhis freshman year. And further, by chance, it happened that the twoyoung men had first met at the gateway to the campus, one comingfrom the East and the other from the West, and having exchanged thecourtesies of stranger greeting, they had walked, side by side, up thelong avenue to the foot of the slope. Together, they had climbed thebroad flight of steps leading up to the imposing doorway of Sunrise, with the great letter S carved in stone relief above it; and, afterpausing a moment to take in the matchless wonder of the landscape overwhich old Sunrise keeps watch, the college portal had swung open, andthe two had entered at the same time. Inside the doorway the Professor and the country boy were impressed, though in differing degrees, with the massive beauty of the rotunda overwhich the stained glass of the dome hangs a halo of mellow radiance. Involuntarily they lifted their eyes toward this crown of light andsaw far above them, wrought in dainty coloring, the design of the greatState Seal of Kansas, with its inscription They saw something more inthat upward glance. On the stairway of the rotunda, Elinor Wream, the niece of the president of Sunrise College, was leaning over thebalustrade, looking at them with curious eyes. Her smile of recognitionas she caught sight of Professor Burgess, gave place to an expression ofhalf-concealed ridicule, as she glanced down at Vic Burleigh, the big, heavy-boned young fellow, so grotesquely impossible to the harmony ofthe place. As the two men dropped their eyes, they encountered the upturned faceof a plainly dressed girl coming up the stairs from the basement, with abig feather duster in her hand. It was old Bond Saxon's daughter Dennie, who was earning her tuition by keeping the library and offices inorder. As if to even matters, it was Vic Burleigh who caught a token ofrecognition now, while the young Professor was surveyed with fearlessdisapproval. All this took only a moment of time. Long afterward these two men knewthat in that moment an antagonism was born between them that must fightitself out through the length of days. But now, Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, Deanof Sunrise, known to students and alumni alike as "Dean Funnybone, " wasgrasping each man's hand with a cordial grip and measuring each with akeen glance from piercing black eyes, as he bade them equal welcome. And here all likeness of conditions ends for these two. Days come andgo, moons wax and wane, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer andwinter glide fourfold through their appointed seasons, before the twoyoung men stand side by side on a common level again. And the eventsof these changing seasons ring in so rapidly, and in so inevitable afashion, that the whole cycle runs like a real story along the page. STRIFE _With the first faint note out of distance flung, From the moment man hears the siren call Of Victory's bugle, which sounds for all, To his inner self the promise is made To weary not, rest not, but all unafraid Press on--till for him the paean be sung. The song for the victor is sweet, is sweet-- Yet to the music a memory clings Of trampled nestlings, of broken wings, And of faces white with defeat!_ --ELIZABETH D. PRESTON CHAPTER I. "DEAN FUNNYBONE" _Nature they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote: For him her Old-World moulds aside she threw, ............................. With stuff untainted, shaped a hero new_. --LOWELL DR. LLOYD FENNEBEN, Dean of Sunrise College, had migrated to the WalnutValley with the founding of the school here. In fact, he had brought thecollege with him when he came hither, and had set it, as a light not tobe hidden, on the crest of that high ridge that runs east of the littletown of Lagonda Ledge. And the town eagerly took the new school toitself; at once its pride and profit. Yea, the town rises and sets withSunrise. When the first gleam of morning, hidden by the east ridge fromthe Walnut Valley, glints redly from the south windows of the collegedome in the winter time, and from the north windows in the summer time, the town bestirs; itself, and the factory whistles blow. And when thelast crimson glory of evening puts a halo of flame about the brow ofSunrise, the people know that out beyond the Walnut River the day ispassing, and the pearl-gray mantle of twilight is deepening to velvetydarkness on the wide, quiet prairie lands. Lagonda Ledge was a better place after the college settled permanentlyabove it. Some improvident citizens took a new hold on life, while someundesirables who had lived in lawless infamy skulked across the Walnutand disappeared in that rough picturesque region full of uncertaintiesthat lies behind the west bluffs of the stream. All this, after thecollege had found an abiding place on the limestone ridge. For Sunrisehad been a migratory bird before reaching the outskirts of LagondaLedge. As a fulfillment of prophecy, it had arisen from the visions andpockets of some Boston scholars, and it had come to the West and wasmade flesh--or stone--and dwelt among men on the outskirts of a boomingyoung Kansas town. Lloyd Fenneben was just out of Harvard when Dr. Joshua Wream, hisstep-brother, many years his senior, professor of all the dead languagesever left unburied, had put a considerable fortune into his hands, andinto his brain the dream of a life-work--even the building of a greatuniversity in the West. For the Wreams were a stubborn, self-willed, bookish breed, who held that salvation of souls could come only throughpossession of a college diploma. Young Fenneben had come to Kansas withall his youth and health and money, with high ideals and culture andambition for success and dreams of honor--and, hidden deep down, thememory of some sort of love affair, but that was his own business. Withthis dream of a new Harvard on the western prairies, he had burned hisbridges behind him, and in an unbusiness-like way, relying too much upona board of trustees whom he had interested in his plans he had eagerlybegun his task, struggling to adapt the West to his university model, measuring all men and means by the scholarly rule of his Alma Mater. Being a young man, he took himself full seriously, and it was atremendous blow to his sense of dignity when the youthful Jayhawkers atthe outset dubbed him "Dean Funnybone"--a name he was never to lose. His college flourished so amazingly that another boom town, fartherinland, came across the prairie one day, and before the eyes of theyoung dean bought it of the money-loving trustees--body and soul anddean--and packed it off as the Plains Indians would carry off a whitecaptive, miles away to the westward. Plumped down in a big framebarracks in the public square of twenty acres in the middle of this newtown, at once real estate dealers advertised the place as the literarycenter of Kansas; while lots in straggling additions far away across theprairie draws were boomed as "college flats within walking distance ofthe university. " In this new setting Lloyd Fenneben started again to build up what hadbeen so recklessly torn down. But it was slow doing, and in a downcasthour the head of the board of trustees took council with the young dean. "Funnybone, that's what the boys call you, ain't it?" The name had comealong over the prairie with the school. "Funnybone, you are as likelya man as ever escaped from Boston. But you're never going to build theEast into the West, no more'n you could ram the West into the Atlanticseaboard states. My advice to you is to get yourself into the West forgood and drop your higher learnin' notions, and be one of us, or beat itback to where you came from quick. " Dean Fenneben listened as a man who hears the reading of his ownobituary. "You've come out to Kansas with beautiful dreams, " the bluff trusteecontinued. "Drop 'em! You're too late for the New England pioneers whocome West. They've had their day and passed on. The thing for you to dois to commercialize yourself right away. Go to buyin' and sellin' dirt. It's all a man can do for Kansas now. Just boom her real estate. " "All a man can do for Kansas!" Fenneben repeated slowly. "Sure, and I'll tell you something more. This town is busted, absolutelybusted. I, and a few others, brought this college here as an investmentfor ourselves. It ain't paid us, and we've throwed the thing over. I'vejust closed a deal with a New Jersey syndicate that gets me rid of everyfoot of ground I own here. The county-seat's goin' to be eighteenmiles south, and it will be kingdom come, a'most, before the railroadextension is any nearer 'n that. Let your university go, and come withme. I can make you rich in six months. In six weeks the coyotes will behowlin' through your college halls, and the prairie dogs layin' outa townsite on the campus, and the rattlesnakes coilin' round thedoorsteps. Will you come, Funnybone?" The trustee waited for an answer. While he waited, the soul of the youngdean found itself. "Funnybone!" Lloyd repeated. "I guess that's just what I need--a funnybone in my anatomy to help me to see the humor of this thing. Go withyou and give up my college? Build up the prosperity of a commonwealthby starving its mind! No, no; I'll go on with the thing I came here todo--so help me God!" "You'll soon go to the devil, you and your old school. Good-by!" And thetrustee left him. A month later, Dean Fenneben sat alone in his university barracks andsaw the prairie dogs making the dust fly as they digged about what hadbeen intended for a flower bed on the campus. Then he packed up hismeager library and other college equipments and walked ten miles acrossthe plains to hire a man with a team to haul them away. The teamster hadmuch ado to drive his half-bridle-wise Indian ponies near enough tothe university doorway to load his wagon. Before the threshold a hugerattlesnake lay coiled, already disputing any human claim to thiskingdom of the wild. Discouraging as all this must have been to Fenneben, when he startedaway from the deserted town he smiled joyously as a man who sees hisroad fair before him. "I might go back to Cambridge and poke about after the dead languagesuntil my brother passes on, and then drop into his chair in theuniversity, " he said to himself, "but the trustee was right. I can neverbuild the East into the West. But I can learn from the East how to bringthe West into its own kingdom. I can make the dead languages serve methe better to speak the living words here. And if I can do that, Imay earn a Master's Degree from my Alma Mater without the writing of alearned thesis to clinch it. But whether I win honor or I am forgotten, this shall be my life-work--out on these Kansas prairies, to till a soilthat shall grow MEN AND WOMEN. " For the next three years Dean Fenneben and his college flourished onthe borders of a little frontier town, if that can be called flourishingwhich uses up time, and money, and energy, Christian patience, anddogged persistence. Then an August prairie fire, sweeping up from thesouthwest, leaped the narrow fire-guard about the one building andburned up everything there, except Dean Fenneben. Six years, and nothingto show for his work on the outside. Inside, the six years' stayin Kansas had seen the making over of a scholarly dreamer into ahard-headed, far-seeing, masterful man, who took the West as he foundit, but did not leave it so. Not he! All the power of higher learning hestill held supreme. But by days of hard work in the college halls, andnights of meditation out in the silent sanctuary spaces of the prairiesround about him, he had been learning how to compute the needs of men asthe angel with the golden reed computed the walls and gates of the NewJerusalem--_according to the measure of a man_. Such was Dean Fenneben who came after six years of service to the littletown of Lagonda Ledge to plant Sunrise on the crest above the WalnutValley beyond reach of prairie fire or bursting boom. Firm set as thelimestone of its foundations, he reared here a college that should live, for that its builder himself with his feet on the ground and his facetoward the light had learned the secret of living. Miles away across the valley, the dome of Sunrise could be seen by day. By night, the old college lantern at first, and later the studding ofelectric lights, made a beacon for all the open countryside. But ifthe wayfarer, by chance or choice, turned his footsteps to those rockybluffs and glens beyond the Walnut River, wherefrom the town of LagondaLedge takes its name, he lost the guiding ray from the hilltop andgroped in black and dangerous ways where darkness rules. Above the south turret hung the Sunrise bell, whose resonant voicefilled the whole valley, and what the sight of Sunrise failed to do forLagonda Ledge, the sound of the bell accomplished. The first class toenter the school nicknamed its head "Dean Funnybone, " but this gave himno shock any more. He had learned the humor of life now, the spirit ofthe open land where the view is broad to broadening souls. And it was to the hand of Dean Fenneben that Professor Vincent Burgess, A. B. , Greek instructor from Boston, and Vic Burleigh, the big countryboy from a claim beyond the Walnut, came on a September day; albeit, theone had his head in the clouds, while the other's feet were clogged withthe grass roots. CHAPTER II. POTTER'S CLAY _This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand, For some must follow and some command, Though all are made of clay_. --LONGFELLOW THE afternoon sunshine was flooding the September landscape with moltengold, filling the valley with intense heat, and rippling back in warmwaves from the crest of the ridge. Dean Fenneben's study in the southtower of Sunrise looked out on the new heaven and the new earth, everyday-dawn created afresh for his eyes; for truly, the Walnut Valley inany mood needs only eyes that see to be called a goodly land. And itwas because of the magnificent vista, unfolding in woodland, and windingriver, and fertile field, and far golden prairie--it was because of theunconscious power of all this upon the student mind, that Dr. Fennebenhad set his college up here. On this September afternoon, the Dean sat looking out on this land ofpure delight a-quiver in the late summer sunshine. Nature had done wellby Lloyd Fenneben. His height was commanding, and he was slender, ratherthan heavy, with ease of movement as if the play of every muscle wasnerved to harmony. His heavy black hair was worn a trifle long on theupper part of his head and fell in masses above his forehead. His eyeswere black and keen under heavy black brows. Every feature was strongand massive, but saved from sternness by a genial kindliness and senseof humor. Whoever came into his presence felt that magnetic power only aking of his kind can possess. Long the Dean sat gazing at the gleaming landscape and the sleepy townbeyond the campus and the pigeons circling gracefully above a littlecottage, hidden by trees, up the river. "A wonderful region!" he murmured. "If that old white-haired brother ofmine digging about the roots of Greek and Sanscrit back in Harvard couldonly see all this, maybe he might understand why I choose to stay herewith my college instead of tying up with a university back East. But, maybe not. We are only step-brothers. He is old enough to be my father, and with all his knowledge of books he could never read men. However, hesent me West with a fat pocketbook in the interest of higher education. I hope I've invested well. And our magnificent group of buildings uphere and our broad-acred campus, together with our splendid enrollmentof students justify my hope. Strange, I have never known whose moneyI was using. Not Joshua Wream's, I know that. Money is nothing to theWreams except as it endows libraries, builds colleges, and extendsuniversities. Too scholarly for these prairies, all of them! Tooscholarly!" The Dean's eyes were fixed on a tiny shaft of blue smoke rising steadilyfrom the rough country in the valley beyond Lagonda Ledge, but his mindwas still on his brother. "Dr. Joshua Wream, D. D. , Litt. D. , LL. D. , etc. ! He has taken all thedegrees conferable, except the degree of human insight. " Somethingbehind the strong face sent a line of pathos into it with the thought. "He has piled up enough for me to look after this fall, anyhow. It wasbad enough for that niece of ours to be left a penniless orphan withonly the two uncles to look after her and both of us bachelors. And now, after he has been shaping Elinor Wream's life until she is ready forcollege, he sends her out here to me, frankly declaring that she is toomuch for him. She always was. " He turned to a letter lying on the table beside him, a smile playingabout the frown on his countenance. "He hopes I can do better by Elinor than he has been able to do, becausehe's never had a wife nor child to teach him, " he continued, giving wordto his thought. "A fine time for me to begin! No wife nor child has evertaught me anything. He says she is a good girl, a beautiful girl withonly two great faults. Only two! She's lucky. 'One'"--Fenneben glancedmore closely at the letter--"'is her self-will. ' I never knew a Wreamthat didn't have that fault. 'And the other'"--the frown drove back thesmile now--"'is her notion of wealth. Nobody but a rich man could everwin her hand. ' She who has been simply reared, with all the Wream creedthat higher education is the final end of man, is set with a Wream-likefirmness in her hatred of poverty, her eagerness for riches and luxury. And to add to all this responsibility he must send me his pet Greekscholar, Vincent Burgess, to try out as a professor in Sunrise. ABurgess, of all men in the world, to be sent to me! Of course thisyoung man knows nothing of my affairs but is my brother too old andtoo scholarly to remember what I've tried a thousand times to forget? Ithought the old wound had healed by this time. " A wave of sadness swept the strong man's face. "I've asked Burgess tocome up at three. I must find out what material is sent here for myshaping. It is a president's business to shape well, and I must do mybest, God help me!" A shadow darkened Lloyd Fenneben's face, and his black eyes held astrange light. He stared vacantly at the landscape until he suddenlynoted the slender wavering pillar of smoke beyond the Walnut. "There are no houses in those glens and hidden places, " he thought. "Iwonder what fire is under that smoke on a day like this. It is a far cryfrom the top of this ridge to the bottom of that half-tamed region downthere. One may see into three counties here, but it is rough travelingacross the river by day, and worse by night. " The bell above the south turret chimed the hour of three as VincentBurgess entered the study. "Take this seat by the window, " Dr. Fenneben said with a genial smileand a handclasp worth remembering. "You can see an Empire from thispoint, if you care to look out. " Vincent Burgess sat at ease in any presence. He had the face of ascholar, and the manners of a gentleman. But he gave no sign that hecared to view the empire that lay beyond the window. "We are to be co-workers for some time, Burgess. May I ask you why youchose to come to Kansas?" Fenneben came straight to the purpose of the interview. This keen-eyed, business-like man seemed to Burgess very unlike old Dr. Wream, whomeverybody at Harvard loved and anybody could deceive. But to the directquestion he answered directly and concisely. "I came to study types, to acquire geographical breadth, to haveseclusion, that I may pursue more profound research. " There was a play of light in Dr. Fenneben's eyes. "You must judge for yourself of the value of Sunrise and Lagonda Ledgefor seclusion. But we make a specialty of geographical breadth out here. As to types, they assay fairly well to the ton, these Jayhawkers do. " "What are Jayhawkers, Doctor?" Burgess queried. "Yonder is one specimen, " Fenneben answered, pointing toward the window. Vincent Burgess, looking out, saw Vic Burleigh leaping up the broadsteps from the level campus, a giant fellow, fully six feet tall. The swing of strength, void of grace, was in his motion. His face wasgypsy-brown under a crop of sunburned auburn hair. A stiff new derbyhat was set bashfully on a head set unabashed on broad shoulders. Thestore-mark of the ready-made was on his clothing, and it was clear thathe was less accustomed to cut stone steps than to springing prairie sod. Clearly he was a real product of the soil. "Why, that is the young bumpkin I came in with this morning. I thoughtI was striding alongside an elephant in bulk and wild horse in speed, "Burgess said with a smile. "You will have a share in taming him, doubtless, " Dr. Fenneben replied. "He looks hardly bridle-wise yet. Enter him among your types. I didn'tget his name this morning, but he interested me at once, as a fellow ofgood blood if not of good manners, and I have asked him to come in herelater. Some boys must be met on the very threshold of a college if theyare to run safely along the four years. " "His name is Burleigh, Victor Burleigh. I remember it because it is nota new name to me. Picture him in a cap and gown at home in a library, or standing up to receive a Master's Degree from a university! His kindleave about the middle of the second semester and revert to the soil, don't they?" Burgess laughed pleasantly, and leaned forward to get one more look atthe country boy, disappearing behind a group of evergreens in the northangle of the building. "They do not always leave so soon as that. You can't tell the grade oftimber every time by the bark outside. " There was a deeper tone in Dr. Fenneben's voice now. "But as to yourself, you had a motive in coming toKansas, I judge. You can study types anywhere. " Whether the young man liked this or not, he answered evenly: "I am to give instruction in Greek here at Lagonda Ledge. Beastly name, isn't it? Suggestive of rattlesnakes, somehow! I shall spend much timein study, for I am preparing a comprehensive thesis for my Master'sDegree. The very barrenness of these dull prairies will keep me close tomy library for a couple of years. " "Oh, you will do your work well anywhere, " Dr. Fenneben declared. "Youneed not put walls of distances about you for that. I thought you mighthave a more definite purpose in choosing this state, of all places. " Fenneben's mind was running back to the days of his own first strugglefor existence in the West, and his heart went out in sympathy to theundisciplined young professor. "I have a reason, but it is entirely a personal matter. " Burgess waslooking at the floor now. "Did you know I had a sister once?" "Yes, I know, " Dr. Fenneben said. "She was married and came to Kansas. That was after you left Cambridge, I suppose. She and her husband are both dead, leaving no children. Myfather was bitterly opposed to her coming out here, and never forgaveher for it. He died recently, making me his heir. I've always thoughtI'd like to see the state where my sister lived. She died young. Shecould not have been as old as you are, and you are a young man yet, Doctor. In addition, my father left in my care some trust funds for aclaimant who also lived in Kansas. He is dead now, but I want to findout something more definite concerning him. Outside of this, I hope todo well here and to succeed to higher places elsewhere, soon. All thispersonal to myself, and worthy, I hope. " He looked at Fenneben, who was leaning forward with his elbow on thetable and his head bowed. His face was hidden and his white fingers werethrust through the heavy masses of black hair. "You will find a great field here in which to work out your success, "the Dean said at length. "But I must give a word of warning. I triedonce to reproduce the eastern university here. I learned better. IfKansas is to be your training ground, may I say that the man who openshis front door for the first time on the green prairies of the West hasno less to learn than the man who first pitches his tent beside the blueAtlantic? Don't say I didn't show you where to find the blazed trail ifyou get lost from it for a little while. " Dr. Fenneben's face was charming when he smiled. "One other thing I may mention. You know my niece, Elinor? I've been outhere so long, I may need your help in making her feel at home at first. " There was a new light in Burgess's eyes at the mention of Elinor Wream'sname. "Oh, yes, I know Miss Elinor very well. I shall need her more to make mefeel at home than she will need me. " Somehow the answer was a trifle too quick and smooth to ring right. Dr. Fenneben forgot it in an instant, however, for Elinor Wream herself camesuddenly into the room, a tall, slender girl, with a face so full ofsunshiny charm that no great defect of character had yet made its markthere. "I beg your pardon, Uncle Lloyd; I thought you were alone. How do youdo, Professor Burgess. " She came forward smilingly and offered her hand. "Makes me homesick for old Cambridge and Uncle Joshua when I see you. Iwant to go down to Lagonda Ledge, and I don't know the streets at all. Don't you want to show me the way?" "Can't you wait for me to do that, Norrie? I have only one moreengagement for the afternoon, and Miss Saxon will be wanting to dust inhere soon. " Dr. Fenneben looked fondly at his niece, a man to make othermen jealous, if occasion offered. "Please don't, Miss Elinor, " Vincent Burgess urged. "I shall bedelighted to explore darkest Kansas with you at any time. " "There is no mistaking that look in a man's eyes, " Dr. Fenneben thoughtas he watched the two pass through the rotunda and out of the greatfront door. "I have guessed Joshua's plan easily enough, but I've onlyhalf guessed him out. Why did he mention his money matters to me? Thereis enough merit in him worth the shaping Sunrise will give him, however, and I must do a man's part, anyhow. As for Elinor, there's a ready-mademissionary field in her, so Joshua warns me. But he is a poor judgesometimes. I wish I might have begun with her sooner. I cannot think sheis quite as mercenary as he represents her to be. " Through the window he saw a pretty picture. Outlined against the darkgreen cedars of the north angle was Professor Burgess, tall, slender, fair of face, faultless in dress. Beside him was Elinor Wream, alldainty and sweet and white, from the broad-brimmed hat set jauntily onher dark hair to the white bows on the instep of her neat little canvasshoes. A wave of loneliness swept over Dr. Fenneben's soul as he looked. "It must have been a thousand years ago that I was in love and walked inmy Eden. There are no serpents here as there were in mine. " Just then his eyes fell upon the wide stone landing of the campus steps. At the same moment Elinor gave a scream of fright. A bull snake, bigand ugly, had crawled half out of the burned grasses of the slope andstretched itself lazily in the sunshine along the warm stone. It rouseditself at the scream, emitting its hoarse hiss, after the manner of bullsnakes. Elinor clutched at her companion's arm, pale with fear. "Kill it! Kill it!" she cried, trying to force her slender white parasolinto his hand. Before he could move, Vic Burleigh leaped out from behind the cedars, and, picking up a sharp-edged bit of limestone, tipped his handdexterously and sent it clean as a knife cut across the space. It struckthe snake just below the head, half severing it from the body. Anotherleap and Burleigh had kicked the whole writhing mass--it would havemeasured five feet--off the stone into the sunflower stalks and longgrasses of the steep slope. "How did you ever dare?" Elinor asked. "Oh, he's not poison; he just doesn't belong up here. " The bluntness of timidity was in Vic's answer, but the strength andmusical depth of his resonant voice was almost startling. "There is no Eden without a serpent, Miss Elinor, " Professor Burgesssaid lightly. "Nor a serpent without some sort of Eden built around it. The thing'smate will be along after it pretty soon. Look out for it down there. Thebest place to catch it is right behind its ears, " came the boy's quickresponse. Burleigh looked back defiantly at Burgess as he disappeared indoors. Andthe antagonism born in the meeting of these two men in the morning tookon a tiny degree of strength in the afternoon. "What a wonderful voice, Vincent. It makes one want to hear it again, "Elinor exclaimed. "Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope neverto see it again, " her companion responded. "But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me, " Elinorinsisted. "My dear Miss Elinor, he was probably born in some Kansas cabin and haspracticed killing snakes all his life. Not a very elevating feat. Let'sgo down and explore Lagonda Ledge now before the other snake comes infor the coroner's inquest. " And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus and onto the town beyond it. "You are hard on snakes, Burleigh, " Dr. Fenneben said as he welcomed thecountry boy into his study. "A bull snake is a harmless creature, and heis the farmer's friend. " "Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend of mine, " Vicreplied. He was overflowing the chair recently graced by Professor Burgess andclutching his derby as if it might escape and leave him bareheadedforever. His face had a dogged expression and his glance was stern. Yethis direct words and the deep richness of his voice put him outside ofthe class of commonplace beginners. "Are you fond of killing things?" the Dean asked. The ruddy color deepened in Vic Burleigh's brown cheek, but thesteadfast gaze of his eyes and the firm lines of his mouth told thehead of Sunrise something of what he would find in the sturdy youngJayhawker. "Sometimes, " came the blunt answer. "I've always lived on a Kansasclaim. Unless you know what that means you might not understand--howhard a life"--Vic stopped abruptly and squeezed the rim of his derby. "Never mind. We take only face value here. Fine view from that window, "and Lloyd Fenneben's genial smile began to win the heart of the countryboy as most young hearts were won to him. Burleigh leaned toward the window, forgetful of the chair arms he hadstriven to subdue, the late afternoon sunlight falling on his brown faceand glinting in his auburn hair. "It's as pretty as paradise, " he said, simply. "There's nothing like ourKansas prairies. " "You come from the plains out west, I hear. How long do you plan to stayhere, Burleigh?" Dr. Fenneben asked. "Four years if I can make it go. I've got a little schooling and I knowhow to herd cattle. I need more than this, if I am only a country boy. " "Who pays for your schooling, yourself, or your father?" Fennebenqueried. "I have no father nor mother now. " "You are willing to work four years to get a diploma from Sunrise? It ishard work; all the harder if you have not had much schooling before it. " "I'm willing to work, and I'd like to have the diploma for it, " Vicanswered. "Burleigh, did you notice the letter S carved in the stone above thedoor?" "Yes, sir; I suppose it stands for Sunrise?" "It does. But with the years it will take on new meanings for you. When you have learned all these meanings you will be ready for yourdiploma--and more. You will be far on your way to the winning of aMaster's Degree. " Vic's eyes widened with a sort of child-like simplicity. He forgot hishat and the chair arms, and Dr. Fenneben noted for the first time thathis golden-brown eyes matching his auburn hair were shaded by long blacklashes, the kind artists rave about, and arched over with black brows. "His eyes and voice are all right, " was the Dean's mental comment. "There's good blood in his veins, I'll wager. " But before he could speak further the shrill scream of a frightenedchild came from the campus below the ridge. At the cry Vic Burleighsprang to his feet, upsetting his chair, and without stopping to pick itup, he rushed from the building. As he tore down the long flight of steps, Lloyd Fenneben caught sight ofa child on the level campus running toward him as fast as its fat littlelegs could toddle. Two minutes later Vic Burleigh was back in the study, panting and hot, with the little one clinging to his neck. "Excuse me, please, " Vic said as he lifted the fallen chair. "Iforgot all about Bug down there, and the widow Bull"--he gave ahalf-smile--"was wriggling around trying to find her mate, and scaredhim. He's too little to be left alone, anyhow. " Bug was a sturdy, stubby three-year-old, or less, dimpled and brown, with big dark eyes and a tangle of soft little red-brown ringlets. AsVic seated himself, Bug perched on the arm of the chair inside of thebig boy's encircling arm. "Who is your friend? Is he your brother?" asked the Dean. "No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, except that hisname is Buler. Bug Buler, he says. " Little Bug put up a chubby brown hand loving-wise to Vic Burleigh'sbrown cheek, and, looking straight at Dr. Fenneben with wide seriouseyes, he asked, "Is you dood to Vic?" "Yes, indeed, " replied the Dean. "Nen, I like you fornever, " Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightlythat his checks puffed. "How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?" questionedFenneben. "Because he's got nobody else to look after him, " answered Vic. "How about an orphan asylum?" Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, and everyfeature of his stern face softened. "Will it make any difference about him if I get my lessons, sir? Ican't let Bug go now. We are the limit for each other--neither of usgot anybody else. I take care of him, but he keeps me from getting toocoarse and rough. Every fellow needs something innocent and good abouthim sometimes. " "Oh, no! Keep him if you want him. But would you mind telling me abouthim?" "I'd rather not now, " Burleigh said, quietly, and Lloyd Fenneben knewwhen to drop a subject. "Then I'm through with you for today, Burleigh. I must let Miss Saxonhave my room now. Come here whenever you like, and bring Bug if you careto. " Sunrise students always left Dr. Fenneben's study with a little moreof self-respect than when they entered it; richer, not so much from theword as from the spirit of the head of Sunrise. Victor Burleigh withlittle Bug Buler's fat fist clasped in his big, hard hand walked outof the college door that afternoon with the unconscious baptism of thestudent upon him, the dim sense of a fellowship with a scholarly masterof books and of men. Back in his study Lloyd Fenneben sat looking out once more at the Empirethat meant nothing but dreary distances to the scholarly professor ofGreek, and seemed a paradise to the untrained young fellow from theprairies. "I see my stint of cloth for the day, " he murmured. "A college professorin the making who has much to unlearn; a crude young giant who is fondof killing things, and cares for helpless children; and a beautiful, wilful, characterless girl to be shown into her womanly heritage. Theclay is ready. It is the potter whose hands need skill. Victor Burleigh!Victor Burleigh! There's my greatest problem of all three. He has thestrength of a Titan in those arms, and the passion of a tiger behindthose innocent yellow eyes. God keep me on the hilltop nor let my feetonce get into the dark and dangerous ways!" He looked long at the landscape radiant under the level rays of splendorstreaming from the low afternoon sun. "I wonder who built that fire, and what that pillar of smoke meant thisafternoon. The mystery of our lives hangs some token in each day. " The shadows were gathering in the Walnut Valley, the pigeons about thecottage up the river, were in their cotes now, the heat of the day wasover, and with one more look at the far peaceful prairies Dr. LloydFenneben closed his study door and passed out into the cool Septemberair. CHAPTER III. PIGEON PLACE _Strange is the wind and the tide, The heavens eternally wide; Less fathomed, this life at my side_. --W. H. SIMPSON THE Sunrise rotunda was ringing with a chorus from three hundred throatsas three hundred students poured out of doors, and over-flowed the ridgeand spilled down the broad steps, making a babel of musical tongues;while fitting itself to every catchy college air known to Sunrise camethe noisy refrain: Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! _Rah!_ RAH! RAH!!! Again it was repeated, swelling along the ridge and floating wide awayover the Walnut Valley. Nor was there a climax of exuberance untilthe appearance of Dr. Lloyd Fenneben himself, with his tall figureand striking presence outlined against the gray stone columns of theveranda. All this because it was mid-October, a heaven-made autumn dayin Kansas, with its gracious warmth and bracing breath; with the Indiansummer haze in shimmering amethyst and gold overhanging the land; andthe Walnut Valley, gorgeous in the glow of the October frost-fires, winding down between broad seas of rainbow-radiant prairies. And allthis gladness and grandeur, by the decree of Dr. Fenneben, was givenin fee simple to these three hundred young people for the hours of oneperfect day--their annual autumn holiday. No wonder they filled theair with shouts. And before the singing had ceased the crowd broke intogroups by natural selection, and the holiday was begun. Whatever bounds of time Nature may give to the seed in which to becomea plant, or to the grub to become a butterfly, there is no set limitwherein the country-bred boy may bloom into a full-fledged collegestudent. Seven weeks after Vic Burleigh had come alongside the Greek Professorinto Sunrise, found the quick marvelous change from the timid, untrained, overgrown young giant into a leader of his clan, the pride ofthe Freshman, the terror of the Sophomores, the dramatic interest ofthe classroom, and the hope of Sunrise on the football gridiron. Hisstore-made clothes had a jaunty carelessness of fit. The tan had lefthis cheek. His auburn hair had lost its sun-burn. His powerful physique, the charm of his deep voice, the singular beauty of his wide opengolden-brown eyes, with their long black lashes lighting up his ruggedface, gave to him an attractive personality. Yet to Lloyd Fenneben, who saw below the surface, Victor Burleigh wasonly at the beginning of things. Something of the tiger light in thebrown eyes, the pride in brute strength, the blunt justice lacking thefiner sense of mercy, showed how wide yet was the distance between theman and the gentleman. When Dr. Fenneben returned to his study after the hilariousdemonstration he found Dennie Saxon busy with the little film of dustthat comes in overnight. Old Bond Saxon, Dennie's father, had been oneof the improvident of Lagonda Ledge who took a new lease on a livelihoodwith the advent of Sunrise. From being a dissipated old fellow driftingtoward pauperism, he became the proprietor of a respectable boardinghouse for students, doing average well. At rare intervals, however, helapsed into his old ways. During such occasions he kept to the riverside of the town. Sober, he was good-natured and obliging; drunken, hewas sullen, with a disposition to skulk out of sight and be alone. Hisdaughter Dennie had her father's good-nature combined with a will powerall her own. As Dr. Fenneben watched her about her work this morning, he notedhow comfortably she took hold of it. He noted, too, that her heavyyellow-brown hair was full of ripples just where ripples helped, thather arms were plump, that she was short and nothing willowy, and thatshe had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?" he asked, presently. "I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books in mydaydreams, " Dennie answered. "Where do you do your dreaming today?" "A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I mustmake the cakes yet this morning, " she answered. "Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?" theDean queried, smilingly. "Professor Burgess is to be our chaperon. He is all we can look after. "Dennie's gray eyes danced, but she was serious a moment later. "Dr. Fenneben, you can do something, maybe, that's none of yourbusiness, nor mine. " Dennie wondered afterward how she could have hadthe courage to speak these words. "That's generally the easy thing. What is it?" the Dean smiled. The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite tohim. "Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?" she began. "The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman livesalone with a fierce dog?" he asked. "Yes, you never heard anything more?" Dennie queried. "Only that the house is hidden from the road and has many pigeons aboutit, and that the woman sees few callers. I've never located the place. Tell me about it, " he replied. "Bug Buler and I were up there after eggs this morning. Bug is VictorBurleigh's little boy. They board at our house, " Dennie explained. "Pigeon Place is a little cottage all covered with vines and withflowers everywhere. It's hidden away from the road just outside of town. Mrs. Marian isn't crazy nor queer, only she seldom leaves home, nevergoes to church, nor visits anywhere. She doesn't care for anybody, nortake any interest in Lagonda Ledge, and she keeps a Great Dane dog, asbig as a calf, that is friendly to women and children, but won't let aman come near, unless Mrs. Marian says so. " Dennie paused. "Very interesting, Miss Dennie, but what can I do?" Fenneben asked. "Shall I kill the dog and carry off the woman like the regulation grimogre of the fairy tales?" Dennie hesitated. Few girls would have come to a college president onsuch a mission as hers. But then few college presidents are like LloydFenneben. "Of course nobody likes Mrs. Marian, and my father--when he's not quitehimself--says dreadful things if I mention her name. " Dennie's checkswere crimson as she thought of her father. "It's none of my business, but I've felt sorry for Mrs. Marian ever since she came here. She seemslike an innocent outcast. " "That is very pitiful. " Lloyd Fenneben's voice was sympathetic. "This morning, " continued Dennie, "Bug was playing with the dog outside, and I went into the house for the first time. Mrs. Marian is verypleasant. She asked me about my work here and I told her about Sunriseand you, and your niece, Miss Elinor, being here. " "All the interesting features. Did you mention Professor Burgess?" Thequery was innocently meant, but it brought the color to Dennie Saxon'scheek. "No, I didn't think he was in that class, " she replied, quickly. "Butwhat surprised me was her interest in things. She is a pretty, refined, young-looking woman, with gray hair. When I was leaving I turned backto ask about some eggs for Saturday. She thought I was gone, and she haddropped her head on the table and was crying, so I slipped out withouther knowing. " Dennie's gray eyes were full of tears now. "Dr. Fenneben, if talking about Sunrise made her do that, maybe you might do somethingfor her. I pity her so. Nobody seems to care about her. My father isset against her when he is not responsible, and he might--" She stoppedabruptly and did not finish the sentence. The Dean looked out of the window at the purple mist melting along thehorizon line. Down in the valley pigeons were circling above a woodedspot at a bend in the Walnut River. Fenneben remembered now that he hadseen them there many times. He had a boyhood memory of a country homewith pigeons flying about it. "I wish, too, that I might do something, " he said at last. "You say shewill not let men inside her gate now. I'll keep her in mind, though. Thegate may open some time. " It was mid-afternoon when Lloyd Fenneben left his study for a stroll. Ashe approached the Saxon House, he saw old Bond Saxon slipping out of theside gate and with uncertain steps skulk down the alley. "Poor old sinner! What a slave and a fool whisky can make of a man!" hethought. Then he remembered Dennie's anxiety of the morning. "There mustbe some cause for his prejudice against this strange hermit woman whenhe is drunk. Bond Saxon is not a man to hate anybody when he is sober. " "Is you Don Fonnybone?" Bug Buler's little piping voice from thedoorstep haled the Dean. "I finked Vic would turn, and he don't turn, and I 's hungry for somebody. May I go wis you, Don Fonnybone?" The babylips quivered. Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it. "Where shall we go, Bug? I 'm hungry for somebody, too. " "Let's do find the bunny the bid dod ist scared away this morning. Turnon!" Lloyd Fenneben was hardly conscious that Bug was choosing their pathas the two strolled away together. Everywhere there was the pathos of awaning autumn day, and a soft haze creeping out of the west was making ablood-red carbuncle of the sun, set as a jewel on the amber-veiled bosomof the sky. The air was soft, wooing the spirit to a still, sweet peace. The two were at the outskirts of Lagonda Ledge now. The last board walkwas three blocks back, and the cinder-made way had dwindled to a barehard path by the roadside. A bend in the river cutting close to the roadshows a long vista of the Walnut bordered by vine-draped shrubbery andoverhung with trees. A slab of limestone beside a huge elm tree hadbeen placed at this bend to prevent the bank from breaking, or a chancemisdriving into the water. "I 's pitty tired, " Bug said as the two reached the stone. "Will we tumto the bunny's house pitty soon?" "We'll rest here a while and maybe the bunny will come out to meet us, "Dr. Fenneben said, and they sat down on the broad stone. "It was somewhere here the bunny runned. " Little Bug studied theroadside with a quaint puzzled face. "Is you 'faid of snakes?" "Not very much. " The Dean's eyes were on the graceful flight of pigeonscircling about the trees beyond the bend. "Vic isn't 'faid. He killed bid one, two, five, free wattle, wattlesnakes--" Bug caught his breath suddenly--"He told me not to tell that. I fordot. I don't 'member. He didn't do it--he didn't killed no snakesfornever. " Dr. Fenneben gave little heed to this prattle. His eyes were on thepigeons cleaving the air with short, graceful flights. Presently he feltthe soft touch of baby curls against his hand, and little Bug had fallenasleep with his drooping head on Fenneben's lap. The Dean gently placed the tired little one in an easy position, andrested his shoulder against the tree. "That must be Pigeon Place, " he mused. "Every town has its oddcharacters. This is one of Lagonda Ledge's little mysteries. Denniefinds it a pathetic one. How graceful those pigeons are!" And histhoughts drifted to a far New England homestead where pigeons used tosweep about an old barn roof. A fuzzy gray rabbit flashed across the road, followed by a Great Danedog in hot chase. "Bug's bunny! I hope the big murderer will miss it, " Fenneben thought. The roadside bushes half hid him. As the crashing sound of the huge dogthrough the underbrush ceased he noticed a woman coming leisurely towardhim. Her arms were full of bitter-sweet berries and flaming autumnleaves. She wore no hat and Fenneben saw that her gray hair was woundlike a coronal about her head. Before he could catch sight of her face aheavy staggering step was beside him, and old Bond Saxon, muttering andshaking his clenched fists, passed beyond him toward the woman. LloydFenneben's own fists clenched, but he sat stone still. The woman seemedto melt into the bushes and obliterate herself entirely, while thedrunken man stalked unsteadily on toward where she had been. Thenshaking his fists vehemently at the pigeons, he skulked around the bendin the road. As soon as he was out of sight the woman emerged from the bushes, withautumn leaves hiding her crown of hair. She hastened a few rods towardthe man watching her, then disappeared through a vine-covered gatewayinto a wilderness of shrubbery, beyond which the pigeons were cooingabout their cotes. As she closed the gate, she caught sight of Lloyd Fenneben, leaningmotionless against the gray bole of the elm tree. But she was lookingthrough a tangle of purple oak leaves and twining bitter-sweet branches, and Fenneben was unconscious of being discovered. "A woman never could whistle, " he smiled, as he listened, "but that callseems to do for the dog, all right. " The Great Dane was tearing across lots in answer to the trill of awoman's voice. "She is safe now. But what does it all mean? Is there a wayside tragedyhere that calls for my unraveling?" Attracted by some subtle force beyond his power to check, he turnedtoward the river and looked steadily at the still overhanging shrubbery. Just below him, where the current turns, the quiet waters were lappingabout a ledge of rock. Between that ledge and himself a tangle of bushesclutched the steep bank. He looked straight into the tangle, just plaintwig and brown leaf, giving place as he stared, for two still blackhuman eyes looking balefully at him as a snake at its prey. LloydFenneben could not withdraw his gaze. The two eyes--no other human tokenvisible--just two cruel human eyes full of human hate were fixed on him. And the fascination of the thing was paralyzing, horrible. He could notmove nor utter a sound. Bug Buler woke with a little cry. The bushes bythe riverside just rippled--one quiver of motion--and the eyes were notthere. Then Fenneben knew that his heart, which had been still for anage, had begun to beat again. Bug stared up into his face, dazed fromsleep. "Where's my Vic? Who's dot me?" he cried. "We came to hunt the bunny. He's gone away again. Shall we go backhome?" The gentle voice and strong hand soothed the little one. "It's dettin' told. Let's wun home. " Bug cuddled against Fenneben's sideand hugged his hand. "I love you lots, " he said, looking up with eyes ofinnocent trust. "Yes, let's run home. There is a storm in the air and the sun is hiddenfrom the valley. " He stooped and kissed the little upturned face. "Thankheaven for children!" he murmured. "Amid skulking, drunken men andstrange, lonely women, and cruel eyes of unknown beings, they lead usloving-wise back home again. " Behind the vine-covered gate a gray-haired, fair-faced woman watched thetwo as they disappeared down the road. And the blood-red sun out on the west prairie sank swiftly into a bluecloudbank, presaging the coming of a storm. CHAPTER IV. THE KICKAPOO CORRAL _And even now, as the night comes, and the shadows gather round, And you tell the old-time story, I can almost hear the sound Of the horses' hoofs in the silence, and the voices of struggling men; For the night is the same forever, and the time comes back again_. --JAMES W. STEELE FROM the beginning of things in the Walnut Valley, the Kickapoo Corralhad its uses. Nature built it to this end. The river course follows thepattern of the letter S faced westward instead of eastward. The upperhalf of the letter is properly shaped, but the sharpened curve at themiddle leaves only a narrow distance across the lower space. In thisoutline runs the Walnut, its upper curve almost surrounding a littlewooded peninsula that slopes gently on its side to the water's edge. Butthe farther bank stands up in a straight limestone bluff forming a highwall of protection about the river-encircled ground. A less severe bluffcrosses the open part of the peninsula, reaching the hither side ofthe river below the sharp bend. The space inside, stone-walled andwater-bound, made an ideal shelter for the wild life that should inhabitit. And Nature saw that it was good and went away and left it, notforgetting to lock the door upon it. For the enemy who would enter thisprotecting shelter must come through the gateway of the river. Therewas only one right place to do this. Deceivingly near to the shallowrock-based ford before the Corral, so near that only the wise ones knewhow to miss it, Nature placed the cruelest whirlpool that ever swung aneven surface up stream, its gentle motion telling nothing of thefatal suction underneath that level stretch of steady, slow moving, irresistible water. What use the primitive tribes made of this spot the river hasnever told. But in the day of the Kickapoo supremacy it came to itschristening. Here the tribe found a refuge and harbored its stolenplunder. From this wooded covert it sent its death-singing arrowsthrough the heart of its enemy who dared to stand in relief on thatstone bluff. Here it laughed at the drowning cries of those who werecaught in the fatal whirlpool beyond the curve in the river wall, andhere it endured siege and slaughter when foes were valiant enough, andnumerous enough to storm into its stronghold over the dead bodies oftheir own vanguard. Weird and tragical are the legends of the Kickapoo Corral, left for astronger race to marvel over. For, with the swing of time, the white mancut a road down the steep bluff at the sharpest bend and made a fordin the shallow place between the whirlpool and the old Corral, and theNature-built stockade became a peaceful spot, specially ordained byProvidence, the Sunrise Freshmen claimed, as a picnic ground for theirautumn holiday. At least the young folk for whom Professor Burgess wasacting as chaperon took it so, and reveled in the right. Interest in Greek had greatly increased in Sunrise with the advent ofthe handsome young Harvard man, and his desired seclusion for profoundresearch had not yet been fully realized. Types for study wereplentiful, however, especially the type of the presumptuous young fellowwho dared to admire Elinor Wream. By divine right she was the mostpopular girl in Sunrise, which pleased Professor Burgess up to a certainpoint. That point was Victor Burleigh. The silent antagonism betweenthese two daily grew stronger; why, neither one could have told up tothis holiday. The day had been perfect--the weather, the dinner, the company, thewoodland--even the amber light in the sky softening the glow as theafternoon slipped down toward twilight in the sheltered old Corral. "Come, Vic Burleigh, help me to start this fire for supper, " DennieSaxon called. "We won't get our coffee and ham and eggs ready beforemidnight. " "Here, Trench, or some of you fellows, get busy, " Vic called back to thebig right guard of the Sunrise football squad. "Elinor and I are goingto climb the west bluff to see what's the matter with the sun. It lookssick. I've been hired man all day; carried nineteen girls across theshallows, packed all the lunch-baskets, toted all the wood, built allthe fires, washed all the dishes--" "Ate all the dinner, drank all the grape juice, stepped on all thecustard pies, upset all the cream bottles. Oh, you piker, get out!"Trench aimed an empty lunch-basket at Vic's head with the words. Being a chaperon was a pleasant office to Professor Burgess today butfor the task of throwing a barrier about Elinor every time Vic Burleighcame near. And Burleigh, lacking many other things more than insight, kept him busy at barrier building. "Miss Wream, you can't think of climbing that rough place, " Burgessprotested, with a sharp glance of resentment at the big young fellow whodared to call her Elinor. The tiger-light blazed in the eyes that flashed back at him, as Viccried daringly. "Oh, come on, Elinor; be a good Indian!" "Don't do it, Miss Wream, " Vincent Burgess pleaded. Elinor looked from the one to the other, and the very magnetism of powercalled her. "I mean to try, anyhow, " she declared. "Will you pick me up if I fall, Victor?" "Well, I wouldn't hardly go away and leave you to perish miserably, " Vicassured her, and they were off together. The Wream men were slender, and all of them, except Lloyd Fenneben, thestepbrother, wore nose glasses and drank hot water at breakfast, and atepredigested foods, and talked of acids and carbons, and took prescribedgestures for exercise. The joyousness of perfect health was in everymotion of this young man. His brown sweater showed a hard white throat. He planted his feet firmly. And he leaped up the bluffside easily. IfElinor slipped, the strength of his grip on her arm reassured her, untilclimbing beside him became a joy. The bluff was less surly than it appeared to be down in the Corral, andthe benediction of autumn was in the view from its crest. They satdown on the stone ledge crowning it, and Elinor threw aside her jauntyscarlet outing cap. The breezes played in her dark hair, and her cheekswere pink from the exercise. Victor Burleigh looked at her with frank, wide-open eyes. "What's the matter? Is my hair a fright?" she murmured. "A fright!" Burleigh flung off his cap and ran his fingers through hisown hair. "Not what I call a fright, " he asserted in an even tone. "What's that scar on your left arm? It looks like a little hole dugout, " Elinor declared. Vic's brown sweater sleeve was pushed up to the elbow. "It is a little hole I put in where I dug out the flesh with a pocketknife, " he replied, carelessly. "Did you do that yourself?" Elinor cried. "What made you be so cruel?" "I wasn't so cruel. 'I seen my duty and I done it noble, ' as the essayruns. I made that vacancy to get ahead of a rattlesnake that got methere, a venomous big one with nine police calls on its tail, and that'sno snake story, either. I cut the flesh out to get rid of the poison. I was n't in a college laboratory and I had to work fast and use whattools I had with me. I killed the gentleman that did the mischief, though, " Vic added carelessly, deftly slipping down his sleeve as if tochange the subject. "Oh, tell me about it, do, " Elinor urged. "You were killing a snake thefirst time I saw you. " How dainty and sweet she was sitting there in her neat-fitting outingsuit of dark gray with scarlet pipings and buttons and pocket flaps, and the scarlet of her full lips, and the coral tint of her cheeks, thewhite hands and white throat and brow, the dark eyes and finely shapedhead with abundant beautiful hair. Vic Burleigh sat looking straight at her and the light in his own eyestold nothing of the glitter that had flashed in them when he glared atProfessor Burgess down in the Corral. "I wasn't killing snakes. I was looking up at a girl on the rotundastairs the first time, " he said, "and I don't want to tell about thisscar, because I've wished a thousand times to forget it. See how muchdarker it is down there than it is up here. " The shadows were lengthening in the Corral where the supper fires weregleaming. Across the low bluff the imprisoned sun was sending a dull redglow along the waters of the Walnut. "Look at that still place in the river, Victor. The ripples are all onthe farther side, " Elinor said, looking pensively downstream. "Watch it a minute. Do you see that bit of drift coming upstream in thestill water?" Vic asked. "Why, the water does move; toward us, too, instead of down the river. I'd like to boat around in that quiet place. " She was leaning forward, resting her chin in her hand. In outlineagainst the misty background shot through with the crimson light fromthe storm-smothered sun, with the gray shadows of the old KickapooCorral below them, hemmed in by the silver gleaming waters of theWalnut, a picture grew up before Victor Burleigh's eyes that he wasnever to forget. Like the cleft of the lightning through the cloud, likethe flash of the swallow's wing, the careless-hearted boy leaped tothe stature of a man, into whose soul the love of a lifetime is born. Unconsciously, he drew away from her, and long afterward she recalledthe sweetness of his deep voice when he spoke again. "Elinor Wream, I'd rather see you helpless up here with the hungriestwild beast between us that ever tore a human form to pieces than to seeyou in that quiet water below the shallows. " "Why?" Elinor looked up into his face. "Because I could save your life here, maybe, even if I lost mine. Downthere I could drown for you, but that would n't save you. Nobodyever swam that whirlpool and lived to tell about it. There's a ledgeunderneath that holds down what the infernal slow suction swallows. Butit's dead sure. " "Why, that's awful, " Elinor said, lightly, for she had no picture of himengulfed in the slow-moving treachery below them. "There's an old Indian legend about that pool, " Vic said, staring downat the water. "Tell me about it. " Elinor was breaking the twigs from a branch ofbuck-berry growing beside her. "Oh, it's a tragical one, like everything else about that place, " Vicresponded, grimly. "Old Lagonda, Chief of the Wahoos, I reckon, I don'tknow his tribe, did n't want to give up this valley to the sons andheirs of Sunrise to desecrate with salmon cans and pop bottles andHarvard-turned chaperons. He held out against putting his multiplicationsign to the treaty, claiming that land was like water and air and couldn't be bought and sold. But the white men with true missionary courtesyheld his head under water till he burbled 'Nuff, ' and signed up witha piece of charcoal. Then he went down the river to this smooth-facedwhirlpool, and laid a curse on the sons of men who had taken his ownfrom him. " The twilight had deepened. The sun was lost in the cloudbank out ofwhich a hot wind was sweeping eastward. Vic was telling the story well, and the magnetism of his voice was compelling. Elinor drew nearer tohim. "What was the curse? I would n't want to go near that place, unless youwere with me. " The very innocence of the words put a thrill in Vic Burleigh's everypulse beat. "Don't ever do it, if you can help it. " Vic could not keep back thewords. "Old Lagonda decreed a tribute to the river for the wrong done tohim, a life a year in that pool. And the Walnut has been exacting in itsrights. Life after life has gone out down there until sometimes it seemslike the old chief's curse would never be lifted. " "I hope it may be, while I am at Sunrise, anyhow, " Elinor said. "I don'tlike real tragedies about me. I like an easy, comfortable life, andeverybody good and happy. I hope the curse will be staid until I go backhome. " Vic hadn't thought of this. Of course, she would leave Sunrisesome time. Her home was in Cambridge-by-the-Sea, not on thePrairie-by-the-Walnut. She belonged to the dead-language scholars, notto crude red-blooded creatures like himself. He turned his face to thewest and the threatening sky seemed in harmony with his storm-rivensoul. He was so young--less than half an hour older than the bigwhole-hearted fellow who started up the bluff in picnic frolic with apretty girl whom Professor Burgess adored. That was one reason why hehad brought her up. He wanted to tease the Professor then. He hatedBurgess now, and the white teeth clinched at the thought of him. A sudden shouting and beating of tom-toms down in the Corral, and thecall in crude rhyme to straggling couples to close in, announced supper. High above other whooping the voice of Trench, the big right guard, reached the top of the bluff: Victor Burleigh and Elinor Wream, Better wake from Love's Young Dream, Before the ants get into the cream. The beating of a dishpan drowned the chorus. Then down by the riverDennie's soprano streamed out, The sun is sot, The coffee's hot, The supper's got. What? Yes! Got! Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy basegrowled, Dennie is sad, The eggs are bad; The Professor's mad At a College lad. Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home! "The Kickapoos are on the warpath. Let's go down and get into therunning. " Vic lifted Elinor to her feet with a sort of reverence in his touch. Butshe did not note that it was otherwise than the good-natured grip of thecomrade who had helped her up the steep places half an hour ago. Descent was more difficult, and it was growing dark rapidly. Vic heldher arm to keep her from falling, and once on a sliding rock, he had tocatch both of her hands, and half-lift her to solid footing. Her shiningeyes, starbright in the gloom, the dainty rose hue of her cheeks, thetouch of her soft white hands, and her need for his strength, made theshadowy path delicious for her companion. The call of the wild was in that evening camp in the autumn woodland, in the charm of the deepening twilight warmed with the red glow of thefires, in the appetizing odor of coffee, the unconventional freedom, the carelessness of youth, the jolly good-fellowship of comrades. ToProfessor Burgess it had the added charm of newness. All the pleasuresof popularity were his this evening, for he was young himself, hedressed well, and he had the grace of a gentleman. The enjoyment of theday gave him a thrill of surprise. He was already dropping the viewpointof Dr. Joshua Wream for Dean Fenneben's angle of vision. And in thesepicturesque surroundings he forgot about the weather and the prudence ofgetting home early. "Throw that log on the fire, Vic. It begins to look spooky backhere. I've just had my ear to the ground and I heard an awful roaringsomewhere. " Trench, who had been sprawling lazily in the shadows, nowdeclared, "Say, I'd hate to be penned into this place so I couldn't getout. There's no skinning up that rock wall even if a fellow could swimthe river, and I can't, " and the big guard stretched himself on theground again. "What's that old story about the Kickapoos here?" somebody asked. "Dennie Saxon knows it. Tell us about it, Dennie, AND THEN WE'LL ALL GOHOME. " The last words were half-sung. "Be swift, Dennie, be quite swift. I heard that noise again. I'm afraidit's a stampede of wild horses. " Trench, who had had his ear to theground, sat up suddenly. But nobody paid any attention to him. "Come, Denmark Saxon, let's close the day in song and story. You tellthe story and then I'll sing the song, " somebody declared. "Aw-w-w!" a prolonged chorus. "Make your story long, Dennie; make itlengthy. " "Don't you do it, Dennie. I tell you this ground is shaking. I feel it, "Trench insisted. "Say, who's got the bromo-seltzer? The right guard's supper is n'ttreating him right. Go ahead, Dennie, " the crowd urged. They were all in a circle about the fire. Its flickering glow lightedVic Burleigh's rugged face, and gleamed in his auburn hair. Elinor satbetween him and Vincent Burgess. Dennie was just beyond Vincent, whonoted incidentally the play of light and shadow on the blowsy ripples ofher hair that night and remembered it all on a day long afterward. "Once upon a time, " Dennie began, there was a beautiful Kickapoo Indian maiden--" "Yep, any Kickapoo's a beaut. Hurry up, Dennie. I hear somethingcoming. " It was the big lazy guard again. "Oh! Vic Burleigh, sit on his prostrate form. Go on, Dennie, " thecompany insisted, and she continued. "Her name was The Fawn of the Morning Light, her best lover was SwiftElk. " "You be Mrs. Swift Elk--" but Vic Burleigh's arm about Trench's throatchoked his words. "And there was a wily Sioux, named Red Fox, who loved the Fawn andwanted her to marry him. She wouldn't do it. The Kickapoos were heap-biggrafters, and they had this old Corral full of ponies and junk they hadrelieved other tribes of caring for. And the only way to get in here, besides falling over the bluff and becoming a pin-cushion for poisonedarrows, was to come in by the shallows in the river where the ford isnow above old Lagonda's pool, and most Indians needed a diagram forthat. " Although Dennie spoke lightly, she shuddered a little at thethought, and the whole company grew graver. "An Indian doesn't forget. So, Red Fox, who had sworn to have TheFawn, came down here with hundreds of Sioux who wanted the ponies theKickapoos had stolen, as Red Fox wanted Swift Elk's girl. The Kickapooswouldn't give up the ponies and Swift Elk wouldn't give up The Fawn. Sothe siege began. Right where we are so safe and peaceful tonight thoseKickapoos fought, and starved, and died, while the Sioux kept cruelwatch on the top of that old stone ledge, never letting one escape. Atlast, after hours and hours of siege, The Fawn and Swift Elk decided toescape by the river in the night. A storm had come on suddenly, anda cloudburst up the Walnut was sending a perfect surge of water downaround the bend. The two lovers were caught in its sweep and carriedbeyond the shallows when a flash of lightning showed them to Red Foxwatching on the bluff up there. At the next flash he sent an arrowstraight through Swift Elk's body and into The Fawn's shoulder, pinningthe two together. The Sioux leaped into the stream to save the girl heloved, but the heavy current swept them toward the whirlpool, and beforethey could prevent the dying and wounded and rescuing were all caughtby the fatal suction. Then the Sioux warriors rushed in from all sides, upstream, down the bluff from west prairie, and over the Corral, andslaughtered every Kickapoo here. Their fierce yells and the shrieks ofthe squaws and pappooses, the pounding of horses' hoofs in the stampedeof hundreds of ponies, the roar of the river, the wrath of the stormmade a scene this old Corral will never see again. " Dennie paused. "I think I hear something like it, right now, " came Trench'sirrepressible voice from the shadows in the edge of the circle. Butnobody heeded it. And all the while from far across the west prairie the stormcloud wasrolling in, black and angry, blowing its hot breath before it, whilefrom a cloudburst upstream an hour before a great surge of water wasrushing down the Walnut, turning the quiet river to a murderous flood. But the high walls hid all this from the valley and the heedless youngfolk took the full time limit of their holiday in the sheltering gloomof the old Kickapoo Corral. CHAPTER V. THE STORM _Rock and moan, and roar alone, And the dread of some nameless thing unknown_. --LOWELL THE silence following Dennie's story was broken by a sudden peal ofthunder overhead. At the same instant the blackness of midnightlifted itself above the stone ledges and dropped down upon the Corral, smothering everything in darkness. A rushing whirlwind, a lurid blazeof lightning, and a second peal of thunder threw the camp into blinddisorder. In the minute's lull following the first storm herald, therewas a wild scrambling for wraps and lunch baskets. Then the darknessthickened and the storm's fury burst upon the crowd--a mad lashingof bending tree tops, a blinding whirl of dust filling the air, thethunder's terrific cannonade, the incessant blaze of lightning, therattling of the distant rain; and above all these, unlike them all, asteady, dreadful roaring, coming nearer each moment. Professor Burgess was no coward, but he had little power of generalship. As the crowd huddled together under the swaying trees, Trench called toBurleigh: "There's been a cloudburst up stream. The roar I've been hearing is awall of water coming down. We've got to get out of this. " Then above all the crashing and booming they heard Vic Burleigh's voice: "Every fellow take a girl and run for the ford. Come on!" In the darkness, each boy caught the arm of the girl nearest him andmade a dash for the ford. A flash of lightning showed Burleigh that thewhite-faced girl clinging to his arm was Elinor Wream. After that, thestorm was a plaything for him. The first to reach the ford were Vincent Burgess and Dennie Saxon. Dennie was sure-footed and she knew by instinct where to find theshallows. But the river was rising rapidly and the waters were black andangry under the lightning's glitter. As the crowd held back Vic shouted: "You'll have to wade. It's not very deep yet. Professor, you must crossfirst, and count 'em as they come. Go quick! One at a time. The wayis narrow. And for God's sake, keep to the upper side of the shallows. Stand in the middle, Trench, and don't let them get down stream belowyou. " They were all safely across except Vic and Elinor, when Trench criedout: "Send your girl in quick, Burleigh, and you run west. The flood is atthe bend now. Hurry!" "Run in, Elinor. Trench will take you through, and I'll follow, for Ican swim and he can't. I'll be right behind you. Run!" A vision of the whirlpool and of Swift Elk and The Fawn flashed intoElinor's mind, filling her with terror. Before Vic could push herforward, Trench shouted: "It's too late. Don't try it. I've got to run. " He was strong and sure-footed and he fought his way gallantly to thefurther side as a great wave swirled around the curve of the river, engulfing the shallows in its mad surge. When he reached the east bankthe count of the company numbered all but two. "It's Vic and Elinor, " Trench declared. "Vic wouldn't come till thelast, and Elinor was too dead scared to trust anybody else, I guess. Nobody could cross there now, Professor. But Vic is as strong as anox and he's not afraid of the devil. He'll keep both their heads abovewater. He wants to win out in the Thanksgiving game too much to get lostnow. Trust him to get up the bluff some way, and back to town by theMain street bridge like as not, before we get there. There's no shelterbetween here and Lagonda Ledge. Let's all cut for it before the rainbeats us into the mud. " The deluge was just beginning, so, safe, but wet, and mud-smeared, fighting wind and rain and darkness, taking it all as a jolly lark, although they had slidden into safety but a hand's breadth in front ofdeath, the couples straggled back to town. Vincent Burgess, anxious, angry, and jealous, found an unconsciouscomfort in Dennie Saxon in that homeward struggle. She was so capableand cheery that he forgot a little the girl who had as surely drawn himKansas-ward as his interest in types and geographical breadth had done. It dimly entered his consciousness, as he told Dennie good-bye, thatmaybe she had been the most desirable companion of the crowd on such anight as this. He knew, at least, that he would have shown Elinor muchmore attention than he had shown to Dennie, and he knew that Elinorwould have required it of him. The light from the hall was streaming across the veranda of the SaxonHouse, a beam as faithful and friendly at the border of the lower campusas the bigger beacon in the college turret up on the lime-stone ridge. As Burgess started away the worst deluge of the night fell out of thesky, so he dropped down on a seat to wait for the downpour to weaken. He was very tired and his mind was feverishly busy. Where could Burleighand Elinor be now? What dangers might threaten them? What ill mightbefall Elinor from exposure to this beating storm? He was frantic withthe thought. Then he recalled Dennie, the girl who was working herway through college, whom he--Professor Vincent Burgess, A. B. , fromHarvard--had escorted home. How cheap Kansas was making him. The boysand girls had taken Dennie as one of them today; and truly, she did addto the comfort and pleasure of the outing. It seemed all right down inthe woods where all was unconventional. But now, alone, in how common agrade he seemed to have placed himself, to be forced to pay attention tothe poorest girl in school. His cheeks grew hot at the very thought ofit. In the shadows, beyond him, a form straightened up stupidly: "Shay, Profesh Burgush, that you?" Dennie's father, half-drunken still! Oh, Shades of classic culture! Towhat depths in social contact may a college man fall in this wretchedland! "Shay! Is't you, or ain't it you? You gonna tell me?" Old Bond queried. "This is Vincent Burgess, " the young man replied. "Dennie home?" the father asked. "Yes, sir, " came the curt answer. "Who? Who bring her home? Vic Burleigh?" "I brought her home. She is a good girl, too. " In spite of himself, Burgess resented the shame of such a father for thecapable, happy-spirited daughter. "Yesh, Dennie's good girl, all right. " Then a silence fell. Presently, the old man spoke again. "Shay, Prof esh, 'd ye mind doin' somethin' for me?" "What is it?" Burgess was by nature courteous. "If anything sh'd ever happen to me, 'd you take care of Dennie? Shay, would you?" "If I could do anything for her, I would do it, " the young man replied. "Somethin' gonna happen to me. I ain't shafe. I know I'll go that way. But you'll be good to Dennie. Now, wouldn't you? I'd ask Funnybone, buthe's no shafer 'n I am. No shafer! You'll be good to Dennie, you saidso. Shay it again!" Bond was standing now bending threateningly toward Burgess, who had alsorisen. "I'll do all that a gentleman ought to do. " He had only one thought--topacify the drunken man and get away. And the old man understood. "Shwear it, I tell you! Lif' up your right hand an'--an' shwear to takecare of Dennie, or I'll kill you!" Bond insisted. He was a large, muscular man, towering over the slender young professorlike a very giant, and in his eyes there was a cruel gleam. VincentBurgess was at the limit of mental resistance. Lifting his shapely righthand in the shadowy light, he said wearily: "I swear it!" "One more question, and you may go. You know that little boy VicBurleigh takes care of here?" The Professor had heard of him. "Vic keeps that little boy all right. He don't complain none. S'pose youhelp me watch um, Profesh. " Then as an afterthought, Saxon added: "Youngwoman livin' out north of town. Pretty woman. She don't know nothing'bout that little boy. Now, honest, she don't. Lives all by herself witha big dog. " Jealousy is an ugly, suspicious beast. Vincent Burgess was no worse thanmany other men would have been, because his mind leaped to the meaningold Saxon's words might carry. And this was the man with Elinor in thedarkness and the storm. Before Burgess could think clearly, Saxon came astep nearer. "Shay, where's Vic tonight?" "Across the river with Miss Wream. They were cut off by the deep water, "Vincent answered. A quick change from drunkenness to sober sense leaped into Bond Saxon'seyes. "Across the river! Great God!" Then sternly, with a grim set of jaw, hecommanded: "You go home! If you dare to say a word, I'll kill you. Ifyou try to follow me, he'll kill you. Go home! I 'm going over there, ifI die for it. " And the darkness and rain swallowed him as he leaped awayto the westward! Burgess gazed into the blackness into which Bond Saxon had gone until asoft hand touched his, and he looked down to see little Bug Buler, cladin his nightgown, standing barefoot beside him. "Where's Vic?" Bug demanded. "I don't know, " Burgess answered. "Take me up, I'se told. " Bug stretched up his arms appealingly, andBurgess, who knew nothing of babies, awkwardly lifted him up. "Tuddle me tlose like Vic do, " and the little one snuggled lovingly inthe Professor's embrace. "Your toat's wet. Is Vic wet, too?" "Yes, little boy. We are all in trouble tonight. " Burgess had to saysomething. "In twouble? Umph--humph!" Bug shut his lips tightly, puffing out hischeeks, as was his habit. "I was in twouble, and I ist wented to DonFonnybone. He's dood for twouble-ness. You go see him. Poor man!" andthe little hand stroked Professor Burgess' feverish cheek. "If you'll run right back to bed, I'll do it, " Burgess declared. "Wecan learn even from children sometimes, " he thought, as Bug climbed downobediently and toddled away. Vincent Burgess went directly to Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, to whom he told thestory of the day's events, including the interview with Bond Saxon. He did not repeat Bond's words regarding Vic, but only hinted at thesuspicion that there was something questionable in the situation inwhich Vic was placed. Nor did he refer to the old man's maudlin demandthat he should take care of Dennie if she were left fatherless, and ofhis sworn promise to do so. Burgess felt as, if the Dean's black eyes would burn through him, so steady was their gaze while the story was being told. When he hadfinished, Lloyd Fenneben said quietly: "You are worn out with the excitement of the day and night. Go home andrest now. I've learned through many a struggle, that what I cannotfight to a finish in the darkness, I can safely leave with God till thedaylight comes. " The smile that lighted up the stern face and the firm handclasp withwhich Lloyd Fenneben dismissed the young man were things he rememberedlong afterward. And above all, he recalled many times a sense of secretshame that he should have felt degraded because of his association withDennie Saxon on this day. But of this last, the memory was stronger thanthe present realization. Meanwhile, as the mad waters surged around the bend in the river, andswept over the shallows, Victor Burleigh flung his arm around ElinorWream and leaped back from the very edge of doom. "We must climb the bluff again. Be a good Indian!" he cried, groping fora footing. Climbing the west bluff by daylight for the sake of adventure was veryunlike this struggle in the darkness to escape the widening river, witha wind-driven torrent of rain sweeping down the land behind the firststorm-fury, and Elinor Wream clung to her companion's arm almosthelpless with fear. "Do you think you can ever get us out? she asked, as the limestone ledgeblocked the way. "Do you know what my mother named me?" The carelessness of the tone wassurprising. "Victor!" she replied. "Then don't forget it, " Burleigh said. "It's a dreadfully rough waybefore us, little girl, but we'll soon be safe from the river. Don'tmind this little bit of a storm, and you'll get personally conductedinto Lagonda Ledge before midnight. " In her sheltered life, Elinor had never known anything half so dreadfulas this storm and darkness and booming flood, but the fearlessness ofthe strong man beside her inspired her to do her best. It was only twohours since they were here before. How could she know that these twohours had marked the crisis of a lifetime for Victor Burleigh. With afriendly little pressure on his arm, she said bravely: "I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. Ifeel safer here. " Vic knew she meant only to be courteous, but the words were comforting. On the crest of the ledge the fierceness of the storm was revealed. Great sheets of wind-blown rain were flung athwart the landscape, andthe utter blackness that followed the lightning's glare, and the roaringof the wind and river were appalling. In all this tumult, away to the northeast, the beacon light above theSunrise dome was cutting the darkness with a steady beam. "See that light, Elinor? We are not lost. We must get up stream a littleway. Then we'll find the bridge, all right. The crowd will get homeahead of us, because this is the rough side of the river. " "Oh, what a comfort a light can be!" Elinor murmured as she looked upand caught the welcome gleam. As they hurried along, the Sunrise light suddenly disappeared and theyfound themselves descending a rough downward way. Presently therewere rock walls on either side hemming them in a narrow crevice in theledges. Then the rain ceased and Vic knew they had slidden down into arock-covered fissure, that they were getting underground. They triedto turn back, but the up-climb was impossible, and in the darkness theycould reach nothing but the sharp ledge of the cliff sheer above theraging river. Entrapped and bewildered, Vic felt cautiously about; butthe only certain things were the straight bluff overhanging the flood, and the cavernous way leading downward; while the same deluge that waskeeping Vincent Burgess storm-staid on the veranda of the Saxon House, was beating mercilessly down on Elinor Wream. "We can't stay here and be threshed to pieces, " Vic cried. "This crackis drier, anyhow, and it must lead to somewhere. " It did lead to what seemed to Elinor an endless length of hideousuncertainty, until Vic suddenly lost his footing and plunged headlongdown somewhere into the blackness of darkness. Elinor shrieked in terrorand sank down limply on the stone floor of the crevice. "All a bluff, " Vic called up cheerily, in the same startlingly deepsweet voice that had caught Elinor's ear on the September afternoonbefore the door of Sunrise, and out in the edge of her consciousnessthe thought played in again, "I'd rather be here with you than over theriver with anybody else. I feel safer here. " "Slide down, Elinor. I'll catch you. It is n't very far, and there's alittle light somewhere. " Elinor slipped blindly down the side of the rock into Vic Burleigh'soutstretched arms. As he set her on her feet, somehow, the little lightfailed. In all their struggle, this part of the way seemed the darkest, the chillest, the most dangerous, and a sudden sense of a presencehidden nearby possessed them both, as they came against a blind wall. Astouter heart than Vic Burleigh's might well have quailed now. The twowere lost underground. What deeper cavern might yawn beyond them? Whatlength of dead wall might bar their way? And more terrifying still, was the growing sense of a human presence, a human menace, an unseentreachery. As Vic felt his way along the stone, his hand closed oversomething thrust into a little niche, shoulder-high in the wall. Itseemed to be a small pitcher of unique pattern, solid silver by itsweight. Was it the booty of some dead and forgotten robber chief, theburied treasure of some old Kickapoo raiding tragedy, or the loot of aliving outlaw? Vic thought he felt the outline of a letter graven in heavy reliefon the smooth side, and, for a reason of his own, dropped the thing. Mercifully, he did not cry out at the discovery, but Elinor felt hishand on her arm grow chill. A dazzling glare, token of the passing of the storm's fireworks, outlined an irregular opening in the wall before them, revealing at thesame time a large room beyond the wall. "Here's the hole where we get out of this trap, Elinor Wream. If such abig lightning like that can get in, we can get out, " Vic cried. He crawled through the opening, and pulled her as gently as possibleafter him. Presently, another blaze lit up the night outside, showinga cavern-like space thirty feet in dimensions, with a rock roof abovetheir heads, and a low doorway through which the light from the outsidehad come in, and beyond which the rain was beating tremendously. Evidently they had found a rear entrance to this cavern. "We are past our troubles now, Elinor, " Vic said. "There's the realout-of-doors, and I feel sure of the rest of the way. This seems to bea sort of cave, and we have come in kind of irregularly by the back dooror down the chimney. But here we are at the real front door. Shall we goon?" Elinor leaned wearily against the wall, wet and cold, and almostexhausted. "Let's wait a little, till this shower passes, " she pleaded. "You poor girl! This has been an awful night, " Vic said gently. Their eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness and they saw moreclearly the outline of the opening to the outside world. Suddenly Elinorshivered as again the nearness of a presence somewhere possessed themboth. "Let's go! Let's go!" she whispered, huddling close to her companion, whose grip on her arm tightened. He was conscious of a light behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, hecaught a gleam beyond the opening in the rear wall through which theyhad just crept; and in that gleam, a villainous face, with still blackeyes, looking straight at him. The light disappeared, and he heard thefaint sound of something creeping toward them. Vic could fight any manliving. Nature built him for that. He had no fear for himself. But herewas Elinor, and he must think of her first. At that instant, the doorwaydarkened, and a form slipped into the cavern somewhere. Oh, wind andrain, and forked blue lightning and the thunder's roar, the river'smad floods, the steep, slippery rocks, and jagged ledges, all were kindbeside this secret human presence, cruelly silent and treacherous. Victor Burleigh drew Elinor closer to him, and whispered low: "Don't be afraid with me to guard you. " Even in that deep gloom, he caught the outline of a white face withstar-bright eyes lifted toward his face. "I'm not afraid with you, " she whispered. Behind them stealthy movements somewhere. Between them and the doorway, stealthy movements somewhere; but all so still and slow, they stretchedthe listening nerve almost to the breaking point. Suddenly, a big, hardhand gripped Burleigh's shoulder, and a dead still voice, that Vic couldnot recognize, breathed into his ear, "Go quick and quiet! I'll standfor it. Go!" It was old Bond Saxon. Vic caught Elinor's arm, and with one stride they sprang from the cave'smouth up to the open ground beyond it. Something behind them, it mighthave been a groan or a smothered oath, reached their ears, as they spedaway down a narrow ravine. The rain had ceased and overhead the starswere peeping from the edges of feathery flying clouds; and all thesodden autumn night was still at last, save for the gurgling waters of alittle stream down the rocky glen. The Sunrise bell was striking eleven when they reached the bridgeacross the Walnut, and the beacon light from the dome began to twinklea welcome now and then through the dripping branches of the leaflesstrees. A few minutes later, Victor Burleigh brought Elinor safely toLloyd Fenneben's door. "We made it in before midnight, anyhow, " he said carelessly. Elinor looked up in surprise. The terrors of the night still possessedher. "What a horrible nightmare it has all been. The storm, the river, therocks, and the darkness, and that dreadful something behind us in thecave. Was there really anything, or did we just imagine it all? It willseem impossible when the daylight comes. " Victor looked at her with a wonderful light in his wide-open brown eyes. "Yes, " he said in a deep voice. "It will seem impossible when daylightcomes. But will it all be as a horrible nightmare?" "No, no; not all. " Elinor's face was winsomely sweet. "Not all, " sherepeated. "It is fine to feel one's self so safeguarded as I have been. I shall always remember you as one with whom I could never again beafraid. " Burleigh turned hastily toward the door, and, having delivered her tothe care of her uncle, he bade them both good night. Dr. Fenneben looked keenly after the young man striding away from thelight. His clothes were torn and bedraggled, his cap was gone, and hisheavy hair was a mass of rough waves about his forehead. The directgaze of his golden-brown eyes took away distrust, and yet the face hadchanged somehow in this day. A hint of a new purpose had crept into it, a purpose not possible for Dr. Fenneben to read. But he did note the set of the head, the erect form and broad shoulders, and the easy swinging step as the boy went whistling away into theshadows of the night. "A splendid animal, anyhow, " the Dean thought. "Will the soul measureup to that princely body? And what can be the purport of this maudlinmouthing of old Bond Saxon? Bond is really a lovable man when he'ssober; but he's vindictive and ugly when he's drunk. I can wait fordevelopments. Whatever the boy's history may have been, like the courts, it's my business to hold every man innocent till he's proven guilty;to build up character, not to undermine and destroy it. And destructionbegins in suspicion. " CHAPTER VI. THE GAME _Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man_. --KIPLING BITTER weather followed the night of the storm. Biting winds beat allthe autumn beauty from tree and shrub. Cold gray skies hung over acold gray land, and a heavy snowfall and a penetrating chill seemed todestroy all hope for the Indian Summer that makes the Kansas Novembersglorious. Dennie Saxon was the only girl of the party who was not affected by thestorm at the Kickapoo Corral. Professor Burgess, who narrowly escapedpneumonia himself, and who disliked irregular class attendance, tookcomfort in the sight of Dennie. She was so fresh-checked and wholesome, and she went about her work promptly, forgetful of storm and rain andmuddy ways. "You seem immune from sickness, Miss Dennie, " Burgess said one day asshe was putting the library in order. Under her little blue dusting cap, the sunny ripples of her hair frameda face glowing with health. She smiled up at him comfortably--a smilethat played about the edges of his consciousness all that day. "I've never been sick, " she said. "It 's a good thing, too, for ourhouse is a regular hospital this week. Little Bug Buler is the worstof all. He took cold on the night of the storm. That's why VictorBurleigh's out of school so much. He won't leave Bug. " Vincent Burgess despised the name of Burleigh now. While Vic's safeescort of Elinor Wream had increased his popularity with the students, Burgess honestly believed that old Bond Saxon's drunken speech hinted atsome disgrace the big freshman would not long be able to conceal, and heresented the high place given to such a low grade of character. To a manlike himself it was galling to look upon such a fellow as a rival. So, he tightened the rules and exacted the last mental farthing of Vic inthe classroom. And Vic, easily understanding all this, because he wasfrankly and foolishly in love with the same girl whom Vincent Burgessseemed to claim, contrived in a thousand ways to make life a burdento the Harvard man. Of course, Burgess showed no mercy toward Vic forabsence from the classroom while he was caring for little Bug, and theblack marks multiplied against him. Elinor Wream had been ill after the night of the storm. Vic had notseen her since the hour when he left her at Lloyd Fenneben's door. Heknew he was a fool to think of her at all. He knew she must sometime bewon by Burgess, and that she was born to gentle culture which his hardlife had never known. Besides, he was poor. Not a pauper, but poor, and luxuries belonged naturally to a girl like Elinor. The storm of theholiday was a balmy zephyr compared to the storm that raged every dayin him. For with all the hopelessness of things, he was in love. Poor fellow! The strength of his spirit was like the strength of hisbody--unbreakable. He had no fear of pneumonia after the stormy night, for he was used tohard knocks. And he meant to go again by daylight and explore the rockyglen and hidden ways, and to find out, if possible, whose face it wasthat was behind that cavern wall, whose voice had whispered in his ear, and what loot was hidden there. For reasons of his own, he had mentionedthis matter to nobody. But the cold, wet days, little Bug's illness, and the hard study to keep up his class standing, took all of histime. Especially, the study, that he might not be shut out of the greatfootball game of the year on Thanksgiving day. Sunrise was stiff inits scholastic requirements, and conscientious to the last degree. Thefootball team stood on mental ability and moral honor, no less than onscientific skill and muscular weight and cunning. Dr. Fenneben watchedBurleigh carefully, for the boy seemed to be always on his heart. TheDean knew how to mix common sense and justice into his rulings, so theword was sent quietly from the head office--the suggestion of leniencyin the matter of Burleigh's absence. Burleigh was good for it. Itlay with his professors, of course, to grant or withhold scholarshipranking, but the Dean would be pleased to have all latitude given inBurleigh's case. Bug was better now, and Vic was burning midnight oil in study, for thehours of practice for the game were doubled. On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside. "Everything is safe. Only one report not in, but it will be intomorrow. " the coach declared. "I asked Professor Burgess about yourstanding, and he says your grades are away above average. He's gotto reckon up your absent marks, but that's easy. All the teachersunderstand about that. I guess Dean Funnybone fixed 'em. And now, Vic, the honor of Sunrise rests on you. If you fail us, we're lost. Can Icount on you?" The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy blackbrows, as Vic shut his white teeth tightly. "Count on me!" he said, and turning, he left the coach abruptly. "Hey, there, Burleigh, hold on a minute, " Trench, the right guard, called, as Vic was striding up the steep south slope of the limestoneridge. "Say, wind a fellow, will you! You infernal, never-wear-out, human steam engine. I'm on to some things you ought to know. Even a lazyold scout like I am gets a crack at things once in a while. " "Well, get rid of it once in a while, if you really do know anything, "Vic responded. "Say, you're nervous. Coach says you spend too much time in yournursery; says you'd better get rid of that little kid. " "Tell the coach to go to the devil!" Vic spoke savagely. "Say, Coach, " Trench roared down from the hillslope, "Vic says for youto go to the devil. " "Wait till after tomorrow, " the coach shouted back, "and I'll take youfellows along if you don't do your best. " "Now, that's settled, I'll tell you what I know, " Trench drawled lazily. "First, Elinor Wream, what Dean Funnybone calls 'Norrie, ' is heading thebunch that's going to shower us with roses tomorrow, if we win. Andyou know blamed well we'll win. They came in from Kansas City on thelimited, just now, the roses did. The shower's predicted for tomorrow P. M. " A sudden glow lighted Vic's stern face, and there was no savage gleam inhis eyes now. "Is Elinor well enough to come out tomorrow?" He had been caught unawares. Trench stared at him deliberately. "Say, Victor Burleigh. " He spoke slowly. "Don't do it! DON'T DO IT!It will kill a man like you to get in love. Lord pity you! and"--moreslowly still--"Lord pity the fool girl who can't see the solid gold inthe rough old nugget you are. " "What's the rest of your news?" Vic asked. "I gave the best first. Coach tells me ab-so-lute-lee, you are our onlyhope. The hope of Sunrise, tomorrow. You've got the beef, the wind, thespeed, the head, and the will. Oh, you angel child!" "The coach is clever, " Vic said carelessly. "Burleigh, here's the rub as well as the Rub-i-con. Dennie Saxon's wise, and she tells me--on the side; inside, not outside--that your absentmarks on Burgess' map are going to cut you out at the last minute. Don'tlet Burgess do that, Vic, if you have to kill him. Couldn't we kidnaphim and drop him into the whirlpool? Old Lagonda's interest is aboutdue. Dennie just stood her ground today like a cherub, and asked theHahvahd Univusity man right out about it. I don't know how she got thehint, only she's in all the offices and the library out of hours, youknow, and when the slim one from Boston, yuh know, said as how he hadto stand firm on the right, yuh know, old Dennie just says straight andflat, 'Professor Burgess, I'm ashamed of you. ' Dennie's a brick. And doyou know, Burgess, spite of his cussed thin hide, we've got to toughenfor him out here in Kansas; spite of all that, HE LIKES DENNIE SAXON. The oracle hath orked, the sibyl hath sibbed. But say, Vic, if he doescome down hard on you, what will you do?" "Come down hard on him, and play anyhow. " The grim jaw and black frown left no doubt as to Vic's purpose. Late November is idyllic in the Walnut Valley. Autumn's gold has allbeen burned in Nature's great crucible, refining the landscape to a widerange from frosted silver to richest Purple. Heliotrope and roseand amethyst blend with misty pink and dainty gray, and the faint, indefinable blue-green hue of the robin's egg, and outlined all indelicate black tracery of leafless boughs and darkened waterways. Everysunrise is a revelation of Infinite Beauty. Every midday, a shadowy softpicture of Peace. Every sunset a dream of Omnipotent Splendor. On such a November Thanksgiving day, the great game of the season wasplayed on the Sunrise football field, which all the Walnut Valley folkscame forth to see. By one o'clock Lagonda Ledge was deserted, save for old Bond Saxon, whosat on his veranda, watching the crowds stream by. At two o'clock thebleachers were packed, and the side lines were broad and black witha good-natured, jostling crowd. And every minute the numbers wereincreasing. Truly Sunrise had never before known such an auspicious day, such record-breaking gate receipts, nor such sure promise of success. The game was called for half-past two. It was three o'clock now and theline-up had not been formed. Even the gentle wrangle over details andeligibility could hardly have spun out so much time as seemed to thewaiting throng to be uselessly wasted now. Evidently, something waswrong. The crowd grew impatient and demanded the cause. Out in the open, the two squads were warming up for the fray, while the officials hungfire in a group by the goal posts and talked threateningly. "What's the matter?" "When will the freight be in?" "Merry Christmas!" So the crowd shouted. The songs were worn out, the yell-leaders wereexhausted, and the rooters were hoarse. "Where's Vic Burleigh?" somebody called, and a chorus followed: "Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home!" But Burleigh did not come. "Maybe they are shutting him out, " somebody else suggested, and theSunrise bleachers took fire. Calls for Burleigh rent the air, roars andyells that threatened to turn this most auspicious college event intopandemonium, and the jolly company into a veritable mob. Meantime, as the teams were leaving their quarters early in theafternoon, the coach said to Vic: "Run up to Burgess and get your grades, Burleigh. It's a mere form, butit will save that gang of game-cocks from getting one over us. " In the rotunda Vic and Vincent met face to face, the country boy inhis football suit and brown sweater, and the slender young collegeprofessor, with faultless tailoring and immaculate linen. Ten minutesbefore, Burgess had been in Dr. Fenneben's office, where Elinor Wreamand a group of fair college girls were chattering excitedly. "See these roses, Uncle Lloyd. " Elinor was holding up a gorgeous bunchof American Beauties. "These go to Vic Burleigh when he gets behindthe goal posts. Cost lots of my Uncle Lloyd's money, but we had to havethem. " Small wonder that the very odor of roses was hateful to Burgess at thatmoment. "May I speak to you a minute?" Vic said as the two men met in therotunda. Burgess halted in silence. "The coach sent me after your statement of my standing. We've got abunch of sticklers to fight today. " "I have turned in my report, " Burgess responded coldly. "So the coach said, all but mine. I'm late. May I have my report now?"Vic urged, trying to be composed. "I have no further report for you. " It was a cold-blooded thing to say, but Burgess, though filled with jealousy, was conscientious now inhis belief that Burleigh was really a low grade fellow, deserving noleniency nor recognition. "But you haven't given me any standing yet, the coach says. " Vic's voicewas dead calm. "I have no standing to give you. You are below grade. " Vic's eyes blazed. "You dog!" was all he could say. "Now, see here, Burleigh, there's no need to act any ruder than you canhelp. " Burleigh did not move, nor did he take his yellow brown eyes fromhis instructor's face. "What have you to say further? I thought you werein a hurry. " Burgess did not really mean a taunt in the last words. "I have this to say. " Victor Burleigh's voice had a menace in its depthand power. "You have done this infamous thing, not because I deserve it, but because you hate me on account of a girl--Elinor Wream. " "Stop!" Vincent Burgess commanded. "I forbid you to mention her name. You, who come in here from somebarren, poverty-stricken prairie home, where good breeding is unknown. You, to presume to think of such a girl as Dr. Fenneben's beautifulniece, whose reputation was barely saved by old Bond Saxon on the stormynight after the holiday. You, who are forced for some reason to carefor an unknown child. You, whose true character will soon be fully knownhere--if this is what you have to say, you may go, " he added with animperious wave of the hand. The meanness of anger is in its mastery. Burgess had meant only todiscipline Burleigh, but it was too late for that now. The rotunda wasvery quiet. Everybody was down on the field waiting impatiently for thegame to begin. Burgess was also impatient. There was a seat waiting forhim beside Elinor Wream. "I'm not quite ready to go"--Vic's fierce voice filled therotunda--"because you are going to write my credentials for this game, and you'll do it quick, or beg for mercy. " "I refuse to consider a word you say. " Burgess was furious now, and thewhite face and burning eyes of his opponent were unbearable. "I will notgrant you any credentials, you low-born prize-fighter--" A sudden grip of steel held him fast as Vic towered over him. Thesoftened light of the dome of the rotunda, where the Kansas motto, "_AdAstra per Aspera_. " adorned the stained glass panes, had never fallen onsuch a scene as this. "See here, Burleigh, you'll repent this unwarranted attack, " Burgesscried, trying to free himself. "Brute force will win only among brutes. " "That's the only place I expect to use it, " Vic retorted, tightening hisgrip. "No time for words now. The honor of Sunrise as well as my honoris at stake, and it's my right to play in this game, because I havebroken no laws. I may have no culture except that of a prairie claim;and I may be poor, and, therefore, presumptuous in daring to mentionElinor Wream's name to you. But"--the brown eyes were a blazingfire--"nobody can tell me that any man must rescue a girl from me tosave her reputation, nor that any dishonor belongs to me because oflittle Bug Buler. Uncultured, as I am, I have the culture of acourage that guards the helpless; and ill-bred, as I may be, I have agentleman's honor wherever a woman's need calls for my protection. " Vic's face was ashy, for his anger matched his love, and both wereparallel to his wonderful physique and endurance. In his fury, thetemptation to throttle the man who had wronged him was gaining themastery. "Vic, oh, Vic, they're waiting for you. Turn on! Don't hurt him, Vic. "Bug Buler's pleading little voice broke the momentary stillness. Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back. "Was n't you dood to Vic? He would n't hurted you. He never hurtedme. " The innocent face and gentle words held a strange power over eachpassion-fired man before him. Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with fullcredentials for his place on the team. The last man to enter the grounds was evidently a tramp, whose slouchedhat half-concealed a dark bearded face. As Vic Burleigh, with Bug clinging to his finger, hurried by the ticketwindow, the crippled student who sold tickets inside the little roofedbox called out: "Come, stay with me, Bug, till I can go in, too, and I'll buy youpeanuts. " Bug studied a moment. Then with a comfortable little "Umph-humph, "puffing out his pudgy cheeks with tightly tucked-in lips, he let go ofVic's finger and trotted over to the ticket box. The boy let him inside and turned to the window to see the face of thetramp close to it. The man paid for a ticket, then, leaning forward, stared eagerly at the open money box. At the same time, the cripplecaught sight of a revolver handle in a belt under the shabby coat. Trust a college boy for headwork. Instantly he seized little Bug by theshoulders and set him up on the shelf between the window and the moneybox. Bug's hair was a mop of soft ringlets, and his brown eyes andinnocent baby face were appealing. The stranger stared hard at thechild, and with a sort of frightened expression, shot through the gateand mingled with the crowd. "Great protection for a cripple, " the student thought, as he locked themoney box. "How strong a baby's hand may be sometimes! Vic Burleigh'sbeef can win the game out there, but Bug has saved the day at this endof the line. That tramp seemed scared at the sight of him. " "Funny folks turns to dames, " Bug observed. "Yes, Buggie, the last one in before you came was a young woman withgray hair, and she had a big dog with her. They don't let in dogs, sohe's waiting outside somewhere. " The last man who did not go in was Bond Saxon, who came late and foundthe gates deserted. But lying watchful in the open way, was a Great Danedog. Old Bond hesitated. It was his lifetime fault to hesitate. Thenhe trotted back home. And, behold, a bottle of whisky was beside hisdoorstep. But to his credit for once, he resisted and smashed the bottleto bits on the stone step. The day was made for such a game. There was no wind. The glare of thesun was tempered by a gray mist creeping up the afternoon skies. Theair was crisp enough to prevent languor. The crowded bleachers wereinspiring; the season was rounding out in a blaze of glory for Sunrise. The two teams were evenly matched, And the stern joy that warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel, spurred each to its best efforts. It was a battle royal, with all theturns of strategy, and quickness, and straight physical weight, andsudden shifting of signals, fake plays, forward passes, line bucks, andsplendid interference, flying tackles, speedy end runs, and magnificentdefense of goals with lines of invincible strength and spirit. With the kick-off the enemy's goal was endangered by a fumbled ball, and within three minutes Trench had torn a hole in the defense, throughwhich the Sunrise team were sending Vic Burleigh for a touchdown. Thebleachers went wild and the grandstand was almost shipwrecked in thenoise. "Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!" shrieked the yell-leader as Vic leaped overthe goal line and the rooters roared: The Sunrise hope! And that's the dope! Never quails! Never fails! Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! A difficult kick from a sharp angle sent the ball through the air oneinch wide of the goal post, and the bleachers counted five. And then, came the forward swing again, the struggle for downs, thegain and loss of territory, until Trench, too heavy for speed, failedto break through the interference quickly enough to hold a swift littlequarterback, who slipped around the end of the line, and, shaking offthe tackles, swooped toward the Sunrise goal. The last defense wasthrown headlong, and the field was wide open for the run; and thequarterback was running for the honor of his team, his school, hisundying fame in the college world. Three yards to the goal line, andvictory would be his. All Lagonda Ledge held its breath as VicBurleigh tore through a tangle of tackles and sprang forward with long, space-eating bounds. He seemed to leap through ten feet of air, straightover the quarterback's head and land four feet from the goal with thequarterback in his grip, while a Sunrise halfback out beyond him waslying on the lost ball. The bleachers now went entirely mad, for from the very edge of disaster, the tide of battle was turned into the enemy's territory. Before theSunrise rooters had time to cease rejoicing, however, the invinciblequarterback was away again, and with two guards and a center on top ofBurleigh, now the plucky runner broke across the Sunrise line, and aminute later missed a pretty goal. And the opposing bleachers countedfive. The second half of the game was filled with a tense, fruitless strife. Five points to five points, and four minutes of time to play. Thestruggle had ceased to be a turning of tricks and test of speed. Henceforth, it was man against man, pound for pound. Suddenly, theopposing team braced itself and began a steady drive down the gridiron. With desperate energy, the Sunrise eleven fought for ground, giving wayslowly, defending their goal like true Spartans, dying by inches, until only three yards of space were left on which to die. The rootersshrieked, and the girls sang of courage. Then a silence fell. Threeyards, and the Sunrise team turned to a rock ledge as invincible as thelimestone foundation of their beloved college halls. The center fromwhich all strength radiated was Victor Burleigh. Against him the weightof the line-bucking plunged. If he wavered the line must crumble. Thecrowd hardly breathed, so tense was the strain. But he did not waver. The ball was lost and the last struggle of the day began. Two minutesmore, the score tied, and only one chance was left. Since the night of the storm, Vic had known little rest. His days hadbeen spent in hard study, or continuous practice on the field; hisnights in the sick room. And what was more destructive to strengththan all of this was the newness and grief of a blind, overmasteringadoration for the one girl of all the school impossible to him. Thestrain of this day's game, as the strain of all the preparation for it, had fallen upon him, and the half hour in the rotunda had sapped hisenergy beyond every other force. Love, loss, a reputation attacked, possible expulsion for assaulting a professor, injustice, anger--oh, itwas more than a burden of wearied muscles and wracked nerves that he hadto lift in these two minutes! In a second's pause before the offense began, Vic, who never saw thebleachers, nor heard a sound when he was in the thick of the game, caught sight now of a great splash of glowing red color in thegrandstand. In a dim way, like a dream of a dream, he thought ofAmerican Beauty roses of which something had been said once--so longago, it seemed now. And in that moment, Elinor Wream's sweet face, with damp dark hair which the lamplight from Dr. Fenneben's door wasillumining, and the softly spoken words, "I shall always remember you asone with whom I could never be afraid again"--all this came swiftlyin an instant's vision, as the team caught its breath for the lastonslaught. "Victor, for victory. Lead out Burleigh, " Trench cried to his mates, andthe sweep of the field was on; and Lagonda Ledge and the whole WalnutValley remembers that final charge yet. Steady, swift, invincible, itdrove its strong foe down the white-crossed sod--so like a whirlwind, that the watching crowds gazed in bewilderment. Almost before theycould comprehend the truth, the enemy's goal was just before the Sunrisewarriors, and half a minute of time remained in which to play. One moreline plunge with Burleigh holding the ball! A film came before his eyes. A sudden blankness of failure and despair seized him. In the grandstand, Elinor Wream stood clutching a pennant in both hands, her dark eyesluminous with proud hope. Amid all the yells and cheers, her sweet voicerang out: "Victor, Victor! Don't forget the name your mother gave you!" Vic neither saw nor heard. Yet in that moment, strength and prideand indomitable will power came sweeping back to him. One last plungeagainst this wall of defense upreared before him, and Burleigh, withhalf the enemy's eleven clinched to drag him back, had hurled himselfacross the goal line and lay half-conscious under a perfect shower offragrant crimson roses, while the song of victory in swelling choruspealed out on the November air. Half a minute later, Trench had kickedgoal. The bleachers chanted eleven counts, the referee's whistle blew, and the game was done! SACRIFICE _The air for the wing of the sparrow, The bush for the robin and wren, But always the path that is narrow And straight for the children of men_. --ALICE CARY CHAPTER VII. THE DAY OF RECKONING _Oh, it is excellent To have a giant's strength, but tyrannous To use it like a giant_. --SHAKESPEARE OF course, there came a day of reckoning for Victor Burleigh, now theidol of the Walnut Valley football fans, the pride of Lagonda Ledge, thehero of Sunrise. But the reckoning was not brought to him; he broughthimself deliberately to it. The jollification following the game threatened to wreck the chapel andcrack the limestone ledge beneath it. "Dust off your halo and wrap it up in cotton till next fall, Vic, "Trench whispered in the closing minutes. "We've got to face the realthing now. We're civilians in citizens' clothes, amenable to lawhenceforth; not a lot of athletic brigands, privileged outlaws, whoseglory dazzles all common sense. Quit bumping your head against theKansas motto up in the dome, get your hob-nailers down on the sod, and trot off and tackle your Greek verbs awhile. And say, Vic, tackleyourself first and forget the pretty girl who covered you with rosesdown yonder five days ago. It was n't you, it was just the day's hero. She'd have decorated old Bond Saxon just the same if he had waddledacross the last goal line then. You're a plug and she's a lady born, andas good as engaged to Burgess besides. I had that straight from DennieSaxon, and you know Dennie's no gossip. They were far gone before theycame West--the Wream-Burgess folk were--stiffen up, Burleigh. You looklike a dead man. " "I was never more alive in my life. " Vic's voice and eyes were aliveenough. "By heck! I believe it, " Trench exclaimed. "Say, you got away withBurgess about the game. If you want the girl, go after her, too. Butgently, Sweet Afton, go gently. Most girls want to do the pursuingthemselves, I believe. I'll block the interference, if necessary, andyou'll be the sought-after yet, not the seeking, dear child. " A circular stairway winds from the Sunrise chapel down the south turretto Dean Fenneben's study, intended originally as a sort of fire escape. Some enterprising janitor later fixed a spring lock on the upper doorto this stairway (surprises had been sprung through this door upon thechapel stage by prankish students at inopportune moments), so thatnow it was only an exit, and was called by the students "the road toperdition, " easy to descend but barred from retreat. In the confusion following the chapel exercises Vic slipped into thesouth turret, and the lock clicked behind him as he hurried down "theroad to perdition. " The door to Dean Fenneben's study was slightly open and Vic heard hisown name spoken as he reached it. He hesitated, for a group of girls wassurrounding Elinor Wream, discussing him. There was no escape. The upperdoor was locked, and he would rather have met that unknown villainousface in the dark cave than to face this group of pretty girls. So hewaited. "Oh, Elinor, you mercenary creature!" "What if he is a bit crude?" "I don't blame you. I'm daffy about Professor Burgess myself. " "He's got the grandest voice, Vic has!" "I just adore Greek!" "I think Vic is splendid!" So the exclamations ran. "Now, Norrie Wream, cross your heart, hope you may die, if big, handsomeVictor Burleigh had his corners knocked off, and he was sandpapered downa little, and had money, wouldn't you feel a whole lot different abouthim, Norrie?" "I certainly would. I couldn't help it. " Norrie's eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink as peach blossoms. To Vic she seemed exquisitely beautiful. "But now?" somebody queried. "Oh, now, she'll be sensible, and the Professor will take advantageof 'now. ' He won't wait till it's too late. Great hat! there goes thebell. " And the girls scuttled away. Vic came in and sat down by the window through which one may find anempire for the looking. "Burgess was right, " he said to himself. "I'm not only ill-bred on the outside, I'm that way clear through. Adisreputable eavesdropper! That's my size. But I didn't mean it. Fineexcuse!" He frowned in disgust, and turned to the window. The Thanksgiving weather was still blessing the Walnut Valley. Wide awaybeyond Lagonda Ledge rolled the free open prairies, swept by the freeair of heaven under a beneficent sky. As Vic gazed his stern face softened, and the bulldog look, that he hadworn since the night of the storm, relaxed before some gentler mood. Thebrown eyes held a strange glow under the long black lashes, as if a newpurpose were growing up in the soul behind them. "No limit out there. It's a FREE LAND, " he murmured. "There shall beno limit in here. " Unconsciously he struck his breast with his fist. "There's freedom for such as I am somewhere. " "Hello, Burleigh, what can I do for you?" As Dr. Fenneben came into thestudy he recalled how awkwardly the same boy had filled the same chaironly a few months before. "I've come in to be sentenced, " Vic replied. "Well, plead your case first. " If ever a father-heart beat in a bachelor's breast, Lloyd Fenneben hadsuch a heart. "I want to settle about Thanksgiving Day, " Vic said. "I had a moralright to play on the team in that game, but I had to get the legal rightby force. Professor Burgess refused to permit me to play until I MADEhim do it. " Fenneben's eyes were smiling. "Why didn't you knock him down and fightit out with him?" "Because he's not in my class. When I fight I fight men. And, besides, Iwas in a hurry. If I'm expected to apologize to Professor Burgess or beexpelled, I want to know it, " Vic added, hotly. He knew he would not apologize, and he wanted the sentence of expulsionto come quickly if it must come. "We never expel boys from Sunrise. They have done it themselvessometimes. Nor do we ever exact an apology. They offer it themselvessometimes. In either case, the choice lies with the boy. " "What do you do with a fellow like me?" Vic looked curiously at theDean. "If a boy of your build wants to meet only men when he fights, we takeit he is something of a man himself, and therefore worth too much forSunrise to lose. " Oh! blessed power of the college man to lead the half-tamed boy into thestronger places of life; nor shove him to the dangerous ground where hisfeet must sink in the quicksand or the mire! Vic sat looking thoughtfully at the man before him. "Your confession here is all right. Your claim to a place on the team inThursday's game was just. " The simple fairness of Fenneben's words madetheir appeal, yet, it was so unlike what Vic had counted on he couldhardly accept it as genuine. "You have made a great name for yourself as an athlete. I paid for theroses. I know something of the degree of that greatness. " Dr. Fennebensmiled genially. "You played a marvelous game and I am proud of you. " Vic did not look proud of himself just then, and Lloyd Fenneben knew itwas one of life's crucial moments for the boy. "The big letter S cut over the doorway out there stands for more thanSunrise, you remember I told you. " Fenneben spoke earnestly. "It meansalso the strife which you have already met and must expect to meetall along the way. But, Burleigh"--Lloyd Fenneben stood up to his fullheight, an ideal of grace and power--"if you expect to make your waythrough college with your fists, come to me. " "You?" Vic's eyes widened. "Yes, I'll meet you on any grounds. And if you ever try to coerce aprofessor here again, I'll meet you anyhow, and we'll have it out. "Fenneben was stern now. "I wouldn't want to scrap with you, Dr. Fenneben, " Vic stammered. "Why not?" "I am too much of a gentleman for that. " "When I fight, I fight men. You are in my class, " Fenneben quoted with asmile in his eyes, which faded away with the next words. "You are right, Burleigh. A gentleman does n't want to use his strengthlike a beast to destroy. The only legitimate battle is when a man mustfight with a man as he would fight with a beast, to save himself, orsomething dearer to him than himself, from beastly destruction. Get intothe bigger game, my boy, where the strife is for larger scores, andadd to a proud athletic record, the prouder record of self-control. Theprairies have given you a noble heritage, but culture comes most fromcontact with cultured men. Don't take on airs because you have morered blood than our Harvard man. The influence of the great universities, directly or indirectly, on a life like yours is essential to yourusefulness and power. You may educate your conscience to choose theright before the wrong, but, remember, an educated conscience does notalways save a man from being a fool now and then. He needs an educatedbrain sometimes by which to save his soul. Meantime, settle with yourconscience, if you owe it anything. It is a troublesome creditor. I'llleave you now to square yourself with that fellow you must live withevery day--Victor Burleigh. We'll drop everything else henceforth andface toward tomorrow, not yesterday. " Lloyd Fenneben grasped the boy's hand in a firm, assuring grip and lefthim. "If Sunrise means Strife, I'll face it, " Vic said to himself. "As tomoney, I have only my two hands and that old mortgaged quadrangle ofprairie sod out West. But if culture like Fenneben's might win ElinorWream, God help me to win it. " Up in the library a week later Professor Burgess came in while DennieSaxon was putting the books in order. Burgess was often to be foundwhere Dennie was, but Burgess himself had not noted it, and nobody elseknew it, except Trench. Trench was a lazy fellow, who always lived inthe middle of his pasture, where the feeding was good. That gave himtime to study mankind as it worried about the outer edges. "Don't you get tired sometimes, Miss Dennie?" the Professor asked. Hewas not happy himself for many reasons, and two of them were Elinor andVic, who separately, and differently, seemed to wear out his energy. Dennie Saxon never wore on anybody's nerves. "Yes, I do, often, " Dennie answered. "Why do you do this?" he queried. "To get my college education. " Dennie smiled, hopefully. "I like thenice things and nice ways of life. So I'm working for them. " "Elinor has all these without working for them, " Vincent thought. Then for no reason at all his mind leaped to Dennie's father and his ownvow on the stormy night in October. "What would you do if your father were taken from you, Miss Dennie?" heasked. "I've always had to depend on myself somewhat. I would keep on, Isuppose. " Dennie looked up bravely. Her father was her joy and hershame. Well, what had Burgess expected? That she would depend on him? He was inlove with Elinor Wream. Why should he feel disappointed? And why shouldhis eye follow the soft little ripples of her sunny hair, giving apretty outline to her face and neck. "Could you really take care of yourself? He was talking at random. "I might do like that woman out at Pigeon Place. " Burgess did n't catchthe pathos in Dennie's tone. He was only a man. "How's that?" he asked. "Oh, live alone and keep a big dog, and sell chickens. That's what Mrs. Marian does. By the way, she looks just a little bit like you. " "Thank you!" "She was at the game on Thanksgiving Day, strange to say, for she seldomleaves home. Did you see a pretty white-haired woman, right south ofwhere we were?" "Is that how I look? No, I didn't see her. I was n't at the game. " "You weren't? Why not? You missed a wonderful thing. " And Burgess told her the whole story from his viewpoint, of course. Whathe was too proud to mention to Dr. Fenneben or Elinor he spoke of freelyto Dennie, and he felt as if the weight of the limestone ledge waslifted from him with the telling. "Don't you think the young ruffian was pretty hard on me?" he asked. "No, I don't, " Dennie said, frankly. "I think you were pretty hard onhim. " A sudden resolve seized Burgess. He came around to Dennie's side of thetable. "Miss Dennie, I want to tell you something, unimportant in itself, butbetter shared than kept. On the night of our picnic in October yourfather, who was not quite himself--" "Yes, I understand, " Dennie said, with downcast eyes. "Pardon me, Dennie, I would not hurt your feelings. " His voice was verygentle, and Dennie looked up gratefully. "On that night your father mademe promise--made me hold up my hand and swear--I'm easily forced, youwill think--to look after you if he were taken away. I did it to pacifyhim, not to ever embarrass you. He also told me enough about youngBurleigh to make me wish, in the office of protector, to warn you. " "Was my father quite himself then?" Dennie asked. "Not quite, " Burgess replied. "Listen to him some day when he is. He is another man then. But, " sheadded, "I know you mean well. " In spite of her courage her eyes were full of tears, and for the firsttime in his sheltered pleasant life the real spirit of sympathy woke inthe soul of Vincent Burgess. "You are a brave, good girl, Dennie. If I can ever serve you in any way, it will be a privilege to me to do it. " Ten minutes after they had left the library Trench, who had beenstationary in the north alcove, slowly came to life. He had been posingas a statue, Winged Victory with a head on, he declared afterward to VicBurleigh, to whom he told the whole story. "Let me sing my swan song, " he declared. "Then me for Lagonda'swhirlpool. I'm not fit to live in a decent community, a blithering idiotand rascally villain, who lies in wait to hear and see like a fool. I thought Dennie knew I was there and would be in to dust me out ina minute. And when it was too late I turned to a pillar of salt andwaited. But I believe I'll change my mind, after all. I'll live; and ifProfessor Burgess, A. B. Of Cambridge-by-the-bean-patch, dares to makelove to Dennie Saxon--on the side--he'll go head foremost into thewhirlpool to feed Lagonda's rapacious spirit. I've said it. " CHAPTER VIII. LOSS, OR GAIN? _We cannot make bargains for blisses, Nor catch them like fishes in nets, And sometimes the thing our life misses Helps more than the thing which it gets_. --CARY ELINOR WREAM spent the holidays in the East and was two weeks latein entering school again. Then her Uncle Lloyd tightened the rules, exacting full measure for lost time, until she bewailed to her girlfriends that she had no opportunity even to make fudge or wash her hair. "Were you sorry to come back, then, Norrie?" her uncle asked one eveningwhen they were alone in their library, and Elinor was lamenting her hardlot. "No, I want to be with you, Uncle Lloyd. " She was sitting on the arm of his morris chair, softly stroking hisheavy hair away from his forehead. "Looks like it, the way you hurried back, " Dr. Fenneben said, smiling. "But Uncle Joshua is n't well, although, to be honest, he didn't seema bit anxious to have me stay. He's so wrapped up in Sanscrit he has notime to live in the present. Why didn't he ever marry?" "You have just said why, " her uncle answered her. "Why did n't you ever marry. Were you ever in love?" The library lamp cast only a shaded light over Lloyd Fenneben loungingcomfortably in his chair. To a woman's eye he would have seemed thepicture of an ideal husband. "Yes, I was in love once. I did n't marry because--because--I didn't. " "How romantic! Was it unrequited, or money, or what?" Norrie asked, eagerly. "Or what, " he answered, and her finer sense made her change the subject. "Say, Uncle Lloyd, Uncle Joshua says he wants me to marry. " "What's he up to now? Tell me about it. " Norrie was charming tonight in a dainty red evening gown that set offher pretty face, crowned with beautiful dark hair. Somehow the sight ofher made deeper the void in Fenneben's life--since that love affair ofhis own long ago. "Well, " Norrie went on, "Uncle says I'm to marry rich, because my papaexpected me to. He said papa had money which was mamma's and he used itfor college endowments, because the Wreams love colleges best, and thatit was his wish, and it's Uncle Joshua's too, that I should marry well. I knew I came honestly by my love of spending. I inherited it from mymother. Aren't the Wreams all funny men to just see nothing in money, but a cap and gown and a Master's Degree? But you are a human being, Uncle Lloyd. You wouldn't leave a daughter dependent on her uncles anduse her money to endow colleges, would you?" The white arm stole roundhis neck affectionately, as Elinor added softly, "I'm going to tell yousomething else. Uncle Joshua wants me to marry Professor Burgess. " "Do you want to marry him?" Fenneben asked. "He hasn't asked me to yet. But he is such a gentleman and he has afortune in his own name, or in trust, or something like that. It wouldplease the Cambridge folks, and Uncle Joshua expects me to consent, and I've never disobeyed uncle's wishes, so I couldn't refuse now. And, well, if he'll wait till I'm ready, I guess it will suit me. " "He'll wait all right, if he wants you, Norrie. He must wait until yougraduate, " the Dean declared. "Oh, yes; a Wream without a college diploma is like a ship without acompass, a mere derelict on life's sea. I'm in no hurry anyhow, " and shebegan to talk of other things. In the months that followed Trench had no need to watch ProfessorBurgess in his relation to Dennie Saxon, for Burgess had no thought ofher other than of kindly sympathy. That is, Burgess thought he had nothought. He knew he was in love with Elinor, knew that back in Cambridgebefore he was graduated from the university. He had been told thatElinor liked luxurious living, and he had money--he had told Fenneben asmuch in their first interview. Everything seemed to be settled now, forJoshua Wream had written Burgess the kind of letter only a very old man, and an abstract scholar, and a bachelor would ever write, telling allthat he had said to Norrie. He made it obligatory that Fenneben shouldfirst give his sanction to the union. He requested also that Burgesswould never mention this letter to his dear young niece, and heexpressly stipulated that Norrie should graduate at Sunrise first. Heended with an old man's blessing and with the assurance that with Elinorsafely provided for his conscience (why his conscience?) would be atrest, and he could die in peace. So there was smooth sailing at Sunrisefor many months. Elinor was always charming, and Dr. Fenneben seemedoblivious to the situation, least of all to putting up any objection, which, according to brother Joshua, would have blocked the game of love. There was time now for profound research, the study of types, seclusion, and the advantage of geographical breath which had brought the Professorto Kansas, and which he heeded less and less with the passing days. Forhe found himself more and more living in the lives of the students. Hehad been ashamed, once, of having been Dennie Saxon's escort; and henever knew when she came to be the one person in Lagonda Ledge to whomhe turned for confidence and aid in many things. Meanwhile the big boy from the western claim was as surely going up therounds of culture as the Professor was coming down to the common needsof common minds, and both were unconscious then that back of each wasDr. Fenneben, "dear old Funnybone" to the student body, playing eachman for his king row in the great game of life fought out inSunrise-by-the-Walnut. Toward Elinor, Victor Burleigh seemed utterly indifferent. Even LloydFenneben, who had caught an insight into things on the night of theOctober storm, and had begun to read that new line in the boy's face, failed to grasp what lay back of those innocent-looking, wide-open eyes, whose tiger-golden gleam showed but rarely now. Vic was easily themost popular fellow in his class, and the year at Sunrise had worked amarvelous change in him. "You are a darned smooth citizen, " Trench drawled, as he and Burleighstood in the shade by the campus gate on the closing day of theirfreshman year. A group of girls had been bidding the two good-bye for the summer. AsElinor Wream, who was the last one of the company, offered her hand toVic there was a look of expectancy in her glance which found no responsein his own eyes. As he turned away with indifferent courtesy to Trench, the big right guard stared hard at him. "You are a--well, any kind of a smooth citizen, I say, " he repeated. "What's troubling your liver now?" Vic asked. Trench did not heed the question, but said, slowly: "And-the-big-noble-hearted-young-fellow-walked-in-and-out-beside-how-the-touch-of-her-hand-thrilled-his-every-pulse-beat, -and-how-her-smile-was-the-light-of-his-soul. And-he-grew-handsomer-and-more-beloved-with-the-passing-manhood--" A sudden clutch on Trench's arm, the blaze of the old-time fury inburning eyes, as Vic's hoarse voice cried: "For God's sake, Trench, get out of my sight!" "I will, " drawled Trench. "The only friend you ever had. I'll carry mytroubles up to Big Chief Funnybone. Like as not he'll sentence me totumble you through the chapel door of the south turret down the 'road toperdition. ' No use though, you go that road every day. Better treat meright and tell me all your troubles. If there is any cool handle to takehold of Gehanna by next to Funnybone, I'm the one fellow in Sunrise tograb onto it. " But Vic was out of hearing. And the days of a long, hot Kansas summer, a glorious autumn, and ashort, nippy winter swung by in their appointed seasons. And now thespringtime was unrolling in dainty beauty of tender green leaf, andgrowing grass, and warm, sweet air, and trill of song bird. Collegestudents philosophize little in the springtime of their sophomore year. Having learned all that books can teach, and a little more, they seekother pastime. Nobody in Sunrise except Dr. Fenneben took the time toremember how stiff and ungenial Professor Burgess was when he first cameWest; nor what an awkward gosling Victor Burleigh was the day he enteredSunrise; nor that once it could have seemed just a little odd to inviteDennie Saxon, a poor student, daughter of a half-reformed drunkard, tothe class parties; nor that even Elinor Wream, "Norrie the beloved, " wasnot supposed to be engaged to Vincent Burgess. Supposed! And that, whenher senior year was well along, the engagement would be openly spoken ofas now in her sophomore year, it was quietly accepted, even if ProfessorBurgess was often Dennie Saxon's escort. That was because he was such agentleman. Nor that with all these changes Trench had remained the sameold lazy Trench, the comfortable idol of the girls, for he was rightguard to all of them, and cared for none. And they never knew tillafterward that for all the four years he was faithful to a littlesweetheart out in the sandy Cimarron River country, to whom he tookback clean hands and a pure heart, when he went home after four years ofcollege life. None of these things were noted especially, save by Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, and he wasn't a sophomore nor a professor in love with a pretty girl; aprofessor learning for the first time that sympathy has also its culturevalue, as well as perfectly translated Horace, and that the growth ofa human soul means something as beautiful as the growth of a completeconjugation on an old Greek stem from an older Greek root. Fenneben hadlearned all this while he was chasing about the Kansas prairies with acollege in his vest pocket. There were some unchanged things, however, which Fenneben only guessedat. Victor Burleigh had never apologized to Professor Burgess for hisrude attack, unless a certain strained dignified courtesy be the mark ofa tacit apology. And Burgess could give only cold recognition to the bigfellow who had choked him into submission and had gone unpunished by thecollege authorities. Between these two Fenneben guessed there was no change. But he did notgrieve deeply. There must be a personal phase in this grudge that nothird person could handle. It might be a girl--but the face of thereturns indicated otherwise. Meanwhile the college was doing its perfectwork for Burleigh, whose strength of mind, and self-control, and growinggraciousness of manner betokened the splendid manhood that should reston this foundation. While the spirit of the prairie sod, the benedictionof the broad-sweeping air of heaven, and the sturdy, wholesome lifeof the sons and daughters of freedom-loving, broad-spirited men andwomen--all were giving to Vincent Burgess a new happiness in his workunlike any pleasure he had ever known before. Little Bug Buler, now four years of age, had changed least of all amongchanging things about Lagonda Ledge. A sweet-faced, quaint little fellowhe was, with big appealing eyes, a baby lisp to his words, and innocentways. He was a sturdy, pudgy, self-reliant youngster, however, who tooklong rambles alone and turned up safe at the right moment. All LagondaLedge petted him, even to Burgess, who never forgot the day in therotunda when Bug's pitying voice had broken Burleigh's grip on his neck. Bond Saxon had not changed, nor the white-haired woman of PigeonPlace--nor the reputation of the ravines and rocky coverts for hidinglaw breakers across the Walnut River. And Fenneben noted often theslender blue smoke rising where nobody had a house. It was an April day in the Walnut Valley, with all the freshness of theearth just washed and perfumed by April showers. The sunshine was palegold. There was a gray-green filmy light from budding trees, and theold-time miracle of the grass was wrought out once more before the eyesof men. The orchards along the Walnut were faintly pink, and the eggs inthe robin's nest, the south winds purring through the wooded spaces, theodor of far-plowed furrows on the prairie farms, all gave assuranceof the year's gladdest days. From the Sunrise ledge the beauty of thelandscape was exquisite. There was no haze overhanging the earth now, and the Walnut Valley was a picture beyond a Master's dream. VictorBurleigh sat on the top of the flight of steps leading from the lowercampus, looking lazily out with dreamy eyes on all that the earth had togive on this sweet April afternoon. Presently Elinor Wream came around the north angle of the building, hesitated a little, then walked straight to the steps. "Good afternoon, Victor, " she said. Burleigh looked up, glad then of his months of discipline andself-control. A sight good for anybody on a day like this was thiscollege girl with beautiful dark hair and laughing dark eyes, a satinypink and white complexion, and a slender form, clad just now in daintypink gingham with faint little edgings of white and pale green, allstylishly put together to reveal rounded arms, and white neck, anddimpled chin. "Hello, Elinor, " Vic said, calmly, making room for her on the stonesteps. "Take a seat. " Elinor sat down beside him, throwing her hat on the ground. "Whither away?" Vic asked. "I'll tell you presently. I want to get over my stage fright first. " "All right, look at this view. I'll give it to you if you like it. "Vic had turned to the west again and was looking away toward the dreamyprairies beyond the valley. Elinor recalled the September day when the bull snake lay sunning itselfon this very stone. How shy and awkward he seemed then, with only a deepsweet voice to attract favorable attention. And now, big, and graceful, and handsome, and reserved--any girl might be proud to have his regard. Of course, for herself, there was Vincent Burgess in the pleasantinevitable sometime. She gave little thought to that. She was living inthe present. And in the wooing spirit of the April afternoon Elinor wasglad to sit here beside Victor Burleigh. "What time next month do we have the big baseball game?" she asked. "Thegame that is to make Sunrise the champion college in Kansas, and you ourcollege champion?" Vic's lips suddenly grew gray. "Friday, the thirteenth--auspicious date!" he answered. "But I may notplay in it. I might fail. " "Oh, we must win this game, anyhow, and you never do fail. Don't forgetthe name your mother gave you. Do you remember when you told me that?" "A couple of thousand years ago, wasn't it?" Vic asked, smiling downon her. "If I don't play Sunrise needn't fail, even for Friday, thethirteenth. " "But it will fail without you. You pulled us to victory a year agoat the Thanksgiving game, and last fall the Sunrise goal line wasn'tcrossed the whole season with 'Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!' for a slogan. We must win this year. Then it will be a complete championship:football, basket-ball, and baseball. We won't do it though unless wehave 'Burleigh at the bat'. " A shadow crossed his face and he looked away to where a tiny film ofblue smoke was rising above the rough ledges beyond the river. "I'm getting over my stage fright now, " Elinor said, the pink deepeningon her fair cheek, "and I'll tell you what I want. " "Command me!" he said, gallantly. "Well, it's awful, and the girls are too mean to live. But they aregetting even with me, they say, for something I did last fall. " "All right. " Vic was waiting, graciously. "A lot of us have broken some of the rules of the Sorority and it'sdecreed that I must go over the route we came home by on the night ofthe storm down in the Kickapoo Corral. They are having a 'spread' downthere at five o'clock and we are to get there in time for it, goingby the west side of the river, and they'll bring us home. They said Ishould ask you to go with me, and if you would n't go for me to ask Mr. Trench to go. They are too silly for anything. " "Trench was executed for manslaughter at two forty-five today. It'sthree o'clock now. Let's go. " He lifted her to her feet and stooped topick up her hat. "Do you really mind going with me, Victor?" Elinor asked. "Do I mind? I've been waiting two years for you to ask me to go. " Hisvoice was very deep and there was a soft light in his brown eyes. Elinor's pulse beat felt a thrill. A sudden sense of the sweetness ofthe day and of a joy unlike any other joy of her life possessed her. Down on the bridge they stopped to watch the sunlit waters of the Walnutrippling below them. "Are we the same two who crept up on this bridge, wet, and muddy andtired, and scared one stormy October night eighteen months ago?" Elinorasked. "I've had no reincarnation that I know of, " Vic replied. "I have, " Elinor declared, and Vic thought of Burgess. Up the narrow hidden glen they made their way, clambering about brokenledges, crossing and recrossing the little stream, hugging the dryfooting under overhanging rock shelves, laughing at missteps andrejoicing in the springtime joy, until they came suddenly upon a grassyopen space, cliff-walled and hidden, even from the rest of the glen. At the farther end was the low doorway-like entrance to the cave. Thesong-birds were twittering in the trees above them, the waters of thelittle stream gurgled at their feet, the woodsy odor of growing thingswas in the air, and all the little glen was restful and quiet. "Isn't it beautiful and romantic--and everything nice?" Elinor cried. "I don't mind this sentence to hard service. It is worth it. Do you mindthe loss of time, Victor?" "I counted it gain to be here with you, even in the storm and terror. How can this be loss?" he answered her. His voice was low and musical. Elinor looked up quickly. And quickly as the thing had come to VictorBurleigh on the west bluff above the old Kickapoo Corral two Octobersago, so to Elinor Wream came the vision of what the love of such a manwould be to the woman who could win it. "Do you really mean it, Victor? Was n't I a lump of lead? A dead weightto your strength that night? You have never once spoken of it. " She looked up with shining eyes and put out her hand. What could he dobut keep it in his own for a moment, firm-held, as something he wouldkeep forever. "I have never once forgotten it, " he murmured. The cave by daylight was as the lightning had shown it, a big chamber, rock-walled, rock-floored, rock-roofed, in the side of the bluff, butlittle below the level of the ground and easy of entrance. It was cooland damp, but, with the daylight through the doorway, it was merelyshadowy inside. In the farther wall yawned the ragged opening to theblack spaces leading off underground. Through this opening these twohad crept once, feeling that behind the wall somebody was crouchingwith evil intent. They peered through the opening now, trying to see themiraculous way by which they had come into the cave from the rear. But they stared only into blackness and caught the breath of the dampunderground air with a faint odor of wood smoke somewhere. "Elinor, it's a good thing we came through here in the night. It wouldhave been maddening to be forced in here by daylight. We must haveslipped down through a hole somewhere in our stumbles and hit a passageleading out of here only to the river, a sort of fire escape by way ofthe waters. You remember we couldn't get anywhere on the back track, except to the cliff above the Walnut. It's all very fine if the escapergets out of the river before he reaches Lagonda's whirlpool. " He was leaning far through the opening in the wall, gazing into thedarkness and seeing nothing. "Somewhere back in there, while I was pawing around that night, I foundsomething up in a chink that felt like the odd-shaped little silverpitcher my mother had once--an old family heirloom, lost or stolen sometime ago. I came back and hunted for it later, but it was winter timeand cold as the grave outside and darker in here, and I couldn't findanything, so I concluded maybe I was mistaken altogether about its beinglike that old pitcher of ours. It was a bad night for 'seein' things';it might have been for 'feelin' things' as well. There's nothing herebut damp air and darkness. " And even while he was speaking close beside the wall, so near that ahand could have reached him, a man was crouching; the same man whosecruel eyes had stared through the bushes at Lloyd Fenneben as he sat bythe river before Pigeon Place; the same man whose eyes had leered at VicBurleigh in this same place eighteen months before; the same man whomlittle Bug Buler's innocent face had startled as he was about to seizethe money box at the gateway to the Sunrise football field; and thissame man was crouching now to spring at Vic Burleigh's throat in thedarkness. "It's a good thing a fellow has a guardian angel once in a while, " Vicsaid, as he hastily withdrew his head and shoulders. "We get prettyclose to the edge of things sometimes and never know how near we are todestruction. " "We were pretty close that night, " Elinor replied. "Shall we rest here a little while, or do your savage sorority sistersrequire you to do time in so many minutes?" Vic asked, as they leftthe cave and came again into the sunlight, and all the sweetness of theApril woodland, and the rugged beauty of the glen. "I'm glad to rest, " Elinor said, dropping down on a stone. Her cheekswere blooming from the exercise of the tramp, and her pretty hair was indisorder. Far away from the west prairie came the faint note of a child's voice insong. "Victor, " Elinor said, as they listened, "do you know that the Sunrisegirls envy Bug Buler? They say you would have more time for the girlsif it wasn't for him. What you spend for him you could spend on lightrefreshments for them, don't you see?" "I know I'm a stingy cuss, " Vic said, carelessly, but a deeper redtouched his cheek. "You know you are not, " Elinor insisted, "and I've always thought itwas a beautiful thing for a big grown man like you to care for a littleorphan boy. All the girls think so, too. " Burleigh looked down at her gratefully. "I thought once--in fact, I was told once--that my care for him wassufficient reason why I should let all the girls alone, most of all whyI should not think of Elinor Wream. " "How strange!" Elinor's face had a womanly expression. "I've never hada little child to love me. I've been brought up with only AEneas'ssmall son Ascanius, and other classical children, on Uncle Joshua's DeadLanguage book shelves. I feel sometimes as if I'd been robbed. " "You? I didn't know you had ever wanted anything you did n't get. " Victor had thought all things were due to her and came as duly. Thewomanly look on her face now was a revelation to him. But then he hadnot dared to study her face for months, and he did not yet realize whatlife in Dr. Fenneben's home must mean to her character-building. "I'll tell you some time about something I ought to have had, asacrifice I was forced to make; but not now, Tell me about Bug. " There was no bitterness in Elinor's tone, yet the idea of her having thecapacity to endure gave her a newer charm to the man beside her. "I have never known whose child Bug is, " he began. "The way in whichhe came to me is full of terrible memories, and it all happened onthe blackest day of my life--the hard life of a lonely boy on a Kansasclaim. That's why I never speak of it and try always to forget it. Ifound him by mere accident, helpless and in awful danger. He was abouttwo years old then and all he could say was 'bad man' and his name, 'BugBuler. ' I've wondered if Bug is his name, or if he could not speak hisreal name plainly then. " Burleigh paused, and a sense of Elinor's interest brought a thrill ofjoy to him. "Where was he?" she asked. Vic slowly unfastened his cuff and slipped his coat sleeve up to hiselbow. "Do you remember that scar?" he asked. "It is not the only one I have. I fought with death for that baby boy and I shall always carry the scarsof that day. Bug was alone in a lonely little deserted dugout. Somebodyhad left him there to perish. He was on a low chair, the only furniturein the room, and on the earth floor between him and me were five of theugliest rattlesnakes that ever coiled for a deadly blow. Little Bug heldout his arms to me, and I'll never forget his baby face--and--I killedthem all and carried him away. It was a dangerous, hard job, but the boyI saved has been the blessing of my life ever since. I could not haveendured the days that followed without his need for care and his loveand innocence. He's kept me good, Elinor. When I got back home withhim my mother, who had been very sick, was dead, and our house had beenrobbed of every valuable by some thief--a wayside tragedy of westernKansas. That was the day the pitcher was stolen. A note was left warningme not to follow nor try to find out who had done the stealing, but Ithought I knew anyhow. That's why I killed that bull snake the first dayI came to Sunrise and that's why I must have looked like a bulldog toyou, soft-sheltered Cambridge folks. Life has been mostly a fist fightfor me, but Dr. Fenneben has taught me that there are other powersbeside physical strength. That the knock-down game doesn't bring thereal victory always. I hope I've learned a little here. " A little! Could this be the big awkward freshman of a September day goneby? Then college culture is surely worth the cost. Elinor leaned forward, eagerly. "Tell me about your father, " she said. "My father lost his life because he dared to tell the truth, " Victorreplied. "Oh, glorious!" Elinor cried, earnestly. "I have always loved my father's memory for his courage, " Victorcontinued. "He was a believer in law enforcement and he was a terrorto the bootleggers who carried whisky into our settlement. A man namedGresh was notorious for selling whisky to the claim holders. He gave it, Elinor, gave it, to a boy, a widow's son, made him drunk, robbed him, and left him to freeze to death in a blizzard. The boy lived long enoughto tell my father who did it, and it was his testimony that helped toconvict Gresh and start him to the penitentiary. He escaped from thesheriff on the way--and, so far as I know, there's one bad man still atlarge, a fugitive before the law. Whisky is the devil's own best tool, whether a man drinks it himself or gets other people to drink it. " "That's a bad name, " Elinor said. "My grandfather adopted a boy namedGresh, who turned out bad. I think he was killed in a saloon row inChicago. Did this Gresh ever trouble you again?" Burleigh's face was grim as he answered: "My father was waylaid and murdered with a club by this man. He escapedafterward into Indian Territory. He left his own name, Gresh, scrawledon a piece of paper pinned to my father's coat to show whose revengewas worked out. He was a volcano of human hate--that man Gresh. Aftermy father's name was written--'The same club for every Burleigh who evercrosses my path. ' I expect to cross his path some day, and if I ever laymy eyes on that fiend it will go hard with one of us. " The yellowglow burned again in Victor Burleigh's eyes and his fists clinchedinvoluntarily. They were silent a while, until the sweetness of theday and the joy of being together wooed them to happier thoughts. ThenElinor remembered her disordered hair and, throwing aside her hat, shedeftly put it into place. "Am I presentable for the supper at the Kickapoo Corral?" she asked, asshe picked up her hat again. "You suit me, " Burleigh replied. "What are the Kickapoo requirements?" "That Victor Burleigh shall be satisfied, " she answered, roguishly. "Really, that's right. Four girls offered to substitute for me in thispenitential pilgrimage and write some long translations for me beside. " "Four, individually or collectively?" he asked. "Either way, " she answered. "Why did n't you let them do it? "Which way?" "Either way, " he replied. "Would you rather have had the four either way, than me?" shequestioned, with pretty vanity. "Much rather. " His voice was stern. "Why?" She was stung by the answer. The glen was all a dreamy gray-green ruggedness of shelving rock withmossy crevices and ferny nooks. The sunlight filtering through theyoung leaves fell about them in a shadow-flecked softness. There was acrooning song of some bird on its nest, the murmur of waters ripplingdown the stony shallows, and a beautiful girl in a dainty pink dresswith her fingers just touching her fluffy masses of hair. "Why?" With the question Elinor looked up and saw why. Saw in Victor Burleigh'sgolden-brown eyes a look she had never read in eyes before; saw thewhole face, the rugged, manly face lighted with a man's overmasteringlove. And the joy of it thrilled her soul. "Do you know why?" He leaned toward her ever so little. And Elinor Wream, forgetful ofthe Wream family rank, forgetful of her tacit consent to Uncle Joshua'swishes, forgetful of Vincent Burgess and his heritage of culture, beautiful Elinor Wream, with her starry eyes, and cheeks ofpeach-blossom pink, put out her hands to Victor Burleigh, who took themeagerly. "Let me hold them a minute, " he said, softly. "There are sixty years toremember, but only one hour like this. " Then, forgetful of the world and the demands of the world, keeping herhands in his, he bent and kissed her, as from the foundation of theworld it was his right to do. And Love's Young Dream, not boughtwith pain, as mother love is bought, nor wrought out with prayer andsacrificial service, as love for all humanity is won, came again on thisApril day to the little, rock-sheltered glen beside the bright watersof the Walnut, and briefly there rebuilt in rainbow hues the old, oldparadise of joy for these two alone. And into the new Eden came the new serpent also for to destroy. BeforeElinor and Victor was the sunlit valley. Behind them was the cave'smouth with its shadowy gloom deepening back to dense darkness. Andcreeping stealthily through that blackness, like a serpent warming itsvenom and writhing slowly toward the light, a human form was slowly, stealthily crawling outward, with head upreared and cruel eyes alert. The brutal face was void of pity, as if the conscience behind it hadlong been bound and gagged to human sympathy. While Burleigh was speaking the caveman had reached the doorway andreared up just beside it in the shadow. Clutching a brutal-looking clubin his hairy, rough hand, he stood listening to the story of the murderthat had left Victor fatherless. The face of the listener made clear theneed for guardian angels. One leap, one blow, and Victor Burleigh wouldcarry only one more scar to his grave. Suddenly a faint piping voice floated in upon the glen: Little childwen pwessing near To the feet of Thwist, the Ting, Have you neiver doubt nor fear Or some twibute do you bwing? And Bug Buler, flushed and splashed, and generally muddy and happy, camearound the fallen ledges and debauched into the grassy sunshiny spacebefore the cavern. Only a tiny, tumbled-up, joyous child, with no powerin his pudgy little arm; and Victor Burleigh, tall, muscular and agile. Against this man of tremendous strength the caveman's club was lifted. But with the sound of the child's voice and the sight of the innocentface the club fell harmless. A look of fright, deepening to a maniac'sterror, seized the creature, and noiselessly and swiftly as a serpentwould escape he crawled back into the darkness and burrowed deep fromthe eyes of men. So strength that day was ruled by weakness. "I ist followed you, Vic, " Bug said, clutching Vic's hand. "This is n't a safe place to come, Bug. You must n't follow me here. " "Nen you must n't go into is n't safe places, so I won't follow. Littlefolks don't know, " Bug said, with cunning gravity. "He is right, " Elinor said. "I think we'd better leave now. " They knew that henceforth this spot would be holy ground for them, butthey did not dare to think further than that. They only wished that themoments would stay, that the sun would loiter slowly down the afternoonsky. "I know a way out, " Bug declared. Turn, "I'll show you. " Then, with a child's sense of direction, he led away from the cave outto where the deep ravine headed in a rough mass of broken rock. "Tlimb up that and you're out, " Bug declared. They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward from theWalnut bluffs. "Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. I turn wiv Limpyout here. " Bug pointed to a group of students wandering about in search of dogtoothviolets and other botanical plunder from Nature's springtime treasury. Among the group was Bug's chum, the crippled student. "Well, stay with them this time, you little wandering Jew, " Vicadmonished, nor dreamed how his guardian angel had come to him this dayin the guise of this same little wanderer. When Victor and Elinor had come at last to the west bluff above theWalnut River, the late afternoon was already casting long shadows acrossthe grassy level of the old Kickapoo Corral. And again the camp fireswere glowing where a Sorority "spread" was merrily in the making. They must go down soon and join in the hilarity. But a golden half houryet hung in the west--and the going down meant the going back to allthat had been. "Look at the foam on the whirlpool, Elinor. See how deliberately itswings upstream. Isn't that a most deceiving bit of treachery?" Vic saidas he watched the river. Elinor looked thoughtfully at the slow-moving water. "I cannot endure deceit, " she said at last. "I like honesty ineverything. I said I would tell you sometime about a sacrifice I wasforced to make. I'll tell you now if you will not speak of what I say. " How delicious to have her confidence in anything. Vic smiled assent. "My father had a fortune from my mother. When he died he left me tothe care of my two uncles, and gave all his money to endow chairs inuniversities. He thought a woman could marry money, and that he wasdoing mankind a service in this endowment. Maybe he was, but I've alwaysrebelled against being dependent. I've always wanted my own. UncleJoshua thinks I am frivolous, and he has told Uncle Lloyd that it's justmy love of spending and extravagant notions that makes me rebel againstconditions. It is n't. It's the sense of being robbed, as it were. Itwas n't right and honest toward me, even in a great cause, to leaveme dependent. Uncle Lloyd would never have done it. I hope he does n'tthink I'm as bad as Uncle Joshua does. You won't mind my telling youthis, nor think me ungrateful to my relatives for their care of me. Nobody quite understands me but you. " The time had come for them to join the jolly picnic crowd in theCorral. She would go back to Vincent Burgess in a little while, and thisglorious day would be only a memory. And yet, down in the pretty glen, Victor had held her hands and kissed her red lips. And she had beenglad down there. The void in his life seemed blacker than the blacknessbehind the cavern. "Elinor, " he asked, suddenly, "are you bound by any promise--hasProfessor Burgess--?" He hesitated. "No, " she answered, turning her face away. "Pardon my rudeness. You know I am not well-bred, " he said, gently. "Victor Burleigh, you ill-bred, of all the gentle, manly fellows inSunrise! You know you are not. " A great hope leaped to life now, as Vic recalled the query, "If VictorBurleigh had his corners knocked off and was sandpapered down andhad money?"--and of Elinor's blushing confession that it would make adifference she could not help if these things were. The corners wereknocked off now, and Dean Fenneben had gently but persistently appliedthe sandpaper. The money must be henceforth the one condition. "Elinor. " Vic's voice was sweet as low bars of music. "Oh, Victor, there's something I can't prevent. " She was thinking of Uncle Joshua, whose money had supported her allthese years and of her obligation to heed his wishes. It was all settledfor her now. And all the while Victor was thinking of his own limitedmeans as the rock that was wrecking him with her. For all his life afterward he never forgot the sorrow of that moment. Helooked into Elinor's face, and all the longing, all the heart-hungerof the days gone by, and of the days to come seemed to lie in thosewide-open eyes shaded by long black lashes. "Elinor, my father's cruel murder and my mother dying alone were onekind of grief. My fight with those deadly poison things to rescue littleBug was another kind. My days of hardship and poverty on the claim, withonly Bug and me in that desolate loneliness, was still another. But noneof these seem a sorrow beside what I must face henceforth. And yet Ihave one joy mine now. You did care down in the glen. May I keep thatone gracious joy--mine always?" "You have always won in every game. You will in this struggle. Don'tforget the name your mother gave you. " Her eyes were luminous withtears. "We must go down to the Corral now. Tomorrow will make things allright. I shall be proud of you and your success everywhere, for you willsucceed. " "I may not be worthy of victory, " he said, sadly. "You have never been unworthy. Don't be now. " She smiled bravely. They turned from the west prairie and the sunset, and slowly they passedout of its passing radiance down to the darkening spaces of the oldKickapoo Corral. And the day with its gladness and sorrow, whether for loss or gain, slipped into the shadowy beauty of an April twilight. CHAPTER IX. GAIN, OR LOSS? _Ye know how hard an Idol dies, an' what that meant to me--E'en take it for a sacrifice, acceptable to Thee_. --KIPLINGTHE ball game on Friday, the thirteenth, was a great event this year. The Sunrise football eleven had held the championship record with anuncrossed goal line in the autumn. The basket-ball team had had nodefeat this year. Debating tests had given Sunrise the victory. Thatcame through Trench and the crippled student. And the state oratoricalstruggle repeated the story, a conquest, all the greater because VictorBurleigh, the athlete, wore also the laurels of oratory. And why shouldhe not, with that fine presence and magnificent voice? As Dr. Fennebenlistened to his forceful logic he saw clearly the line for the boy'sfuture, a line, he thought, that could end at last only in the pulpit. One more battle to fight now and Lagonda Ledge and the whole WalnutValley would go down in history as famous soil. It was a banner year forSunrise, and enthusiasm was at fever pitch, which in college is the onlyhealthy temperature. In this last battle Sunrise turned again to VictorBurleigh as its highest hope. Although this was his first game for theseason, he had never failed to bring victory to the Sunrise banners, andin all his base-ball practice he was as unerring as he was speedy. Andthen success was his habit anyhow. So "Burleigh at the bat" was theslogan now from the summit of the college ridge to the farthest cornersof Lagonda Ledge; and idol worship were insignificant compared to theadulation poured out on him. And Burleigh, being young and very human, had all the pleasure the adoration of a community can bring to its localhero. For truly, few triumphs in life's later years can be fraught withhalf the keen joy these school day victories bring. And the applause oflistening senates means less than good old comrades' yells. Vincent Burgess, A. B. , Greek Professor from Boston, seemed to haveforgotten entirely about types and geographical breadths and seclusionfor profound research amid barren prairies. He was faculty member on theAthletic board now and enthusiastic about all college sports. Sunrisehad done this much for him anyhow. In addition, the young educator wastaking on a little roundness, suggestive of a stout form in middle life. But Vincent Burgess had not forgotten all of the motives that hadpulled him Kansas-ward, although unknown to Dr. Fenneben, he had alreadyrefused to consider a position higher up in an eastern college. He wasnot quite ready to leave the West yet. Of course, not. Elinor Wream wasonly half through school and growing more popular as she was growingmore womanly and more beautiful each year. His salvation lay in keepingon the grounds if he would hold his claim undisturbed. Burgess had come to Kansas, he had told Fenneben, in order to knowsomething of the state where his only sister had lived. He did not knowyet all he wished to know about her life and death here. Her name wasnever spoken in his father's presence after she came West, so great wasthat father's anger over her leaving the East. And deep in Vincent'smind he fixed the impression that his daughter had died as unreconciledto her brother as to her father himself. This was all his own business, however, and hidden deep, almost out ofsight of himself, was a selfish motive that had not yet put a visiblemark on the surface. Burgess wanted to marry Norrie Wream, and he wanted her to have all thegood things of life which in her simple rearing had been denied her. The heritage from his father's estate included certain trust fundsambiguously bestowed by an eccentric English ancestor upon someone whohad come West not long before his death. These funds Vincent held by hisfather's will--to which will Joshua Wream was witness--on condition thatno heir to these funds was living. If there were such person or personsliving--but Burgess knew there were none. Joshua Wream had made sure ofthat for him before he left Cambridge. And yet it might be well tostay in Kansas for a year or two--much better to settle any possibledifficulty here than to have anything follow him East later. For Burgesshad his eye on Dr. Wream's chair in Harvard when the old man shouldgive it up. That was a part of the contract between the two men, the olddoctor and the young professor. Until the night when Bond Saxon forcedhim to take an unwilling oath, Burgess had had a comfortable conscience, sure that his financial future was settled, and confident that thisassured him the hand of Elinor Wream when the time was ripe. With thatOctober night, however, a weight of anxiety began that increased withthe passing days. For as he grew nearer to the student life and took onflesh and good will and a broader knowledge of the worth of humanity, sohe grew nearer to this smoothly hidden inner care. And, outside and in, he wanted to stay in Kansas for the time. In the weeks before the big ball game, Victor Burleigh seemed to haveforgotten the glen and the west bluff above the Kickapoo Corral. Thegirls who would have substituted for Elinor in the afternoon ramble tookup much of the big sophomore's time, and he never seemed more gay norcare free. And Elinor, if she had a heartache, did not show it in herhappy manner. On the afternoon before the ball game, a May thunderstorm swept theWalnut Valley and the darkness fell early. As Dennie Saxon waited onthe Sunrise portico before starting out in the rain, Professor Burgesslocked the front door and joined her. Victor Burleigh was also waitingbeside a stone column for the shower to lighten. Burgess did not seehim in the darkening twilight and Burleigh never spoke to the younginstructor when it was not necessary. "I must be nervous, " Professor Burgess said, trying to manage Dennie'sumbrella and catching it in her hair. "I had a letter today that worriedme. " "Too bad!" Dennie said sympathetically. "I'll tell you all about it sometime. " He was trying to loose the wire rib-joint from Dennie's hair, whichthe dampness was rolling in soft little ringlets about her forehead andneck. Half-consciously, he remembered the same outline of ripplinghair, as it had looked in the glow of the October camp fire down in theKickapoo Corral when she was telling the old legend of Swift Elk and TheFawn of the Morning Light. She smiled up at him consolingly. Dennie waslevel-headed, and life was always worth living where she was. "I'll be your rain beau. " He took her arm to assist her down the steps. So courteous was his action, she might have been a lady of rank insteadof old Bond Saxon's daughter carrying her own weight of a sorrow greaterthan Lagonda Ledge dreamed of. As the two walked slowly homeward underthe dripping shelter of the trees, Vincent Burgess felt a sense ofcomfort and pleasure out of all keeping for a man in love elsewhere. Victor Burleigh watched them from the shadow of the portico column. "I believe Trench is right. He insists that Burgess likes Dennie, orthat he is mean enough to deceive Dennie into liking him. A man likethat ought to be killed--a scholar, and a rich man, and Dennie such abrave little poor girl with a kind, weak-kneed, old father on her heart. Norrie ought to know this, but who am I to say a word?" "Victor Burleigh, won't you release the fair princess from the tower?" agirl's voice called. Vic turned to see Elinor framed in the half-way window of the southturret. And in that dripping shadowy light, no frame could want a rarerpicture. "I've fallen into the pit and am far on the road to perdition, " Elinorsaid. "I hurried down this way from choir practice and Uncle Lloyd'sgone and left the lower door locked. It thundered so, and Dennie didn'tcome into the study, and nobody heard my screams. But if I perish, Iperish, " she added with mock resignation. "If you'll let up on perishing for half a minute, Rapunzel, I'll tothe rescue, " Vic cried, "if I have to climb the dome and knock the _peraspera_ out of the State Seal and come down through the hole, _per astraad aspera_. " And then he rushed off to find an unlocked exit to thebuilding. From the Chapel end of the circular stairs, he called presently. "Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds. Rise to the surface, fairmermaid. " Elinor came up the winding stair into the dimly lighted chapel at hiscall. The two had avoided each other since the April day in the glen. They were not to blame for this chance meeting now. "When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy, call me, Elinor, " Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda. "If I show you sometimes how to look up and find the light, as youshowed me the Sunrise beacon on the night of the storm out on WestBluff, you may be glad you heard me. See that glow on the dome! Youwould have missed that down in Lagonda Ledge. " A level ray from a momentary cloudrift in the western sky smote thestained glass of the dome, lighting its gleaming inscription with afleeting radiance. "But the light comes rarely and is so far away, and between times, onlythe cave, and the dark ways behind it leading to the river, " he saidgravely. The sorrow of hopelessness was his tone. "Not unless one chooses to burrow downward, " she replied softly. "Let'shurry home. Tomorrow you will be 'Victor the Famous' again. I hope thisshower won't spoil the ball game. " As night deepened, the rain fell steadily. Up in Victor Burleigh's roomBug Buler grew drowsy early. "I want to say my pwayers now, Vic, " he said. The big fellow put down his book and took the child in his arms. Bughad a genius for praying briefly and for others rather than for himself. Tonight he merely clasped his chubby hands and said, reverently: "Dear Dod, please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is, for Thwist'ssake. Amen-n-n. " When he fell asleep, Victor sat a long while staring at the window wherethe May rain was beating heavily. At length, he bent over little Bug andpushed back the curls from his brow. Bug smiled up drowsily and went onsleeping. "As good as folks think I am, Bug!" he mused. "You have gotten betweenme and the rattlesnakes that were after my soul a good many times, little brother-of-mine. As good as folks think I am! Do you know what itcosts to be that good?" Ten minutes later he sat in Lloyd Fenneben's library. "I have come for help, " he said in reply to the Dean's questioning face. "I hope I can give it, " Fenneben responded. "It's about tomorrow's game. There are sure to be some professionalplayers on the other team. I want Sunrise to win. I want to win myself. "Vic's voice was harsh tonight. And the Dean caught the hard tone. "I want Sunrise to win. I want you to win. There will probably be someprofessionals to play against, but we have no way of proving this, "Fenneben said. "What do you think of such playing, Doctor?" Vic asked. "I think the rule about professionalism is often a strained piece offoolishness. It is violated persistently and persistently winked at, butso long as it is the rule there is only one square thing to do, and thatis to live up to the law. You should not dread any professionalism inthe game tomorrow, however. You'll bring us through anyhow, and keep theSunrise name and fame untarnished. " The Dean smiled genially. Burleigh's face was very pale and a strange fire burned in his eyes. "Dr. Fenneben"--his musical voice rang clear--"I'm only a poor devilfrom the short-grass country where life each year depends on that year'scrop. Three years out of four, the wind and drouth bring only failureat harvest time. Then we starve our bodies and grip onto hope anddetermination with our souls till seedtime comes again. I want a collegeeducation. Last summer burned us out as usual within a month of harvest. Then the mortgage got in its work on my claim and I had to give it up. I had barely enough to get through here at pauper rates this year--butI could n't do it and keep Bug, too. I went into Colorado and playedbaseball for pay, so I could come here and bring him with me. That's whyI can out-bat our team, and could win dead easy for Sunrise tomorrow. Nobody in Kansas knows it. Now, what shall I do?" The words were shot out like bullets. "What shall you do?" Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes held Burleigh. "Thereis only one thing to do. When you ranked high in grades with only thetrivial matter of excusable absence against you--no broken law--you tookProfessor Burgess gently by the throat and told him you meant to playanyhow. You stood your ground like a man, for your own sake and for thehonor of Sunrise. Stand like a man for your own sake and the honor ofSunrise, now. Go to Professor Burgess and take him gently--by the hand, this time--and tell him you do not mean to play, and why you cannot. " Burleigh sat still as stone, his face white as marble, his wide-openeyes under his black brows seeing nothing. "But our proud record--the glorious honor of this college, " he said atlength, and back of his words was the thought of Victor Burleigh, theidol of Sunrise, dethroned, where he had been adored. "There is no honor for a college like the honesty of its students. Thereis no prouder record than the record of daring to do the right. Youcould get into the game once by a brute's strength. Get out of it now bya gentleman's honor. " Behind the speech was Lloyd Fenneben himself, sympathetic, firm, upright, before whom the harshness of Victor Burleigh's face slowly gaveplace to an expression of sorrow. "My boy, " Fenneben said gently, "Nature gave us the Walnut Valley withits limestone ledges and fine forest trees. But before our Sunrise couldbe builded the ledge had to be shapen into the hewn stone, the greentree to the seasoned lumber, quarter-sawed oak--quarter-sawed, mind you. Mill, forge and try-pit, ax and saw and chisel, with cleft and blowand furnace heat, shaped them all for Service. Over our doorway isthe Sunrise initial. It stands also for Strife, part of which you knowalready; but it stands for Sacrifice as well. You are in the shaping. God grant you may be turned out a man fitted by Sacrifice for Servicewhen the shaping is done. " Burleigh rose, silent still, and the two went out together. At thedoorway, he turned to Fenneben, who grasped his hand without a word. Andonce again, the firm hand clasp of the Dean of Sunrise seemed to bindthe country boy to the finer things of life. It had done the same onthat day after the Thanksgiving game when he sat in Fenneben's study, and understood for the first time what gives the right to pride inbrawny arm and steel-spring nerve. After Burleigh left him, Lloyd Fenneben stood for a long time on hisveranda in the light of the doorway watching the steady downpour of thewarm May rain. As he turned at length to enter the house a rough-lookingman with rain-soaked clothing and slouched hat, sprang out of theshadows. "Stranger, " he called hastily. "There's a little child fell in the riverround the bend, and his mother got hold of him, but she can't pull himout, and can't hold on much longer. Will you come help me, quick? I'veonly got one arm or I would n't have had to ask for help. " An empty sleeve was flapping in the rain, and Fenneben did not noticethen that the man kept that side of himself all the time in the shadows. Fenneben had only one thought as he hurried away in the darkness, tosave the woman and child. His companion said little, directing thecourse toward the bend in the river before the gateway of Pigeon Place. As they pushed on with all speed through rain and mud, Fenneben washardly conscious that Dennie Saxon's words about the lonely gray-hairedhermit woman were recurring curiously to his mind. "If talking about Sunrise made her cry like that, maybe you might dosomething for her, " Dennie had said. He had never tried to do anythingfor her. Somehow she seemed to be the woman who was in peril now, andhe was half-consciously blaming himself that he had never tried to helpher, had not even thought of her for months. Women were not in his line, except the kindly impersonal interest he felt for all the Sunrisegirls, and his sense of responsibility for Norrie, and the memory of agirl--oh, the hungry haunting memory! All this in a semi-conscious fleetness swept across his mind, that wasbent on reaching the river, and on that woman holding a drowning child. At the bend in the river, the man halted suddenly. "Look out! There's a stone; don't stumble!" he said hoarsely, dodgingback as he spoke. Then Fenneben was conscious of his own feet striking the slab of stoneby the roadside, of a sudden shove from somebody behind him, a two-armedman it must have been, of stumbling blindly, trying to catch at the elmtree that stood there, of falling through the underbrush, headforemost, into the river, even of striking the water. As he fell, he was veryfaintly conscious of a sense of pity for Victor Burleigh fighting out abattle with his own honor tonight, and then he must have heard a dog'sfierce yelp, and a woman's scream. Somehow, it seemed to come throughdistance of time, as out of past years, and not through length ofspace--and then of a brutal laugh and an oath with the words: "Now for Josh Wream, and--" But Fenneben's head had struck the stone ledge against which the Walnutripples at low tide, and for a long time he knew no more. It was raining still when Victor Burleigh reached the Saxon House. At the door he met Professor Burgess, who was just leaving. Strangelyenough, the memory of their first meeting at the campus gate on aSeptember day flashed into the mind of each as they came face to facenow. They never spoke to each other except when it was necessary. Andyet tonight, something made them greet each other courteously. "Professor, will you be kind enough to come up to my room a fewminutes?" Burleigh asked, lifting his cap to his instructor with thewords. "Certainly, " Vincent Burgess said with equal grace. Bug Buler had kicked off the bed covering and lay fast asleep on hislittle cot with his stubby arms bare, and his little fat hands, dimpledin each knuckle, thrown wide apart. "I saw a picture like this once for the sign of the cross, " Vic said ashe drew the covering over the little form. "Bug has been a cross to mesometimes, but he's oftener my salvation. " Professor Burgess wondered again, why a boy like Burleigh should havebeen given a voice of such rare charm. "I will not keep you long, " Vic said, turning from Bug. "I cannot playin tomorrow's game, and be a man. " Then, briefly, he explained the reason. "It is raining still. Take my umbrella, " he said at the close of hissimply told story. "But tomorrow's sunshine will dry the field for thegame, all right. Good night. " "Good night, " Vincent Burgess said hoarsely, and plunged into thedarkness and the rain. Ten steps from the Saxon House, he came plump into Bond Saxon, whostaggered a little to avoid him. "My luck on rainy nights, " Vincent thought. "The old fellow's spreesseem to run with the storms. He hasn't been 'off' for a long time. " But Bond Saxon was never more sober in his life, and he clutched theyoung man's arm eagerly. "Professor Burgess, won't you help me!" he cried. "What do you want to do on a night like this?" Burgess asked, remembering the vow he had been forced to make, by this same man. "Come help me save a man's life!" Bond urged. "Look here, Saxon. You've got some wild notion out of a boot-legger'sbottle. Straighten up now. It's an infamous thing in a college town likeLagonda Ledge, where neither a saloon nor a joint would be allowed, thatsome imp of Satan should forever be bringing you whisky. Who does it, anyhow?" "I'm not drunk and haven't been for six months. Come on, for God's sake, and help me to save a life, maybe two lives, from the very man that'sdone the boot-leggin' and robbin' in this town for months and months. "Saxon's words were convincing enough. "What can I do?" Burgess asked. "I'm not a policeman. " "Come on! Come on!" Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. "It 'sa life, I tell you. " Vincent yielded unwillingly, the night, the beating rain, the man whoasked it of him, the purpose, his own unfitness--all holding him back. Before they had gone far, Bond Saxon suddenly exclaimed: "Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care ofDennie if anything should happen to me?" "Do YOU remember it?" Burgess responded. "You didn't ask; you demanded. " "I was drunk then. I'm sober now. Burgess, if anything should happen tome now, would you still be willing?" Bond Saxon asked in tense anxiety. "I've already taken oath, " Burgess said. "I think your daughter may needsomebody's care before anything happens if you keep up this gait. " They hurried on through the rain until they had left the board walk andthe town lights, and were staggering along the cinder-made path, whenBurgess halted. "Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? I believe you aredrunk. " Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely: "Don't shriek here. We are in danger, now. It's not two men. It's a manand a woman, maybe. It's Dean Funnybone. Come on!" CHAPTER X. THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH _O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!_ --SHAKESPEARE WHEN Lloyd Fenneben could think again, the waters had receded, therock ledge had turned to a pillow under his head, the river bank was astraight white hospital wall, sunlight and sweet air for the darknessand the rain, and Norrie Wream was beside him instead of the brutalstranger. His heavy black hair was shorn away and his head was boundwith much soft cotton stuffs. His left arm was full of prickles, as ifthe blood had just resumed circulation. "And meantime?" he said, looking up at Elinor. "Yes, meantime, it's June time, " Elinor replied. "Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we--" "Oh, yes, we did. The college first. The ruling passion, strong in thehospital. When a Wream gets to kingdom-come, he always asks SaintPeter first for a mortar board and gown instead of a crown and wings. "Norrie's eyes were shining. "And he's a little particular about thelining of the wings, too--Purple, for Law; White, for Letters; Blue, for Philosophy; Red, for Divinity. Take this quieting powder. Collegepresidents should be seen and not heard. " She smilingly silenced him. Under her gentle ministrations, Dr. Fenneben could picture what comfortmight be in store for Vincent Burgess in a day, doubtless only two yearsaway. He resented Joshua Wream's estimate of Elinor. Surely Joshua hadnever seen her in the place of nurse. "Now, meantime, Uncle Lloyd, " Elinor was saying, "commencement passedoff beautifully under Acting-Dean Burgess, considering how sad andheavy-hearted everybody was. The trustees want to raise ProfessorBurgess's salary next year--he's so competent. " Lloyd Fenneben's eyes were not bandaged, and as he looked at Elinor hewondered at her utter lack of reserve and sentiment, when she spoke ofBurgess in such a frank, matter-of-fact way. When he was in love yearsago--but times must have changed. "The arrangements for next year are all looked after. Everything will bedone exactly as you would have it done. There's not one thing to put aworry into that cotton round your head. " "Good! Now, tell me of 'beforehand. '" His smile was as charming as ever. "In your fever you've been telling us about a one-armed man who hadtwo arms to push people into the river, of his wanting you to save somechild's life, and of your stumbling over the stone. That's all we knowabout that. Bond Saxon and Professor Burgess found you in the water atthe north bend in the Walnut close to that hermit woman's house. Eitheryou fell in, or somebody pushed you down the bank, headforemost, andyou struck a ledge of rock. " Elinor's eyes were full of tears now. "Youwould have been drowned, if that white-haired woman had n't jumped inand held your head above water while she clung to the bushes with onehand. Her dog helped, too, like a real hero. It stood on the bank andheld to her shawl that she had fastened round you to hold you. And theriver was rising so fast, too. It was awful. I don't know just how itwas all managed, Uncle Lloyd, but it was managed between the woman andher dog at first, and Professor Burgess and Bond Saxon at last, andyou are safe now, and on the high road, the very elevated tracks, torecovery. When your fever was the highest, the doctors kept telling meabout your splendid constitution and your temperate life. You must getwell now. " She bent over him and softly caressed his hand. "Where is that woman now? Dennie Saxon asked me once to do something forher in her loneliness. She got ahead of my negligence and did somethingfor me, it seems. " "She left Lagonda Ledge the very day they rushed us up here to thehospital. Is n't she strange? And she is so gentle and sweet, but sosad. I never saw such apathetic face as hers, Uncle Lloyd. " "When did you see her?" Fenneben asked. "She came to ask after you. Nobody thought you would get over it. "Elinor's voice trembled. "The fever was burning you up and it took threedoctors to hold you. I saw her face when Dennie Saxon said they thoughtyou wouldn't pull through. Your own sister couldn't have turned whiter, Uncle Lloyd. " "And the one-armed man I seemed to remember?" "I don't know. I've been too busy to ask many questions. Lagonda Ledgeis in mourning for you. It will run up the flag above half-mast when Iwrite how much better you are. Bond Saxon has a theory that some thiefwanted to rob you and decoyed you away on pretense of helping somebodyout of the river. You are an easy mark, Uncle. " "Why should Bond Saxon have a theory? And how did he know where to findme? And how did that gray-haired woman and her dog happen in on thescene just then? This is a grim sort of dime novel business, Norrie. Things don't fall out this way in real life unless there is some reasonback of them. I think I'll bear investigating. " "I think so myself--you or your romantic rescuing squad. You might callthe dog to the witness stand first, for he was the first on the scene. I forgot though that the dog is dead. They found him down the riverwith his throat cut. The plot thickens. " Elinor's frivolous spirit wasreturning with the lessening of care. "Tell me about the ball game, " Fenneben said next. "Oh, it rained for hours and hours, and there wasn't any train servicefor Lagonda Ledge for a week, and all the Inter-Collegiate Athleticevents for the season were called off for Sun rise-by-the-Walnut. " "And the students, generally?" Dr. Fenneben questioned. "Mr. Trench will be back, " Elinor exclaimed, "and folks have just foundout that it's old Trench who's keeping that crippled boy in school, theone they call 'Limpy. ' Trench rustles jobs for him and divides his ownincome for college expenses with the boy for the rest of the cost. Idon't know how the story got out, but I asked him about it when he wasup here to see you. He just grinned and drawled lazily, 'I can save alittle on shoe leather, that some fellows wear out hurrying so, and Idon't burst up so many hats with a swelled head as some do. So I keep alittle extra change on these accounts. We're going down to Oklahoma whenwe graduate. Limpy's going to be a Methodist preacher and I a stockman. I'll keep him in raw material for converts out of the cowboys I'll haveto handle. ' Isn't old Trenchy a hero? He says Dean Funnybone showed himhow to think about somebody else beside Trench a little bit. " "Oh, yes; Trench is a hero and I've known about that whole thing for along while, " the Dean asserted. "And Victor Burleigh?" A shadow in the beautiful dark eyes, a half-tone lowering of the voice, and a general indifference of manner, as Elinor answered: "I'm sure I don't know anything about him, except that he's coming backnext year. " Dr. Fenneben read the whole story in the words and manner of the answer, and he smiled grimly as he thought of Burgess and of the conflict ofWream against Wream if Elinor and his brother Joshua ever came to theclash of arms. But he was too weak now to direct matters. And meantime, while Lagonda Ledge was holding its breath in anxiety anddread, and all the churches were joining in union prayer service for thelife of their beloved Dean Fenneben, and the college year was endingin a halting between hope and dread--meantime, the same queries of Dr. Fenneben as to motives were also queries in Professor Burgess' mind. To the school and the town Dr. Fenneben's recovery was the only thingasked for. There was as yet no clew regarding the cause of the assault. Bond Saxon had avoided Burgess since the event, so the young man himselfmade occasion to get Bond up into Dr. Fenneben's study one June day justbefore commencement. "Saxon, " he said gravely, "you are a man of sense, and you know thatthere's something wrong about this Fenneben assault. You've put up somesmooth stories about our happening to be out at the bend of the riverthat night, so I guess suspicion will be turned from us all right whenLagonda Ledge gets time to think about causes; but I must be let intothe truth now. " Burgess was adamant now. For a little while the old man looked away through the study window atthe prairie empire to be found for the looking. "Do you see that little twist of blue smoke over west?" he queriedpresently. "What of it?" Burgess asked. "Nothing, only the man huddlin' down round the fire makin' that smokeway down where it's cold and dark, that's the man who--say, Professor!" Old Bond looked up appealingly, and the pitiful face touched Burgess'heart. "What is it, Saxon? Be frank now, but be fair, too. Sooner or later, this thing must be run down. Fenneben will do it himself, anyhow, assoon as he's well enough. " "Professor, I have asked you twice if you'd be good to Dennie--" "Yes, yes; you always come back to that. Anybody would be good to her, and she's a capable girl who does n't need anybody's care, anyhow. Now, go on. " "I will"--it seemed an heroic resolve--"I asked this for Dennie, becausemy own life is never safe. " "So you have said. Why not?" Burgess insisted. There was no way to evadethe question now. "That's my own business--just a little longer, " Bond answered slowly. "One thing more; I want your promise not to tell what I say--yet awhile. It can't hurt anyone to keep still, and it will help some folks. " "Oh, I'll help you all I can. " Burgess's kindly patience now wasstrangely unlike the aristocratic, resentful man to whom old Bond Saxonhad appealed one stormy October night. "I'm a failure, Professor. I've spoiled my life by my infernal weak willand appetite for whisky. I know it as well as you do. But I'm not meantfor a bad man. " There was unspeakable pathos in Saxon's face and words. "Nobody would call you bad. You are a lovable man when you--keepstraight, " Burgess declared cordially. "I graduated from the university back in the sixties, " Bond went on. "You!" Burgess exclaimed. "Yes, I'm one of your alumni brothers from Harvard. It takes more 'n acollege diploma to make a man sometimes, although this would mighty soonget to be a cheap, destructible nation, if we should pull the collegesout of it. The boys I've seen Sunrise make into men does an old man'sheart good to think about! But there's more than book-learning in aMaster's Degree. There must be MASTERY in it. I never got farther 'nan A. B. , partly because Nature made me easy going, but mostly becausewhisky ruined me. I finally came to Kansas. I'd have had tremens longago but for that. But even here a man's got to keep the law inside, orno human law can prevent his making a beast of himself. " Saxon paused, and the professor waited. "The man that sets the cussed trap for me is a law breaker, an escapedconvict, and a murderer. That's what drinking did for him; drinking andinjustice in money matters together. " Burgess started and his face grew pale. "Oh, it's a fact, Professor. There are several roads to ruin. One bythe route I've taken. One may be too much love of money, of women, orof having your own way. You can ruin your soul by getting it set on onething above everything else. Education, for instance, like the Wreamsback there in Cambridge. " "The Wreams!" Burgess exclaimed. "Yes, old Joshua Wream sold himself to an appetite for musty oldSanscrit till he'd sacrifice anybody's comfort and joy for it, same as Isold out to a fool's craving for drink. You'll know the Wreams sometimeas I know 'em now. Fenneben's only a stepbrother and the West made a manof him. He was always a gentleman. " "Go on!" Vincent's voice was hardly audible. "This outlaw, boot-legger, thief, and murderer was a respectable fellowonce, the adopted son of a wealthy family back East, who began byspoiling him, lavished money on him, and let him have his own way ineverything. He was a gay youngster on the side, given to drinking andfast company. He fell in love with a pretty girl, but when she found himout, she cut him. Then he went to the dogs, blaming her because she hadsense enough to throw him over where he belonged. She fell in love--theright kind of love--with another man. And this young fool who had noclaim on her at all, swore vengeance. Her family wanted her to marry theyoung sport because he had money. They were long on money--her fatherwas, anyhow. But she would n't do it. " "Did she marry the one she really cared for?" Burgess asked eagerly. "No; but that's another story. Meantime this fellow's father died, leaving the boy he, himself, had started on the wrong road, entirely outof his will. The boy went to the devil--and he's still there. " Saxon paused and looked once more at the tiny wavering smoke column, hardly visible now. "He's over yonder hiding away from the light of day under the bluffs bythe fire that sends that curl of smoke up through the crevices in therock, an outlaw thief. " Saxon gazed long at the landscape beyond the Walnut. When he spokeagain, it was with an effort. "Professor, this outlaw got a hold on me once when I was drunk, drunkby his making. It would do no good to tell you about that. You could n'thelp me, nor harm him. You'll trust me in this?" A picture of Dennie down in the Kickapoo Corral, with the flickeringfirelight on her rippling hair, the weird, shadowy woodland, and the oldIndian legend all came back to the young man now, though why he couldnot say. "I certainly would never bring harm to you nor yours, " he said kindly. "I can't inform on the scoundrel. I can only watch him. The woman he wasin love with years ago, who would n't stand for his wild ways--that'sthe gray-haired woman at Pigeon Place. Her life's been one long tragedy, though she is not forty yet. " The anguish on the old man's face was pitiful as he spoke. "She has a reason of her own for living here, and she is the soul ofcourage. On the night of the Fenneben accident, I was out her way--yes, running away from Bond Saxon. I knew if I stayed in town, I'd get drunkon a bottle left at my door. So I tore out in the rain and the dark tofight it out with the devil inside of me. And out at Pigeon Place I runonto this fiend. When I ordered him back to his hiding place, he vowedhe'd get Fenneben and put him in the river. There's one or two humanthings about him still. One is his fear of little children, and one ishis love for that woman. He really did adore her years ago. I trackedhome after him, and you know the rest. He put up some story to the Deanto entice him out there. " He hesitated, then ceased to speak. "Why the Dean?" Burgess asked. "Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folkswouldn't let her marry, " Bond Saxon said sadly. Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him. "Where is she now?" "She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never comeback, " the old man replied. "And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?" "No, no. She's never let him know, and if she does n't want him to know, whose business is it to tell him?" Saxon urged. "I have hung about andprotected her when she never knew I was near. But when I'm drunk, I'man idiot and my mind is bent against her. I'd die to save her, and yetI may kill her some day when I don't know it. " Bond Saxon's head wasdrooping pitifully low. "But why live in such slavery? Why not tell all you know about this manand let the law protect a helpless woman?" Burgess urged. Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word--"Dennie!" Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie. "This woman had a husband, you say?" he asked presently. Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head. "What became of him? Do you know?" Vincent questioned. Saxon leaned forward, and, clutching Vincent Burgess by the arm, whispered hoarsely, "He's dead. I killed him. But I was drunk when I didit. And this man knows it and holds me bound. " SERVICE _If you were born to honor, show it now; if put upon you, make the judgment good that thought you worthy of it_. --SHAKESPEARE CHAPTER XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS _They enslave their children's children who make compromise with sin_. --LOWELL IT was mid-December before Lloyd Fenneben saw Lagonda Ledge again. Inthe murderous attempt upon his life, he had been hurled, head-downward, upon the hidden rock-ledge with such force that even his strong nervoussystem could barely overcome the shock. Hours of unconsciousness werefollowed by a raging brain fever, and paralysis, insanity, and deathstrove together against him. His final complete recovery was slow, andhe was wise enough to let nature have ample time for rebuilding whathad been so cruelly wrenched out of line. It was this very patienceand willingness to take life calmly, when most men would have been in afever of anxiety about neglected business, that brought Lloyd Fennebenback to Lagonda Ledge in December, a perfectly well man; and aside fromthe holiday given in honor of the event, aside from the display offlags and the big "Welcome" done in electric lights awaiting him at therailroad station, where all the portable population of Lagonda Ledge andmost of the Walnut Valley, headed by the Sunrise contingent, en masse, seemed to be waiting also--aside from the demonstration and generalhilarity and thanksgiving and rejoicing, there seemed no differencebetween the Dean of the days that followed and the Dean of the yearsbefore. His black hair was as long and heavy as ever. His black eyes hadlost nothing of their keenness. His smile was just the same old, genialoutbreak of good will, as he heard the wildly enthusiastic refrain: Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! _Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!! It was twilight when the train pulled up to the station. The Decemberevening was clear and crisp as southern Kansas Decembers usually are. The lights of the town were twinkling in the dusk. Out beyond the rivera gorgeous purple and scarlet after-sunset glow was filling the westwith that magnificence of coloring only the hand of Nature dares topaint. Several passengers left the train, but the company had eyes only for thePullman car where Fenneben was riding. Nobody, except Bond Saxon, anda cab driver on the edge of the crowd, noticed a gray-haired womanwho alighted so quietly and slipped to the cab so quickly that she wasalmost out to Pigeon Place before Fenneben had been able to clear theplatform. Behind the Dean was his niece, who halted on the car steps while heruncle went into the outstretched arms of Lagonda Ledge. At sight of her, the hats went high in air, as she stood there smiling above the crowd. It was Maytime when she went away. They had remembered her in daintyMaytime gowns. They were not prepared for her in her handsome travelingcostume of golden brown, her brown beaver hat, and pretty furs. Abeautiful girl can be so charming in her winter feathers. She hadexpected that Burgess would be first to meet her, and she was ready, shethought, to greet him, becomingly. But as the porter helped her to theplatform, the crowd closed in, shutting him away momentarily, and a handcaught hers, a big, strong hand whose clasp, so close and warm, seemedto hold her hand by right of eternal possession. And Victor Burleigh'sbrown eyes full of a joyous light were looking down at her. It was allsuch a sweet, shadowy time that nobody crowding about them could seeclearly how Elinor, with shining face, nestled involuntarily close tohis arm for just one instant, and her low murmured words, "I am gladyou were first, " were lost to all but the big fellow before her, anda bigger, vastly lazy fellow, Trench, just behind her. It was Trench'sbulk that had blocked the way for the professor a moment before. Thenshe was swallowed in the jolly greetings of goodfellowship, and VincentBurgess carried her away to the carriage where her uncle waited. "The thing is settled now, " the young folks thought. But Dennie Saxonand Trench, who walked home together, knew that many things werehopelessly unsettled. By the law of natural fitness, Dennie and Trenchshould have fallen in love with each other. They were so alike ingoodness of heart. But such mating of like with like, is rare, and underits ruling the world would grow so monotonously good, on the one hand, and bad, on the other, that life would be uninteresting. During Dr. Fenneben's absence, Professor Burgess was acting-dean. For aman who, two years before, had never heard of a Jayhawker, who hopedthe barren prairies would furnish seclusion for profound research in hislibrary, and whose interest in the student body lay in its material tofurnish "types, " Dean Burgess, on the outside, certainly measuredup well toward the stature of the real Dean--broad-minded, beloved"Funnybone. " And as Vincent Burgess grew in breadth of view and human interest, hispopularity increased and his opportunities multiplied. Sunrise forgotthat it had ever regarded him as a walking Greek textbook in paperbinding. Next to Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, his place at Sunrise would be thehardest to fill now; and withal, sometime in the near future, there waswaiting for him the prettiest girl that ever climbed the steps from thelower campus to the Sunrise door. Burgess had never dreamed that life inKansas could be so full of pleasure for him. And all the while, on the inside, another Burgess was growing up whoquarreled daily with this happy outer Burgess. This inner man it was whoheld the secret of Bond Saxon's awful crime; the man who knew the lifestory of the would-be assassin of Lloyd Fenneben, and who knew thetragedy that had turned a fair-faced girl to a gray-haired woman, yetyoung in years. He knew the tragedy, but the woman herself he had neverseen, save in the darkness and rain of that awful night when she hadheld Lloyd Fenneben's head above the fast rising waters of the Walnut. He had never even heard her voice, for he had sustained the limp body ofDr. Fenneben while Saxon helped the woman from the river and as faras to her own gate. But these were secret things outside of his ownconscience. Inside of his conscience the real battle was fought and won, and lost, only to be won and lost over and over. So long as ElinorWream was away, he could stay execution on himself. The same train thatbrought her home to Lagonda Ledge, brought a letter to Professor VincentBurgess, A. B. The letter heading bore as many of Dr. Joshua Wream'stitles as space would permit, but the cramped, old-fashioned handwritingbelonged to a man of more than fourscore years, and it was signed just"J. R. " Burgess read this letter many times that night after he returned fromdinner at the Fenneben home. And sometimes his fists were clinched andsometimes his blue eyes were full of tears. Then he rememberedlittle Bug, who had declared once that "Don Fonnybone was dood fortwoubleness. " "I can't take this to Fenneben, " he mused, as he read Joshua Wream'sletter for the tenth time. "Nor can I go to Saxon. He's never sure ofhimself and when he's drunk, he reverses himself and turns againsthis best friends. And who am I to turn to a man like Bond Saxon for myconfidences?" "What about Elinor?" came a voice from somewhere. "The woman you wouldmake your wife should be the one to whose loving sympathy you could turnat any of life's angles, else that were no real marriage. " "Elinor, of all people in the world, the very last. She shall neverknow, never!" So he answered the inward questioner. Dimly then rose up before him the picture of Victor Burleigh on therainy May night when he stood beside little Bug Buler's bed--VictorBurleigh, with his white, sorrowful face, and burning brown eyes, telling in a voice like music the reason why he must renounce athletichonors in Sunrise. Burgess had been unconsciously exultant over the boy's confession. Itwould put the confessor out of reach of any claim to Elinor's friendshipwhen the truth was known about his poverty and his professional playing. And yet he had followed Bond Saxon's lead the more willingly that nightthat he was hating himself for rejoicing with himself. On this December night, with Elinor once more in Lagonda Ledge, VictorBurleigh must come again to trouble him. What a price that boy musthave paid for his honesty! But he paid it, aye, he paid it! And thenthe rains put out the game and nobody knew except Burleigh and himself. Burgess almost resented the kindness of Fate to the heroic boy. But allthis solved no problems for Vincent Burgess, except the realizationthat here was one fellow who had a soul of courage. Could he confide inBurleigh? Not in a thousand years! In utter loneliness, Vincent Burgess put out his light and stared at thewindow. The street lamps glowed in lonely fashion, for it was very late, and nobody was abroad. Up on the limestone ridge, the Sunrise beaconshone bravely. Down in town beside the campus gate--he could justcatch a glimpse of one steady beam. It was the faithful old lamp in thehallway of the Saxon House, and beyond that unwavering light was Dennie. "Dennie! Why have I not thought of her? The only one in the world whom Ican fully trust. That ought to be a man's sweetheart, I suppose, but sheis not mine. She is just Dennie. Heaven bless her! I've sworn to carefor her. She must help me now. " And with the comforting thought, he fellasleep beside the window. The December sunset was superb in a glory of endless purple mists androse-tinted splendor of far-reaching skies. The evening drops down earlyat this season and the lights were gleaming here and there in the townwhere the shadows fall soonest before the day's work is finished up inSunrise. Victor Burleigh, who had been called to Dr. Fenneben's study, found onlyElinor there, looking out at the radiant beauty of the sunset sky beyondthe homey shadows studded with the twinkling lights of Lagonda Ledge atthe foot of the slope. The young man hesitated a little before entering. All day the school had been busy settling affairs for Professor Burgessand "Norrie, the beloved. " Gossip has swift feet and from surmise tofact is a short course. Twenty-four hours had quite completely "fixedthings" for Elinor Wream and Vincent Burgess, so far as Sunrise andLagonda Ledge were able to fix them. So Burleigh, whose strong facecarried no hint of grief, held back a minute now, before entering thestudy. "I beg your pardon, Elinor. Dr. Fenneben sent for me. " Somehow the deep musical voice and her name pronounced as nobody elseever could pronounce it, and the big manly form and brave face, allseemed to complete the spell of the sunset hour. Elinor did not speak, but with a smile made room for him beside her at the window, and thetwo looked long at the deepening grandeur of the heavens and the mistyshadows of heliotrope and silver darkening softly to the twilight belowthem. "And God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were thefourth day, " Victor said at last. "Your voice grows richer with the passing years, Victor, " Elinor saidsoftly. "I wanted to hear it again the first time I heard you speak outthere one September day. " "It is well to grow rich in something, " Victor said, half-earnestly, half-carelessly. Before Elinor could say more, they caught sight of Professor Burgessand Dennie Saxon, leaving the front portico as they had done on the Mayevening before the assault on Dr. Fenneben. Burgess and Dennie usuallyleft the building together this year. "Is n't Dennie a darling? Elinor said calmly. "I guess so, " he replied. "I don't just know what makes a girl a darlingto another girl. I only know"--he was on thin ice now--"and I don't evenknow that very well. " They turned to the landscape again. The whole building was growingquiet. Footsteps were fading away down the halls. Doors clicked faintlyhere and there. Somebody was singing softly in the basement laboratory, and the sunset sky was exquisitely lovely above the quiet gray Decemberprairies. "It is too beautiful to last, " Elinor said, turning to the young manbeside her. "The joy of it is too deep for us to hold. " She did not mean to stay a moment longer, for all the scene could behers forever in memory--imperishable!--and Victor did not mean to detainher. But her face as she turned from the window, the hallowed settingof time and opportunity, and a heart-love hungering through hopeless, slow-dragging months, all had their own way with him. He put out hisarms to her and she nestled within them, lifting a face to his owntransfigured with love's sweetness. And he bent and kissed her red lips, holding her close in his arms. And in the shadowy twilight, with thefaintly roseate banners of the sunset's after-glow trailing through it, for just one minute, heaven and earth came very near together for thesetwo. And then they remembered, and Elinor put her hand in Victor's, whoheld it in his without a word. Out in the hall, Trench with soft lazy step had just come to the studydoor in time to see and turn away unseen, and slowly pass out of the bigfront door, whistling low the while: My sweetheart lives on the prairies wide By the sandy Cimarron, In a day to come she will be my bride, By the sandy Cimarron. Out by the big stone pillars of the portico, he looked toward the southturret and saw Dr. Fenneben as Vic had seen Elinor on the evening ofthe May storm. He did not call, but with a twist of the fingers as ofunlocking a door, he dodged back into the building and up to the chapelend of the turret stairs to release the Dean. Dr. Fenneben had started down to the study by the same old "road toperdition" stairs and paused at the window as Dennie and Burgess werepassing out, unconscious of three pairs of eyes on them. Then the Deansaw down through the half-open study door the two young people by thewindow, and he knew he was not needed there. What that look in his blackeyes meant, as he turned to the half-way window of the turret, it wouldhave been hard to read. And the picture of a fair-faced girl came backto his own hungry memory. He was trying to calculate the distance fromthe turret window to the ground when Trench wig-wagged a rescue signal. "You are a brick, Trench, " he said, as the upper stairway door swungopen to release him. "You've the whole chimney, " Trench responded, as he swung himself away. Dr. Fenneben met Elinor in the rotunda. "Wait a minute, Norrie, and I'll walk home with you. " In the study he met Burleigh, whose stern face was tender with apathetic sadness, but there was no embarrassment in his glance. AndFenneben, being a man himself, knew what power for sacrifice lay back ofthose beautiful eyes. "I can't give him the message I meant to give now. The man said therewas no hurry. A veritable tramp he looked to be. I hope there is no harmto the boy in it. Why should a girl like Norrie love the pocketbook, andthe things of the pocketbook, when a heart like Victor Burleigh's callsto her? I know men. I never shall know women. " So he thought. Aloud hesaid: "I was detained, Burleigh, and I'll have to see you again. I havesome matters to consider with you soon. " And Burleigh wondered much what "some matters" might be. When Professor Burgess left Dennie he said, lightly: "Miss Dennie, I need a little help in my work. Would you let me callthis evening and talk it over with you? I don't believe anybody elsewould get hold of it quite so well. " Dennie had supposed this first evening after Elinor's return wouldfind her lover making use of it. Why should Dennie not feel a thrill ofpleasure that her services out-weighed everything else? Poor Dennie! Shewas no flirt, but much association with Vincent Burgess had given herinsight to know that Norrie Wream would never understand him. When Burgess returned to the Saxon House later in the evening, he metBond Saxon at the door. "Say, Professor, the devil will be to pay again. That Mrs. Marian isback. Got here on the same train Funnybone came on. And, " lowering hisvoice, "he will be over there again, " pointing toward the west bluffs. "He'll hound Funnybone to his doom yet. And she--she'll stand between'em to the last. I told you one of the two human traits left in thatbeast is his fool fondness for that woman who wouldn't let him set footon her ground if she knew it. It's a grim tragedy being played out herewith nobody knowing but you and me. " "Saxon, I'm in no mood for all this tonight, " Burgess said, "but foryour daughter's sake keep away from the man's bottle now. " "Yes, for Dennie's sake--" Bond looked imploringly at Burgess. "Yes, yes, I'll do my duty as I promised. But why not do it yourselftoward her? Why not be a man and a father?" "Me! A criminal! Do you know what that kind of slavery is?" Saxonwhispered. "Almost, " Burgess answered, but the old man did not catch his meaning. Dennie was waiting in the parlor, a cosy little room but without theluxurious appointments of Norrie Wream's home. Yet tonight Dennie seemedbeautiful to Burgess, and this quiet little room, a haven of safety. "Dennie, " he said, plunging into his purpose at once. "I come to youbecause I need a friend and you are tempered steel. " Tonight Dennie's gray eyes were dark and shining. The rippling waves ofyellow brown hair gave a sort of Madonna outline to her face, and therewas about her something indefinably pleasant. "What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?" she asked. "Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me. " Was this the acting-dean of Sunrise, a second Fenneben, alreadydeclared? His face was full of pathos, yet even in his feverish griefit seemed a better face to Dennie than the cold scholarly countenance oftwo years ago. "My troubles go back a long way. My father was given to greed. He soldhimself and my sister's happiness and mine for money. You think yourfather is a slave, Dennie, because he has a craving for whisky. Lessthan half a dozen times a year the demon inside gets him down. " Dennie looked up with a sorrowful face. "Yes, but think of what he might do. You don't know what dreadful thingshe has done--" "Yes, I do. He told me himself the very worst. I'll never betray him, Dennie. His punishment is heavy enough. " Burgess laid his hand on her dimpled hand in token of sincerity. "But that's only rarely, little girl. My father every day in the yeargave himself to an appetite for money till he cared for nothing else. My sister, who died believing that I also had turned against her, wasforced to marry a man she did not love because he had money. I neverknew the man she did love. It was a romance of her girlhood. I was awayfrom home the most of my boyhood years, and she never mentioned his nameafter the affair was broken off. All I know is that she was deceived andmade to believe some cruel story against him. She and her husband cameWest, where they died. My father never forgave them for going West, norpermitted me to speak her name to him. I never knew why until yesterday. My sister's husband had a brother out here with whom he meant to dividesome possessions he had inherited. That settled him with my fatherforever. There was no DIVISION of property in his creed. " Burgess paused. Dennie's interest and sympathy made her silent company acomfort. "I was heir to my father's estate, and heir also to some funds he heldin trust. I was a scholar with ambition for honors--a Master's Degreeand a high professional place in a great university. I trusted my wholelife plans to the man who knew my father best--Dr. Joshua Wream. " Dennie looked up, questioningly. "Yes, to Elinor's uncle, as unlike Dr. Fenneben as night and day. " "Do not blame me, Dennie, if two men have helped to misshape my life. My father believed that money is absolute. Dr. Wream holds scholarlyachievement as the greatest life work. It has been Dr. Fenneben's partto show me the danger and the power in each. " It was dimly dawning on Burgess that the presence of Dennie, good, sensible Dennie, was a blessing outside of these things that could gofar toward making life successful. But he did not grasp it clearly yet. "Dr. Wream and I made a compact before I came West. It seemed fair to methen. By its terms I was assured, first, of my right to certain fundsmy father held in trust. It was Wream who secured these rights for me. Second, I was to succeed to his chair in Harvard if I proved worthy inSunrise. In return I promised to marry Elinor Wream and to provide forher comfort and luxury with these trust funds my father and Wream hadsomehow been manipulating. " Oh, yes! Dennie was level-headed. And because she did not look up norcry out Vincent Burgess did not see nor guess anything. His life hadbeen a sheltered one. How could he measure Dennie's life-discipline inself-control and loving bravery? "Elinor was heavy on Wream's conscience, " Vincent went on, "because heand her father, Dr. Nathan Wream, took the fortune to endow colleges anduniversity chairs that should have been hers from her mother's estate. You see, Dennie, there was no wrong in the plan. Elinor would beprovided for by me. I would get up in my chosen profession. Nobody wasrobbed or defrauded. Joshua Wream's last years would be peaceful withhis conscience at rest regarding Elinor's property. And, Dennie, whowould n't want to marry Elinor Wream?" "Yes, who wouldn't?" Dennie looked up with a smile. And if there weretears in her eyes Burgess knew they were born of Dennie's sweet spiritof sympathy. "What is wrong, then?" she asked. "Is Elinor unwilling?" "Elinor and I are bound by promises to each other, although no word hasever been spoken between us. It is impossible to make any change now. Weare very happy, of course. " "Of course, " Dennie echoed. "I had a letter from Dr. Wream last night. A pitiful letter, for he'sgetting near the brink. Dennie--these funds I hold--I have never quiteunderstood, but I had felt sure there was no other claimant. There wasa clause in the strangely-worded bequest: 'for V. B. And his heirs. Failing in that, to the nearest related V. B. ' It was a thing forlawyers, not Greek professors, to settle, and I came to be the nearestrelated V. B. , Vincent Burgess, for I find the money belonged to mysister's husband, and I thought he left no heirs and I am the nearestrelated V. B. By marriage, you see?" "Well?" Dennie's mind was jumping to the end. "My sister married a Victor Burleigh, who came to Kansas to find hisbrother. Both men are dead now. The only one of the two families livingis this brother's son, young Victor Burleigh, junior in Sunrise College. He knows nothing of his Uncle Victor, my brother-in-law--nor of moneythat he might claim. He belongs to the soil out here. Nobody has anyclaims on him, nor has he any ambition for a chair in Harvard, nor anypromise to marry and provide for a beautiful girl who looks upon him asher future guardian. " Vincent Burgess suddenly ceased speaking and looked at Dennie. "I cannot break an old man's heart. He implores me not to reveal allthis, but I had to tell somebody, and you are the best friend a mancould ever have, Dennie Saxon, so I come to you, " he added presently. "When did this Dr. Wream find out about Vic?" Dennie asked. "A month ago. Some strange-looking tramp of a fellow brought him proofsthat are incontestable, " Burgess replied. "And it is for an old man's peace you would keep this secret?" Denniequestioned. "For him and for Elinor--and for myself. Don't hate me, Dennie. Elinorlooks upon me as her future husband. I have promised to provide forher with the comforts denied her by her father, and I have lived in theambition of holding that Harvard chair--Oh, it is all a hopeless tangle. I could never go to Victor Burleigh now. He would not believe that I hadbeen ignorant of his claim all this time. He was never wrapped up in thepursuit of a career--Oh, Dennie, Dennie, what shall I do?" He rose to his feet and Dennie stood up before him. He gently rested hishands on her shoulders and looked down at her. "What shall you do?" Dennie repeated, slowly. "Whisky, Money, Ambition--the appetite that destroys! Vincent Burgess, if you want towin a Master's Degree, win to the Mastery of Manhood first. The sins ofthe fathers, yours and mine, we cannot undo. But you can be a man. " She had put her dimpled hands on his arms as they stood there, andthe brave courage of her upturned face called back again the rainy Maynight, and the face of Victor Burleigh beside Bug Buler's cot, and hislow voice as he said: "I cannot play in tomorrow's game and be a man. " CHAPTER XII. THE SILVER PITCHER _A picket frozen on duty-- A mother starved for her brood-- Socrates drinking the hemlock, And Jesus on the rood. And millions who, humble and nameless, The straight hard pathway trod-- Some call it Consecration, And others call it God_. --WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH "DR. FENNEBEN, I should like much to dismiss my classes for theafternoon, " Professor Burgess said to the Dean in his study the nextday. "Very well, Professor, I am afraid you are overworked with all my dutiesadded to yours here. But you don't look it, " Fenneben said, smiling. Burgess was growing almost stalwart in this gracious climate. "I am very well, Doctor. What a beautiful view this is. " He was lookingintently now at the Empire that had failed to interest him once. "Yes; it is my inspiration. 'Each man's chimney is his goldenmilestone, '" Fenneben quoted. "I've watched the smoke from manychimneys up and down the Walnut Valley during my years here, and laterI've hunted out the people of each hearthstone and made friends withthem. So when I look away from my work here I see friendly tokens ofthose I know out there. " He waved his hand toward the whole valley. "And maybe, when they look up here and see the dome by day, or catchour beacon light by night, they think of 'Funnybone, ' too. It is well tolive close to the folks of your valley always. " "You are a wonderful man, Doctor, " Burgess said. "There are two 'milestones' I've never reached, " the Doctor went on. "One is that place by the bend in the river. See the pigeons risingabove it now. I wonder if that strange white-haired woman ever came backagain. Elinor said she left Lagonda Ledge last summer. " "Where's the other place?" Burgess would change the subject. "It i's a little shaft of blue smoke from a wood fire rising abovethose rocky places across the river. I've seen it so often, at irregulartimes, that I've grown interested in it, but I have missed it since Icame back. It's like losing a friend. Every man has his vagaries. One ofmine is this friendship with the symbols of human homes. " Burgess offered no comment in response. He could not see that the timehad come to tell Fenneben what Bond Saxon had confided to him about theman below the smoke. So he left the hilltop and went down to the SaxonHouse. He wanted to see Dennie, but found her father instead. "That woman's left Pigeon Place again, " Saxon said. "Went early thismorning. It's freedom for me when I don't have to think of them two. Thinking of myself is slavery enough. " Burgess loitered aimlessly about the doorway for a while. It was a mildafternoon, with no hint of winter, nor Christmas glitter of ice and snowabout it. Just a glorious finishing of an idyllic Kansas autumn roundingout in the beauty of a sunshiny mid-December day. But to the man whostood there, waiting for nothing at all, the day was a mockery. Behindthe fine scholarly face a storm was raging and there was only one friendwhom he could trust--Dennie. "Let's go walking, you and me!" Bug Buler put up one hand to Burgess, while he clutched a little redball in the other. Bug had an irresistible child voice and child touch, and Burgess yielded to their leading. He had not realized until nowhow lonely he was, and Bug was companionable by intuition and a stanchlittle stroller. North of town the river lay glistening between its vine-draped banks. The two paused at the bend where Fenneben had been hurled almost to hisdoom, and Burgess remembered the darkness, and the rain, and the limpbody he had held. He thought Fenneben was dead then, and even in thatmoment he had felt a sense of disloyalty to Dennie as he realized thathe must think of Elinor entirely now. But why not? He had come to Kansasfor this very thinking. It must be his life purpose now. Today Burgess began to wonder why Elinor must have a life of easeprovided for her and Dennie Saxon ask for nothing. Why should JoshuaWream's conscience be his burden, too? Then he hated himself a littlemore than ever, and duty and manly honor began their wrestle within himagain. "Let's we go see the pigeons, " Bug suggested, tossing his ball in hishands. Burgess remembered what Bond had said of the woman's leaving. Therecould be no harm in going inside, he thought. The leafless treesand shrubbery revealed the neat little home that the summer foliageconcealed. Bug ran forward with childish curiosity and tiptoed up to alow window, dropping his little red ball in his eagerness. "Oh, tum! tum!" he cried. "Such a pretty picture frame and vase on thetable. " He was nearly five years old now, but in his excitement he still usedbaby language, as he pulled eagerly at Vincent Burgess' coat. "It isn't nice to peep, Bug, " Burgess insisted, but he shaded his eyesand glanced in to please the boy. He did not note the pretty gilt framenor the vase beside it on the table. But the face looking out of thatframe made him turn almost as cold and limp as Fenneben had been whenhe was dragged from the river. Catching the little one by the hand hehurried away. At the gateway he lifted Bug in his arms. He was not yet at ease with children. "I dropped my ball, " Bug said. "Let me det it. " "Oh, no; I'll get you another one. Don't go back, " Burgess urged. "Doyou know it is very rude to look into windows. Let's never tell anybodywe did it; nor ever, ever do it again. Will you remember?" "Umph humph! I mean, yes, sir! I won't fornever do it again, nor tellnobody. " Bug buttoned up his lips for a sphinx-like secrecy. "Nobody butDennie. And I may fordet it for her. " "Yes, forget it, and we'll go away up the river and see other things. Bug, what do you say when you want to keep from doing wrong?" Bug looked up confidingly. "I ist say, 'Dod, be merciless to me, a sinner'. " "Why not merciful, Bug?" "Tause! If He's merciful it's too easy and I'm no dooder, " Bug said, wisely. "Who told you the difference?" Burgess asked. "Vic. He knows a lot. I wish I had my ball, but let's go up the river. " "Out of the mouths of babes, " Burgess murmured and hugged the little oneclose to him. Victor Burleigh was in the little balcony of the dome late thatafternoon fixing a defective wiring. Through the open windows he couldsee the skyline in every direction. The far-reaching gray prairie, overhung by its dome of amethyst bordered round with opal and rimmedwith jasper, seemed in every blending tint and tone to call him back toNorrie. The west bluff above the old Kickapoo Corral in the autumn, theglen full of shadow-flecked light under the tender young Aprilleaves, the December landscape as it lay beyond Dr. Fenneben's studywindows--these belonged to Elinor. And all of them were blended in thisvision of inexpressible grandeur, unfolded to him now from the dome'shigh vantage place. "Twice Norrie has let me hold her in my arms and kiss her, " he mused. "When I do that the third time it must be when there will be no remorseto hound me afterward. " He looked down the winding Walnut toward thewhirlpool. "I'd rather swim that water than flounder here. " The sound of footsteps on the rotunda stairs made him turn to seeVincent Burgess just reaching the little balcony of the dome. "I've come to have a word with you up here, " he said. "We met oncebefore in this rotunda. " "Yes, down there in the arena, " Vic replied, recalling how like a beasthe had felt then. "I was a young hyena that day. Bug Buler came justin time to save both of us. There is a comfort in feeling we can learnsomething. I've needed books and college professors to temper me tocourtesy. " It was the only apology Vic had ever offered to Burgess, who accepted itas all that he deserved. "We learn more from men than from books sometimes. I've learned fromthem how courageous a man may be when the need for sacrifice comes. Sitdown, Burleigh, and let me tell you something. " They sat down on the low seat beside the dome windows. Overhead gleamedthe message of high courage, _Ad Astra Per Aspera_. Below was theartistic beauty of the rotunda, where the evening shadows weredeepening. "We are higher than we were that other day. We care less for fighting aswe get farther up, maybe, " Burgess said, pleasantly. "The only place to fight a man is in a cave, anyhow, " Burleigh replied, looking at his brawny arms, nor dreaming how prophetic his words mightbe. "We don't belong to that class of men now, whatever our far offancestors may have been, but we are the sons of our fathers, Burleigh, and it is left to the living to right the wrongs the dead have begun. " Then, briefly, Vincent Burgess, A. B. , Greek Professor from Harvard, toldto Vic Burleigh from a prairie claim out beyond the Walnut, a part ofwhat he had already told to Dennie Saxon, of the funds withheld from himso long. Told it in general terms, however, not shielding his fatherat all, but giving no hint that the first Victor Burleigh was his ownbrother-in-law. And of the compact with Joshua Wream and of Norrie hetold nothing. "Three days ago I did not know that you could be heir to this property, "he concluded. "I've been interested in books and have left legal mattersto those who controlled them for me. " He rose hastily, for Burleigh, saying nothing, was looking at him withwide-open brown eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. "I can restore your property to you. I cannot change the past. You haveall the future in which to use it better than my father did, or I mighthave done. Goodnight. " He turned away and passed slowly down the rotunda stairs. When he was gone Victor Burleigh turned to the open window of thedome. He was not to blame that the beautiful earth under a magnificentDecember sunset sky seemed all his own now. "'If big, handsome Victor Burleigh had his corners knocked off and wassandpapered down, '" he mused. "Well, what corners I haven't knocked offmyself have been knocked off for me and I've been sandpapered--Lord, I've been sandpapered down all right. I'm at home on a carpet now. 'Andif he had money'. " Vic's face was triumphant. "It has come at last--themoney. And what of Elinor?" The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him "what ofElinor. " "The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. I must hunt upTrench and then--" He closed the dome window, looked a moment at the brave Kansas motto, radiant in the sunset light, and then, picking up his tools, he wentdownstairs. "Hello, Trench I he called as he reached the rotunda floor. I must seeyou a minute. " "Hello, you Angel-face! Case of necessity. Well, look a minute, " Trenchdrawled. "But that's the limit, and twice as long as I'd care to seeyou, although, I was hunting you. Funnybone wants to see you in there. " Victor's eyes were glowing with a golden light as he entered Fenneben'sstudy, and the Dean noted the wonderful change from the big, awkwardfellow with a bulldog countenance to this self-poised gentleman whosefine face it was a joy to see. "I have a message for you, Burleigh. No hurry about it I was told, butI am called away on important business and I must get it out of my mind. An odd-looking fellow called at my door on the night I came home andleft a package for you. He said he had tried to find you and failed, that he was a stranger here, and that you would understand the messageinside. He insisted on not giving this in any hurry, and as my cominghome has brought me a mass of things to consider, I have not been promptabout it. " Fenneben put a small package into Burleigh's hands. "Examine it here, if you care to. You can fasten the door when youleave. Goodby!" and he was gone. Victor sat down and opened the package. Inside was a quaint littlesilver pitcher, much ornamented, with the initial B embossed on thesmooth side. "The lost pitcher--stolen the day my mother died--and I was warned neverto try to find who stole it. " He turned to the light of the west window. "It is the very thing I found in the cave that night. The man who tookit may have been over there. " He glanced out of the window and saw athin twist of blue smoke rising above the ledges across the river. "Who can have had it all this time, and why return it now?" hequestioned. As he turned the pitcher in his hands a paper fell out. "The message inside!" He spread out the paper and read "the messageinside. " Well for him that Dr. Fenneben had left him alone. The shining face andeyes aglow changed suddenly to a white, hard countenance as he read thismessage inside. It ran: "Victor Burleigh. First, don't ever try to follow me. The day you doI'll send you where I sent your father. No Burleigh can stay near me andlive. Now be wise. "Second. You saved the baby I left in the old dugout. Before God I nevermeant to kill it then. The thought of it has cursed my soul night andday till I found out you had saved him. "Third. The girl you want to marry--go and marry. Do anything, good orbad, to destroy Burgess. "Fourth. The money Burgess had is yours, only because I'm giving it toyou. It belongs to Bug Buler. He couldn't talk plain when you saved him. He's not Bug Buler; he's Bug Burleigh, son of Victor Burleigh, heir toV. B. 's money in the law. I've got all the proofs. You see why you canhave that money. Nobody will ever know but me. Don't hunt for me andI'll never tell. TOM GRESH. " The paper fell from Victor Burleigh's hands. The world, that ten minutesago was a rose-hued sunset land, was a dreary midnight waste now. Theone barrier between himself and Elinor had fallen only to rise up again. Then came Satan into the game. "Nobody knew this but Gresh! Who hadsaved Bug's life? Who had cared for him and would always care for him?Why should Bug, little, loving Bug, come now to spoil his hopes? If Bugknew he would be first to give it all to his beloved Vic. " And then came Satan's ten strike. "No need to settle things now. Waitand think it over. " And Vic decided in a blind way to think it over. In the rotunda he met Trench, old Trench, slow of step but a lightningcalculator. "Where are you going?" he exclaimed, as he saw Vic's face. "I'm going to the whirlpool before I'm through, " Vic said, hoarsely. Trench caught him in a powerful grip and shoved him to the foot of therotunda stairs. "No, -you re-not-going-to-the-whirlpool, "' he said, slowly. "You'regoing up to the top of the dome right against that _Ad Astra per Aspera_business up there, and open the west window and look out at the worldthe Lord made to heal hurt souls by looking at. And you are going tostay up there until you have fought the thing out with yourself, andcome down like Moses did with the ten Commandments cut deep on thetables of your stony old heart. If you don't, you'll not need to go toold Lagonda's pool. By the holy saints, I'll take you there myself andplunge you in just to rid the world of such a fool. You hear me! Now, goon! And remember in your tussle that that big S cut over the old Sunrisedoor out there stands for Service. That's what will make your name fityou yet, Victor. " Vic slowly climbed up to where an hour ago the sudden opportunity forthe fruition of his young life and hope had been brought to him. Lostnow, unless--Nobody would ever know and Bug could lose nothing. Heopened the west window and looked out at the Walnut Valley, dim andshadowy now, and the silver prairies beyond it and the gorgeous crimsontinted sky wherefrom the sun had slipped. And then and there, with hisface to the light, he wrestled with the black Apollyon of his soul. Andevery minute the temptation grew to keep the funds "in trust, " and tokeep on caring for the boy he had cared for since babyhood. He clinchedhis white teeth and the tiger light was in his eyes again as the longingfor Elinor's love overcame him. He pictured her as only one sunsetago she had looked up into his eyes, her face transfigured with love'ssweetness, and he wished he might keep that picture forever. But, somehow, between that face and his own, came the picture of little Bugalone in the wretched dugout, reaching up baby arms to him for life andsafety; on his baby face a pleading trustfulness. Victor unbuttoned his cuff and slipped up his sleeve to the scar on hisarm. "Anybody can see the scar I put there when I cut out the poison, " hesaid to himself, at last. "Nobody will see the scar on my soul, but I'llcut out the poison just the same. I did not save that baby boy from therattlesnakes only to let him be crushed by the serpent in me. Trench wasright, the S over the doorway down there stands for Service as wellas for Sacrifice and Strife. Dr. Fenneben says they all enter into thewinning of a Master's Degree. Shall I ever get mine earned, I wonder?" He looked once more at the west, all a soft purple, gray-veiled withmisty shadows, save over the place where the sun went out one shaft ofdeepest rose hue tipped with golden flame was cleaving its way towardthe darkening zenith. Then he closed the window and went downstairs andout into the beautiful December twilight. In all Kansas in that evening hour no man breathed deeper of the sweet, pure air, nor walked with firmer stride, than the man who had gone outunder the carved symbol of the college doorway, Victor Burleigh of thejunior class at Sunrise. SUPREMACY Make thyself free of Manhood's guild, Pull down thy barns and greater build, Pluck from the sunset's fruit of gold, Glean from the heavens and ocean old, From fireside lone and trampling street Let thy life garner daily wheat, The epic of a man rehearse, Be something better than thy verse, And thou shalt hear the life-blood flow From farthest stars to grass-blades low. --LOWELL CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN BELOW THE SMOKE _And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors_. ELINOR WREAM was standing at the gate as Victor Burleigh came stridingup the street. "Where are you going so fast, Victor?" she asked. "Everybody is in arush this evening. We had a telegram from the East this afternoon. UncleJoshua is very ill, and Uncle Lloyd had to get away on short notice. OldBond Saxon went by just now, but, " lowering her voice, "he was awfullydrunk and slipped along like a snake. " "Have you seen Bug?" Victor asked. "Dennie says he left a little whileago to find his ball he lost out north this afternoon. He wouldn't tellwhere, because he had promised not to. " "No, I have not seen him. But don't be uneasy about Bug. He never playsnear the river, nor the railroad tracks, and he always comes in at theright time, " Elinor said, comfortingly. "I know he always has before, but I want to find him, anyhow. " Theaffectionate tone told Elinor what a loving guardianship was given tothe unknown orphan child. "There was a man here to see Uncle Lloyd just after he left thisevening. The same man that brought a little package for you the night wecame home. I suppose he comes from your part of the state out West, forhe seemed to know you and Bug. He asked me if Bug ever played along theriver and if he was a shy child. He was a strange-looking man, andI thought he had the cruelest face I ever saw, but I am no expert onstrange faces. " Victor did not wait for another word. "I must find Bug right away. You can't think what he is to me, Elinor, "and he hurried away. At the bend in the Walnut Vic saw Bug's little scarlet stocking capbeside the flat stone. The twilight was almost gone, but the glisteningriver reflected on the torn bushes above the bank-full stream. The crushing agony of the first minutes made them seem like hours. Andthen the college discipline put in its work. Vic stopped and reasoned. "Bug isn't down there. He never goes near the river. That strange man isTom Gresh. He killed my father and he's laid a trap for me. He doesn'twant to kill Bug. He wants to keep him to workout vengeance and hate onme. He says he'll send me to my father if I go near him. Well, I'm goingso near he'll not doubt who I am, and I'll have Bug unharmed if I haveto send Gresh where my father could not go even with water to cool histongue. A man may fight with a man as he would fight with a beast tosave himself or something dearer than himself from beastly destruction, Fenneben says. That's the battle before me now, and it's to the death. " The tiger light was in the yellow eyes as never before and the stern jawwas set, as Victor Burleigh hurried away. And this was the man who, sucha little while ago, was debating with himself over the quiet possessionof Bug Buler's inheritance. Truly the Mastery comes very near to such ashe. It was with tiger-like step and instinct, too, that the young man wentleaping up the dark, frost-coated glen. About the mouth of the cave theblackness was appalling. It seemed a place apart, cursed with the frownof Nature. Yet in the April time, the sweetest moments of Vic's younglife had been spent in this very spot that now showed all the differencebetween Love and Hate. As he neared the opening of the cavern he guarded his footsteps morecarefully. The jungle beast was alert within him and the collegetraining was giving way to the might of muscle backed by a will to win. A dim light gleamed in the cave and he watched outside now, as Gresh onthe April day had watched him inside. Down by a wood fire, whose smokewas twisting out through a crevice overhead somewhere, little Bug wassitting on Tom Gresh's big coat, the fire lighting up his tangle ofred-brown curls. His big brown eyes looking up at the man crouching bythe fire were eyes of innocent courage, and the expression on the sweetchild-face was impenetrable. "He's a Burleigh. He's not afraid, " Vic thought, exultingly. "That'shalf my battle. I had it out with the rattlesnakes. I'll do betterhere. " At that moment the outlaw turned toward the door and leaped to his feetas Vic sprang inside. Bug started up with outstretched arms. "Keep out of the way, Bug, " Vic cried, as the two men clinched. And the struggle began. They were evenly matched, and both had thesinews of giants. The outlaw had the advantage of an iron strength, hardened by years of out-door life. But the college that had softenedthe country boy somewhat gave in return the quick judgment and superioragility of the trained power that counts against weight before thebattle is over. But withal, it was terrible. One fighter was a murdererby trade, his hand steady for the blackest deeds, and here was a man hehad waited long months to destroy. The other fighter was in the struggleto save a life dear to him, a life that must vindicate his conscienceand preserve his soul's peace. Across the stone-floored cave they threshed in fury, until at thefarther wall Gresh flung Vic from him against the jagged rock with aforce that cut a gash across the boy's head. The blood splashed on bothmen's faces as they renewed the strife. Then with a quick twist Burleighthrew the outlaw to the floor and held him in a clutch that weighed himdown like a ledge of rock; and it was pound for pound again. Away from the mass of burning coals the blackness was horrible. Beyondthat fire Bug sat, silent as the stone wall behind him. Gresh gained themastery again, and with a grip on Vic's throat was about to thrust hishead, face downward, into the burning embers. Vic understood and strovefor his own life with a maniac's might, for he knew that one more wrenchwould end the thing. "You first, and then the baby; I'll roast you both, " Gresh hissed, andVic smelled the heat of the wood flame. But who had counted on Bug? He had watched this fearful grapple, motionless and terror-stricken, and now with a child's vision he sawwhat Gresh meant to do. Springing up, he caught the heavy coat on whichhe had been sitting and flung it on the fire, smothering the embers andputting the cavern into complete darkness. Vic gained the vantage by this unlooked for movement and the gripshifted. The fighters fell to the floor and then began the same kind ofstruggle by which Burleigh had out-generaled big, unconquerable Trenchone day. The two had rolled and fought in college combat from the topof the limestone ridge to the lower campus and landed with Burleighgripping Trench helpless to defend further. That battle was friend withfriend. This battle was to the death. The blood of both men smeared thefloor as they tore at each other like wild beasts, and no man could havetold which oftenest had the vantage hold, nor how the strife would end. But it did end soon. The heavy coat, that had smothered the fire andsaved Vic, smoldered a little, then flared into flame, lightingthe whole cave, and throwing out black and awful shadows of the twofighters. They were close to the hole in the inner wall now. Gresh'sface in that unsteady glare was horrible to see. He loosed his hold asecond, then lunged at Vic with the fury of a mad brute. And Vic, whohad fought the devil in himself to a standstill three hours ago, nowcaught the fiend outside of him for a finishing blow, and the strengthof that last struggle was terrific. Up to this time Vic had not spoken. "I killed the other snakes. I'll kill you now, " he growled, as he heldthe outlaw at length in a conquering grip, his knees on Gresh's breast, his right hand on Gresh's throat. In that weird light the conqueror's face was only a degree less brutalthan the outlaw's face. And Burleigh meant every word, for murder wasin his heart and in his clutching fingers. Beneath the weight of hisstrength Gresh slowly relaxed, struggling fiercely at first and gropingblindly to escape. Then he began to whine for mercy, but his whiningmaddened his conqueror more than his blows had done. For such strife isno mere wrestling match. Every blow struck against a fellowman is asthe smell of blood to the tiger, feeding a fiendish eagerness to kill. Beside, Burleigh had ample cause for vengeance. The creature under hisgrip was not only a bootlegger through whose evil influence men tookother lives or lost their own; he had slain one innocent man, Vic's ownfather, and in the room where his dead mother lay had robbed Vic's homeof every valuable thing. He had sworn vengeance on all who bore thename of Burleigh. What fate might await Bug, Vic dared not picture. Onestrangling grip now could finish the business forever, and his clutchtightened, as Gresh lay begging like a coward for his own worthlesslife. "It's a good thing a fellow has a guardian angel once in a while. Weget pretty close to the edge sometimes and never know how near we are todestruction, " Vic had said to Elinor in here on the April day. It was not Vic's guardian angel, but little Bug whose white face wasthrust between him and his victim, and the touch of a soft little handand the pleading child-voice that cried: "Don't kill him, Vic. He's frough of fighting now. Don't hurt him nomore. " Vic staid his hand at the words. The few minutes of this mad-beast duelhad made him forget the sound of human voices. He half lifted himselffrom Gresh's body at Bug's cry. And Bug, wise beyond his years, quaint-minded little Bug, said, softly: "Fordive us our debts as we fordive our debtors. " Strange, loving words of the Man of Galilee, spoken on the mountain-sidelong, long ago, and echoed now by childish lips in the dying light ofthe cavern to these two men, drunk with brute-lust for human blood! ForVic the words struck like blows. All the years since his father's deathhe had waited for this hour. At last he had met and vanquished the manwho had taken his father's life, and now, exultant in his victory, camethis little child's voice. The cave darkened. A mist, half blood, half blindness, came before hiseyes, but clear to his ears there sounded the ringing words: "Vengeance is mine; I will repay!" It was the voice of Discipline calling to his better judgment, as Bug'sinnocent pleading spoke to the finer man within him. Under his grip Gresh lay motionless, all power of resistance threshedout of him. "Are you ready to quit?" Vic questioned, hoarsely, bending over thealmost lifeless form. The outlaw mumbled assent. "Then I'll let you live, you miserable wretch, and the courts will takecare of you. " Burleigh himself was faint from strife and loss of blood. As he relaxedhis vigilance the last atom of strength, the last hope of escapereturned to Gresh. He sprang to his feet, staggered blindly then, quickas a panther, he leaped through the hole in the farther wall, wriggledswiftly into the blind crevices of the inner cave, and was gone. It was Trench who dressed Vic's head that night and shielded him untilhis strength returned. But it was Bond Saxon who counseled patience. "Don't squeal to the sheriff now, " he urged. "The scoundrel is gone, andit would make a nine days' hooray, and nothing would come of it. He wasdarned slick to take the time when Funnybone was away. " "Why?" Vic asked. But Bond would not tell why. And Vic never dreamed how much cause BondSaxon had to dread the day when Tom Gresh should be brought into court, and his own great crime committed in his drunken hours would demandretribution. So Lagonda Ledge and Sunrise knew nothing of what hadoccurred. Burleigh had no recourse but to wait, while Bug buttonedup his lips, as he had done for Burgess out at Pigeon Place, andconveniently "fordot" what he chose not to tell. But he wandered no morealone about the pretty by-corners of Lagonda Ledge. CHAPTER XIV. THE DERELICTS _I dimly guess from blessings known Of greater out of sight, And, with the chastened Psalmist, own His judgments, too, are right. I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise, Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies_. --WHITTIER IT was early spring before Dr. Fenneben returned to Lagonda Ledge. Everybody thought the new line on his face was put there by the deathof his brother. To those who loved him most--that is, to all LagondaLedge--he was growing handsomer every year, and even with this newexpression his countenance wore a more kindly grace than ever before. "Norrie, your uncle was a strange man, " Fenneben declared, as he andElinor sat in the library on the evening of his return. "Naturally, I amunlike my stepbrothers, but I have not even understood them. Therewere many things I learned at Joshua's bedside that I never knew of thefamily before. There were some things for you to know, but not now. " "I can trust you, Uncle Lloyd, to do just the right thing, " Norriedeclared. The new line of sadness deepened in Lloyd Fenneben's face. "That is a hard thing to do sometimes. Your trust will help mewonderfully, however, " he replied. "My brother in his last hours madeurgent requests of me and pled with me until I pledged my word to carryout his wishes. Here's where I need your trust most. " Elinor bent over her uncle and softly stroked the heavy black hair fromhis forehead. "Here's where I help you most, then, " she said, gently. "I have some funds, Elinor, to be yours at your graduation--not before. Believe me, dear girl, I begged of Joshua to let me turn them over toyou now, but he staid obstinate to the last. " "And I don't want a thing different till I get my diploma. Not even tillI get my Master's Degree for that matter, " Elinor said, playfully. "And meantime, Norrie, will you just be a college girl and drop allthought of this marrying business until you are through school?"Fenneben was hesitating a little now. "A year hence will be time enoughfor that. " "Most gladly, " Elinor assured him. "Then that's all for my brother's sake. Now for mine, Norrie, or foryours, rather, if my little girl has her mind all set about things afterschool days, I hope she will not be a flirt. Sometimes the words andacts cut deeper into other lives than we ever dream. Norrie, I know thisout of the years of my own lonely life. " Elinor's eyes were dewy with tears and she bent her head until her hairtouched his cheek. "I'll try to be good 'fornever, ' as Bug Buler says, " she murmured. Over in the Saxon House on this same evening Vincent Burgess had come into see Dennie about some books. "I took your advice, Dennie, " he said. "I have been a man to the extentof making myself square with Victor Burleigh, and I've felt like a freeman ever since. " The look of joy and pride in Dennie's eyes thrilled him with a keenpleasure. Her eyes were of such a soft gray and her pretty wavy hair wasso lustrous tonight. "Dennie, I am going to be even more of a man than you asked me to be. " Dennie did not look up. The pink of her cheek, her long lashes overher downcast eyes, the sunny curls above her forehead, all were fair toVincent Burgess. As he looked at her he began to understand, blind batthat he had been all this time, he, Professor Vincent Burgess, A. B. , Instructor in Greek from Harvard University. "I must be going now. Good-night, Dennie. " He shook hands and hurried away, but to the girl who was earning hercollege education there was something in his handclasp, denied before. The next day there was a settling of affairs at Sunrise, and thecharacter-building put into Lloyd Fenneben's hand, as clay for thepotter's wheel, seemed to him to be shaping somewhat to its destineduses. Again, Vincent Burgess sat in the chair by the west study window, acting-dean, now seeking neither types, nor geographical breadth, norseclusion amid barren prairie lands for profound research in preparingfor a Master's Degree. With no effort to conceal matters, except the fact that the trust fundshad first belonged to his own sister and brother-in-law, he explained toFenneben the line of events connecting him with Victor Burleigh. "And, Dr. Fenneben, I must speak of a matter I have never touched uponwith you before. It was agreed between Dr. Wream and myself that Ishould become his nephew by marriage. I want to go to Miss Elinorand ask her to release me. You will pardon my frankness, for I cannothonorably continue in this relationship since I have restored theproperty to Victor Burleigh. " "He thinks she will not care for him now, " Fenneben said to himself. Aloud he said: "Have you ever spoken directly to Elinor on this matter?" "N-no. It was an understanding between her and her uncle and between himand me, " Burgess replied. "Well, I don't pretend to know girls very well, being a confirmedbachelor"--the Dean's eyes were smiling--"but my advice at this distanceis not to ask Norrie to release you from what she herself has never yetbound you. I'll vouch for her peace of mind; and your sense of honor isfully vindicated now. To be equally frank with you, Burgess, now thatNorrie is entirely in my charge, I have put this sort of thing forher absolutely into the after-commencement years. The best wife is notalways the girl who wears a diamond ring through three or four yearsof her college life. I want my niece to be a girl now, not abride-in-waiting. " As Burgess rose to go his eye caught sight of the pigeons above the bendin the river. "By the way, Doctor, have you ever found out anything about the womanwho used to live in that deserted place up north?" "Nothing yet, " Fenneben replied. "But, remember, I have not spent aweek--that is, a sane week--in Lagonda Ledge since the night you, andshe, and Saxon, and the dog saved my life. I shall take up her casesoon. " "She is gone away and nobody knows where, Saxon tells me, " Burgess said. "For many reasons I wish we could find her, but she has dropped out ofsight. " Lloyd Fenneben wondered at the sorrowful expression on the younger man'sface when he said this. As he left the study Victor Burleigh came in. "Sit down, Burleigh. What can I do for you?" Fenneben asked. Something like his own magnetism of presence was in the young man beforehim. "I want to tell you something, " Vic responded. "Let me tell you something. I knew you had good blood in your veins evenwhen I saw you kill that bull snake. Burgess has just been in. He hastold me his side of your story. Noble fellow he is to free himself of alife-long slavery to somebody else's dollars. However much a man may tryto hide the fetters of unlawful gains, they clank in his own ears tillhe hates himself. Now Burgess is a freeman. " "I am glad to hear you say so, Dr. Fenneben. It makes my own freedomsweeter, " Vic declared. "Yes, " Fenneben replied. "Your added means will bring you life's bestgift--opportunity. " "I have no added means, Doctor. I have funds in trust for Bug Buler, andI come to ask you to take his legal guardianship for me. " And then hetold his own life story. "So the heroism shifts to you as well. I can picture the cost to a manlike yourself, " the Dean said. "Have you no record of Bug's father andmother?" "None but the record given by Dr. Wream. They are dead, " Burleighreplied. "His father may have met the same fate that my father did. " "Why don't you take the guardianship yourself, Burleigh? The boy isyours in love and blood. He ought to be in law. " Victor Burleigh stood up to his full height, a magnificent product ofNature's handiwork. But the mind and soul "Dean Funnybone" had helped toshape. "I will be honest with you, Dr. Fenneben, " Burleigh said, and his voicewas deep and sweetly resonant. "If I keep the money in charge I may notbe proof against the temptation to use it for myself. As strong as mystrong arms are my hates and loves, and for some reasons I would doalmost anything to gain riches. I might not resist the tempter. " Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes blazed at the words. "I understand perfectly what you mean, but no woman who exacts thisprice is worth the cost. " Then, in a gentler tone, he continued:"Burleigh, will you take my advice? I have always had your welfare onmy heart. Finish your college work first. Get the best of the classroom, the library, the athletic field, and the 'picnic spread. ' Is that theright term? But fit yourself for manhood before you undertake a man'sduties. Meantime, He who has given you the mastery in the years behindyou is leading you toward the larger places before you, teaching you allthe meanings of Strife, and Sacrifice, and Service symbolized above ourdoorway in our proud College initial letter. The Supremacy is yet tocome. Will you follow my counsel? I'll take care of Bug, and we willkeep Burgess out of this for a while. " Burleigh thought he understood, and the silent hand clasp pledged thefaith of the country boy to the teacher's wishes. It is only in story books that events leap out as pages are turned, events that take days on days of real life to compass. In the swing ofone brief year Lagonda Ledge knew little change. New cement walks werebuilt south almost to the Kickapoo Corral. A new manufacturing concernhad bonds voted for it at an exciting election, and a squabble for asuitable site was in process. Vincent Burgess and Victor Burleigh, twostrong men, were growing actually chummy, and Trench declared he wasglad they had decided to quit playing marbles for keeps and hiding eachother's caps. And now the springtime of the year was on the beautiful Walnut Valley. Elinor and Dennie, Trench, "Limpy, " the crippled student, and VictorBurleigh were all on the home-stretch of their senior year. One moreJune Commencement day and Sunrise would know them no more. Beyondall this there was nothing new at Lagonda Ledge until suddenly thewhite-haired woman was up at Pigeon Place, again, a fact known only toold Bond Saxon and little Bug, who saw her leave the train. The littleblue smoke-twist was again rising lazily in the warm May air, andsomebody was systematically robbing houses in town, and Bond Saxon wasoften drunk and hiding away from sight. A May storm sent the Walnutbooming down the valley, bank full, cutting off traffic at the townbridge, but the days that followed were a joy. A tenderly green world itwas now, all blossom-decked, and blown across by the gentle May zephyrs, with nothing harsh nor cruel in it, unless the rushing river down belowthe shallows might seem so. The Kickapoo Corral, luxuriant with flowers, and springing grass, and May green foliage, told nothing of the old-timesiege and sorrow of Swift Elk and the Fawn of the Morning Light. On the night after the storm Professor Burgess stopped at the SaxonHouse. "Where is your father, Dennie?" he asked. "He went up north to help somebody out of the mud and water, I suppose, "Dennie replied. "He is the kindest neighbor, and he has been tryingto--to keep straight. He told me when he left that this night's work wasto be a work of redemption for him. He may get stronger some time. " In his heart Burgess knew better. He had no faith in the old man's willpower, and the burden of a hidden crime he knew would but increase itsweight with time, and drag Bond down at last. But Dennie need not suffernow. "Will you go with me down to the old Corral tomorrow afternoon, Dennie?I want some plants that grow there. I'm studying nature along withGreek, " he said, smiling. "Of course, if it is fair, " Dennie replied, the pretty color bloomingdeeper in her cheeks. "Oh, we go fair or foul. You remember we fought it out coming home fromthere once. " Meanwhile Bond Saxon was hurrying north on his work of redemption. Atthe bend in the river he found Tom Gresh sitting on the flat stone slab. The light was gleaming through the shrubbery of the little cottage, andthe homey sounds of evening and the twitter of late-coming birds were inthe air. "What are you here for, Gresh?" Bond asked, hoarsely. "I thought you hadleft for good. " The villainous-looking outlaw drew a flask from his pocket. "Have a drink, Saxon. Take the whole bottle, " and he thrust it into theold man's hands. Bond wavered a moment, then flung it far into the foamy floods of theWalnut. "Not any more. You shall not get me drunk again while you rob and kill. " "You did the killing for me once. Won't you do it again?" Gresh snarled. Bond clinched his fists but did not strike. "What are you after now?" he asked. "You are through with the Burleighs;Vic settled you and you know it. " Even with the words the clutch of Vic's fingers on the outlaw's throatseemed to choke him now. "If my last Burleigh is gone, " he growled with an oath, "I'm not doneyet. There's Elinor Wream. Don't forget that her mother was my adoptedsister. Don't forget that my old foster father cut me off without acent and gave her all his money. That's why Nathan Wream married her. He wanted her money for colleges. " The sneer on the man's face wasdiabolical. "I can hit the old man through Elinor, and I'll do it sometime, and that's not the only blow that I can strike here, and I amgoing to finish this thing now. " He pointed toward the cottage where theunprotected woman sat alone. "Twice I've nerved myself to do it and beenfooled each time. One October day you were here drunk. I could have laidit on you easy, and maybe fixed Fenneben too, if a little child'svoice hadn't scared me stiff. And the day of the big football game youwouldn't get drunk and she must go down to that game just to look onceat Lloyd Fenneben. I meant to finish her that day. This is the third andlast time now. There is not even a dog to protect her. " Bond Saxon had been a huge fellow in his best days, and now he summonedall the powers nature had left to him. "Tom Gresh, " he cried, "in my infernal weakness you made me a drunkenbeast, who took the life of an innocent man you wanted out of your way. You thought, you fool, that she might care for you then. I've carriedthe curse of that deed on my soul night and day. I'll wipe it partlyaway now by saving her life from you. So surely as tonight, tomorrow, or ever you try to harm her, I'll not show you the mercy Vic Burleighshowed you once. " Strange forms the guardian angel takes! Hence we entertain it unawares. Of all Lagonda Ledge, old Bond Saxon, standing between a woman and theperil of her life, looked least angelic. Gresh understood him and turnedfirst in fawning and tempting trickery to his adversary. But Saxon stoodhis ground. Then the outlaw raged in fury, not daring to strike now, because he knew Bond's strength. And still the old man was unmoved. Alife saved for the life he had taken was steeling his soul to courage. At last in the dim light, Gresh stood motionless a minute, then hestruck his parting blow. "All right, Bond Saxon, play protector all you want to, but it's a shortgame for you. The sheriff is out of town tonight, but tomorrow afternoonhe will get back to Lagonda Ledge. Tomorrow afternoon I go with all myproofs--Oh, I've got 'em. And you, Bond Saxon, will be behind the barsfor your crime, done not so many years ago, and your honorable daughter, disgraced forever by you, can shift for herself. I've nothing to lose;why should I protect you?" He leaped down the bank into the swiftly flowing river, and, swimmingeasily to the farther side, he disappeared in the underbrush. The next afternoon, somebody remembered that Bond Saxon had crossed thebridge and plunged into the overflow of the river around the west end. But Bond had been drunk much of late and nobody approached him when hewas drunk. How could Lagonda Ledge know the agony of the old man's soulas he splashed across the Walnut waters and floundered up the narrowglen to the cave? Or how, for Dennie's sake, he had begged on his kneesfor mercy that should save his daughter's name? Or how harder than thestone of the ledges, that the trickling water through slow-draggingcenturies has worn away, was the stony heart of the creature who deniedhim? And only Victor Burleigh had power to picture the struggle thatmust have followed in that cavern, and beyond the wall into the blindblack passages leading at last to the bluff above the river, where, clinched in deadly combat, the two men, fighting still, fell headlonginto the Walnut floods. Down at the shallows Professor Burgess and Dennie had found the waterstoo deep to reach the Kickapoo Corral, so they strolled along thebluff watching the river rippling merrily in the fall of the afternoonsunshine. And brightly, too, the sunshine fell on Dennie Saxon'srippling hair, recalling to Vincent Burgess' memory the woodland campfire and the old legend told in the October twilight and the flickeringflames lighting Dennie's face and the wavy folds of her sunny hair. But even as he remembered, a cry up stream came faintly, once and nomore, while, grappling still, two forms were borne down by the swiftcurrent to the bend above the whirlpool. Dennie and Vincent sprang tothe very edge of the bluff, powerless to save, as Tom Gresh and BondSaxon were swept around the curve below the Corral. Across the shallowsthey struggled for a footing, but the undertow carried them on towardthe fatal pool. A shriek from the bank came to Bond Saxon's ears, and he looked up andsaw the two reaching out vain hands to him. "Your oath, Vincent; your oath!" he cried in agonizing tones. Then Vincent Burgess put one arm about Dennie Saxon and drew her closeto him and lifted up his right hand high above him in token to thedrowning man of his promise, under heaven, to keep that oath forever. A look of joy swept over the old face in the water, his strugglingceased, and once more tribute was paid to the grim Chieftain ofLagonda's Pool. -------- They said about town the next day that it was the peacefulest faceever seen below a coffin lid. And, remembering only his many acts ofneighborly kindness, they forgave and forgot his weaknesses, whileto the few who knew his life-tragedy came the assuring hope thatthe forgiving mercy of man is but a type of the boundless mercy of aforgiving God. CHAPTER XV. THE MASTERY _And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame, And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, But each for the joy of working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are_. --KIPLING JUNE time in the Walnut Valley, and commencement time at Sunrise on thelimestone ridge! Nor pen nor brush can show the glory of the radiantprairies, and the deep blue of the "unscarred heavens, " and the brightgleams from rippling waters. And at the end of a perfect day comes thesilvery grandeur of a moonlit June night. It was late afternoon of the day before commencement. Victor Burleighstood on the stone where four years ago the bull snake had stretcheditself in the lazy sunshine. Only one more day at Sunrise for him, andthe little heartache, unlike any other sorrow a life can ever know, was his, as he stood there. In the four years' battle he had come offconqueror until the symbol above the doorway no longer held any mysteryfor him. His character and culture now matched his voice. Before himwas higher learning, an under-professorship at Harvard, and later on thepulpit for his life work. But now the heartache of parting was his, anda deeper pain than breaking school ties was his also. A year of jollygoodfellowship was ending, a happy year, with Elinor his most frequentcompanion. And often in this year he had wondered at Lloyd Fenneben'sharsh judgment of her. Fondness of luxury seemed foreign to her, andwomanly beauty of character made her always "Norrie the beloved. " ButVictor was true to Fenneben's demands and willing to try to live throughthe years after, if one year of happy association could be his now. Whatever claims Burgess might assert later, he could not take fromanother the claim to happy memories. But, today, there was the dullsteady heartache that he knew had come to stay. Presently Elinor joined him. "May I come down tonight for a goodby stroll, Elinor? There's a fullmoon and after tomorrow there are to be no more moons, nor stars, norsuns, nor lands, nor seas, nor principalities, nor powers for us atSunrise. " "I wish you would come, Victor, " Elinor said. "Come early. There'sa crowd going out somewhere, and we can join the ranks of the greatungraduated for the last time. " "Elinor, I'm not hunting a crowd tonight, " Vic said in a low voice. "Well, come, anyway, and we'll hunt the solitude, if we can't hunt anyother game. " And they strolled homeward together. In the early evening Lloyd Fenneben and Elinor sat on the verandawatching the sunset through the trees beyond the river. "You are to graduate from Sunrise tomorrow, " Dr. Fenneben was saying. "For a Wream that is the real beginning of life. I have your businessmatters entrusted to me, ready to close up as soon as you are 'legallygraduated' according to my brother's wishes, but you may as well knowthem now. " He paused, and Elinor, thinking of the moonlight, maybe, waited inpeaceful silence. "Norrie, when I finished at the university my brother put a smallfortune into my hands and bade me go West and build a new Harvard. Youknow our family hold that that is the only legitimate use for money. " Norrie smiled assent. "I did not ask whose money it was, for my brother handled many bequests, and I was a poor business man then. I came and invested it at lastin Sunrise-by-the-Walnut. That was your mother's money, given by yourfather to Joshua, who gave it to me. Joshua did not tell me, and Isupposed some good, old Boston philanthropist had bought an indulgencefor his ignorant soul by endowing this thing so freely. I found it outon Joshua's deathbed, and only to pacify him would I consent to keep ituntil now. Henceforth, it must be yours. That is why I asked you a yearago to just be a college girl and drop all thought about marrying. Iwanted you to come into possession of your own property before you boundyourself by any bonds you could not break. " Elinor sat silent for a while, her dark eyes seeing only the low goldensunset. She understood now what had grooved that line of care in LloydFenneben's face when he came home from the East. But he had conquered, aye, he had won the mastery. "And you and Sunrise?" she asked at length. "I can sell the college site and buildings to this new manufactorycoming here in August. Added to this, I have acquired sufficient fundsof my own to pay you the entire amount and a good rate of interest withit. My grief is that for all these years, I have kept you out of yourown. " Elinor rose up, white and cold, and put her hand on her uncle's hand. "Let me think a little, Uncle Lloyd. It is not easy to realize one'sfortune in a minute. " Then she left him. "It makes little difference what passion possesses a man's soul, if itpossesses him he will wrong his fellowmen, " Fenneben said to himself. "In Joshua Wream's craving to endow college claims he robbed this girlof her inheritance and sent her to me, telling me she was shallow-mindedand wholly given to a love of luxuries, that I might not see his plans;while Norrie, never knowing, has proved over and over how false thesecharges were. And at last, to still his noisy conscience, he would marryher, willing or unwilling, to Vincent Burgess. But with all this, hislast hours were full of sorrowful confession. What do these Masters'Degrees my brother bore avail a man if he have not the mastery within?Meanwhile, my labors here must end. " Lonely and crushed, with his life work taken from him, he sat and facedthe sunset. Presently, he saw Elinor and Victor Burleigh strolling awayin the soft evening light. At the corner, Elinor turned and waved agood-by to him. Then the memory of his own commencement day came backto him, and of the happy night before. Oh, that night before! Can a manever forget! And now, tonight! "Don Fonnybone, " Bug Buler piped, as he came trudging around the corner. "I want to confessing. " He came to Fenneben's side and looked up confidently in his face. "Well, confessing. I've just finished doing that myself, " Fenneben said. "I did a bad, long ago. I want to go and confessing. Will you go withme?" "Where shall we go to be shriven, Bug? "To Pigeon Place, " Bug responded. "The Pigeon woman is there now. I sawher coming, and I must go right away and confessing. " "I'll go with you, Bug. I want to see that woman, anyhow, " Fennebensaid. And the two went away in the early twilight of this rare June evening. Out at Pigeon Place, when Dr. Fenneben and little Bug walked up thegrassy way to the vine-covered porch in the misty twilight, Mrs. Mariansat in the shadow, unaware of their coming until they stood before her. Lloyd Fenneben lifted his hat, and little Bug imitated him. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Marian. This little boy wanted to tell you ofsomething that was troubling him. I think he trespassed on your propertyunknowingly. " The gray-haired woman stood motionless in the shadow still. Her fairface less haggard than of yore, as if some dread had left it, and onlyloneliness remained. "I was here, and you was away, and I peeked in the window. It wasrude and I never did see you to tell you, and I'm sorry and I won'tfor--never do it again. Dennie told me to come tonight, and bring DonFonnybone. " Bug had his part well in hand. Even as she smiled at him, Dr. Fenneben noticed how her hand on thelattice shook. "And I want to thank you, Mrs. Marian, for your bravery and goodness onthe night I was assaulted here. " Fenneben was a gentleman to the coreand his courtesy was charming. "I meant to find you long ago, but mybrother's death, with my own long illness, and your absence, and my manyduties--" He paused with a smile. "Oh, Lloyd, Lloyd, on an evening like this, why do you come here?" The woman stood in the light now, a tragic figure of sorrow. And she wasnot yet forty. Dr. Fenneben caught his breath and the light seemed to go out beforehim. "Marian, oh, Marian! After all these years, do I find you here? Theysaid you were dead. " He caught her in his arms and held her close to hisbreast. "Lots of folks spoons round the Saxon House, so I went away and lef'em, " Bug explained to Vic once afterward. And that accounted for little Bug sitting lonely on the flat stone bythe bend in the river where Dennie and Burgess found him later. "So you have stood between me and that assassin all these years, even when the lies against me made you doubt my love. Oh, Marian, thestrength of a woman's heart!" Fenneben declared, as, side by side, blackhair and the gray near together, these long-separated lovers rebuilttheir world. "And this little child brought you here at last. 'A little child shalllead them, '" the woman murmured. "Yes, Bug is a gift of God. " Lloyd Fenneben was bending over her. "He isVictor Burleigh's nephew, who found him in a deserted place--" A shriek cut the evening air and she who had been known as Mrs. Marianlay in a faint at Fenneben's feet. "Tell me, Marian, what this means. " Lloyd Fenneben had restored her to consciousness and she was resting, white and trembling, in his arms. "My little Bug, my baby, Burgess!" she sobbed. "Bond Saxon, in a drunkenfit, killed his father. Then Tom Gresh carried him away to save him fromBond, too, so Tom declared, but I did not believe him. Bond never harmeda little child. Tom said he meant no harm and that Bug was stolen fromwhere he had left him. It was then that my hair turned white. Tom triedonce, a year ago in December, to make me believe he could bring Bug backto me if I would care for him--for that wicked murderer! Oh, Lloyd!" She nestled close in Dr. Fenneben's protecting arms, and shivered at thethought. "And you named him Burgess for your own name. Does Vincent know?"Fenneben questioned, tenderly smoothing the white hair as Norrie had sooften smoothed his own. "Is this Vincent my own brother? Will he really own me as his sister?I've tried to meet him many times. I left his picture on my table thathe might see it if he should ever come. My father separated us yearsago. After we came West he sent me just one letter in which he saidVincent would never speak to me nor claim me as his sister again. Abrother--a lover--and my baby boy!" And the lonely woman, overcome with joy, sat white and still beneath thewhite moonbeams. Joy does not kill any more than sorrow. Vincent Burgess and DennieSaxon, who came just at the right time, told how they had waited withBug at the slab of stone by the bend in the river until they should beneeded. "It was Dennie who planned it all, " Vincent said, "and did not even letme know. Bug told her my picture was on the table in there. But so longas her father lived, she kept her counsel. " "I tried four years ago to get Dr. Fenneben to come out here, " Denniesaid. And the Dean remembered the autumn holiday and Dennie's solicitudefor an unknown woman. But the joy of this night, crowning all other joys in the Walnut Valley, was in that sacred moment when Bug Buler walked slowly up to MarianBurleigh, sister to Vincent Burgess, lost love of Lloyd Fenneben'syouth--slowly, and with big brown eyes glowing with a strange new lovelight, and, putting up both his chubby hands to her cheeks, he murmuredsoftly: "Is you my own mother? Then, I'll love you fornever. " Meantime, on this last moonlit June night, Elinor and Vic were strollingdown the new south cement walk, a favorite place for the young peoplenow. At the farther end, Vic said: "Norrie, let's go down across the shallows to the west bluff again. Canyou climb it, or shall we join the crowd down in the Kickapoo Corral?" "I can climb where you can, Victor, " Elinor declared. "Dennie will never want to come here again. Poor Dennie!" Vic was helping Elinor across the shallows as he spoke. Up in the Corrala happy crowd of young people were finishing their last "picnic spread"for the year. Below the shallows the whirlpool was glistening alltreacherously smooth and level under the moonbeams. "Why 'poor Dennie, ' Victor? Her father had nothing more for him, here, except disgrace. The tribute paid him at his funeral would have beenforever withheld, if he had lived a day longer, and he died sure ofDennie's future. " Elinor spoke gently. "Who told you all this, Elinor?" Victor asked. "Professor Burgess, when he showed me the diamond ring Dennie is to weartomorrow. " "Dennie, a diamond! I'm glad for Dennie. Diamonds are fine to have, " Vicdeclared. They had climbed to the top of the west bluff. The silvery prairie andsilver river and mist-wreathed valley, and overhead, the clear, calmsky, where the moon sailed in magnificent grandeur, were a setting tomake the evening a perfect one. And in this setting was Elinor, herselfthe jewel, beautiful, winsome, womanly. "I have some good news. " She turned to the young man beside her. "Youknow the Wreams have made a life business of endowing colleges. Well, I am a Wream by blood, and tomorrow, oh, Victor, tomorrow, I, too, havethe opportunity of a lifetime. I'm going to endow Sunrise. " He looked at her in amazement. "Oh, it's clear enough, " she exclaimed. "It was my money that builtSunrise. It shall stay here, and Dr. Lloyd Fenneben, Dean of Sunrise, and acting-Dean Vincent Burgess, A. B. , Professor of Greek, and VictorBurleigh, Valedictorian, who goes East to a professorship in Harvard, and to the ministry of the gospel later on--all you mighty men of valorwill know how little Norrie Wream cares for money, except as it can makethe world better and happier. I haven't lived in Lloyd Fenneben's homethese four years without learning something of what is required for aMaster's Degree. " "Norrie!" All the music of a soul poured into the music of the deepvoice. "Victor! There is no sacrifice in it. I wish there were, that I mightwear the honors you wear so modestly. " "I, Elinor?" "I know the whole story. Dennie told me when you had that awful fight, and Trenchie told me long ago, that you thought I must have money tomake me happy. Why I, more than Dennie, or you, who gave Bug his claim?" Elinor put up her hands to Victor, who took them both in his, as he drewher to him and kissed her sweet red lips. And there was a new heavenand a new earth created that night in the soft silvery moonlight of theWalnut Valley. "I'd rather be here with you than over the river with anybody else. Ifeel safer here, " she murmured, remembering when they had striven in thedarkness and the storm to reach this very height. But Victor Burleigh could not speak. The mastery for which he hadstriven seemed to bring meed of reward too great for him to grasp withwords. THE PARTING ... _There is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth!_ --KIPLING COMMENCEMENT day at Sunrise was just one golden Kansas June day, when The heart is so full that a drop overfills it. Victor Burleigh, late of a claim out beyond the Walnut, Professor-to-bein Harvard University, and Vincent Burgess, acting-Dean of Sunrise, onlya degree less beloved than Dean Fenneben himself, met on the morning ofcommencement day at the campus gate, one to go to the East, the otherto stay in the West. Side by side they walked up the long avenue tothe foot of the slope, together they climbed the broad flight of stepsleading up to the imposing doorway of Sunrise with the big letter Scarved in relief above it. And after pausing a moment to take in thematchless wonder of the landscape over which old Sunrise keeps watch, the college portal swung open and the two entered at the same time. Inside the doorway, under the halo of light from the stained glass domewith its Kansas motto, wrought in dainty coloring. Elinor Wream, nieceof the Dean of Sunrise, and Dennie Saxon, old Bond Saxon's daughter, whohad earned her college tuition, stood side by side, awaiting them. Andbeyond these, on the rotunda stairs, Dr. Lloyd Fenneben was looking downat the four with keen black eyes. Beside him on the broad stairway wasMarian Burgess Burleigh, the white-haired, young-faced woman of PigeonPlace, and Bug Buler--everybody's child. The barriers were down at last: the value of common life, the power ofStrife and Sacrifice and Service, the joy of Supremacy, the conflict ofrich red blood with the thinner blue, the force of culture against merephysical strength, the power of character over wealth--these things hadbeen wrought out under the gracious influence of Dr. Lloyd Fenneben inSunrise-by-the-Walnut. "Come up, come up; there is room up here, " the Dean called to the groupin the rotunda. "There's an A. B. For all who have conquered the Courseof Study, and a Master's Degree for everyone who has conquered himself. " The common level so impossible on a September day four years ago, camenow to two strong men when the commencement exercises were ended, andSunrise became to the outgoing class only a hallowed memory. The hour is high noon, the good-bys are given, and from the crest of thelimestone ridge the ringing chorus, led by good old Trench, sounds farand far away along the Walnut Valley: Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! _Rah!_ RAW RAH!!!