The Varmint

[Illustration]

OWEN JOHNSON

 The Varmint

 By OWEN JOHNSON

 Author of "The Prodigious Hickey, " "Stover at Yale, " "The Humming Bird, " "Tennessee Shad, " etc. 

 WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. R. GRUGER

 A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

 COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY

 _Published, July, 1910_

 THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 

 TO

 Alexander Lambert, M. D. 

 IN FRIENDSHIP, IN GRATITUDE, AND IN MEMORY OF MY WIFE. 

THE VARMINT

[Illustration: "LIKE MY JIBS?" SAID STOVER]

THE VARMINT

I

When young Stover disembarked at the Trenton station on the fourth dayafter the opening of the spring term he had acquired in his briefjourney so much of the Pennsylvania rolling stock as could be detachedand concealed. Inserted between his nether and outer shirts were twogilt "Directions to Travelers" which clung like mustard plasters tohis back, while a jagged tin sign, wrenched from the home terminal, embraced his stomach with the painful tenacity of the historic Spartanfox. In his pockets were objects--small objects but precious anddangerous to unscrew and acquire. 

Being forced to wait, he sat now, preternaturally stiff, perched on aheap of trunks, clutching a broken dress-suit case which had beenre-enforced with particolored strings. 

There was about young Stover, when properly washed, a certain air ofcherubim that instantly struck the observer; his tousled tow hair hada cathedral tone, his cheek was guileless and his big blue eyes had anupward cast toward the angels which, as in the present moment when hewas industriously exchanging a check labeled Baltimore to a trunkbound for Jersey City, was absolutely convincing. But from the limitwhence the cherub continueth not the imp began. His collar wascrumpled and smutty with the descent of many signs, a salmon-pinknecktie had quarreled with a lavender shirt and retreated toward oneear, one cuff had broken loose and one sulked up the sleeve. His greenserge pockets bulged in every direction, while the stripedblue-and-white trousers, already outgrown, stuck to the knees andhalted short of a pair of white socks that in turn disappeared into apair of razor-pointed patent-leathers. 

Young Stover's career at Miss Wandell's Select Academy for boys andgirls had been a tremendous success, for it had ended in a frankconfession on Miss Wandell's part that her limited curriculum wasinadequate for the abnormal activities of dangerous criminals. 

As Stover completed the transfer of the last trunk-checks the stagefor Lawrenceville plodded cumbrously up, and from the box Jimmy hailedhim. 

"Eh, there, young Sporting Life, bound for Lawrenceville? Steplively. "

Stover swung up, gingerly pushing ahead of him the battered bag. 

"Lawrenceville?" said the driver, looking at it suspiciously. 

"Right the first time. "

"What house?"

"Oh, the Green will be good enough for me. "

"Well, tuck in above. "

"Thanks, I'll cuddle here, " said Stover, slipping into the seat nextto him, "just to look over the way you handle the ribbons and see if Iapprove. "

Jimmy, connoisseur of new arrivals, glanced behind at the only otherpassenger, a man of consular mould, and then looked at Stover insardonic amusement. 

"Don't look at me like that, old Sport, " said Stover impressively;"I've driven real coaches, sixteen horses, rip-snorters, and all thatsort of thing. "

Jimmy, having guided the placid animals through the labyrinths ofTrenton, gave them the rein on the long highway that leads toLawrenceville and turned to examine Stover with new relish. 

"Say, Bub, " he said at length, "you're goin' to have a great time atthis little backwoods school--you're going to enjoy yourself. "

"Think I'm fresh, eh?"

"Fresh?" said Jimmy thoughtfully. "Why, fresh ain't at all the word. "

"Well, I can take care of myself. "

"What did they fire you for?" said Jimmy, touching up the horses. 

"Who said they fired me?" said Stover, surprised. 

"Well, what was it?" said Jimmy, disdaining an explanation. 

"They fired me, " said Stover, hesitating a moment--"they fired me fortrying to kill a man. "

"You don't say so!"

"I drew a knife on him, " said Stover rapidly. "I'd 'a' done for him, too, the coward, if they hadn't hauled me off. "

At this there was a chuckle from the passenger behind who said withgreat solemnity:

"Dear me, dear me, a dreadful state of affairs--quite thrilling. "

"I saw red, everything--everything red, " said Stover, breathing hard. 

"What had he done to you?" said Jimmy, winking at Mr. Hopkins, aliasLucius Cassius, alias The Roman, master of the Latin line anddistinguished flunker of boys. 

"He insulted my--my mother. "

"Your mother?"

"She--she's dead, " said Stover in a stage voice he remembered. 

At this Jimmy and Mr. Hopkins stopped, genuinely perplexed, and lookedhard at Stover. 

"You don't mean it! Dear me, " said The Roman, hesitating before apossible blunder. 

"It was long ago, " said Stover, thrilling with the delight ofauthorship. "She died in a ship-wreck to save me. "

The Roman was nonplussed. There was always the possibility that thestory might be true. 

"Ah, she gave her life to save yours, eh?" he said encouragingly. 

"Held my head above water, breeches buoy and all that sort of thing, "said Stover, remembering something in Dickens. "I was the only onesaved, me and the ship's cat. "

"Well, well, " said The Roman, with a return of confidence; "and yourfather--is he alive?"

"Yes, " said Stover, considering the distant woods; "but--but we don'tspeak of him. "

"Ah, pardon me, " said The Roman, gazing on him with wonder. "Painfulmemories--of course, of course. And what happened to your brother?"

Stover, perceiving the note of skepticism, turned and looked The Romanhaughtily in the face, then, turning to Jimmy, he said in a halfwhisper:

"Who's the old buck, anyhow?"

Jimmy stiffened on the box as though he had received an electricshock; then, biting his lips, he answered with a vicious lunge at thehorses:

"Oh, he comes back and forth every now and then. "

They were now in the open country, rolling steadily past fields ofsprouting things, with the warm scent of new-plowed earth borne tothem on the gentle April breeze. 

All of a sudden Stover seemed to dive sideways from the coach andremained suspended by his razor-tipped patent-leathers. 

"Hi, there!" cried Jimmy, bringing the coach to a stop with a jerk, "what are you trying to do?"

Stover reappeared. 

"Seeing if there are any females inside. "

"What's that to you?" said Jimmy indignantly. 

"Keep your eye peeled and I'll show you, " said the urchin, standingup, freeing his belt and unbuttoning his vest. In a moment, by aseries of contortions, he drew forth the three signs and proudlydisplayed them. 

"See these gilt ones, " he said confidentially to the astounded Roman, "got 'em in the open car; stood right up and unscrewed them--penaloffense, my boy. The tin one was easier, but it's a beaut. 'Noloitering on these premises. ' Cast your eye over that, " he added, passing it to The Roman, who, as he gravely received it, gave Jimmy adig that cut short a fit of coughing. 

"Pretty fine, eh?" said Stover. 

"Em, yes, quite extraordinary--quite so. "

"And what do you think of these?" continued Stover, producing twosilver nickel-plated knobs ravished from the washbasin. "'Pull andPush'--that's my motto. Say, Bill, how does that strike you?"

The Roman examined them and handed them back. 

"You'll find it rather--rather slow at the school, won't you?"

"Oh, I'll put ginger into it. "

"Indeed. "

"What's your line of goods, old Sport?" said Stover, examining Mr. Hopkins with a knowing eye. 

"Books, " said The Roman with a slight jerk of his thin lips. 

"I see!"

Jimmy stopped the horses and went behind, ostensibly to see if thedoor was swinging. 

"Let me drive?" said Stover, fidgeting after a moment's contemplationof Jimmy's method. "I'll show you a thing or two. "

"Oh, you will, will you?"

"Let's have 'em. "

Jimmy looked inquiringly at Mr. Hopkins and, receiving a nod, transferred the reins and whip to Stover, who immediately assumed aWild West attitude and said patronizingly:

"Say, you don't get the speed out of 'em. "

"I don't, eh?"

"Naw. "

They were at that moment reaching the brink of a hill, with a sharpthough short descent below. 

"In my country, " said Stover professionally, "we call a man who uses abrake a candy dude. The trick is to gallop 'em down the hills. Hangon!"

Before he could be stopped he sprang up with an ear-splittingwar-whoop and brought the whip down with a stinging blow over the earsof the indignant horses, who plunged forward with a frightened leap. The coach rose and rocked, narrowly missing overturning in its suddenheadlong course. Jimmy clamped on the brakes, snatched the reins andbrought the plunging team to a stop after narrowly missing the gutter. Stover, saved from a headlong journey only by the iron grip of TheRoman, had a moment of horrible fear. But immediately recovering hisself-possession he said gruffly:

"All right, let go of me. "

"What in blazes were you trying to do, you young anarchist?" criedJimmy, turning on him wrathfully. 

"Gee! Why don't you drive a couple of cows?" said Stover in disgust. "Why, in my parts we alway drive on two wheels. "

"Two wheels!" said Jimmy scornfully. "Guess you never drove anythingthat did have four wheels but a baby-buggy. "

But Stover, as though discouraged, disdained to reply, and sat inmoody silence. 

The Roman, who was still interested in a possible brother or two, strove in vain to draw him out. Stover wrapped himself in a majesticsilence. Despite himself, the mystery of the discoverer was upon him. His glance fastened itself on the swelling horizon for the school thatsuddenly was to appear. 

"How many fellows have you got here?" he said all at once to Jimmy. 

"About four hundred. "

"As much as that?"

"Sure. "

"Big fellows?"

"Sizable. "

"How big?"

"Two-hundred-pounders. "

"When do we see the school?"

"Top of next hill. "

The Roman watched him from the corner of his eye, interested in hissudden shift of mood. 

"What kind of a football team did they have?" said Stover. 

"Scored on the Princeton 'Varsity. "

"Jemima! You don't say so!"

"Eight to four. "

"Great Heavens!"

"Only game they lost. "

"The Princeton championship team, too, " said Stover, who was notdeficient in historical athletics. "Say, how's the nine shaping up?"

"It's a winner. "

All at once Jimmy extended his whip. "There it is, over there--you'llget the water tower first. "

Stover stood up reverentially. Across the dip and swell of the hills acluster of slated roofs, a glimpse of red brick through the trees, atouch of brownstone, a water tower in sharp outline against the sky, suddenly rose from the horizon. A continent had been discovered, theland of possible dreams. 

"It's ripping--ripping, isn't it?" he said, still standing eagerly. 

The Roman, gazing on it for the thousandth time, shook his head inmusing agreement. 

Across the fields came the stolid ringing of the school bell, ringinga hundred laggards across the budding campus to hard seats andblackboarded walls, ringing with its lengthened, slow-dying, never-varying note. 

"That the bell?" said Stover, rebelling already at its summons. 

"That's it, " said Jimmy. 

Stover sat down, his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees, gazing eagerly forward, asking questions. 

"I say, where's the Green House?"

"Ahead on your left--directly. "

"That old, stone, block-house affair?"

"You win. "

"Why, it's not on the campus. "

"No, it ain't, " said Jimmy, flicking the flies off the near horse;"but they've got a warm bunch of Indians all the same. " Then, remembering the Wild-Western methods of driving, he added: "Don'tforget about the ginger. Sock it to them. Fare, please. "

"I'll sock it, " said Stover with a knowing air. "I may be tender, butI'm not green. "

He slapped a coin into the outstretched hand and reached back for thebattle-scarred valise, to perceive the keen eye of Mr. Hopkins set onhim with amusement. 

"Well, Sport, ta-ta, and good luck, " said Stover, who had mentallyticketed him as a commercial traveler. "Hope you sell out. "

"Thanks, " said Mr. Hopkins, with a twitch to his lip. "Now just oneword to the wise. "

"What's that?"

"Don't get discouraged. "

"Discouraged!" said Stover disdainfully: "Why, old Cocky-wax, put thisin your pipe and smoke it--I'm going to own this house. In a week I'llhave 'em feeding from my hand. "

He sprang down eagerly. Before him, at the end of a flagged walk, under the heavy boughs of evergreens, was a two-story building ofstone, and under the Colonial portico a group curiously watching thenew arrival. 

The coach groaned and pulled heavily away. He was alone at the end ofthe interminable stone walk, clutching a broken-down bag ridiculouslymended with strings, face to face with the task of approaching withdignity and ease these suddenly discovered critics of his existence. 

II

In all his fifteen years Stover had never been accused of standing inawe of anything or anybody; but at the present moment, as he balancedfrom foot to foot, calculating the unending distance of the stoneflags, he was suddenly seized with an overpowering impulse to bolt. And yet the group at the steps were only mildly interested. An urchinpillowed on the knees of a Goliath had shifted so as languidly tocommand the approach; a baseball, traveling back and forth in lazyflight, had stopped only a moment, and then continued from hand tohand. 

Stover had thought of his future associates without much trepidation, as he had thought of the Faculty as Miss Wandell in trousers--beinginferior to him in mental agility and resourcefulness who, heconfidently intended, should shortly follow his desires. 

All at once, before he had spoken a word, before he had even seen thelook on their countenances, he realized that he stood on the thresholdof a new world, a system of society of which he was ignorant and bywhose undivined laws he was suddenly to be judged. 

Everything was wrong and strangely uncomfortable. His derby hat wastoo small--as it was--and must look ridiculous; his trousers wereshort and his arms seemed to rush from his sleeves. He trieddesperately to thrust back the cuff that had broken loose and stoopedfor his bag. It would have been wiser to have embraced it bodily, buthe breathed a prayer and grasped the handle. Then he started up thewalk; half way, the handle tore out and the bag went down with acrash. 

He dove at it desperately, poking back the threatened avalanche oflinen, and clutching it in his arms as a bachelor carries a baby, started blindly for the house. 

A roar of laughter had gone up at his discomfiture, succeeded by asudden, solemn silence. Then the White Mountain Canary pillowedagainst the knees of Cheyenne Baxter, spoke:

"No old clothes, Moses; nothing to sell to-day. "

At this Butsey White's lathery face suddenly appeared at thesecond-story window. 

"He doesn't want to buy--he wants to sell us something, " he said. "Patent underwear and all that sort of thing. "

Stover, red to the ears, advanced to the steps and stopped. 

"Well?" said the Coffee-colored Angel as the guardian of the steps. 

"I'm the new boy, " said Stover in a gentle voice. 

"The what?"

"The new boy. "

"Impossible!"

"He's not!"

"New boys always say 'sir, ' and take off their hats politely. "

The White Mountain Canary looked at Tough McCarty, who solemnlyinterrogated the Coffee-colored Angel, who shook his head in utterdisbelief and said:

"I don't believe it. It's a blind. I wouldn't let him in the house. "

"Please, sir, " said Stover hastily, doffing his derby, "I am. "

"Prove it, " said a voice behind him. 

"Say, I'm not as green as all that. "

Stover smiled a sickly smile, shifted from foot to foot and glancedhopefully at his fellow-imps to surprise a look of amusement. But asevery face remained blank, serious and extremely critical, the smiledisappeared in a twinkling and his glance went abruptly to his toes. 

"He certainly should prove it, " said the Coffee-colored Angelanxiously. "Can you prove it?"

Stover gingerly placed the gaping valise on the top step and fumbledin his pockets. 

"Please, sir, I have a letter from--from the Doctor, " he blurted out, finally extracting a crumpled envelope and tendering it to theCoffee-colored Angel, who looked it over with well-simulated surpriseand solemnly announced:

"My goodness gracious! Why, it is the new boy!"

Instantly there was a change. 

"Freshman, what's your name?" said little Susie Satterly in hisdeepest tones. 

"Stover. "

"Sir. "

"Sir. "

"What's your full name?"

"John Humperdink Stover, sir. "

"Humper--what?"

"Dink. "

"Say it again. "

"Humperdink. "

"Say it for me, " said the Coffee-colored Angel, with his hand to hisear. 

"Humperdink. "

"Accent the last syllable. "

"Humper--DINK!"

"Are you trying to bluff us, Freshman?" said Cheyenne Baxterseverely. 

"No, sir; that's my real name. "

"Humperdink?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, Rinky Dink, you've got a rotten name. "

"Yes, sir, " said Stover, who never before had felt such a longing toagree. 

"How old?"

"Fifteen, sir. "

"Weight?"

"One hundred and thirty, sir. "

"Ever been in love?"

"No, sir. "

"Ever served a penal sentence?"

"No, sir. "

"Then where did you get these clothes?"

The group slowly circulated about the embarrassed Stover, scanning theamazing costume. Cheyenne Baxter took up the inquisition. 

"Say, Dink, honest, are these your _own_ clothes?" he said with aknowing look. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Now, honest, " continued Cheyenne in a whisper, bending forward andputting his hand to his ear as though inviting a confidence. 

Stover felt suddenly as though his own ears were swelling to alarmingproportions--swelling and perceptibly reddening. 

"What do they feed you on, Rinky Dink?" said the White Mountain Canarysoftly. 

"Feed?" said Stover unwarily, not perceiving the intent of thequestion. 

"Do they give you many green vegetables?"

Stover tried to laugh appreciatively, but the sound fizzled dolefullyout. 

"Because, Dink, " said the White Mountain Canary earnestly, "you mustnot eat green vegetables, really you must not. You're green enoughalready. "

"Why did they fire you?" said Tough McCarty. 

Stover raised his eyes instinctively. There was a new accent to theinquisition, different from all the other questions he had run. Helooked at Tough McCarty's stocky frame and battling eyes, and suddenlyknew that he was face to face with a human being between whom andhimself there could never be a question of compromise or quarter. 

"Well, Freshman, " said McCarty impatiently. 

"What did you ask me?" said Dink purposely. 

"Sir. "

"Sir. "

"What did they fire you for?"

"They fired me, " began Stover slowly, and then stopped to reconsider. The story he had told on the coach, somehow, did not seem quite inplace here. The role of firebrand and hothead, drawing villainousknives on frightened boys, would not quite convince his presentaudience. To tell the truth was impossible--to admit himself theproduct of Miss Wandell's and coeducation would be fatal--and likewisethe truth was, in his philosophy (and be this remembered), only a lazyexpedient to a man of imagination. So he said slowly:

"They fired me for bringing in a couple of rattlesnakes and--andassaulting a teacher. "

"My! You are a bad man, aren't you?" said Tough McCarty seriously. "I'm afraid you're too dangerous for the Green, Dink. Really I do. "

"He does look devilishly wicked, Tough. "

"Assaulting a teacher--how broo-tal. "

"Why, Rinky Dink, " said the Coffee-colored Angel sadly, "don't youknow that was very wicked of you? You should love your teachers. "

Stover suddenly perceived that his audience was unsympathetic. 

"Don't you know you should love your teachers?"

Stover essayed a grin, then looked at the ground and stirred up astone with his foot. 

"So you're fond of rattlesnakes?" said McCarty, persisting. 

"Ye-es, sir. "

"Very fond?"

"I was brought up with them, " said Stover, trying to fortify hisposition. 

"You don't mean it, " said McCarty, looking hard at Baxter. "Cheyenne, he's just the man to train up that little pet rattler of yours. "

"Just the thing, " said Cheyenne instantly; "we'll let him take out thefangs. "

Stover smiled a superior smile; he was not to be caught on such tales. 

"What are you smiling at, Freshman?" said McCarty immediately. 

"Nothing, sir. "

Butsey White, at the second-story window, scanning the road, perceivedMr. Jenkins approaching, and announced the fact, adding:

"Send him up; he belongs to me. "

"Make a nice bow, Freshman, " said McCarty. "Take your hat off, keepyour heels together. Oh, that wasn't a very nice bow. Try again. "

At this moment Jimmy, returning on the stage, reined in with a suddeninterest. Stover hastily executed a series of grotesque inclinationsand, grasping the clumsy valise, disappeared behind the door, hearing;as he struggled up the stairs, the roar from without that greeted hisdeparture. 

"The freshest of the fresh. "

"Green all over. "

"Will we tame him?"

"Oh, no!"

"And Butsey's got him. "

"Humper--DINK!"

"Wow!"

As Stover reached the head of the stairs a door was thrown open andButsey White appeared in undress uniform. The next moment Stover foundhimself in a large double room gorgeously decorated with flags, pennants, sporting prints and souvenirs, while through the open windowcame a grateful feeling of quiet and repose. 

Butsey White, a roly-poly, comical fellow of sixteen or seventeen, with a shaving-brush in one hand, held out the other with anexpression of lathery solicitude. 

"Well, Stover, how are you? How did you leave mother and the chickens?My name's White. Mr. White, please. I'm most particular. "

"How do you do, Mr. White?" said Stover, recovering some of hiscomposure. 

"There's your kennel, " said Butsey White, indicating the bed. "Thewashtrough's over here. Bath's down the corridor. Do you snore?"

"What?" said Stover, taken back. 

"Oh, never mind. If you do I'll cure you, " said White encouragingly. "What did they fire you for?"

Stover, smarting at his humiliation below, seized the opportunity forrevenge. 

"They fired me for drinking the alcohol out of the lamps, " he saidwith his most convincing smile. 

Butsey White, who had returned to the painful task of shaving, suddenly straightened up and extended the deadly razor in angryrebuke. 

"There's a little too much persiflage around here, " he said sternly. "We don't like it. We prefer to see young, unripe freshmen come in ontheir tiptoes and answer when they're spoken to. Young Stover, you'vegot in wrong. You're just about the freshest cargo we've ever had. You've got a lot to learn, and I'm going to start right in educatingyou. Savez?"

"It was only a joke, " said Stover, looking down. 

"A joke! I'll attend to any joking around here, " said Butsey, with areckless wave of his razor. "There may be a few patent, nickel-platedjokes roaming around here, soon, you hadn't thought of. Now, what didthey fire you for?"

"They fired me for kissing a teacher. "

"A teacher?"

"The drawing teacher, " said Stover hastily, perceiving the danger ofthe new assertion. 

The old boy looked at him hard, gave a sort of grunt and, turning hisback, took up again the interrupted task of shaving. Stover, a littledismayed at his own audacity, sought to conciliate his futureroommate. 

"Mister White, I say, where'll I stow my duds?"

No answer. 

"I'm sorry--I didn't mean to be fresh. Which is my bureau?"

The razor, suddenly extended, pointed between the windows. Stover, crestfallen, hastily sorted out the contents of his bag and silentlyranged collars and neckties, waiting hopefully for a word. Suddenly heremembered the properties of the Pennsylvania Railroad and, sortingout the signs, he advanced on Butsey White, saying:

"I brought these along--thought they might help decorate the room, Mr. White. "

Butsey White gazed at the three stolen signs and grunted a somewhatmollified approval. 

"Got anything else?"

"A couple of sporting prints coming in the trunk, sir. "

"You want to get everything you can lay your hands on when you gohome. Now run on down and report to Fuzzy-Wuzzy--Mr. Jenkins. He'll bewaiting for you. After lunch I'll take you up to the village and fityou out. "

"I say, that's awfully good of you. "

"Oh, that's all right. "

"Say, I didn't mean to be fresh. "

"Well, you were. "

White, having carefully noted the ravages of the razor, turned fromthe looking-glass and surveyed the penitent Stover. 

"Well, what _did_ they fire you for?" he said point-blank. 

"They fired me----" began Stover slowly, and stopped. 

"Out with it, " said Butsey militantly. 

But at that moment the voice of Mr. Jenkins summoned Stover below, andleft the great question unanswered. 

III

The interview with the house master was not trying. Mr. Jenkins was ashort, fuzzy little man, who looked him over with nervous concern, calculating what new strain on his temper had arrived; introduced himto Mrs. Jenkins, and seized the occasion of the luncheon-bell to cutshort the conversation. 

At lunch Stover committed an unpardonable error which only those whohave suffered can understand--he sent his plate up for a secondhelping of prunes. 

"What in the name of peanuts did you do that for?" said Butsey in awhisper, while the Coffee-colored Angel jabbed him with his elbow andtrod on his toes. "Now you _have_ put your foot in it!"

Stover looked up to behold every countenance grim and outraged. 

"What's wrong?" he said in a whisper. 

"Wrong? Didn't you ever have prunes and skimmed milk before, thousandsand thousands of times?"

"Yes, but----"

"You don't like 'em, do you?"

"Why, I don't know. "

"Do you want to have them five times a week--in springtime?"

The plate, bountifully helped, returned from hand to hand down thetable, laden with prunes and maledictions. 

"I didn't know, " Stover said apologetically. 

"Well, now you know, " said the Coffee-colored Angel vindictively, "don't you so much as stir 'em with your spoon. Don't you dare!"

Stover, being thus forbidden, calmly, wickedly, chuckling inwardly, emptied his plate, smacked his lips and exclaimed:

"My! those are delicious. Pass my plate up for some more, will you, Mr. White?"

"Now, why did you do that?" said Butsey White when they were alone intheir room. 

"I couldn't help it. I just couldn't help it, " said Stover ruthfully. "It was such a joke!"

"Not from you, " said Butsey White with Roman dignity. "You've got thewhole darn house down on you already, and the Coffee-colored Angelwill never forgive you. "

"Just for that?"

Butsey White disdained an answer. Instead, he scanned Stover's clotheswith critical disfavor. 

"Say, if I'm going to lead you around by the hand you've got to comedown on that color scheme of yours, or it's no go. "

Stover, surprised, surveyed himself in the mirror. 

"Why, I thought that pretty fine. "

"Say, have you got a pair of trousers that's related to a coat?"

Stover dove into the trunk and produced a blue suit that passed thecensor, who had in the meanwhile confiscated the razor-tippedpatent-leathers and the red-visored cap, saying:

"Now you'll sink into the landscape and won't annoy the cows. Stick onthis cap of mine and hoof it; you're due at the Doctor's in half anhour, and I promised old Fuzzy-Wuzzy to show you the lay of the landand give you some pointers. "

Outside, Cheyenne Baxter, who was pitching curves to Tough McCarty, stopped them:

"Hello, there, Rinky Dink: turn up here sharp at four o'clock. "

"What for--sir, " said Stover, surprised. 

"We've got a game on with the Cleve. Play baseball?"

"I--I'm a little out of practice, " said Stover, who loathed the game. 

"Can't help it; you're it. You play in the field. Four o'clock sharp. "

"You're the ninth man in the house, " Butsey explained as they startedfor the school. "Every one has to play. Are you any good?"

Stover was tempted to let his imagination run, but the thought of theafternoon curbed it. 

"Oh, I used to be pretty fair, " he said half-heartedly, plunging intothe distant past. 

But Stover had no desire to talk; he felt the thrill of strangesensations. Scarcely did he heed the chatter of his guide that rattledon. 

The road lay straight and cool under the mingled foliage of the trees. Ahead, groups of boys crossed and recrossed in lazy saunterings. 

"There's the village, " said Butsey, extending his hand to the left. "First bungalow is Mister Laloo's, buggies and hot dogs. There's BillAppleby's--say, he's a character, rolling in money--we'll drop in tosee him. Firmin's store's next and the Jigger Shop's at the end. "

"The Jigger Shop!" said Stover, mystified. "What's that?"

"Where they make Jiggers, of course. "

"Jiggers?"

"Oh, my beautiful stars, think of eating your first Jigger!" saidButsey White, the man of the world. "What wouldn't I give to be inyour shoes! I say, though, you've got some tin?"

"Sure, " said Stover, sounding the coins in his change pocket. 

Butsey's face brightened. 

"You see, Al has no confidence in me just at present. It's a case ofthe regular table d'hôte for me until the first of the month. Say, we'll have a regular gorge. It'll be fresh strawberry Jiggers, too. "

They began to pass other fellows in flannels and jerseys, whoexchanged greetings. 

"Hello, you, Butsey!"

"Why, Egghead, howdy-do?"

"Ah, there, Butsey White!"

"Ta-ta, Saphead. "

"See you later, old Sport. "

"Four o'clock sharp, Texas. "

Under the trees, curled in the grass, a group of three were languidlyworking out a Greek translation. 

"Skin your eyes, Dink, " said Butsey White, waving a greeting as theypassed. "See the fellow this side? That's Flash Condit. "

"The fellow who scored on the Princeton Varsity?"

"Oh, you knew, did you?"

"Sure, " said Stover with pride. "Gee, what a peach of a build!"

"Turn to your left, " said Butsey suddenly. "Here's Foundation House, where the Doctor lives. Just look at that doorway. Wouldn't it giveyou the chills?"

They were in front of a red-brick house, hidden under dark trees andovergrown with vines that congregated darkly over the porte-cochèreand gave the entrance a mysterious gloom that still lives in thememory of the generations. 

"It swallows you up, doesn't it?" said Dink, awed. 

"You bet it does, and it's worse inside, " said Butsey comfortingly. "Come on; now I'll show you the real thing. "

They passed the surrounding trees and suddenly halted. Before them thecampus burst upon them. 

"Well, Dink, what do you think of that?" said Butsey proudly. 

Stover plunged his hands in his trousers pockets and gazed awed. Before him extended an immense circle of greensward, dotted on theedge with apple trees in blossom, under which groups of boys werelolling, or tumbling over one another in joyous cublike romping. Tothe left, across the circle, half a dozen red-coated, slate-topped, portly houses, overgrown with ivy, were noisy with urchins hanging outof myriad windows, grouped on steps, chasing one another in twistingspirals over the lawns. Ahead, a massive brownstone chapel withpointed tower rose up, and to its right, in mathematical bulk, was theabode of Greek and Latin roots, syntax and dates, of blackboards, hardseats and the despotism of the Faculty. To the right, close at hand, was a large three-storied building with wonderful dormer windowstucked under the slanted slate roof, and below was a long stoneesplanade, black with the grouped figures of giants. At the windows, propped on sofa cushions, chin in hand some few conned the approachinglesson, softening the task by moments of dreamy contemplation of thescuffle below or stopping to catch a tennis ball that traveled fromthe esplanade to the window. Meanwhile, a constant buzz of inquiry andexclamation continued:

"Say, Bill, how far's the advance?"

"Middle page ninety-two. "

"Gee, what a lesson!"

"You bet--it's tough!"

"Hi, there, give me a catch. "

"Look out! Biff!"

"Oh, you, Jack Rabbit, come up and give me the advance!"

"Can't. I'm taking my chances. Get hold of Skinny. "

"What time's practice?"

"That's the Upper House, House of Lords, Abode of the Blessed, " saidButsey with envious eyes. "That's where we'll land when we'refifth-formers--govern yourself, no lights, go to the village any time, and all that sort of thing. Say!" He swept the circle comprehensivelywith his arm. "What do you think of it? Pretty fine, eh--what?"

"Gee!" said Stover with difficulty, then after a moment he blurtedout: "It's--it's terrific!"

"Oh, that's not all; there's the Hammil House in the village and theDavis and Rouse up the street. The baseball fields are past thechapel. "

"Why, it's like a small college, " said Stover, whose gaze returned tothe giants on the esplanade. 

"Huh!" said Butsey in sovereign contempt. "We'll wipe up anything inthe shape of a small college that comes around here! Do you want totoddle around the circle?"

"Oh, Lord, no!" said Stover, cold at the thought of running theinspection of hundreds of eyes. "Besides, I've got to see the Doctor. "

"All right. Stand right up to him now. Don't get scared, " said Butsey, choosing the one method to arouse all latent fears. 

"What's he like?" said Stover, biting his nails. 

"There's nothing like him, " said Butsey reminiscently. "He's got aneye that gives you the creeps. He knows everything that goeson--everything. "

Stover began to whistle, keeping an eye on the windows as theyapproached. 

"Well, ta-ta! I'll hang out at Laloo's for you, " said Butsey, lopingoff. "Say, by the way, look out--he's a crackerjack boxer. "

Stover, like Æneas at the gates of Avernus, stood under the awfulportals, ruminating uneasily on Butsey's last remark. There certainlywas something dark and terrifying about the place, that cast coldshadows over the cheery April day. Then the door opened, he gave hisname in blundering accents to the butler, and found himself in theparlor sitting bolt-upright on the edge of a gilded chair. The butlerreturned, picking up his steps and, after whispering that the Doctorwould see him presently, departed, stealing noiselessly away. Abandoned to the classic stillness, nothing in the room reassured him. The carpets were soft, drowning out the sounds of human feet; thewalls and corridors seemed horribly stilled, as if through them nohuman cry might reach the outer air. All about were photographs ofbroken columns--cold, rigid, ruined columns, faintly discerned in thecurtained light of the room. The Doctor's study was beyond, throughthe door by which the butler had passed. Stover's glance was rivetedon it, trying to remember whether the American Constitution prohibitedhead masters from the brutal English practice of caning and birching;and, --listening to the lagging tick of the mantel clock, he solemnlyvowed to lead that upright, impeccable life that would keep him fromsuch another soul-racking visit. 

The door opened and the Doctor appeared, holding out his hand. 

Stover hastily sprang up, found himself actually shaking hands andmumbling something futile and idiotic. Then he was drawn to the horrorof horrors, and the door shut out all retreat. 

"Well, John, how do you like the school?"

Stover, more terrified by this mild beginning than if the Doctor hadproduced a bludgeon from behind his back, stammered out that hethought the buildings were handsome, very handsome. 

"It's a pretty big place, " said the Doctor, throwing his nervous littlebody back in an easy chair and studying the four-hundred-and-secondproblem of the year. "You'll find a good deal in it--a great manyinterests. "

"He certainly has a wicked eye, " thought Stover, watching withfascination the glance that confronted him like a brace of pistolssuddenly extended from under shaggy bushes. "Now he's sizing meup--wonder if he knows all?"

"Well, John, what was the trouble?" said the Doctor from his easy, reclining position. 

"The trouble, sir? Oh, " said Stover, sitting bolt-upright with everysinew stiffened. "You mean why they fired--why they expelled me, sir?"

"Yes, why did they fire you?" said the Doctor, trying to descend. 

"For getting caught, sir. "

The Doctor gazed at him sharply, seeking to determine whether theanswer was from impertinence or fright or a precocious judgment of themorals of the nation. Then he smiled and said:

"Well, what was it?"

"Please, sir, I put asafetida in the furnace, " said Stover infrightened tones. 

"You put asafetida down the furnace?"

"Yes, sir. "

"That was a very brilliant idea, wasn't it?"

"No, sir, " said Stover, drawing a long breath and wondering if hecould possibly stay after such a confession. 

"Why did you do it?"

Stover hesitated, and suddenly, yielding to an unaccountable impulsetoward the truth that occasionally surprised him, blurted out:

"I did it to make trouble, sir. "

"You didn't like the school?"

"I hated it! There were a lot of girls around. "

"Well, John, " said the Doctor with heroic seriousness, "it may be thatyou didn't have enough to do. You have evidently an activebrain--perhaps imagination would be a fitter word. As I said, you'llfind this a pretty big place, just the sort of opening an ambitiousboy should delight in. You'll find here all sorts of boys--boys thatcount, boys you respect and want to respect you, and then there areother boys who will put asafetida in the furnace if you choose toteach them chemistry. "

"Oh, no, sir, " said Stover, all in a gasp. 

"Your parents think you are hard to manage, " said the Doctor, with thewisp of a smile. "I don't. Go out; make some organization; representus; make us proud of you; count for something! And remember one thing:if you want to set fire to Memorial Hall or to dynamite this study doit because _you_ want to, and not because some other fellow puts itinto your head. Stand on your own legs. " The Doctor rose and extendedhis hand cordially. "Of course, I shall have my eye on you. "

Stover, dumbfounded, rose as though on springs. The Doctor, noticinghis amazement, said:

"Well, what is it?"

"Please, sir--is that all?"

"That's all, " said the Doctor seriously. 

Stover drew a long breath, shook hands precipitately and escaped. 

IV

The spell was still on him as he stumbled over the resounding steps. But, twenty feet from the door, the spirit of irreverence overtookhim. Then, at the thought of the waiting Butsey, he began to pipeforth voluminously the martial strains of Sherman's March to the Sea, kicking enormous pebbles victoriously before him. 

Butsey White, sitting on the doorstep of Laloo's, gazed at him fromthe depths of a steaming frankfurter sandwich. 

"Well, you look cheerful, " he said in surprise. 

"Why not?"

"How was he?"

"Gentle as a kitten. "

"Come off! Were you scared?"

"Scared! Lord, no! I enjoyed myself. "

"You're a cheerful liar, you are. What did he say to you?"

"Hoped I'd enjoy the place and all that sort of thing. And--oh, yes, he spoke about you. "

"He did, did he?" said Butsey, precipitately leaving the frankfurtersandwich. 

"He hoped I'd have a good influence on you, " said Stover, whoseimagination had been too long confined. 

Butsey rose wrathfully, but the answer he intended could not be made, for, reckoning on his host, he was already in his third frankfurter, and there was the Jigger Shop yet to be visited. 

"Dink, if you ever have to tell the truth, " he said, "it'll kill you. Come in and meet Mr. Laloo. "

Mr. Laloo was leaning gratefully on the counter--as, indeed, he wasalways leaning against something--his legs crossed, lazily plying theafternoon toothpick. 

"Laloo, shake hands with my friend, Mr. Stover, " said Butsey Whiteprofessionally. "Mr. Stover's heard about your hot dogs, way out inCalifornia. "

Laloo transferred the toothpick and gave Stover his hand in a tired, unenthusiastic way. 

"Well, now, they do be pretty good hot dogs, " he drawled out. "Supposeyou want one?" He looked at Stover in sleepy reproachfulness, and thenslid around the counter in the shortest parabola possible. 

"Pick him out a nice, young Pomeranian, " said Butsey, peering into thesteaming tin. 

Laloo forked a frankfurter, selected a roll and looked expectantly atStover. 

"What's the matter?" said Dink, mystified. 

"Mustard or no mustard?" Butsey said in explanation. "He likes totalk, but the doctor won't let him. "

"I'll have all that's coming to me, " said Dink loudly. 

A second later his teeth had sunk into the odorous mass. He shut hiseyes, gazed seraphically at the smooty ceiling and winked at Butsey. 

"Umm?" said Butsey. 

"Umm! Umm!"

"Isn't he the fancy young dog-catcher?"

"Well, I should rather!" said Dink, lost in the vapors. "I say, haveanother?"

"Thanks, old chap, but I had a couple while you were chucking theDoctor under the chin, " said Butsey glibly. "Save up now; we've got acouple more places to visit. "

"How much?" said Dink. 

Laloo, who was reclining against the nearest wall, elevated fourfingers and gazed out the window. 

"Four!" said Stover. 

"One and three. "

"Three!" said Butsey in feigned surprise. "Oh, come, I didn't eatthree--well, I never; what do you think of that?"

Dink rubbed his ear thoughtfully, looked hard at Butsey and paid. Laloo followed them to the door, leaned against the jamb and gazeddown the road. 

"Now for Bill Appleby's, " said Butsey cheerily. "He's rolling--rollingin wealth. We'll go in later for lamps and crockery and all that sortof thing. I thought we might sort of wash down the hot dogs before wego up to the Jigger Shop--eh, what?"

In Appleby's general merchandise store Stover gravely shook hands witha quick, business-like little man with a Western mustache, a Down-Easttwang and a general air of being on the trigger. 

"Well, Bill, how's business?" said Butsey affably, nudging Stover. 

"It's bad, boys, it's bad, " said Bill mournfully. 

"Bad, you old robber, " said Butsey; "why, that little iron safe ofyours is just cracking open with coin. How's the rootbeer to-day?"

"It's very nice, Mr. White. Just come in this morning. "

"Yes, it did! Bet it came in with the Ark, " said Butsey, to Stover'sgreat admiration. "Well, are you going to set us up to a couple ofbottles, or have we got to pay for them?"

"We've got some very fine Turkish paste, Mr. White, " said Bill, producing the rootbeer. 

"Well?" said Butsey, looking at Stover. 

"Sure!"

"I'd like to show you some of our new crockery sets, Mr. Stover, " saidAppleby softly. "Just come in this morning. Want a student's lamp?"

"No time now, Bill, " said Butsey, hastily consulting the clock. "Seeyou later. "

Other groups came in; Appleby moved away. Stover, quenching the hotdogs in rootbeer, heard again the opening salutations:

"Well, Bill, how's business?"

"It's bad, Mr. Parsons. It's bad. "

"Well, Bill, ta-ta, " said Butsey, as they moved off. "Seen DocMacnooder this morning?"

"No, Mr. White, I haven't saw him to-day. "

"Always make him answer that, " said Butsey chuckling, "and always askhim about business. We all do. It's e-tiquette. There's Firmin's, " hesaid, with a wave of his hand--"post-office, country store, boots andshoes and all that sort of thing. And here's the Jigger Shop!"

Stover had no need of the explanation. Before a one-story, glass-fronted structure a swarm of boys of all ages, sizes and colorswere clustered on steps and railings, or perched on posts and backs ofchairs, all ravenously attacking the jigger to the hungry clink of thespoon against the glass. They elbowed their way in through the joyous, buzzing mass to where by the counter, Al, watchdog of the jigger, scooped out the fresh strawberry ice cream and gathered in the nickelsthat went before. At the moment of their arrival Al was in what mightbe termed a defensive formation. One elbow was leaning on the counter, one hand caressed the heavy, drooping mustache, one ear listened tothe promises of a ravenous, impecunious group, but the long, pointernose and the financial eyes were dreamily plunged on the groupwithout. 

"Gee, did you ever see such an eye?" said Butsey, who had reasons ofhis own for quailing before it. "It's almost up to the Doctor's. Youcan't fool him--not for a minute. Talk about Pierpont Morgan! Why, heknows the whole blooming lot of us, just what we're worth. Why, thateye of his could put a hole right through any pocket. Watch him whenhe spots me. " Pushing forward he exclaimed: "Hello, Al; glad to seeme?"

Al turned slowly, fastening his glance on him with stony intentness. 

"Don't bother me, you Butsey, " he said shortly. 

"Al, I've sort of set my sweet tooth on these here strawberry jiggersof yours. "

The Guardian of the Jigger made a half motion in the air, as though tobrush away an imaginary fly. 

"Two nice, creamy, double strawberry jiggers, Al. "

Al's eyes drooped wearily. 

"My friend, Mr. Vanastorbilt Stover, here's setting up, " said Butseyin conciliating accents. 

The eyes opened and fastened on Stover, who advanced saying:

"That goes. "

"Ring a couple of dimes down, Astorbilt, " said Butsey. "Al's very fondof music. "

"Give me change for that, " said Stover, rising to the occasion with afive-dollar bill. 

"And, for the love of Mike, hustle 'em, " said Butsey White. "I've onlygot a second. "

The shop began to empty rapidly as the hour of the two o'clockrecitation neared. Stover gazed into the pink, fruity depths of hisfirst strawberry jigger, inserted his spoon gingerly and took anibble. Then he drew a long, contented breath, gazed into the land ofdreams, and gave himself up to the delights of a new, of anincomparable sensation. 

Butsey White, gobbling against time, flung out occasional, full-mouthed phrases:

"Got to run--'xcuse us--jemima! Isn't it the stuff--see you atthree--better bring some back in box--don't tell any one, though--especially the Coffee-colored Angel. "

Across the fields the bell suddenly, impatiently, brutally clangedout. With a last convulsive gulp Butsey White finished his glass, andburst from the shop in the helter-skelter company of the lastlaggards. Stover, left alone, looked inquiringly at Al. 

"Recitation, " said Al. "They've got a two-twenty sprint before thebell stops. We're out of hours, now, except for the Upper House. "

"Meaning me?" said Stover, rising. 

"Sit where you are, " said Al. "You're all right for to-day. Where doyou hang out?"

"Green House, " said Dink, who, beginning to feel hungry, orderedanother jigger and selected a chocolate éclair. 

"You're not rooming with Butsey White?"

"The same. "

"You are?" said Al pityingly. "Well, just let me give you one word ofadvice, young fellow. Sew your shirt to your back, or he'll have itoff while you're getting into your coat. "

"I wasn't born yesterday, " said Dink impudently, gesturing with hisspoon. "And I rather fancy I'm a pretty cute little propositionmyself. "

"So!"

"If any of these smart Alecs can get the best of me, " said Dinkgrandiloquently, egged on by the other's tone of disbelief, "he'llhave to get up with the chickens!"

[Illustration: "WHY, SOME OF 'EM ARE SO SLICK THAT WHEN THEY COME INI LOCK THE CASH DRAWER AND STUFF COTTON IN MY EARS"]

"All clear, " said the Tennessee Shad from the window. 

"All's well on the Rappahannock, " returned the scout at the door. 

Macnooder, with a well-executed double shuffle, the Tennessee Shad, with a stiff-jointed lope of his bony body, advanced and shook hands. 

"Al, we come not to take your hard-earned money, but do you good, "said Macnooder as usual, genially shaking an imaginary hand. 

The Tennessee Shad camped on the back of a chair, drew up his thin, long legs, laid one bony finger against a bony nose and lookedexpectantly at Macnooder. 

Meanwhile Al, without turning his back, carefully moved over to theglass counter that sheltered appetizing trays of éclairs, plum cakesand cream puffs and, whistling a melancholy note, locked the door, scanned the counter, and placed a foot on the cover of the jigger tub. 

Doc Macnooder, whose round, bullet head and little rhinoceros eyes hadfollowed the hostile preparation, said sorrowfully:

"Al-bert, your conduct grieves us. "

"Go ahead, now, " said Al in a tired voice. 

"Go ahead?" said Macnooder, looking in surprise at the equallyimpassive Tennessee Shad. 

"What's the flimflam to-day?"

"Al, " said Macnooder, in his most persuasive tones, "you wrong me. Mymotives are honorable. At four o'clock this very afternoon TurkeyReiter will proceed to cash a check and settle for a fountain pen, apair of suspenders and a safety razor I sold him. Just trust me tillthen--will you?"

"Nothing doing, " said Al. 

"Honor bright, Al!"

"No use. "

"You _must_ trust me till then. "

Al, producing a patent clipper, began to pare his nails. 

"Al?"

"What?"

"Won't you trust me?"

"Don't make me laugh!"

"Al's right, Doc, " said the Tennessee Shad, entering the discussion. "You ought to put up some guarantee. "

Al slowly turned his gaze on the Tennessee Shad and waited hopefullyfor the real attack. 

"Well, what?" said Macnooder. 

"How about your watch?"

"It's loaned. "

"You haven't got a stick-pin on you?"

"Left 'em at home--never thought Al would go back on me. "

Al smiled. 

"That's a very nice spring coat you've got on, " said the TennesseeShad, as though struck by an inspiration. "Why don't you put that upfor a couple of hours?"

"Not on your life, " said Macnooder indignantly. "This coat's brandnew, worth thirty dollars. "

Al, suddenly shifting, leaned forward, both elbows on the counter, andstudied the coat with a reminiscent air. 

"Oh, put it up, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"Never. I've got associations about this coat and, besides, I've gotto make a swell call in Princeton to-morrow. "

"What's the diff?" said the Tennessee Shad, yawning. "It's only acouple of hours; and you know you said you were going to clean off thewhole slate with Al, sure as Turkey boned up. "

Macnooder seemed to hesitate. 

"It's idiotic to put up a real, high-life coat for a couple ofjiggers. "

"Hurry up; I'm hungry. "

"Stop, " said Al, drawing back satisfied. "I wouldn't bother about thatcoat if I were you. "

"Why not?" exclaimed the two partners. 

"'Cause I remember that coat gag now, " said Al with a far-off look. "Ibit once--way back in '89. It's a good game, specially when the realowner comes ramping in the next day. "

"What do you mean?" said Doc Macnooder indignantly. 

"I mean that it don't button, you young pirate, " said Al scornfully, but without malice. "When you try anything as slick as that again youwant to be sure the real owner ain't been around. That coat belongs toLovely Mead. "

Doc Macnooder looked at the Tennessee Shad. 

"Have we really got to pay for them?" he said mournfully. 

"Looks that way. "

"Oh, well, " said Doc, slapping down a quarter, "fill 'em up. "

Al heaped up the glasses, adding an appreciative extra dab with themagnanimity of the victor, and said:

"Say, you boys want to rub up a little. Here's Stover, over there, just come. He's about your size. "

The Tennessee Shad and Doc Macnooder about faced and stared at Stover, who all the while had remained in quiet obscurity, dangling his legsover the counter. 

"Just come, Stover?" said Macnooder at last. 

"Yes, sir. "

"On the noon stage?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What form?"

"Second, sir. "

"Why, shake, then, brother, " said the Tennessee Shad, offering hishand. "Shake hands with Doc Macnooder. "

Doc Macnooder grasped his hand with extra cordiality, saying:

"What house?"

"Green House, sir, " said Stover, awed by the sight of a 'varsityjersey. "I'm rooming with--with Mr. White. "

"What'll you have?"

"I beg pardon. "

"What'll you have?"

"Why, " said Stover, quite taken back by the offer, "I think it's up tome, sir. "

"Rats!" said Macnooder. "If you've been in tow of Butsey, I'll betyou've been paying out all day. Butsey White's a low-down, white-livered cuss, who'd take advantage of a freshman. Step up. "

"I'll have another one of these, " said Stover gratefully, feeling hisheart warm toward the unexpected friends. 

"Bet Butsey's stuck you pretty hard, " said the Tennessee Shad, noddingwisely. "He's just loaded with the spondulix, too. "

"Well, he did sort of impose on me, " said Stover, thinking of thefrankfurters at Laloo's. 

"It's a shame, " said Macnooder indignantly. 

"You're pretty slick?"

"As slick as they make 'em. "

"Say, bub, " said Al, with his dreamy drawl, "is this the line of talkyou've been putting out to that bunch of Indians down in the Green?"

"Oh, I'll put it out. "

"Say, you're going to have a wonderful time here!"

"Watch me, " said Dink, cocking his head; but with less confidence thanwhen he had announced his intentions on the stage-coach. 

"Young fellow, " said Al, leaning back and looking at him from underhis eyelids, "you're in wrong. You don't know what you've come to. Why, there's a bunch of young stock jobbers around here that wouldmake a Wall Street bunco-steerer take to raising chickens! Slick? Why, some of 'em are so slick that when they come in I lock the cash drawerand stuff cotton in my ears. "

"Bring 'em on, " said Dink disdainfully. 

At this moment there was a loud flop by the window in the rear, andthe Tennessee Shad rose slowly from the floor. At the same moment DocMacnooder, ambling innocently by on the farther sidewalk, turned, dashed across the street, bounded into the shop and, returning to thedoor, carefully surveyed the approaches. 

"Glad to do it, " said Macnooder, without enthusiasm. "Finish up andwe'll fit you out in a jiffy. "

When the three went shuffling down the street Al did an unusual, anunprecedented thing. He actually made the turn of the counter andstationed himself at the door, watching the group depart--Macnooderwith his arm on Stover's shoulder, the Tennessee Shad guarding theother side. 

When they disappeared beyond Bill Orum's, the cobbler's, in thedirection of the Dickinson, he said slowly, in profound admiration:

"Well, I'll be jiggered! If those body-snatchers don't getelectrocuted, they'll own Fifth Avenue!"

V

"Come up to my room and we'll see what's on hand, " said Doc, enteringthe Dickinson. "Too bad you're stuck down in the Green--no housespirit there--you must get in with us next year. "

"Doc's a great fellow, " said the Tennessee Shad, as Macnooder wentquickly ahead, "a great business man. He's a sort of clearing housefor the whole school. Say, he's taken a regular fancy to you. "

"What did he get his 'L' for?" said Stover, as the Tennessee Shad, togain time, showed him the lower floor. 

"Quarter on the eleven last fall. Here's the Triumphant Egghead'sroom. Isn't it a peach? They've got a good crowd here; you must bewith them or us next year. Here's Turkey Reiter's and Butcher Stevens'quarters. They're crackerjacks, too; on the eleven and the nine. Comeon, now. We'll strike Doc. You know he studies medicine and all thatsort of thing. Wait till I give the countersign. Doc's mostparticular. "

Stover found himself in a den, a combination of drug-store, taxidermist's shop and general warehouse. All about the room wereranged an extraordinary array of bottles--green bottles that lurkedunder the bed, red, blue and white bottles that climbed the walls andcrowded the mantelpiece, tops of bottles that peered out ofhalf-opened boxes, all ticketed and mustered in regiments. From theceiling a baby alligator swung on a wire, blinking at them horriblywith shining glass eyes; a stuffed owl sat in one corner; whileopposite, a muskrat peered into a crow's nest. The closet and allavailable floor space were heaped high with paper boxes and woodencases, while over all were innumerable catalogues. 

"Pretty fine, isn't it?" said the Tennessee Shad. 

"It's wonderful, " said Stover, not quite at ease. 

"It's not bad, " said Doc. "I'd like to have a nice, white skeletonover there in that corner; but they're hard to get, nowadays. Nowlet's get down to business. Sit down. "

Stover took the only chair; the Tennessee Shad curled up languidly onthe bed, after brushing aside the débris; while Macnooder, perched ona drygoods box, poised a pencil over a pad of paper. 

"You want a crockery set, first; a student lamp, and an oil can tokeep your oil in. "

"Especially the can, " said the Tennessee Shad gravely. "Better get apadlock with it, or the whole Green House will be stealing from you. "

"I don't know whether I have a can on hand, " said Macnooder anxiously. "But here's a lamp. "

He placed a rather battered affair in the middle of the floor, saying:

"It's a little squee-geed, but you don't care about looks. They askyou all kinds of prices for them when they're new; but you can havethis for two-twenty-five. There's a bite out of the shade, but you canturn that side to the wall. They're rather hard to get second hand. "

"All right, " said Stover. 

"Better light it up first, " said the Tennessee Shad professionally. 

"That's business-like, " said Macnooder, who lit a match and, after anunsuccessful attempt, said: "There's no oil in it. Still, if Stoverwants----"

"Never mind that, " said Stover loudly, to show his confidence. 

"Now for the toilet set. "

"Say, how about the can?"

"Oh, the can. Let me look, " said Macnooder, disappearing among thepacking boxes in the closet. 

"You want that, " said the Tennessee Shad confidentially. 

"Hope he's got one, " said Stover. 

Macnooder reappeared with an ordinary kerosene can and a padlock, announcing:

"This is the only one I've got on hand. It's my own. "

"Let him have it, " said the Tennessee Shad. "No one can get in here;you're always locked and bolted. "

Macnooder hesitated. 

"How does it work?" said Stover, interested. 

"The spigot is plugged up and the top cover is padlocked to the side. See? Now no one can get it. I don't particularly care about sellingit, but if you want it take it at one-twenty-five. "

"That's too much, " said the Tennessee Shad. "One plunk's enough. "

"You're paying cash?" said Macnooder, considering. 

"Sure!" said Stover. 

"Well, call it one bone, then. "

Stover looked gratefully at the Tennessee Shad, who winked at him toshow him he was his friend. 

"Now, about a crockery set, " said Macnooder, scratching his head. "I've got two, plain and fancy, what we call a souvenir set--but youwouldn't understand that. I'll show you the regular kind. "

"What's a souvenir set?" said Dink, mystified. 

"Oh, it's a sort of school fad, " said the Tennessee Shad, as Docdisappeared. "Every piece is different, collected from all sorts ofplaces--swap 'em around like postage stamps, don't you know. We've gotrather tired of the ordinary thing, you know. "

"Say, that's a bully idea, " said Dink, whose imagination was appealedto. 

"Some of the fellows have perfect beauts, " said the Tennessee Shad, yawning; "got at hotels, and house parties, and all that sort ofthing. "

"Why, that beats hooking signs all hollow, " said Dink, growingenthusiastic. 

"I didn't know you'd be interested, " said the Tennessee Shadcarelessly. "Like to see one?"

"You bet I would. "

"I say, Doc, old boy, " said the Tennessee Shad; "bring out thesouvenir set, too, will you, like a good fellow?"

"Wait till I get this out, " said Macnooder, who, after much rummaging, puffed back with a blue-and-white set which he ranged on the floor. 

"How's that appeal to you?" he said with a flourish of his hand. "Goodcondition, too; only the soap dish has a nick. You can have it fortwo-fifty. "

But Dink had no eyes for the commonplace. 

"Could I see the other, " he said, "before I decide?"

Macnooder appeared loth to exert himself to no purpose. 

"You wouldn't cotton to it, bub, " he said, with a shake of his head. 

"I'm not so sure about that, " said the Tennessee Shad. "This chap's nobottle baby; he's more of a sport than you think. I'll bet you he'sgot a few swagger trophies, in the line of signs, himself. "

"I've got two or three might strike your fancy, " said Dink with areckless look. 

"Come on, Doc, don't be so infernally lazy. You're the deuce of asalesman. Out with the crockery. "

"What's the use?" said Doc half heartedly, moving back into the litterof the closet. 

"Don't get it unless you can afford it, " said the Tennessee Shad in afriendly whisper. 

When at length the souvenir set had been carefully displayed on thetop of a box, cleared for the occasion, Stover beheld a green andwhite pitcher, rising like a pond lily from the depths of a red andwhite basin, while a lavender tooth mug, a blue cup and a pink soapdish gave the whole somewhat the effect of an aurora-borealis. 

The Tennessee Shad sprang up and examined each piece with aconnoisseur's enthusiasm. The lavender tooth mug, especially, attracted his curiosity. He looked it over, handled it gingerly, holding it to the light. 

"Don't think this is up to the rest, " he said finally, looking at Doc. "It's cracked. "

"Suppose it is!" said Doc scornfully. "Do you know whose that is? Thatwas swiped out of the set of Brother Baldwin. "

"No?"

"Fact. Last day of spring term, when he was giving a math exam. "

"You don't say so!"

"What are the rest?" said Stover, wondering what sum could possiblycompensate for such treasures. 

"The rest are not so much; from the other houses, but they're goodpieces. The water pitcher was traded by Cap Kiefer, catcher of thenine, you know. But there's one article, " said Doc, pointingmelodramatically, "that's worth the whole lot. Only I'll have to putyou under oath--both of you. "

The Tennessee Shad, puzzled, looked hard at Macnooder and raised hisright hand. Stover, blushing, followed suit. 

"That, " said Macnooder, "came direct from Foundation House. Thatbelonged to his Nibs himself!"

"Come off!" said the Tennessee Shad, not daring to look at Macnooder. "That's a bunco game. "

"I didn't say it was swiped, " said Macnooder indignantly. "Just giveme a chance, will you? It was smashed up at the fire scare and thrownaway with a lot of other things. Tough McCarty, down at the Green, Ithink, has got the slop jar. "

"Excuses!" said the Tennessee Shad. "I did think for a moment you weretrying to impose on my young confidence. Gee! Just think, of it!Cracky, what a prize! The Doctor himself--well--well! Say, I'd like tomake a bid myself. "

"It goes with the set, " said Macnooder. "It ain't mine; I'm onlygetting the commission. "

Stover, having caressed each article, drew a long breath and saidfalteringly:

"I suppose it comes pretty high!"

"Of course it's worth more than the other set. "

"Oh, of course. "

"The price set on it was four flat. "

"That's a good deal of money, " said the Tennessee Shad. "Speciallywhen you've got to fit yourself out. "

"Well, the other's cheaper at two-fifty, " said Macnooder. 

"Stover's sort of set his heart on this, " said the Tennessee Shad. "Haven't you, Sport?"

[Illustration: "CRACKY, WHAT A PRIZE! SAY, I'D LIKE TO MAKEA BID MYSELF. "]

Stover confessed that he had. 

"Come on; make him a better price, Doc. ". 

"I'd have to consult my client. "

"Well, consult your old client. "

Macnooder disappeared. 

"Stand firm now, " said the Tennessee Shad, "you can beat him down. Docwants to make his commish. I tell you what I'd do if I were you. "

"What?"

"If I were looking for a real trophy I'd make him a bid on this. Thisis the best thing in the whole caboodle. Come over here. Say, justcast your eyes on this!"

Stover gazed in awe. On the wall, suspended on the red and black flagof the school, were a pair of battered and torn football shoes, whileunderneath was a photograph of Flash Condit and the score--Princeton'Varsity, 8; Lawrenceville, 4. 

"Gee!" said Stover. "He wouldn't sell those!"

"He might, " said the Tennessee Shad. "Between you and me and thelamppost, Doc is devilishly hard up. Offer him a couple of dollars andsee. "

"The shoes that made the touchdown, " said Dink reverentially. TheTennessee Shad did not contradict him. 

Half an hour later Dink Stover sallied forth with the ecstasy of acollector who has just discovered an old master. Klondike Jackson, whoshook up the beds at the Dickinson, preceded him, drawing in anexpress wagon the lamp, the padlocked kerosene can and the souvenirset, slightly reduced. Wrapped in tissue paper, tucked under Stover'sarm, were the precious shoes, which he had purchased on the distinctunderstanding that Macnooder should have the right to redeem them atany time before the end of the term, on the payment of costs andfifty-per-cent interest. In Stover's pocket was a new fountain pen, abox of elastics, a pair of Boston garters and a patent nail clipper. Only the limits of his exchequer had prohibited his availing himselfof the opportunity to purchase, at a tremendous bargain, a pair ofsnow-shoes, a tobogganing cap and a pair of corduroy trousers, slightly spotted. 

Luckily for Dink, marching warily behind the vanguard, the threeo'clock recitation had begun, and but a scattering of his schoolmateswere abroad to witness his progress. 

He arrived thus, virtually unnoticed, at the Green and, with the helpof Klondike, arranged his possessions so as to make the greatestdisplay. 

He was standing in the middle of the floor, clutching the historicshoes and searching the walls for the proper place of honor, whenButsey White blew in. 

"Where in thunder have you been?" he exclaimed, and then stopped atthe sight of the twisted lamp. He looked at Dink, gave a grunt andexamined the new purchase. 

"Broken-winded, spavined, has the rickets--bet it leaks and won'tburn. Where in----"

All at once he perceived the kerosene can, with its attached padlock. 

"What's this thing?" he said, in genuine surprise, picking it up withtwo fingers and regarding it with a look of blank incomprehension. 

"That's the safety can, " said Stover, yielding to a vague feeling ofuneasiness. 

"What's this?"

"That's a padlock. "

"What for?"

"Why, for the kerosene. "

"What kerosene?"

"The kerosene for the lamp. "

"Why, you nincompoop, we don't furnish the kerosene. "

"We don't?" said Stover faintly, with a horrible sinking feeling. "Don't furnish the kerosene?"

"Who got hold of you?" said Butsey, too astounded to laugh. 

"I met Macnooder----"

"And the Tennessee Shad, I'll bet my pants on it, " said Butsey. 

"Yes, sir. "

"What else did they unload on you?"

"Why--why, I bought a souvenir set. "

"A what?"

"A souvenir toilet set. "

Butsey wheeled to the washstand, uttered a shriek and fell inconvulsions on the bed. 

Stover stood stockstill, gazing in horror from the variegated crockeryto Butsey, who was thrashing to and fro in hysterical flops, holdingboth the pillows where they would most ease the agony. Then, with asudden deft movement, Dink dropped the historic shoes, sent them underthe bed with a savage kick and, rushing to the window, threw thesafety can into the tall grass of the fields beyond. Then he returnedsolemnly, sat down on the edge of the bed, took his head in his handsand began to do some rapid thinking. Butsey White, prone on the bed, burying his head in the covers, by painful degrees returned, gasping, to self-control. 

"Mr. White, " said Dink solemnly. 

There was a slight commotion opposite and a hand flutteredbeseechingly, while Butsey's weak voice managed to say:

"Take it away--take it away. "

Dink rose and cast a towel over the set of seven colors, and thenresumed his seat. 

"It's all right; I've hidden it, " he said. 

Butsey rolled from the bed, tottered over to his own washstand anddrank deeply from the water pitcher. Then he turned on the melancholyStover. 

"Say!"

"Go ahead! Soak it to me!"

"I thought you were old enough to go out alone. "

"They lied to me, " said Stover, kicking a chair. 

"Say that again. "

"They lied, " repeated Dink, but with a more uncertain note. 

"This from you!" said Butsey maliciously. 

A great ethical light burst over Dink. He scratched his head and thenlooked at Butsey, grinning a sheepish grin. 

"Well, I guess it was coming to me--but they are wonders!" he said, with reluctant admiration. "I'll take my medicine, but I'll get backat them, by jiminy! You see if I don't. "

"For the love of Mike, give us the story!"

"You'll keep it twenty-four hours?"

"So help me----"

"I'm a sucker, all right, " said Dink ruefully. Then he stopped andblurted out: "Say, White, I guess it was about what I needed. I guessI'm not such a little wonder-worker, after all. I've beenfresh--rotten fresh. But, say, from now on I'm holding my ear to theground; and when it comes to humbly picking up a few crumbs ofknowledge you'll find me ready and willing. I'm reformed. Now, here'sthe tale:"

VI

Dink, under the influence of the new emotion, made a fairly fullconfession, merely overlooking the shoes that Flash did not carry overthe Princeton goal line, and suppressing that detail of the FoundationHouse's supposed contribution, which had lent such a peculiar value tothe souvenir crockery set. By four o'clock Butsey White hadsufficiently recovered to remember the afternoon baseball match. 

Ten minutes later Dink, lost in a lapping baseball suit lent byCheyenne Baxter, re-enforced with safety pins, stationed himself inthe outfield behind a catcher's mitt, for preliminary practice withlittle Susie Satterly and Beekstein Hall, who was shortsighted andwore glasses. 

The result of five minutes' frantic chasing was that Dink, whosurprised every one by catching a fly that somehow stuck in his glove, was promoted to centerfield; Susie Satterly, who had stopped twogrounders, took left; while Beekstein was ignominiously escorted to afar position in rightfield and firmly requested to stop whatever hecould with his chest. 

The Cleve cohorts arrived, thirty strong, like banditti marching tosack a city, openly voicing their derision for the nine occupants ofthe Green House. The contest, which at first sight seemed unequal, wasnot in reality so, Tough McCarty and Cheyenne Baxter being anunusually strong battery, while the infield, with Butsey White atfirst, the White Mountain Canary at second, Stuffy Brown short-stopand the Coffee-colored Angel at third, quite outclassed the invaders. The trouble was in the outfield--where the trouble in such contestsare sure to congregate. 

Stover had never been so thoroughly frightened in his life. Hisimagination, boylike, was aghast at the unknown. A great question wasto be decided in a few minutes, when his turn would come to step up tothe box and expose himself to the terrific cannonade of Nick Carter, the lengthy pitcher of the Cleve. The curious thing was that on thispoint Stover himself was quite undecided. Was he a coward, or was henot? Would his legs go back on him, or would he stand his ground, knowing that the stinging ball might strike anywhere--on the tenderwrist bones, shattering the point of the elbow, or landing with adeadly thud right over his temple, which he remembered was anabsolutely fatal spot?

His first two innings in the field were a complete success--not aball came his way. With his fielding average quite intact he came into face the crisis. 

"Brown to the bat, Stover on deck, Satterly in the hole, " came theshrill voice of Fate in the person of Shrimp Davis, the officialscorer. 

Stover nervously tried one bat after another; each seemed to weigh aton. Then Cheyenne Baxter joined him, crouching beside him for a wordof advice. 

"Now, Dink, " he said in a whisper, keeping his eye on Stuffy Brown, who, being unable to hit the straightest ball, was pawing the plateand making terrific preparatory swings with his bat. "Now, Dink, listen here. (Pick out an easy one, Stuffy, and bang it on the nose. Hi-yi, good waiting, Stuffy) Nick Carter's wild as a wet hen. All he'sgot is a fast outcurve. Now, what you want to do is to edge up closeto the plate and let him hit you. (Oh, robber! That wasn't a strike!Say, Mr. Umpire, give us a square deal, will you?) Walk right into it, Dink, and if it happens to hit you on the wrist rub above the elbowlike the mischief. "

"Above the elbow?" said Dink in a hollow voice. 

"That's it. You've got a chance to square yourself with the House. Step right into it. What? Three strikes? Say, Mr. Umpire, you're nottaking Nick Carter's word for it, are you?"

Amid a storm of execrations Stuffy Brown retired, appealingfrantically to the four quarters of the globe for justice and a judge. 

Impelled by a resounding whack, Dink approached the plate as a balkyhorse tries his hoofs in a pool of water. He spread his feet andshouldered his bat, imitating the slightly-crouching position ofCheyenne Baxter. Then he looked out for a favorable opening. The fieldwas thronged with representatives of the Cleve House. He turned tofirst base--it was miles away. He looked at Nick Carter, savagelypreparing to mow him down, and he seemed to loom over him, infringingon the batter's box. 

"Why the devil don't they stick the pitcher back and give a fellow achance?" he thought, eying uneasily the quick, jerky preparations. "Why, at this distance a ball could go right through you. "

"Come on, Nick, old boy, " said a voice issuing from the iron mask athis elbow. "We've got an umpire that can't be bluffed. This is nothingbut a Statue of Liberty. Chop him right down. "

Dink shivered from the ground up, Carter's long arms gyratedspasmodically, and the ball, like the sweep of a swallow from theground, sprang directly at him. Stover, with a yell, flung himselfback, landing all in a heap. 

"Ball one, " said the umpire. 

A chorus of taunts rose from the Green House nine. 

"Trying to put him out, are you?"

"Mucker trick!"

"Put him out!"

"Good eye, Dinky!"

"That's the boy. "

Stover rose, found his bat and ruthfully forced himself back to hisposition. 

"I should have let it hit me, " he said angrily, perceiving Baxter'sfrantic signals. "It might have broken a rib, but I'd have showed mynerve. "

Clenching his bat fiercely he waited, resolved on a martyr's death. But the next ball coming straight for his head, he ducked horribly. 

"Ball two--too high, " said the umpire. 

Stover tightened his belt, rapped the plate twice with his bat, asButsey had done, and resumed his position. But the memory of the soundthe ball had made when it had whistled by his ears had unnerved him. Before he could summon back his heroic resolves Carter, with a suddenjerk, delivered the ball. Involuntarily Stover stepped back, the balleasily and slowly passed him and cut the corner of the plate. 

"Ball three, " said the umpire hesitatingly. 

The Cleve catcher hurled his mask to the ground, Carter cast down hisglove and trod on it, while the second baseman fell on his bag andwept. 

When order was restored Stover dodged the fourth wild ball and went ina daze to first, where to his amazement he was greeted with jubilantcheers. 

"You're the boy, Dinky. "

"You've got an eye like Charlie DeSoto. "

"They can't fool Rinky Dink. "

"Why, he's a wonder. "

"Watch him steal second. "

Stover slapped his foot on first base with the joy of unhoped-forvictory. He glowered about his own possessions. The perspective hadsuddenly changed; the field was open, all his, the Cleve Houserepresentatives were a lot of dubs, butterfingers and fumblers, anyhow! Under Cheyenne Baxter's directions he went plunging down tosecond, slid, all arms and legs, safely on to the bag, thanks to awild pitch, and rose triumphantly, blowing the dust from his mouth. 

There he remained, as Susie Satterly and Beekstein methodically struckout. 

But the joy of that double voyage was still on him as he went back tocenterfield, ready to master the hottest liner or retrieve thesky-scraping fly. It was a great game. He felt a special aptitude forit and wondered why he had never discovered the talent before. Hebegan to dream of sizzling two-baggers and long home-runs over thefence. 

"I wish I'd get a chance, " he said, prancing about digging viciousholes in the glove, that looked like a chest protector. "I'd show 'emwhat I can do out here. "

But no chance came. The battle was between pitchers, and to thesurprise of every one the Green House came up to the last inning withthe score of 2 to 1 in their favor, the solitary run of the Clevebeing due to a fly that Beekstein had failed to notice. 

The Green House nine went jubilantly out into the field for the lasthalf of the ninth inning, determined to shut out the Cleve and end theseason with at least one victory. 

Dink ran out on his tiptoes, encased himself in his mitt and turned, tense and alert. He had gone through his first ordeal triumphantly. Nochances had come to him in the field, but at bat he had accidentlysucceeded in being hit, and though he had struck out the next time hehad hit a foul and knew the jubilant feeling that came with the crackof the bat. 

"Give me a week and I'll soak 'em out, " he said, moving restlessly, and he added to himself: "Strike 'em out, Cheyenne, old man! They'reeasy. "

But the Cleves suddenly woke up and began to fight. One man beat out agrounder, and one struck out; another error of the temperamental WhiteMountain Canary put a man on third and one on second. Then Cheyenne, pulling himself together, made his second strike-out. 

"Two out, play for the batter, " came Cheyenne Baxter's warning hallo. 

"Two out, " said Dink to his fellow-fielders. "One more and we spink'em. Come on, now!"

Both sides settled for the final play, the man on second leading wellup toward third. 

"Steady!" said Cheyenne. 

Stover drew in his breath and rose to his toes, as he had done thirtytimes already. 

Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and the ball meeting the bat, floated fair and free, out toward centerfield. 

Dink did not have to move a step; in fact, the ball rose and fellstraight for the massive mitt as though it had chosen his glove fromall the other gloves in the field. It came slowly, endlessly, theeasiest, gentlest, most perfect fly imaginable, directly for the largebrown mitt that looked like a chest protector. 

[Illustration: BEHIND HIM, PELL-MELL, SHRIEKING AND MURDEROUS--CAMETHE VANQUISHED. ]

Stover, turned to stone, saw it strike fair in the middle, and then, irresistibly, slowly, while, horribly fascinated, he stood powerless, slowly trickle over the side of the mitt and drop to the ground. 

Dink did not stop for a look, for a second thought, to hesitate or todeliberate. He knew! He gave a howl and broke for the House, andbehind him, pell-mell, shrieking and murderous, like a pack of houndsin full cry, came the vanquished, thirsting body of the Green. 

He cleared the fence with one hand, took the road with two bounds, fled up the walk, burst through the door, jumped the stairs, brokeinto his room, slammed the door, locked it, backed the bed against itand seized a chair. 

Then the Green House struck the door like a salvo of grapeshot. 

"Open up, you robber!"

"Open the door, you traitor!"

"You Benedict Arnold!"

"Open up, you white-livered pup!"

"You quitter!"

"You chickenheart!"

"You coward!"

Stover, his hair rising, seized the wooden chair convulsively, waitingfor the door to burst in. 

All at once the transom swung violently and the wolfish faces ofTough McCarty, the White Mountain Canary, Cheyenne and theCoffee-colored Angel crowded the opening. 

"Get back or I'll kill you, " said Dink in frantic fear, and, advancing, he swung the chair murderously. In a twinkling the transomwas emptied. 

The storm of voices rose again. 

"The freshest yet!"

"The nerve of him!"

"Let's break in the door!"

"Come out!"

"Come out, Freshman!"

"He did it on purpose!"

"He chucked the game!"

"Wait till I get my hands on him!"

"I'll skin him!"

All at once the face of Butsey White appeared at the transom. 

"Dink, you let me right in, you hear?"

No answer. 

"You let me in right off!"

Still no answer. 

"It's my room; you let me in to my room, do you hear?"

Stover continued silent. 

"Dink, " said Butsey in his loudest tones, "I'm coming right over thetransom. Don't you dare to touch me!"

Stover again seized the chair. 

Butsey White, supported from behind, carefully drew up one foot, andthen convulsively disappeared as Stover charged with the chair. 

There was a whispered consultation and then the battling face of ToughMcCarty appeared with a new threat:

"You lay a hand on me and I'll rip the hide off you!"

"Keep back!" said Stover hoarsely. 

"Put down that chair, you little varmint; do you hear me?"

"Don't you come over!"

"Yes, I'm coming over, and you don't dare to touch me. You don't----"

Stover was neither a coward nor a hero; he was simply in a panic andhe was cornered. He rushed wildly to the breach and delivered thechair with a crash, Tough McCarty barely saving himself. 

This open defiance of the champion angered the attacking party. 

"He ought to be lynched!"

"The booby!"

"Wait till to-morrow!"

Tough McCarty reappeared for a brief second. 

"I'll get you yet, " he said, pointing a finger at the embattledStover. "You're a muff, a low-down muff, in every sense of theword!"

Then succeeded the Coffee-colored Angel:

"Wait till I catch you, you Rinky Dink!"

Followed the White Mountain Canary:

"You'll reckon with _me_ for this!"

Down to Beekstein Hall, with his black-rimmed spectacles, each memberof the outraged nine climbed to the transom and expressed hisunflattering opinion. 

Stover sat down, his chin in his hands, his eyes on the great, lumbering mitt that lay dishonored on the floor. 

"I'm disgraced, " he said slowly, "disgraced. It's all over--all over. I'm queered--queered forever!"

VII

Until dusk, like Gilliatt in Victor Hugo's Toilers of the Sea, waitingfor the tide to swallow him up, Stover sat motionless, brooding. Therewas only one thing to do--to run away. His whole career had beenruined in a twinkling. He knew. There could be no future for him inthe school. What he had done was so awful that it could never beforgiven or forgotten. Why had he run? If only he had made a quickdive at the ball as it had trickled off the glove and caught it beforeit reached the ground, instead of standing there, horrified, hypnotized. Yes, he would escape, run off to sea somewhere--anywhere!But he wouldn't go home; no, never that! He would ship around theHorn, like the hero in that dreadful book, Two Years Before the Mast. He would run away that night, before the story spread over the wholeschool. He would never face them. He hated the school, he hated theGreen, he hated every one connected with it!

A tap came on the door, and the voice of Butsey White said coldly:

"Open up! Fuzzy-Wuzzy's in the House; you're safe. Open up. I've gotto get ready for supper. "

Stover drew back the bed, unlocked the door and waited with clenchedfists for Butsey to spring at him. Butsey White, whose tempestuousrage had long since spent itself in hilarious laughter, as, indeed, had been the case with the rest, thought it best, however, for thepurposes of authority, still to preserve a grave face. 

"You're a fine specimen!" he said curtly. "You've had a beautiful dayof it. "

"Yes, I have, " said Dink miserably, "a beautiful day!"

Butsey, to whom the tragedy of the century was nothing but anincident, had not the slightest suspicion of Stover's absolute, overwhelming despair. Yet Butsey, too, had suffered, and profited bythe suffering. 

"You better square up with Tough McCarty, " he said, failing to readthe anguish in Stover's eyes. "You certainly were the limit. "

"I hate him!" said Dink bitterly. 

"Why?"

"He's a bully. "

"Tough McCarty? Not a bit of it. "

"He tried to bully me. "

"Why didn't you let them in?" said Butsey, putting the part in themiddle of his hair with a dripping comb. 

"Let them in!"

"Why, what do you think they'd have done to you?"

Stover had never thought of that. After all, what could they have doneto him?

"I didn't think----"

"Rats!" said Butsey. "They might have pied you on the bed; but that'snothing if you lie face down and keep your elbows in. That's all you'dhave got. Then it would have been over; now you've got to squareyourself. Well, brush up and come down to supper, and for the love ofMike smile a little. "

Butsey White's sentiments neither consoled nor convinced. Stover wastoo firmly persuaded of the enormity of his offense and the depth ofhis ignominy. 

In all his life he had never done a more difficult thing than tofollow Butsey into the dining-room and face the disdainful glances ofthose from whom he had so lately fled. 

He sat in abject mental and physical suffering, his eyes on his plate, tasting nothing of what went into his mouth, chewing mechanically. 

Mr. Jenkins, to be affable, asked him how he had enjoyed the day. Hemumbled some reply, he never knew what, hearing only the dreadfulsnicker that ran the table. He refused the dessert and left thetable. It had been a nightmare. 

He stayed in his room, watching from behind the curtains hisfellow-beings romping and shrieking over a game of baby-in-the-hat. The bottom had, indeed, dropped out of things--the universe wastopsy-turvy. More keenly than in the afternoon he felt the utterhopelessness of his disgrace. If he could only get away--escape fromit all. If he only had had five dollars in his pocket he could havereached Trenton and worked his way to some seaport town. He looked atthe now ridiculous souvenir toilet set and bitterly thought where theprecious dollars had gone--that story, too, would be abroad by themorrow. The whole school would probably rise and jeer at him when heentered chapel the next morning. That night he crept into his bed tothe stillness of the black room, to suffer a long hour that firstoverwhelming anguish that can only be suffered once, that no othersuffering can compare to, that is complete, because the knowledge ofother suffering has not yet come, and he who suffers suffers alone. Then the imagination came to the rescue. He fell into blissfulunconsciousness by a process of consoling half dreams in which hevindicated himself by feats of extraordinary valor, carrying thesuffocating Tough McCarty and the Coffee-colored Angel out of burninghouses at the risk of his own life, and earning the plaudits of thewhole school. 

Suddenly a peal of thunder shook the building; he landed all in a heapin the midst of the sunlit floor, rubbing his eyes. Outside, themorning came in with warm embrace; green things stirred against thewindow-panes; the flash of a robin's wing cut a swift shadow on thefloor and was gone. Below, the horrid clanging of the gong rattled thewalls and called on the dead to rise. 

Dink gazed at the opposite bed. Butsey, with the covers wound aroundhim, with his knees under his chin, was actually asleep. In greatalarm he went over and shook him gently. One eye opened andreproachfully fastened on him. 

"I say, the gong--the gong's rung, Mr. White, " said Dink. 

"The rising gong?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, when the breakfast gong explodes wake me up. "

The eyes shut, but presently reopened and a muffled voice added:

"Pour out water--washbasin--stick my shoes over here. "

Dink obeyed, mystified. Then, going to the window, he drank in all thezest and glory of green fields and blue skies with woolly cloudsdrifting over the tingling air. Joyfully he turned for a plunge incold water and the unspeakable crockery set met his eye. Then heremembered. A shadow fell across the room; the day went into eclipse. Mechanically, heavily, he dressed, and the fever of yesterday sprangup anew. 

Meanwhile, not a sound in the House except down the hall a snore--aglorious, triumphant note. A second time the gong took up itsdiscordant march. Then from the cocoon on the bed a flash of legs andarms sprang out and into the waiting garments. There was a splash inthe basin that spattered the water far and near, and Butsey, envelopedin a towel, rushed into his upper garments, flung back his hair with amasterful swooping stroke of the comb, and bolted out of the door, buckling his belt and struggling into a sweater. Down the stairs theywent in the midst of floating coats, collars to be buttoned andneckties to be tied; and when the last note of the gong had ended nota place was vacant, though every eye still drooped with drowsiness. 

Breakfast over, Dink followed Butsey to their room and, after the morepermanent preparations had been attended to, they left for chapel. 

The much-dreaded breakfast had passed with but one incident; theCoffee-colored Angel, in passing him the sugar, had said in a terrificwhisper:

"I'll get you to-day. I'll tame you!"

But, being still in a nodding state, his anger was contented with thisslight expression. Tough McCarty had given him just one look, butsomehow he remembered nothing else. The instinctive hostility he hadfelt at the first meeting of their eyes rose anew. The Coffee-coloredAngel and the White Mountain Canary were but incidents; the enemy, _lesacré_ Albion, was Tough McCarty. 

He went in the current of boyhood past Foundation House and around thecircle toward chapel. For the first time the immensity of the schoolwas before him in the hundreds that, streaming across the campus inthin, dotted lines, swelled into a compact, moving mass at the chapelsteps. It was more than an institution; it was a world, the complex, marvelously ordered World of Youth. 

Somehow, he did not attract the attention he had expected. Hisentrance into the pew was attended by no hilarious uprising _enmasse_. He found his place in the gallery, between Pebble Stone andDuke Straus, who sleepily asked his name and went off for asupplementary nap on the shoulder of D. Tanner. Stone evidently hadheard nothing of his disgrace, or else was too absorbed in a hurriedconning of the Latin lesson to make remarks. 

Dink lifted his head a little and stole a glance--strange, no oneseemed to be paying the slightest attention to him. Somewhatastonished and unutterably relieved he gazed down at the body of theschool marshaled below, at the enormous fifth-formers who seemed--andnever was that illusion to fade--the most terrifically immense andawesome representatives of manhood he had ever seen. The benches werehard, decidedly so; but he lost himself pleasantly in the vaultedroof, and gazed with respect at the distant pulpit. 

The Doctor ascended and swept the school with that glance peculiar tohead masters which convinces each separate boy it is directed at him. Stover felt the impact on his own forehead and dropped his eyesuneasily. When the hymn began he looked curiously among hisclassmates, located Doc Macnooder and caught the eye of the TennesseeShad, who winked at him to show him he was still his friend. 

Somehow, his awful disgrace seemed to slip from him--the Green Housewas but a grain in the sand. There were friends, undiscovered friends, in the mass before him, to be won and held. An easier feeling came tohim. When the school shuffled out he sought the Tennessee Shad and, holding out his hand said:

"Say, you are wonders; and I'm the only living sucker!"

"Dink, you're a real sport, " said the Tennessee Shad, pleased; "but wedid come it pretty strong. Now, if you want to turn in thoseshoes----"

"Not on your life!" said Dink. "I deserved it, but--but look out fornext year!"

"All right, " said the Tennessee Shad with an approving look. "If youdo us we'll take you into the firm. Tack on to me, and I'll pilot youto The Roman's. "

Following his lanky guide Stover went in the churning, lagging massacross to Memorial Hall, rubbing elbows with the heroes, who stalkedmajestically in their voluminous bulk, with the coveted 'Varsity capsriding on the backs of their cropped heads, or being jostled by thefreckled imps who ran zigzag, shrieking chases past him. 

At the steps they divided, some surging upward and others crowdinginto the lower corridor. 

"Below for us, " said the Tennessee Shad, pushing his way forward. 

Dink found himself outside of one of the dozen classrooms in a throngthat waited hopefully, as other classes waited hopefully every hourof every day in the hopes of an improbable cut. 

"The Roman, " said the Tennessee Shad wisely, "is the one master youwant to stand in with. Study like the devil the first two weeks; andsay, get up on the gerund and the gerundive--they're his pets. "

"I will, " said Dink. 

"You can't bluff him and you can't beat his system, " continued theTennessee Shad. "If you guess don't hesitate; jump at it. The onlything you can do is to wait for his jokes, and then grab the desk andweep for salvation--it's his one weak spot. "

"I will, " said Dink. 

A cry of dismay went up from the sentinels at the window. 

"Oh, rats! Here he comes. "

"Oh, peanuts!"

"Oh, melancholy!"

"All in!"

Dink modestly took a seat in the back, at the end of the row of S'swhere he must sit. On four sides, like prison walls that no convictmight hope to scale, the slippery blackboards rose up and bound themin. On a raised stand was the master's pulpit where presently TheRoman would come and sit, like the watcher of the galley slaves in BenHur, with his eagle glance sweeping the desks that, in regimentalfile, ran back from him. 

Outside, through two open windows, was the warm, forbidden month ofApril, and the gateway to syntax-defying dreams. At this moment Dink'scopy of Cæsar's Gallic Wars slid on to the floor. He bent down, laboriously collecting the scattered pages and straightened up. Thenhe glanced at the pulpit. Directly in front of him, his eyes on hiseyes, sat the big consular frame of his stage companion of the daybefore. 

Dink gasped in horror; twice his hand went instinctively toward hislip, stopped half-way and dropped. Then his mouth opened, set, andgalvanically he rose to his feet, while the room seemed to tip up. 

He grasped the desk to keep from slipping, never taking his eyes fromthe Ciceronian countenance and the twinkling orbits above the slightlytwitching lips. 

"Dear me, " said a low, mocking voice with a curious rising and fallinginfection, "who's here? Another delegate to this congress ofscintillating intelligences?"

"Yes, sir, " said Dink in a whisper. 

"Quite a valuable addition, I hope. Yes? What is the name?"

"John. "

"Well--well?"

"John Humperdink Stover, " said Dink with difficulty. 

"Ah, yes, Stover: the name is familiar--very familiar, " said TheRoman, with a twitch to his lip and a sudden jump of the eyebrow. "Haven't we met before?"

Dink, suffocating, nodded. The class, at a loss, turned from one tothe other, watching for the cue. 

"Well, Stover, come a little nearer. Take the seat between Stone andStraus. Straus will be better able to take his little morning nap. Alittle embarrassed, Stover? Dear me! I shouldn't have thought that ofyou. Sit down now and--try to put a little ginger into the class, Stover. "

Dink looked down and blushed until it seemed as though his hair wouldcatch on fire. The class, perceiving only that there was a point forlaughter, burst into roars. 

"There--there, " said The Roman, stilling the storm with one finger. "Just a little joke between us two; just a little confidential joke. Nowfor a bee-ootiful recitation. Splendid spring weather--yesterday was acut; of course you all took the hour to study conscientiously--eagerfor knowledge. Fifth and sixth rows go to the board. "

While The Roman's modulated accents doled out conjugations anddeclensions Stover sat, without a thought in his head, his handslocked, staring out at the green and yellow necktie that rose onPebble Stone's collar. 

"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" he said at last. "Dished! Spinked! He'll flunkme every day. I certainly am in wrong!"

He raised his eyes at the enthroned Natural Enemy and mentally threwdown the gage of battle with a hopeless, despairing feeling of thethree years' daily conflict that was to come. For, of course, nowthere could be no question of The Roman's mortal and unsparing enmity. But after the first paralyzing shock Dink recovered himself. It waswar, but the war he loved--the war of wits. 

The Roman, having flunked a dozen by this time, had Channing, theCoffee-colored Angel, on his feet, on delicate matters of syntax. 

"Top of page, third word, Channing--gerund or gerundive?" said TheRoman. 

"Gerund, sir. "

"Too bad!" said The Roman musically, and on a lower octave repeated:"Too bad! Third line, fifth word--gerund or gerundive?"

"Gerund, sir, " said the Coffee-colored Angel with more conviction. 

"No luck, Channing, no luck. Tenth line, last word--gerund, Channing, or gerundive?"

"Gerund-ive, " said the Coffee-colored Angel hesitatingly. 

"Poor Channing, he didn't stick to his system. The laws ofprobability, Channing----"

"I meant gerund, " said the Coffee-colored Angel hastily. 

"Dear me! Really, Channing?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Positive?"

"Absolutely, sir. "

"It _was_ the gerundive, Channing. "

The Coffee-colored Angel abruptly sat down. 

"Don't want to speculate any more, Channing?"

"No, sir. "

"No feeling of confidence--no luck to-day? Try the gerundiveto-morrow. "

The discouraged began to return from the boards, having writ in water. The Roman, without malice, passed over the rows and, from flunkingthem individually, mowed them down in sections. 

"Anything from the Davis House to-day? No, no? Anything from the RouseHouse combination? Nothing at all? Anything from the Jackson twins?Alas! How about the D's this morning? Davis, Dark, Denton, Deer, Dickson, nothing from the D's. Let's try the F's. Farr, Fenton, Foster, Francis, Finch? Nothing from the F's--nothing from the D F's!Nothing at all?"

Dink burst into laughter, and laughed alone. The Roman stopped. Everyone looked surprised. 

"Ah, Stover has been coached--well coached, " said The Roman. "But, Stover, this is not the place to laugh. The D F's are not a joke; theyare painful, every day facts. Well, well, it has been a beautifulrecitation in the review--not exceptional, not exceptional at all. Hasany one the advance? Don't all rise at once. Strange what tryingweather it is--too sunny, not enough rain--every one rises exhausted. Will Macnooder kindly lead the massacre?"

Macnooder disdained to rise; one or two faltered and tripped along forbrief spaces, and then sat down. The Roman, counting his dead, hesitated and called:

"Stover. "

"Me, sir?" said Dink, too astonished to rise. "Why, I'm unprepared, sir. "

"Unprepared?" said The Roman with a wicked smile. "I never thought youwould be unprepared, Stover. "

The smile decided Stover. 

"I'll try, sir, " he said. 

"Very kind of you, Stover. "

Dink rose slowly, put the book on his desk, tightened his belt, buttoned his coat and took up the prosy records of Cæsar. Pebble Stoneshowed him the place. He straightened up and, glancing at the firstline, saw:

"_Ubi eo ventum est, Cæsar initio orationis_ . .. "

"Cæsar, " began Dink in a firm voice. 

"Excellent!" said The Roman. 

"Cæsar, wherever the wind blew him, initiated the orators . .. " Dinkcontinued smoothly, after a rapid glance. 

The Roman, from a listless attitude, gripped the desk, pivoted clearon one leg of his chair, staring at the familiar text as though it hadsuddenly taken on life and begun to crawl about the page. 

Dink, resolved not to be bested, gravely and fluently continued toglide on, without pause or hitch, turning syllables into words, building sentences wherever he met an acquaintance. On and on he went, glib and eloquent, weaving out of the tangled text a picture thatgradually, freeing itself from the early restraints, painted in vividdetail a spirited conference between Cæsar and the German envoys. Theclass, amazed, resorted to their books; many of the unprepared, quiteconvinced, stared at him as though a new rival to the high markers hadsuddenly appeared. 

The Roman, fascinated, never quitted the text, marveling as the taleran on, leaping adverbs and conjunctions, avoiding whole phrases, undismayed by the rise of sudden, hostile nouns, impressing intoservice whatever suited it, corrupting or beating down all obstacles. 

Once or twice he twitched spasmodically, twice he switched the leg ofhis chair, murmuring all the while to himself. Finally he rose and, slowly approaching to where Stover stood, glanced incredulously at hisbook. 

"Shall I stop, sir?" said Stover. 

"Heaven forbid!"

Stover completed the page with a graphic, rushing account of theathletic exercises of the ancient Germans, and sat down without asmile. 

The Roman, back at his post, wiped his eyes with his handkerchief andspoke:

"Very well run, indeed, Stover; excellently well run. Take yourbreath. Very fluent, very vivid, very persuasive--a trifle free, atrifle--but, on the whole, a very creditable performance. Very! I wassure, whatever you did, Stover, you wouldn't bore us. Now, let us seehow the same passage will appeal to a more prosaic, lessrichly-endowed mind. "

Then Red Dog rose and, unfeelingly, brought the scene back to Rome andthe deliberations of the Senate. 

But this was a detail that did not interest Dink in the least. He hadclashed with The Roman and not retreated. He had his first moment oftriumph, attested by the admiring glances of the class and the muffledwhisper of Straus, saying:

"Gee, you're a peach!"

The session ended with a solemn warning from The Roman. 

"One word, " he said in his deepest tones, "just one word to the wise. We have journeyed together for two whole terms; there is only one morebetween you and reassignment. Candor compels me to say that you haveacquired not even a flunking knowledge. " He turned and raked the awedranks with the sweep of a pivot gun, and then took up again incutting, chilling, spaced syllables: "I have, in the course of myexperience as a teacher, had to deal with imbeciles, had to deal withmere idiots; but for sheer, determined, _monumental_ asininity I havenever met the equal of this aggregation. I trust this morning'spainful, disgraceful, disheartening experience may never, never berepeated. You may go. "

And Stover, who had brazenly planned to remain and converse, wentswiftly out with the rest, little imagining that he whom he had rankedas a deadly, unforgiving foe sat a long while chuckling over themarvelous route Dink had gone, murmuring gratefully to himself:

"Wherever the wind blew him, Cæsar initiated the orators. "

VIII

In the hallway the Coffee-colored Angel jabbed him with his elbow, muttering:

"You laughed at me, you miserable Rinky Dink. I'll fix you for that. "

He disappeared swiftly. Before Dink could frame a reply he wassurrounded by an admiring chorus. The Tennessee Shad and Macnoodershook hands with ceremony. 

"You'll do, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"You certainly will!" said Doc Macnooder. 

"You've made a hit with Lucius Cassius, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

Dink shook his head; he knew better. 

"You must always recite--always, " said Doc Macnooder, from his greatknowledge of the nature of masters. "Whether you're prepared ornot--recite. "

"I will, " said Dink. 

"And say, Dink, " said Macnooder, "keep that outfit we sold you. There'll be more hayseeds in the fall. "

Dink had thought of that; he had thought of something else, too, whichhe craftily hid in his own memory. 

"Next fall I'll show them a thing or two, " he said gleefully. "I'llmake souvenir crockery sets the rage. "

The Coffee-colored Angel and the petty annoyances of the Green Houseforgot, he went with a hitch and a kick, loping along, while hisdelicately-balanced imagination, now soaring above the gloomy descentsof the morning, swam joyfully in the realms of future triumphs. 

In this abstracted mood he passed Foundation's gloomy portals andLaloo standing in his door gazing down the road, and took the leafypath that led to the Green. 

All at once he heard a battle cry and, turning, beheld theCoffee-colored Angel and the White Mountain Canary spring from theirconcealment and bear down upon him with unmistakable intent. Now, whether in a former existence Dink had been parent to the fox, orwhether the purely human instinct was quicker than the reason, beforehe knew what he had done he had bounded forward and burst for home infull flight, with his heart pumping at his ribs. Easily distancing hispursuers, he arrived at the Green House before it dawned upon him thathe had been challenged and run away. 

He stopped abruptly with clenched fists, breathing deep. 

"Now let them come, " he said, turning. 

But the Coffee-colored Angel and the White Mountain Canary, havingabandoned the hopeless chase, had gone another way. 

Angry and ashamed, Dink went to his room, vowing terrific vengeance. He planted himself before the mirror and, doubling up either arm, feltthe well-hardened muscles. 

"There were two of them, and I didn't have time to think, " he said. "I'll fight 'em--any of 'em. "

Reassured by the scowling ferocity of his reflected countenance, heturned away. But, passing near the window, he saw the Coffee-coloredAngel and the White Mountain Canary come militantly up the stone walk. A moment later their steps sounded on the stairs. He went hastily tothe door and shot the key. An instant later the door was tried, andthen the contemptuous face of the Coffee-colored Angel loomed throughthe transom. 

"I knew you were yellow the moment I looked at you, " he saidscornfully. "Pah!"

Dink did not answer. He was all in a whirl. His action in locking thedoor, so contrary to his heroic resolutions, left him in confusion. 

"I wonder if I really am afraid, " he said, sitting down-all in a heap. The look in the Coffee-colored Angel's eye had brought him anunpleasant creeping sensation in the region of the back. 

And yet the Coffee-colored Angel, bone for bone and inch for inch, wasjust what he was--only he had fled from him, inadvertently, instinctively, it is true, yet feeling the running menace at his back. 

"I'm a coward!" he said, staring at the opposite wall. "I must be acoward! If I weren't I would have opened that door. "

Now, Dink had never fought a real fight. He had had a fewrough-and-tumble skirmishes, but a fight where you stood up and lookeda man in the whites of the eyes, a deliberate, planned-out fight, wasoutside his knowledge, in the mists of the unknown. And so hisimagination--which later should be his strength--recoiled before thatunknown as it had recoiled the moment he stepped from the stage toface his new judges; as it had recoiled in the hushed parlor beforethe closed door of the head master's den, and again at the thought ofstepping into the batter's box and risking his head against the deadlyshoots of Nick Carter, of the Cleve. He had never fought, therefore hewas aghast at the fear of being afraid. 

"Well, I won't run again, " he said desperately. "I'll have it overwith--he can only lick me. "

But he did run again, and often, despite all his resolves, impelledalways by the psychological precedent that he had run before. 

The Coffee-colored Angel and the White Mountain Canary made a regularceremony of it, raising a hue and cry at the sight of him and burstinginto derisive laughter after short chases. 

Dink was miserable and now thoroughly frightened. He slunk into thesolitude of his own company, avoiding the disdainful looks of hisHouse mates. He knew now he was a coward and should never be anythingelse. He did not blame Butsey, who scarcely spoke to him. All hethought of was, by roundabout ways, to put off the dreadful hour wheneither the Coffee-colored Angel or the White Mountain Canary shouldcatch him and beat him to a quivering, senseless pulp. 

Then the unexpected happened. One day, cutting across fields to avoidhis persecutors, he was suddenly shut off by the White MountainCanary, who rose from ambush, jeering horribly. Cut off from theGreen, Dink returned post-haste up the village, when all at once theCoffee-colored Angel closed in on him. Only one way of escape was opento him, down an alley between two houses. With the Coffee-coloredAngel at his heels he dashed ahead, turned the corner of the houseand found himself caught in a blind area. 

Whereupon he turned on the Coffee-colored Angel and slathered him, drove him hither and thither with terrific blows, knocked him headover heels, caught him by the throat and beat him against a wall, rolled him on the ground and rubbed him in the dust, tore his clothes, blacked his eyes and left him beaten and supinely, passivelywallowing. 

He walked out on his tiptoes, like a terrier, head erect, his chestout, fists still folded, tears in his eyes--tears of pride and relief. He had fought a fight, he had received terrific blows and minded themnot. He had thrashed the Coffee-colored Angel: he could thrash or takea thrashing from any one. He had his first thrill, the thrill ofconscious rage, comparable only to first love and first sorrow. He hadlicked the Coffee-colored Angel--he was not a coward!

At this highly-auspicious moment the unsuspecting White MountainCanary perceived the despised object of his chase and, raising ashout, triumphantly bore down upon him. With a rush he cleared theintervening space and then, catching sight of the new Dink, stopped asthough he had been jerked in by a rope. 

 * * * * *

A few moments later the group on the Green House steps were lazilyworking out a French translation, which Beekstein, the Secretary ofthe Department of Education, was reading to them, when suddenly, inthe fields opposite, two figures appeared, zigzagging wildly. 

"Here comes the Dink again, " said Stuffy Brown. "They'll get him thistime. "

"Who's after him?" said Tough McCarty. "He's a disgrace to the House. "

"It's the White Mountain Canary, " said Susie Satterly. 

"Hello!" said Cheyenne. 

"What?"

"I'll be darned--no--yes--dinged if it isn't the Dink chasing theCanary!"

As they sprang up, amazed, Stover dove at the fleeing tormentor, caught him, and the two went down in a heap, thrashing to and fro. 

"Well, I'll be jig-swiggered!" said Cheyenne. 

"I'll eat my pants!"

"The Dink!"

At this moment the awful wreck of the Coffee-colored Angel limped up. A chorus broke out:

"The Coffee-colored Angel!"

"Shot to pieces!"

"Massacred!"

"Kicked by a horse!"

"What hit you?"

"Dink, " said the Coffee-colored Angel, taking a tooth out of hismuddy mouth. "I caught him. "

Presently they saw Stover arise and loose the battered White MountainCanary, who broke wildly for shelter. 

"Well, anyhow, " said the Coffee-colored Angel, "Dink's swallowed theCanary. "

"What's he up to now?" said Cheyenne. 

They watched him approach the fence, deliberately take off his coat, remove his collar and necktie, tighten his belt and methodically, slowly roll up his sleeves. 

"Here he comes, " said the Coffee-colored Angel, moving swiftly away. "Why, he's crying!"

Dink came up the path, choking with rage and the knowledge of his owntears, and in front of them all threw down his coat. 

"You thought I was afraid, did you? You thought I was a coward!" hesobbed. "Well, I'll show you whether I'm afraid of you, any of you, you big bullies! You big stuff, you, come on!"

And suddenly advancing, he squared off and struck Tough McCarty a wildblow, crash on the nose. 

IX

They adjourned to a sheltered spot back of the stump willows and chosea bare space of soft, green turf. At their sides the brook ransplashing over the cool stones. 

"Who'll be Dink's second?" said Cheyenne Baxter, the referee. 

There was an embarrassed pause. 

"Go on, any of you, " said Tough McCarty generously. 

"I'll be, " said the Coffee-colored Angel. "He licked me square. "

He stepped over and held out his hand. 

"I don't want you--I don't want your hand!" said Dink with a scream. "I don't want any second; I won't have any! I hate you--I hate thewhole lot of you!"

Cheyenne Baxter consulted with Tough McCarty and came over. 

"Say, Dink, " he said kindly, "Tough doesn't want to fight you now; itisn't fair. He'll give you a fight any time you want--when you'refresh. "

"I don't want to wait, " cried Stover, blubbering despite himself. "I'll fight him now. I'll show him if I'm afraid, the big bully!"

"What rounds do you want?" said Cheyenne, seeing it was wisest not tointerfere. 

"I don't want any rounds, " cried Dink wildly. "I want to get at him, the great, big mucker!"

Cheyenne went over to Tough, who stood apart, looking veryuncomfortable. 

"Better go on, Tough. Don't hurt the little varmint any more than youhave to. "

It was a strange fight. They stood around in silence, ratherfrightened at Stover's frenzy. Tough McCarty, overtopping hisantagonist by four good inches, stood on the defensive, seeking onlyto ward off the storm of frantic blows that rained on him. For Dinkcared not a whit what happened to him or how he exposed himself. 

Blinded by rage, crying from sheer excess of emotion, shrieking outinarticulate denunciations, he flung himself on McCarty with therecklessness of a mad dervish, crying:

"You thought I was a coward, --darn you! You great, fat slob! Youthought I was afraid of a licking, did you? I'll show you. Lick me nowif you can, you big brute! Lick me every day! I'm not afraid of you!"

"Confound the lunatic!" said Tough McCarty, receiving a solid thump inthe ribs. "I can't stand here, getting pummeled all day. Got to hithim--ouch!"

Dink, in his frantic rush, throwing himself under his enemy's guard, almost bore him to the ground by the shock of his onslaught. McCarty, angrily brushing the blood from his already outraged nose with thecuff of his sleeve, shook himself like an angry bear and, catchingStover with a straight-arm blow, sent him rolling on the turf. 

Back again and again came Stover, hurling himself wildly onto thescientific fists that sent him reeling back. The green arms of thetrees, the gray faces of the onlookers, the blue of the tilting skyrushed into the reeling earth, confounded together. He no longer sawthe being he was fighting, a white film slipped over everything andthen all went out in blank unconsciousness. 

When he opened his eyes again he was on his back, looking up throughthe willows at a puffy cloud that turned against the blue. At his sidethe brook went softly, singing in whispers the note that stirred theleaves. 

Something wet fell on his face and trickled uncomfortably down hisneck. Some one was applying a dripping cloth. 

"Coming to?" said Cheyenne Baxter. 

Then Dink remembered. 

"Where is he?" he cried, trying to spring up. "Fight him, --fight himto the end!"

A strong hand pressed him down. 

"There, there, you fire-eater!" said Cheyenne. "Go easy. You've hadenough blood for one afternoon. Lie back. Shut your eyes. "

He heard whispering and the sound of voices going, and lostconsciousness again. 

When he saw the face of the day once more he was alone with Cheyenne, who was kneeling by his side, smiling as he watched him. 

"Better now?"

"I'm all right. "

"Let me carry you. "

"I can stand. "

Cheyenne's good right arm caught him as he tottered and held him. 

"I'm all right, " said Dink gruffly. 

Aided by Cheyenne, he went weakly back to the Green. At the stepsTough McCarty sprang up and advanced with outstretched hand, saying:

"Put her here, Dink; you're dead game!"

Stover put his hand behind his back. 

"I don't want to shake hands, " he said, flushing and gazing at ToughMcCarty until the pupils of his eyes seemed to dwindle, "with you orany of you. I hate you all; you're a gang of muckers. I'll fight younow: I'll fight you to-morrow. You're too big for me now; but I'lllick you--I'll lick you next year--you, Tough McCarty--or the yearafter that; you see if I don't!"

Tough McCarty stood back, rightfully offended. Cheyenne led Dink up tohis room and lectured him. 

"Now, young bantam, listen to me. You've shown your colors and werespect you for it. But you can't fight your way into being liked--putthat in your pipe and smoke it. You've got to keep a civil tongue inyour head and quit thinking this place was built for your specialbenefit. Savez? You've got to win your way if you want to be one ofus. Now, when you get your head clear, go down and apologize to ToughMcCarty and the Angel, like a man. "

The advice, which a day later would have been gratefully received, came inopportunely for Dink's overwrought nerves. He gave an angryanswer--he did not want to be friends--he hated them all--he wouldnever apologize--never. 

When Butsey White came with friendly offers he cut him short. 

"Don't _you_ come rubbering around now, " he said scornfully. "You wentback on me. You thought I was afraid. I'll do without your friendshipnow. "

When a calmer view had come to him he regretted what he had done. Heeliminated Tough McCarty--that was a feud of the instincts--but itcertainly had been white of the Coffee-colored Angel to offer to behis second; Cheyenne was every inch a leader, and Butsey really hadbeen justified. Unfortunately, his repentance came too late; thedamage had been done. Only one thing could right him--an apology tothe assembled House; but as the courage to apologize is the lastvirtue to be acquired--if it ever is acquired--Dink in his pride wouldrather have chopped off his hand than admit his error. They hadmisjudged him; they would have to come to him. The breach, once made, widened rapidly--due, principally, to Dink's own morbid pride. Some ofthe things he did were simply ridiculous and some were flagrantlyimpudent. 

He was one against eight--but one who had learned his strength, whofeared no longer the experiences he knew. He stood ready to back hisacts of belligerency with his fists against any one--except, ofcourse, Butsey White; for roommates do not fight unless they love oneanother. 

He had always in him the spirit of the rebel. To be forbid a thing, with him, was to do it instantly. He refused all the service aFreshman should do. At table he took a malignant delight in demandingloudly second and third helps of the abhorrent prunes--long after hehad come to feel the universal antagonism. He would not wake Butseyin the morning, fill his basin or arrange his shoes. He would run noerrands. He refused to say sir or doff his hat to his superiors in themorning; and, being better supplied with money, he took particularpleasure in entering the House with boxes of jiggers or tins of pottedmeats and a bottle of rootbeer, with which he openly gorged himself atnight, while Butsey squirmed over the unappetizing pages of the GallicWars. 

Finally, the blow came. Cheyenne Baxter, as president of the House, appeared one evening and hurled on him the ban of excommunication--fromthat hour he was to be put in Coventry. 

From that moment no one spoke to him or by the slightest look noticedhis existence. Dink at first attempted to laugh at this exile. 

At every opportunity he joined the group on the steps. No oneaddressed him. If he spoke no one answered. At table theCoffee-colored Angel no longer asked him to pass his plate, but passedit around the other way. He went out in the evenings and placed hiscap in line with the other boys', but the ball never went into hishat. If he stood, hoping to be hit, no one seemed to notice that hewas standing there. For several days he sought to brazen it out with amiserable, sinking feeling, and then he gave it up. He had thought hecared nothing for the company of his House mates--he soon discoveredhis error and recognized his offending. But apology was now out of thequestion. He was a pariah, a leper, and so must continue--a thing tobe shunned. 

The awful loneliness of his punishment threw him on his own resources. At night he lay in his bed and heard Butsey steal out to a midnightspread behind closed doors, or to join a band that, risking the suddencreak of a treacherous step, went down the stairs and out to wendtheir way with other sweltering bands across the moonlit ways, throughnegro settlements, where frantic dogs bayed at the sticks they rattledover the picket fences, to the banks of the canal for a cooling frolicin the none too fragrant waters. 

In the morning he could not join the group that congregated to listento Beekstein--Secretary of Education--straighten out the involvedsyntax or track an elusive x to its secret lair. In the afternoon hecould not practice on the diamond with them, learning the trick ofholding elusive flies or teaching himself to face thunderous outshootsat the plate. 

This enforced seclusion had one good result: left to his own deviceshis recitations improved tremendously, though this was scantconsolation. 

He kept his own company proudly, reading long hours into the land ofDumas and Victor Hugo; straying up to the 'Varsity diamond, where hecast himself forlornly on the grass, apart from the groups, to watchCharlie DeSoto dash around the bases, and wonderful Jo Brown on thirdbase scrape up the grounders and shoot them to first. 

He was too proud to seek other friends, for that meant confession. Besides, his own classmates were all busy on their own diamonds, working for the success of their own House nines. 

Only when there was a 'Varsity game and he was swallowed up in theindiscriminate mass that whooped and cheered back of first, thrillingat a sudden crisis, did he forget himself a little and feel a part ofthe great system. Once when, in a game with the Princeton Freshmen, JoBrown cleared the bases with a sizzling three-bagger, a fourth-formerhe didn't know thumped him ecstatically on the back and he thrilledwith gratitude. 

But the rest was loneliness, ever recurrent loneliness, day in and dayout. His only friends were Charlie DeSoto and Butcher Stevens atfirst, whom he could watch and understand--feeling, also, the fiercespirit of battle cooped up and forbidden within him. 

One night in the second week of June, when Butsey White had gone to afestal spread in Cheyenne Baxter's rooms, Dink sat cheerlessly overthe Latin page, seeing neither gerund nor gerundive. 

The windows were open to the multiplied chorus of distant frogs andthe drone of near-by insects. The lamp was hot, his clothes steamed onhis back. He thought of the rootbeer and sarsaparilla being consumeddown the hall and, going to the closet, consulted his own store ofcomforting things. 

But to feast alone was no longer a feast at all. He went to the windowand sniffed the warm air, trying to penetrate the outer darkness. Then, balancing carefully, he let himself out and, dropping on theyielding earth, went hungrily up to the campus. 

He had never been on the Circle before at night, with all the lightsabout him. It gave him a strange, breathless feeling. He sat down, hugging his knees, in the center of the Circle, where he could commandthe blazing windows of the Houses and the long, lighted ranks of theUpper, where the fourth-formers were singing on the Esplanade. Thechapel at his back was only a shadow; Memorial Hall, a cloud hunglower than the rest. 

From his position of vantage he could hear scraps of conversationthrough the open windows, and see dark figures flitting before themellow lamps. The fellowship in the Houses, the good times, thefeeling of home that hung about each room came to him with acutepoignancy as he sat there, vastly alone. In the whole school he hadmade not a friend. He had done nothing; no one knew him. No one cared. He had blundered from the first. He saw his errors now--only tooplainly--but they were beyond retrieving. 

There was only a week more and then it would be over. He would nevercome back. What was the use? And yet, as he sat there outside the lifeand lights of it all, he regretted, bitterly regretted, that it mustbe so. He felt the tug at his heartstrings. It was something to win aplace in such a school, to have the others look up to you, to have theyoungsters turn and follow you as you passed, as they did with CharlieDeSoto or Flash Condit or Turkey Reiter or a dozen of others. Instead, he would drop out of the ranks, and who would notice it? A few whowould make a good story out of that miserable game of baseball. A fewwho would speak of him as the freshest of the fresh, the fellow whohad to be put in Coventry--if, indeed, any one would remember DinkStover, the fellow who hadn't made good. 

The bell clanged out the summons to bed for the Houses. One by onethe windows dropped back into the night; only the Upper remainedablaze. 

At this moment he heard somewhere in the dark near him the sound ofscampering feet. The next moment a small body tripped over his legsand went sprawling. 

"What in the name of Willie Keeler!" said a shrill voice. "Is that amaster or a human being?"

"Hello!" said Stover gruffly, to put down the lump that had risen inhis throat. "Who are you. "

"Me? Shall we tell our real names?" said the voice approaching and atonce bursting out into an elfish chant:

 _Wow, wow! Wow, wow, wow! Oh, me father's name was Finnegan, Me mother's name was Kate, Me ninety-nine relations To you I'll now relate. _

"Oh, you're Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, are you?" said Dink, laughing as he dashed his cuff across his eyes. "The kid that wrotethe baseball story. "

"Sir, you do me honor, " said Finnegan. "Who are you?"

"I'm Stover. "

"The Dink?"

"Yes, the Dink. "

"The cuss that translates at sight?"

"You've heard of it?"

"Cracky, yes! They say The Roman was knocked clean off his pins, firsttime in his life. I say----"

"What?"

"Then you're the fellow down in the Green, aren't you?"

"Yes, " said Dink, thinking only of the ban of excommunication. 

"Why, you're a regular cross-sawed, triple-hammered, mule-kick, beef-fed, rarin'-tearin' John L. Sullivan, ain't you?" said theexponent of the double adjective in rapid admiration. 

"What do you mean?"

"Why, you're the cuss that smeared the Angel, swallowed the Canary, and bumped Tough McCarty, all at once. "

"Oh, yes. "

"My dear boy, permit me--you're it, you're the real thing. "

Dink, with a feeling of wonder, shook hands, saying:

"Well, they don't think so much of it at the Green. "

"Anything wrong?"

"Nothing much. "

Finnegan, perceiving the ground was shaky, switched. 

"I say, you want to get into the Kennedy next year; we've got the ANo. 1 crowd there. I'm there, the Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pup--he'sthe president of the Sporting Club, you know; prize-fights and allthat sort of thing--and King Lentz and the Waladoo Bird, the finestguards Lawrenceville ever had. And say, you'n I and the Tennessee Shadcould strike up a combine and get out a rip-snorting, muzzle-off, all-the-news, sporting-expert, battle-cry-of-freedom newspaper thatwould put the _Lawrence_ out of biz. I say, you must get in theKennedy. "

"I'm not coming back. "

"What!"

"I guess my par-ticular style of talent isn't suited around here. "

"What's wrong?"

"Well, everything. "

"I say, Dink, confide in me!"

Stover, at that moment, in his loneliness, would have confided in anyone, especially the first human being who had given him a thrill ofconscious pride. 

"It's just this, youngster, " he said, wondering how to begin: "theydon't like me. "

"You like the school, don't you?" said Finnegan in alarm. 

Dink had never had the question put to him before. He was silent andhis look went swiftly over to the coveted House of Lords. He drew along breath. 

"You bet I do. I love it!"

"What then?"

"I started wrong; didn't understand the game, I guess. They've put mein Coventry. "

"You must have been pretty fresh. "

"What!"

"Oh, don't mind me, " said Dennis cheerfully. "I'm fresher than youever thought of being. I was the freshest bit of verdure, as the poetsays, that ever greened the place. I'm the freshest still. But I'mdifferent. I'm under six inches--that's the cinch of it. "

"Yes, I was fresh, " said Dink, intensely relieved. 

"You're always fresh if you're any good, the first term, " saidFinnegan. "Don't mind that. Next year you'll be an old boy, and thenthey'll follow you around for sugar. "

"I hadn't thought of that, " said Dink slowly. 

"Keep a-thinking. I'm off now. Ta-ta! Got to slink in Fatty Harris'room before The Roman makes his rounds. Proud to have met you. Aurevoir!"

Dink sat a long while thinking, and a lighter mood was on him. Afterall, he was not a blank. Some one had recognized him; some one hadtaken his hand in admiration. He rose and slowly made his way towardthe singers on the Esplanade, and by the edge of the road camped underthe shadows of an apple tree and leaned his back against the trunk. 

The groups of the Esplanade stood out in cut outlines against the warmwindows of the Reading-room. Above, the open windows were tenanted byboys who pillowed their heads on one another and sent their treble orbass notes down to swell the volume below. 

Led by a tenor voice that soared clear and true above the rest camethe melody to Stover huddled under the apple tree:

 _At evening, when twilight is falling And the birds to their nests are all gone, We'll gather around in the gloaming, And mingle our voices in song. Yes, in song. The bright stars are shining above us, Keeping their watch and ward. We'll sing the old songs that we love, boys. Out on the Esplanade. _

Stover listened, pressing his knuckles to his lips, raised out ofhimself by the accord of voices and the lingering note of melancholythat was in the hour, the note of the dividing of the ways. 

Again in deeper accents a song arose:

 _We sing the campus, green and fair. We sing the 'leven and nine Who battle for the old school there And guard the base and line. No cause for fear when they appear And the school flag floats above our head. When the game begins 'tis Lawrence wins, While we cheer the Black and Red. When the game begins 'tis Lawrence wins, While we cheer the Black and Red. _

The song ended in lingering accents. Dink shut his eyes, clenching hisfists, seeing wonderful days when the school should gather to cheerhim, too, and lay its trust in him. 

Suddenly near him in the road came the crunching sound of footsteps, and a voice said:

"Is that you, Bill?"

"Yes. "

"Bill, I wanted to say a word to you. "

"Well?"

"We've only got a few days more in the old place. I don't want to goout with any hard feelings for anybody, do you?"

"No. "

"Let's call it off! Shake hands. "

Stover listened breathless, hearing little more, understanding onlythat a feud had ceased, that two enemies on the verge of the longparting had held each other's hands, slapped each other's backs withcrude, embarrassed emotion, for the sake of the memories that lived inthe shadow of a name. And something like a lump rose again in Dink'sthroat. He no longer thought of his loneliness. He felt in him thelonging to live as they had lived through the glorious years, to knowthe touch of a friend's arm about his shoulders, and to leave a nameto stand with the names that were going out. 

He raised his fists grotesquely, unconsciously, and swore an oath:

"No, I won't give up; I'll never give up. I'll come back. I'll fightit out!" he said almost aloud. "I'll make 'em like me. I'll make 'emproud of me. "

X

 _My father sent me here to Lawrenceville, And resolved that for college I'd prepare; And so I settled down In this ancient little town, About five miles away from anywhere. _

 _Five miles away from anywhere, my boys, Where old Lawrenceville evermore shall stand. For has she not stood since the time of the flood. About five miles away from anywhere?_

The school was returning after the long summer vacation, rollickingback over the dusty, Trenton highway, cheering and singing as theycame. 

Jimmy, on the stage, was swallowed up in the mass of exultant boyhoodthat clustered on the top like bees on a comb of honey, and clung tostep and strap. Inside, those who had failed of place stuck long legsout of the windows, and from either side beat the time of thechoruses. 

"Next verse!" shouted Doc Macnooder as leader of the orchestra. 

 _The First Form then I gayly entered, And did so well, I do declare, When they looked my record o'er All the masters cried "Encore!" About five miles away from anywhere. _

"Chorus!" cried Macnooder. "Here, you legs, keep together! You'respoiling the effect. "

Dink Stover sat quietly on the second seat, joining in the singing, but without the rollicking abandon of the others. He had shot upamazingly during the vacation and taken on some weight, but the changewas most marked in his face. The roundness was gone and with it thecherubic smile. The oval had lengthened, the mouth was straighter, more determined, and in the quiet set of eyes was something of themental suffering of the last months. He had returned, wondering alittle what would be his greeting. The first person he had met was theCoffee-colored Angel, who shook hands with him, pounded him on theback and called him "Good old Dink. " He understood--the ban waslifted. But the lesson had been a rude one; he did not intend topresume. So he sat, an observer rather than a participant, not yetfree of that timidity which, once imposed, is so difficult to shakeoff. 

The stage, which was necessarily making slow progress, halted at thefirst hill, with a sudden rebellion on the part of the long sufferinghorses. 

"All out!" shouted Macnooder. 

In a jiffy every boy was on the ground. 

"All push!"

The stage, propelled by dozens of vigorous hands, went up the hill ona run. 

"Same places!"

"All ready?"

"Let her go!"

Mamie Reilly, being discovered on the roof and selfishly claimedbelow, was thrust kicking and wriggling over the side and into theready hands at the window. 

"All ready, orchestra?" said Macnooder. 

"Aye, aye, sir. "

"All legs in the air!"

"Aye, me Lord!"

"One, two, three!"

 _And then the Second Form received me, Where I displayed such genius rare, That they begged me to refrain, It was going to my brain. About five miles away from anywhere!_

Meanwhile, at the approach of the astounding coach, which looked likea drunken centipede, the farmers stopped their plows or came to thethresholds, shading their eyes; while the cattle in the fields put uptheir tails and bolted, flinging out their heels, amid triumphantcheers from the students. 

All the while, the bulk of the school in two seaters, and threeseaters, the Fifth Formers, the new Lords of Creation, in buggiesspecially retained, went swirling by exchanging joyful greetings. 

"Oh you, Doc Macnooder!"

"Why, Gutter Pup! You old son-of-a-gun!"

"Look at the Coffee-Colored Angel!"

"Where's Lovely Mead?"

"Coming behind. "

"Hello, Skinny. "

"Why, you Fat Boy!"

"See you later. "

"Meet me at the Jigger Shop. "

"There's Stuffy!"

"Hello, Stuffy! Look this way!"

"Look at the Davis House bunch!"

"Whose legs are those?"

 _Hallegenoo, nack, nack! Hallegenoo, nack, nack! Hooray! Hooray! Lawrenceville!_

"Next verse, " shouted Doc Macnooder. "Legs at attention. More actionthere! La-da-da-dee! One, two, three!"

 _In course of time, I reached the Third Form, But was caught in examination's snare. Reassignment played its part, And it almost broke my heart, About five miles away from anywhere. _

"What house are you in?" said the Coffee-Colored Angel to Stover, between breaths. 

"Kennedy. "

"The Roman, eh?"

"Yes, he reached out and nabbed me, " said Stover, who was persuadedthat his new assignment was a special mark of malignant interest. 

"Who are you rooming with?"

"The Tennessee Shad. "

"Well, you'll be a warm bunch!"

A shout burst out from the back of the coach. 

"A race, a race!"

"Here come the Tennessee Shad and Brian de Boru. "

"Turn out, Jimmy!"

"Give 'em room!"

"Go it, Dennis!"

"Go it, Shad!"

Two runabouts came up at a gallop, neck and neck, four boys in each, the Tennessee Shad standing at the reins in one, Dennis de Brian deBoru Finnegan in the other, each firmly clutched about the waist bythe boy on whose knees he jolted and jostled. 

"Push on the reins!"

"Home run, Dennis!"

"Swim out, you Shad!"

"Pass him, Dennis! Pass him!"

"Shad wins!"

"Look at his form, will you!"

"Oh, you jockey!"

"Shad wins!"

"Hurrah!"

"Hurray!"

"Hurroo!"

But at this moment, when it seemed as though the race was to go to theTennessee Shad's nag, which had that superiority which one sacrificialhorse in a Spanish bullfight ring has over another, Dennis de Brian deBoru suddenly produced the remnants of a bag of cream puffs and, bymeans of three well-directed, squashing shots on the rear quarters ofhis coal-black steed, plunged ahead and won the road, amid terrificcheering. 

"Dennis forever!"

"Oh, you, Brian de Boru!"

"Get an éclair, Shad!"

"Get an omelet!"

"Get a tomato!"

"Get out and push!"

The racers disappeared in mingled clouds of dust. 

Macnooder, whirling around like a dervish on the stage top, conductedthe next verse. Suddenly another shout went up. 

"Here comes Charlie DeSoto and Flash Condit. "

"Three cheers for the football team!"

"How are you, Charlie?"

"Flash, old boy!"

"What do you weigh?"

"Pretty fit?"

"Too bad you can't run, Flash!"

"What'll we do to Andover?"

DeSoto and Condit passed, acknowledging the salutations with joyfulyelps. 

"Give 'em the Fifty-six to Nothing, boys, " shouted Macnooder. "All youtenor legs get into this. Oom-pah! Oom-pah! Oom-pah! One, two, three!"

 _There is a game called football, And that's the game for me. And Lawrenceville can play it, As you will shortly see. She goes to all the schools about, And with them wipes the ground. For it's fifty-six to nothing, boys, When Lawrenceville's around. _

 _She has a gallant rush-line That wears the Red and Black. Each man can carry the ball through With six men on his back. They carry it through the middle And then they touch it down. For it's fifty-six to nothing, boys, When Lawrenceville's around. _

Little by little Stover was drawn into the spirit of the song. Heforgot his aloofness, he felt one of them, thrilling with the spiritof the coming football season. 

"Gee, it's great to be back, " he found himself saying to ButcherStevens next to him. 

"You bet it is!"

"Charlie DeSoto looks fit, doesn't he?"

"He's eight pounds heavier, Doc tells me. "

"By George, that's fine!"

They stopped to sing the third verse. 

"It won't be any fifty-six to nothing when Andover comes around, " saidButcher gruffly. 

"We've got to hustle?" asked Stover respectfully of the 'Varsity lefttackle. 

"We certainly have!"

"What's the prospects?"

"Behind the line, corking. It's the line's the trouble--no weight. "

"There may be some new material. "

"That's so. " Stevens looked him over with an appraising eye. "Playedthe game?"

"No, but I'm going to. "

"What do you strip at?"

"Why, about 140--138. "

"Light. "

"I thought I might try for the second eleven. "

"Perhaps. Better learn the game, though, with your House team. "

Hearing them talk football the crowd eagerly began to ask questions. 

"Who's out for center?"

"Will they move Tough McCarty out to end?"

"Naw, he's too heavy. "

"I'd play him at center, and stick the Waladoo Bird in at tackle. "

"You would, would you? Shows what you know about it. "

"Butcher, you'll be in at tackle, won't you?"

"Hope so, " said Stevens laconically. 

Stover, who had entered the observant stage of his development, notedthe laconic, quiet answer and stored it away for classification andmeditation among the many other details that his new attitude ofwatchful analysis was heaping up. 

"There's the water tower! I see the water tower!" cried a voice. 

"I see the Cleve!"

"All up!"

"Long cheer for the school!"

"All together!"

"Rip her out!"

They gave a cheer and then two more. 

"Now, fellows, " said Doc Macnooder shrilly, as master of ceremonies, "we want to pull this off in fine shape. We're going to drive aroundthe Circle. And I want this orchestra to keep together. Whose legs arethose with the cannon-cracker socks?"

"Beekstein's, " cried several voices from inside. 

"Well, he's rotten. He gums the whole show. Now, get together, fellows, will you?"

"We will!"

As they turned to enter the campus the voice of the master spoke, clanging its inexorable note from the old Gym. Instantly a shout brokeout:

"Hang the old thing!"

"Drown it!"

"Down with the Gym bell!"

"Murder!"

"Oh, Melancholy!"

"Silence!" cried the bandmaster. "Give 'em The Gym Bell--all readybelow! La-da-da-dee!"

"Too high!"

"La-da-da-_dum_. Slow and melancholy. One, two, three!"

 _When the shades of night are falling Round our campus, green and fair, All the drowsy sons of Lawrence To their couches then repair. Soon the slumber god has bound them With his spell of magic power, And he holds them thus enchanted Till the early morning hour. _

"Up legs and at 'em now, Rip her out--chorus!"

 _Till awakened By the clanging And the banging And the whanging From the cupola o'erhanging, Of that ancient Gym bell!_

Cheered by the new fifth-formers, who came laughing to the windows tohail them, the stage went gloriously around the Circle and came to astop. 

"Here we are back at the same old grind, " said Butcher Stevens. 

"Frightful, isn't it?" said Stover; and the rest made answer:

"Back at the grindstone!"

"Hard luck!"

"We're all slaves!"

"Nothing to eat!"

"Nothing to do!"

"Stuck in a mudhole!"

XI

At the Kennedy steps The Roman was waiting for him. Stover shook handsor, rather, allowed The Roman to pump him, as was the custom. 

"Why, dear me--dear me--this is actually Stover!" said The Roman. "Well, well! How you have grown--shouldn't have known you. Had apleasant vacation? Yes? Glad to have you in the Kennedy. It's a goodHouse--good boys--manly, self-reliant, purposeful. You'll like 'em. "

The Roman released Stover's hand, which had grown limp in the process, and said with a twinkle to his quick little eyes:

"Don't put too much ginger into them, Stover. "

This remark confirmed Stover's darkest suspicions. 

"I'll scatter a little ginger around all right, " he said under hisbreath, as he climbed the stairs to his room. "He thinks he has thelaugh on me, does he? Well, we'll see who laughs last!"

On the third floor the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Brian de BoruFinnegan, from their respective trunks, were volubly debating themerits of Finnegan's victory--the Tennessee Shad claiming that theexternal application of cream puffs was equivalent to doping andinvalidated the result. 

"Hello!" said Dink. 

"Why, it's my honorable roommate, " said the Tennessee Shad, emergingwith a load of flannels. 

"It's the Dink himself, " said Dennis, gamboling up. "Welcome to ourcity!"

"I hear I'm rooming with you, " said Stover, shaking hands with theShad. 

"You certainly are, my bounding boy. "

"Where's the room?"

"Straight ahead, turret room, finest on the campus, swept by oceanbreezes and all that sort of thing. "

"Why, Dink, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru in affectionate octaves, "you old, slab-sided, knock-kneed, baby-cheeked, wall-eyed, battlingDink. You've grown ee-normously. "

"How's your muscle?" said the Tennessee Shad, with an ulterior motive. 

"Feel it, " said Stover, who had consecrated the summer to the same. 

"Hard as a goat, " said Dennis after an admiring whistle. "All nicelittle cast-iron, jerky bunches, ready and willing. Been in training, Dink?"

"Yes, just so. "

"Feels sort of soft to me, " said the Tennessee Shad pensively. 

"Oh, it does?"

"Question: what can you do with it? Lift a trunk as heavy as this?"

"Huh!" said Stover, bending down. "Where do you want it?"

"Gee! I do believe he can carry it almost to the room, " said theTennessee Shad, whose theory of life was to admire others do his workfor him. 

Stover bore it proudly on his shoulders and set it down. Dennis, planting himself arms akimbo, surveyed him with melancholydisapproval. 

"Too bad, Dink! I had expected better things from you. You're stillgreen, Dink. Been too much with the cows and chickens. Don't do it;don't do it!"

Stover glanced at the Tennessee Shad, who, satisfied, had curledhimself up on the bed, to rest himself after the exertion of walking. 

"I guess I am still a sucker, " he said, scratching his head with afoolish grin, "I'll not be so easy next time. "

"Never mind, Dink, " said Dennis comfortingly. "Your education's beenneglected, but I'm here. Remember that, Dennis is here, ready andwilling. "

Presently the Gutter Pup and Lovely Mead came tumbling in, and thenthe lumbering proportions of P. Lentz, King of the Kennedy, crowdedthrough the doorway, and the conversation continued in rapidcrossfire. 

"Who's seen the Waladoo Bird?"

"Jock Hasbrouck's dropped into the third form. "

"What do you think of the electric lights they've given us?"

"They've stuck an arc light in the Circle, too. "

"We'll fix that. "

"How's the new material, King?"

"Rotten!"

"Think we've a chance for the House championship?"

"A fine chance--to finish last. "

"Say, who do you think they've stuck us with?"

"Who?"

"Beekstein. "

"Suffering Moses!"

"Never mind. We've got the Dink. "

"What's he do?"

"He's the champion truckman--carry your trunk for you anywhere youwant. "

Dink, thus brought unwillingly into the conversation, blushed a warmred. 

"Truckman?" said P. Lentz, mystified. 

"Champion, " said Finnegan. "The mysterious champion truckman of BroadStreet Station, Philadelphia. Stand up, Dink, my man, and twitch yourmuscles. "

Stover squirmed uneasily on his chair. There was no malice in theteasing, and yet he was at a loss how to turn it. 

The Gutter Pup, as president of the Sporting Club and chief authorityon the life and works of the late Marquis of Queensberry, examined theembarrassed Stover, running professional fingers over his legs andarms. 

"You're the fellow who tried to fight the whole Green House, aren'tyou?" he said, immensely interested. 

"Why, yes. "

"Good nerve, " said the Gutter Pup. "You've got something the style ofBeans Middleton, who stood up to me for ten rounds in the days of theold Seventy-second Street gang. I'll train you up some time. You'd dowell with the crouching style--good reach, quick on the trigger andall that sort of thing. Like fighting?"

"Why, I--I don't know, " said Stover helplessly, unable to make outwhether the Gutter Pup spoke in jest. 

"Modest and brave!" said the irrepressible Finnegan. 

The conversation drifted away; Stover, with a sigh of relief, obliterated himself in a corner, feeling immense distances betweenhimself and the laughing group that continued to exchange rapidbanter. 

"Dennis, they tell me you're fresher than ever. "

"Sir, you compliment me. "

"Say, Boru, have they put you on the bottle yet?"

"Not yet, Lovely. Waiting for you to drop it. "

It was not particularly brilliant, but it was good-natured, and therewas a certain trick to it that he had lost in the long weeks ofCoventry. 

Presently the group departed to take the keen edge off the approachingluncheon pangs by a trip to the Jigger Shop, the center of sociallife. 

"Coming, Dink?" said the Gutter Pup. 

"I--I'll be over a little later, " said Stover, who did and did notwant to go. 

Left alone, half angry at his own enforced aloofness, and yet desiringsolitude, Stover stood among the litter of boxes and gaping trunks andsurveyed the four bare walls that spelled for him the word home. 

"It's a bully room--bully, " he said to himself with a tender feelingof possession. "The Shad's a bully fellow--bully! Dennis is a corker!I'm going to make good; see if I don't! But I'm going slow. They'vegot to come to me. I won't break in until they want me. Gee! What apeach of a room!"

He went to the window and looked out at the whole panorama of theschool that ran beneath him, from the long, rakish lines of the Upper, by Memorial Hall, to the chapel and the circle of Houses that ended atthe rear with the Dickinson. Below, boys were streaking across thegreen depths like water-bugs over limpid surfaces, or hallooingjoyfully from window to terrace, greeting one another with bearlikehugs, tumbling about in frolicking heaps. He was on the mountain, theyon the plain. His was the imaginative perspective and the troubledvision of one who finds a strange city at his feet. 

"It's all there, " he said lamely, confused by his own impressions. "All of it. "

"Homesick?" said a thin voice behind him. 

He turned to find Finnegan eyeing him uncertainly. 

"Why, you wild Irishman, " Dink said, surprised. "Thought you'd gonewith the crowd. Hello, what's up now?"

Finnegan, with an air of great mystery, locked the door, extracted thekey and, returning, enthroned himself on a chair which he hadpreviously planted defiantly on a trunk. 

"That's so you can't throw me out. "

"Well?"

"I'm going to be fresh as paint. "

"You are?" said Stover, mystified and amused. 

"Fact, " said Finnegan, who, having crossed his legs, plunged his handsinto his pockets and cocked one eye, said impressively: "Dink, you'rewrong. "

"I am--am I?"

"But never mind; I'm here. Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan--ready andwilling. "

"Irishman, I do believe you're embarrassed, " said Stover, surprised. 

"I'm not, " said Finnegan indignantly. "Only--only, I want to beimpressive. Dink, you're getting in wrong again. "

"What in thunder----"

"You are, Dink, you are. But don't worry; I'm here. In the firstplace, you can't forget what every one else has forgotten. "

"Forget what?"

"The late unpleasantness, " said Finnegan, with an expelling wave ofhis hand. "That's over, spiked, dished, set back, covered up, cobwebbed, no flowers and no tombstone. "

"I know. "

"No, you don't--that's just it. You've got it on your mind--broodingand all that sort of thing. "

Stover sat down and stared at the Lilliputian philosopher. 

"Well, I like your nerve!"

"Don't--don't start in like that, " said Finnegan, rolling up hissleeves over his funny, thin forearms, "cause I shall have to thrashyou. "

"Well, go on, " said Stover suddenly. 

"You're not in Coventry--you never have been. You're one of us, " saidDennis glibly. "BUT--I repeat BUT--you can't be one of us if you don'tbelieve in your own noddle that you are one of us! Get that? That'sdeep--no charge, always glad to oblige a customer. "

"Keep on, " said Stover, leaning back. 

"With your kind permission, directly. It's all in this--you haven'tgot the trick. "

"The trick?"

"The trick of conversation. That's not just it. The trick of answeringback. Aha, that's better! Scratch out first sentiment. Changesignals!"

"There's something in that, " said Stover, genuinely amazed. 

"You blush. "

"What?"

"The word was blush, " said Finnegan firmly. "I saw you--Finnegan sawyou and grieved. And why? Because you didn't have the trick ofanswering back. "

"Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, " said Stover slowly, "I believeyou are a whole-hearted little cuss. Also, you're not so far off, either. Now, since this is a serious conversation, this is where Istand: I went through Hades last spring--I deserved it and it's doneme good. I've come back to make good. Savez? And that's a seriousthing, too. Now if you have one particular theory about your art ofconversation to elucidate--eluce. "

"One theory!" said Finnegan, chirping along as he perceived thedanger-point passed. "I'm a theorist, and a real theorist doesn't haveone theory; he has dozens. Let me see; let me think, reflect, cogitate, tickle the thinker. Best way is to start at the A, B, C--first principles, all that sort of thing. Supposin', supposin' youcome into the room with that hat on--it's a bum hat, by the way--andsome one pipes up; 'Get that at the fire sale?' What are you going toanswer?"

"Why, I suppose I'd grin, " said Stover slowly, "and say: 'How did youguess it?'"

"Wrong, " said Finnegan. "You let him take the laugh. "

"Well, what?"

"Something in this style: 'Oh, no, I traded it for luck with asquint-eyed, humpbacked biter-off of puppy-dog tails that got it outof Rockefeller's ashcan. ' See?"

"No, Dennis, no, " said Stover, bewildered. "I see, but there are somethings beyond me. Every one isn't a young Shakspere. "

"I know, " said Finnegan, accepting the tribute without hesitation. "But there's the principle. You go him one better. You make him looklike a chump. You show him what you could have said in his place. Thatshuts him up, makes him feel foolish, spikes the gun, corks thebottle. "

"By Jove!"

"It's what I call the Superiority of the Superlative over theComparative. "

"It sounds simple, " said Stover pensively. 

"When you know the trick. "

"You know, Dennis, " said Stover, smiling reminiscently, "I used tohave the gift of gab once, almost up to you. "

"Then let's take a few crouching starts, " said Dennis, delighted. 

"Go ahead. "

"Room full of fellows. You enter. "

"I enter. "

"I speak: 'Dink, I bet Bill here a quarter that you used atoothbrush. '"

"You lose, " said Stover; "I use a whisk-broom. "

"Good!" said Dennis professionally, "but a little quicker, on thejump, get on the spring-board. Try again. 'Why, Dink, how _do_ youget such pink cheeks?'"

"That's a hard one, " said Dink. 

"Peanuts!"

"Let me think. "

"Bad, very bad. "

"Well, what would you say?"

"Can't help it, Bill; the girls won't let me alone!"

"Try me again, " said Stover, laughing. 

"Say, Dink, did your mamma kiss you good-by?"

"Sure, Mike, " said Stover instantly; "combed my hair, dusted my hands, and told me not to talk to fresh little kids like you. "

"Why, Dink, come to my arms, " said Dennis, delighted. "A Number 1. Mark 100 for the term. That's the trick. "

"Think I'll do?"

"Sure pop. Of course, there are times when the digestion's jumpingfences and you get sort of in the thunder glums. Then just answer, 'Isthat the best you can do to-day?' or 'Why, you're a real funny man, aren't you?' sarcastic and sassy. "

"I see. "

"But better be original. "

"Of course. "

"Oh, it's all a knack. "

"And to think that's all there is to it!" said Stover, profoundlymoved. 

"When you know, " said Dennis in correction. 

"Dennis, I have a thought, " said Stover suddenly. "Let's get out andtry the system. "

"Presto!"

"The Jigger Shop?"

"Why tarry?"

On the way over Dink stopped short with an exclamation. 

"What now?" said Finnegan. 

"Tough McCarty and a female, " said Stover in great indignation. 

They stood aside, awkwardly snatching off their caps as McCarty andhis companion passed them on the walk. Stover saw a bit of blue feltwith the white splash of a wing across, a fluffy shirtwaist, and askirt that was a skirt, and nothing else. His glance went to McCarty, meeting it with the old, measuring antagonism. They passed. 

"Damn him!" said Stover. 

"Why, Dink, how shocking!"

"He's grown!"

In the joy of his own increased stature he had never dreamed that likeprocesses of Nature produce like results. 

"Ten pounds heavier, " said Dennis. "He ought to make a peach of atackle this year!"

"Bringing girls around!" said Stover scornfully, to vent his rage. 

"More to be pitied than blamed, " sang Dennis on a popular air. "It'shis sister. Luscious eyes--quite the figure, too. "

"Figure--huh!" said Stover, who hadn't seen. 

At the Jigger Shop the Gutter Pup, looking up from a meringue entirelysurrounded by peach jiggers, hailed them:

"Hello, Rinky Dink! Changed your mind, eh? Thought you were homesick. "

"Sure I was, but Dennis came in with a bucket and caught the tears, "said Stover gravely. "I'll call you in next time. Al, how be you?Here's what I owe you. Set 'em up. "

"_Très bien_!" said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan. 

That night, as they started on the problem of interior decorations, Stover threw himself on the bed, rolling with laughter. 

"Well, I'm glad you've decided to be cheerful; but what in blazes areyou hee-hawing at?" said the Tennessee Shad, mystified. 

"I'm laughing, " said Stover, loud enough for Dennis down the hall tohear, "at the Superiority of the Superlative over the Comparative. "

XII

"Why, look at the Dink!" said Lovely Mead the next afternoon, asStover emerged in football togs which he had industriously smearedwith mud to conceal their novelty. 

"He must be going out for the 'Varsity!" said Fatty Harrissarcastically. 

"By request, " said the Gutter Pup. 

"Why, who told you?" said Stover. 

"You trying for the 'Varsity?" said Lovely Mead incredulously. "Why, where did you play football?"

"Dear me, Lovely, " said Stover, lacing his jacket, "thought you readthe newspapers. "

"Huh! What position are you trying for?"

"First substitute scorer, " said Stover, according to Finnegan'stheory. "Any more questions?"

Lovely Mead, surprised, looked at Stover in perplexity and remainedsilent. 

Dink, laughing to himself at the ease of the trick, started across theCircle for the 'Varsity football field, whither already the candidateswere converging to the first call of the season. 

He had started joyfully forth from the skeptics on the steps, but oncepast the chapel and in sight of the field his gait abruptly changed. He went quietly, thoughtfully, a little alarmed at his own daring, glancing at the padded figures that overtopped him. 

The veterans with the red L on their black sweaters were apart, tossing the ball back and forth and taking playful tackles at oneanother. Stover, hiding himself modestly in the common herd, watchedwith entranced eyes the lithe, sinuous forms of Flash Condit andCharlie DeSoto--greater to him than the faint heroes of mythology--asthey tumbled the Waladoo Bird gleefully on the ground. There wasButcher Stevens of the grim eye and the laconic word, a man to followand emulate; and the broad span of Turkey Reiter's shoulders, a markto grow to. Meanwhile, Garry Cockrell, the captain, and Mr. Ware, thenew coach from the Princeton championship eleven, were drawing neareron their tour of inspection and classification. Dink knew his captainonly from respectful distances--the sandy hair, the gaunt cheek bonesand the deliberate eye, whom governors of states alone might approachwith equality, and no one else. Under the dual inspection the squadwas quickly sorted, some sent back to their House teams till anotheryear brought more weight and experience, and others tentativelyretained on the scrubs. 

"Better make the House team, Jenks, " said the low, even voice of thecaptain. "You want to harden up a bit. Glad you reported, though. "

Then Dink stood before his captain, dimly aware of the quick littleeyes of Mr. Ware quietly scrutinizing him. 

"What form?"

"Third. "

The two were silent a moment studying not the slender, wiry figure, but the look in the eyes within. 

"What are you out for?"

"End, sir. "

"What do you weigh?"

"One hundred and fifty--about, " said Dink. 

A grim little twinkle appeared in the captain's eyes. 

"About one hundred and thirty-five, " he said, with a measuring glance. 

"But I'm hard, hard as nails, sir, " said Stover desperately. 

"What football have you played?"

Stover remained silent. 

"Well?"

"I--I haven't played, " he said unwillingly. 

"You seem unusually eager, " said Cockrell, amused at this strangeexhibition of willingness. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Good spirit; keep it up. Get right out for your House team----"

"I won't!" said Stover, blurting it out in his anger and thenflushing: "I mean, give me a chance, won't you, sir?"

Cockrell, who had turned, stopped and came back. 

"What makes you think you can play?" he said not unkindly. 

"I've got to, " said Stover desperately. 

"But you don't know the game. "

"Please, sir, I'm not out for the 'Varsity, " said Stover confusedly. "I mean, I want to be in it, to work for the school, sir. "

"You're not a Freshman?" said the captain, and the accents of hisvoice were friendly. 

"No, sir. "

"What's your name?" said Cockrell, a little thrilled to feel thegenuine veneration that inspired the "sir. "

"Stover--Dink Stover. "

"You were down at the Green last year, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir, " said Stover, looking down with a sinking feeling. 

"You're the fellow who tried to fight the whole House?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, Dink, this is a little different--you can't play football onnothing but nerve. "

"You can if you've got enough of it, " said Stover, all in a breath. "Please, sir, give me a chance. You can fire me if I'm no good. I onlywant to be useful. You've got to have a lot of fellows to stand thebanging and you can bang me around all day. I do know something aboutit, sir; I've practiced tackling and falling on the ball all summer, and I'm hard as nails. Just give me a chance, will you? Just onechance, sir. "

Cockrell looked at Mr. Ware, whose eye showed the battling spark as henodded. 

"Here, Dink, " he said gruffly, "I can't be wasting any more time overyou. I told you to go back to the House team, didn't I?"

Stover, with a lump in his throat, nodded the answer he could notutter. 

"Well, I've changed my mind. Get over there in the squad. "

The revulsion of feeling was so sudden that tears came into Stover'seyes. 

"You're really going to let me stay?"

"Get over there, you little nuisance!"

Dink went a few steps, and then stopped and tightened his shoelaces along minute. 

"Too bad the little devil is so light, " said Cockrell to Mr. Ware. 

"Best player I ever played against had no right on a football field. "

"But one hundred and thirty-five!"

"Yes, that's pretty light. "

"What the deuce were you chinning so long about?" said Cheyenne Baxterto Dink, as he came joyfully into the squad. 

"Captain wanted just a bit of general expert advice from me, " saidDink defiantly. "I've promised to help out. "

The squad, dividing, practiced starts. Stover held his own, beingnaturally quick; and though Flash Condit and Charlie DeSoto distancedhim, still he earned a good word for his performances. 

Presently Mr. Ware came up with a ball and, with a few words ofintroduction, started them to falling on it as it bounded grotesquelyover the ground, calling them from the ranks by name. 

"Hard at it, Stevens. "

"Dive at it. "

"Don't stop till you get it. "

"Oh, squeeze the ball!"

Stover, moving up, caught the eye of Mr. Ware intently on him, androse on his toes with the muscles in his arms strained and eager. 

"Now, Stover, hard!"

The ball with just an extra impetus left the hand of Mr. Ware. Stoverwent at it like a terrier, dove and came up glorious and muddy withthe pigskin hugged in his arms. It was the extent of his footballknowledge, but that branch he had mastered on the soft summer turf. 

Mr. Ware gave a grunt of approval and sent him plunging after another. This time as he dove the ball took a tricky bounce and slipped throughhis arms. Quick as a flash Dink, rolling over, recovered himself andflung himself on it. 

"That's the way!" said Mr. Ware. "Follow it up. Can't always get itthe first time. Come on, Baxter. "

The real test came with the tackling. He waited his turn, all eyes, trying to catch the trick, as boy after boy in front of him wentcleanly or awkwardly out to down the man who came plunging at him. Some tackled sharply and artistically, their feet leaving the groundand taking the runner off his legs as though a scythe had passed underhim; but most of the tackling was crude, and often the runner slippedthrough the arms and left the tackler prone on the ground to rise amidthe jeers of his fellows. 

"Your turn, Stover, " said the voice of the captain. "Wait a minute. "He looked over the squad and selected McCarty, saying: "Here, Tough, come out here. Here's a fellow thinks all you need in this game isnerve. Let's see what he's got. "

Dink stood out, neither hearing nor caring for the laugh that went up. He glanced up fifteen yards away where Tough McCarty stood waiting thestarting signal. He was not afraid, he was angry clean through, readyto tackle the whole squad, one after another. 

"Shall I take it sideways?" said Tough, expecting to be tackled fromthe side as the others had been. 

"No, head on, Tough. Let's see if you can get by him, " said Cockrell. "Let her go!"

McCarty, with the memory of past defiances, went toward Stover headdown, full tilt. Ordinarily in practice the runner slackens justbefore the tackle; but McCarty, expecting slight resistance from anovice, arrived at top speed. 

Stover, instead of hesitating or waiting the coming, hurled himselfrecklessly forward. Shoulder met knee with a crash that threw themboth. Stunned by the savage impact, Stover, spilled head over heels, dizzy and furious, instinctively flung himself from his knees upon theprostrate body of McCarty, as he had followed the elusive ball amoment before. 

"That's instinct, football instinct, " said Mr. Ware to Cockrell, asthey approached the spot where Dink, still dazed, was clutching ToughMcCarty's knees in a convulsive hug. 

"Let go! Let go there, you little varmint, " said Tough McCarty, considerably shaken. "How long are you going to hold me here?"

Some one touched Dink on the shoulder; he looked up through the blurto see the captain's face. 

"All right, Dink, get up. "

But Stover released his grip not a whit. 

"Here, you young bulldog, " said Cockrell with a laugh, "it's all over. Let go. Stand up. Sort of groggy, eh?"

Dink, pulled to his feet, felt the earth slip under him in drunkenreelings. 

"I missed him, " he said brokenly, leaning against Mr. Ware. 

"H'm, not so bad, " said the coach gruffly. 

"How do you feel?" said Garry Cockrell, looking at him with his quietsmile. 

Dink saw the smile and misjudged it. 

"Give me another chance, " he cried furiously. "I'll get him. "

"What! Ready for another tackle?" said the captain, looking at himintently. 

"Please, sir. "

"Well, get your head clear first. "

"Let me take it now, sir!"

"All right. "

"Hit him harder than he hits you, and grip with your hands, " said thevoice of Mr. Ware in his ear. 

Dink stood out again. The earth was gradually returning to a state ofequilibrium, but his head was buzzing and his legs were decidedlyrebels to his will. 

The captain, seeing this, to give him time, spoke to McCarty with justa shade of malice. 

"Well, Tough, do you want to take it again?"

"Do I?" said McCarty sarcastically. "Oh, yes, most enjoyable! Don'tlet me interfere with your pleasure. Why don't you try it yourself?"

"Would you rather watch?"

"Oh, no, of course not. This is a real pleasure, thank you. The littledevil would dent a freight train. "

"All ready, Stover?" said Cockrell. 

The players stood in two lines, four yards apart. No one laughed. Theylooked at Stover, thrilling a little with his communicatedrecklessness, grunting forth their approval. 

"Good nerve. "

"The real stuff. "

"Pure grit. "

"Little devil. "

Stover's face had gone white, the eyes had dwindled and set intensely, the line of the mouth was drawn taut, while on his forehead the windlifted the matted hair like a banner. In the middle of the lane, crowding forward, his arms out, ready to spring, his glance fixed onMcCarty, he waited like a champion guarding the pass. 

"All right, Stover?"

Some one near him repeated the question. 

"Come on!" he answered. 

McCarty's one hundred and seventy pounds came rushing down. But thistime the instinct was strong. He slacked a bit at the end as Stover, not waiting his coming, plunged in to meet him. Down they went again, but this time it was the force of Stover's impact that threw them. 

When Cockrell came up, Dink, altogether groggy, was entwined aroundone leg of McCarty with a gaunt grin of possession. 

They hauled him up, patted him on the back and walked him up and downin the cool breeze. Suddenly, after several minutes, the mist rose. Hesaw the fields and heard the sharp cries of the coaches prodding onthe players. Then he looked up to find Garry Cockrell's arm about him. 

"All right now?" said the captain's voice. 

Stover hastily put the arm away from him. 

"I'm all right. "

"Did I give you a little too much, youngster?"

"I'm ready again, " said Stover instantly. 

Cockrell laughed a short, contented laugh. 

"You've done enough for to-day. "

"I'll learn how, " said Dink doggedly. 

"You know the real things in football now, my boy, " said the captainshortly. "We'll teach you the rest. "

Dink thought he meant it sarcastically. 

"You will give me a chance, won't you?" he said. 

"Yes, " said the captain, laying his hand on his shoulder with a smile. "You'll get chance enough, my boy. Fact is, I'm going to start you inat end on the scrub. You'll get all the hard knocks you're looking forthere. You won't get any credit for what you do--but you boys arewhat's going to make the team. "

"Oh, sir, do you mean it?"

"I'm in the habit of meaning things. "

"I'll--I'll----" began Stover, and then stopped before theimpossibility of expressing how many times his life should be thrownto the winds. 

"I know you will, " said the captain, amused. "And now, you youngbulldog, back to your room and shake yourself together. "

"But I want to go on; I'm feeling fine. "

"Off the field, " said the captain with terrific sternness. 

Dink went like a dog ordered home, slowly, unwillingly, turning fromtime to time in hopes that his captain would relent. 

When he had passed the chapel and the strife of the practice haddropped away he felt all at once sharp, busy pains running up his backand over his shoulders. But he minded them not. At that moment withthe words of the captain--_his_ captain forever now--ringing in hisears, he would have gone forth gratefully to tackle the whole team, one after another, from wiry little Charlie DeSoto to the elephantineP. Lentz. 

Suddenly a thought came to him. 

"Gee, I bet I shook up Tough McCarty, anyhow, " he said grimly. Andrefreshed by this delightful thought he went briskly across theCircle. 

At the steps Finnegan, coming out the door, hailed him excitedly:

"Hi, Dink, we've got a Freshman who's setting up to jiggers andéclairs. Hurry up!"

"No, " said Dink. 

"What?" said Dennis faintly. 

"I can't, " said Dink, bristling; "I'm in training. "

XIII

The Tennessee Shad, reclining in an armchair softened by sofacushions, gave critical directions to Dink Stover and Dennis de Briande Boru Finnegan, to whom, with great unselfishness, he hadsurrendered all the privileges of the hanging committee. 

"Suppose _you_ agitate yourself a little, " said Dink, descending froma rickety chair which, placed on a table, had allowed him to suspend asporting print from the dusty moulding. 

"The sight of you at hard labor, " said Finnegan, from a bureau on theother side of the room, "would fill me with cheer, delectation andcomfort. "

The Tennessee Shad, by four convulsive processes, reached his feet. 

"Oh, very well, " he said carelessly. "Thought you preferred to runthis show yourselves. "

Picking up a poster, he selected with malicious intent the mostunsuitable spot in the room and started to climb the bureau, remarking:

"This is about it, I should say. "

The artistic souls of Dink and Dennis protested. 

"Murder, no!"

"You chump!"

"Too big for it. "

"Well, if you know so much, " said the Tennessee Shad, halting beforethe last upward struggle and holding out the poster, "where would youput it?"

Stover and Dennis indignantly bore the poster away and with mucheffort and straining tacked it in an appropriate place. 

"Why, that is better, " said the Tennessee Shad admiringly, regaininghis chair, not too openly. "Much better. Looks fine! Great! Say, I'vegot an idea. Stick the ballet girl under it. "

"What?"

"You're crazy!"

"Well, where would you put it?"

"Here, you chump. "

"Why, that's not half bad, either, " said the Tennessee Shad, once moreback among the cushions. "A trifle more to the left, down--nowup--good--make fast. First rate; guess you have the best eye. Nowwhere are you going to put this?"

By this process of self-debasement and generous exterior admirationthe Tennessee Shad successfully perceived the heavy hanging andarranging brought to a satisfactory conclusion. 

The vital touches were given, the transom was hung with heavy blackcanvas; a curtain of the same was so arranged as to permit its beingdrawn over the telltale cracks of the door. Dennis and Stover, sent toreconnoiter from the hall, waited while the Tennessee Shad passed alighted candle back and forth over the sealed entrance. One traitorcrack was discovered and promptly obliterated. 

"Now we're secure, " said the Tennessee Shad. "Cave of Silence and allthat sort of thing. The Old Roman would have to smell us to get on. "

"How about the windows?" said Dink. 

"They're a cinch, " said the Shad. "When you get the shade down and theshutters closed a blanket will fix them snug as a bug in a rug. Now, at nine o'clock we can go to bed without suffering from drafts. Ha, ha--joke. "

"Burn the midnight oil, etceteray--etcetera. "

"To-morrow, " said the Tennessee Shad, "Volts Mashon is going toinstall a safety light for us. "

"Elucidate, " said Dink. 

"A safety light is a light that has a connection with the door. Shutdoor, light; open door, where is Moses? Midnight reading made apleasure. "

"Marvelous!"

"Oh, I've heard of that before, " said Finnegan. 

The Tennessee Shad, meanwhile, had been busy stretching a string fromhis bed to the hot-air register and from a stick at the foot of hisbed to a pulley at the top. 

Stover and Finnegan waited respectfully until the Shad, havingfinished his operations, deigned to give a practical exhibition. 

"This thing is simple, " said he, stretching out on his bed and pullinga string at one side. "Opens hot-air register. No applause necessary. But this is a little, comforting idea of my own. Protection fromsudden change of temperature without bodily exposure. " Extending hishand he pulled the other rope, which, running through the pulley overhis head, brought the counterpane quickly over him. "How's that? Nositting up, reaching down, fumbling about in zero weather. "

"That's good as far as it goes, " said Dennis, whose natural state wasnot one of reverence; "but how about the window? Some one has to getup and shut the window. "

"Simple as eggs, " said the Shad, yawning disdainfully. "A string and apulley do the trick, see? Down comes the window. All worked at thesame exchange. Well, Dink, you may lead the cheer. "

Now, Stover suddenly remembered a device he had been told of, and, remembering it, to give it the appearance of improvisation hepretended to deliberate. 

"Well, " said the Tennessee Shad, surprised, "my humble littleinventions don't seem to impress you. "

"Naw. "

"They don't, eh! Why not?"

"Oh, it's the right principle, " said Stover, assuming a deliberatelook; "but crude, very crude, backwoods, primitive, and all that sortof thing. "

The Tennessee Shad, amazed, looked at Finnegan, who spoke:

"Crude, Dink?"

"Why, yes. All depends on whether the Shad wakes up or not. And then, why hand labor?"

"I suppose you have something more recherché to offer, " said theTennessee Shad cuttingly, having recovered. 

"Why, yes, I might, " said Stover coolly. "A real inventor would runthe whole thing by machinery. Who's got an alarm clock?"

Dennis, mystified, returned running with his. 

Stover, securing it with strings, fastened it firmly on the table, which he moved near the scene of operations. He then lowered the upperhalf of the window, assuring himself that a slight impetus would startit. To the sash he attached a stout string which he ran through apulley fixed to the top of the window frame; to the string he fasteneda weight which he carefully balanced on the edge of a chair; to theweight, thus fastened, he attached another string which he led to theclock and made fast to the stem that wound the alarm. Then hestraightened up, cast a glance over the Shad's handiwork and went tothe register. 

"When the window shuts it should open the register, of course--firstprinciples, " he said crushingly. He disconnected the string from thebed and arranged it on the window. Having wound the clock he addressedhis audience:

"It's a simple little thing, " he said with a wave of his hand. "Ihappened to remember that the key of an alarm clock turns as the alarmworks. That's all there is to it. Set the alarm when you want to wakeup--see--like this. Alarm goes off, winds up spring, throws weight offbalance, weight falls, shuts the window, opens the register and youstay under the covers. Practical demonstration now proceeding. "

The mechanism worked exactly as he had predicted. The Tennessee Shadand the Wild Irishman, transfixed with awe, watched with droppedmouths the operation. Finnegan, the first to recover, salaamed in trueOriental fashion. 

"Mr. Edison, " he said in a whisper, "don't take advantage of twoinnocent babes in the wood. Did you honestly just work this out?"

"Oh, no, of course not, " said Dink loftily. "My father told me, --itcost him a fortune; he gave years of his life to perfecting it!"

"And this to me!" said the exponent of the superlative reproachfully. 

The Tennessee Shad rose and offered his hand with a gesture worthy ofWashington. 

"Sir to you. I am your humble servant. Wonderful! Marvelous! Smashing!Terrific! Sublime!"

"Do it again, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru. 

The alarm being wound and set, the operation was repeated with thesame success, while Dennis danced about excitedly and the TennesseeShad contemplated it with dreamy absorption. 

"Jemima!" said Dennis. "And it works for any time?"

"Any time, " said Dink, with one hand gracefully resting on his hip. 

"Cracky!" exclaimed Dennis, prancing excitedly toward the door. "I'llget the whole House up. "

"Dennis!"

Finnegan stopped, surprised at the note of authority in the TennesseeShad's voice. 

"Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan; back and sit down. "

"What's wrong?"

"You would call in the whole House, would you?"

"Why not?" said Dink, thirsting for the applause of the multitude. 

"Dink, oh, Dink!" said the Shad, in profound sorrow. "You would throwaway a secret worth millions, would you?"

Dink looked at Dennis, who returned the look, and then with asimultaneous motion they sat down. 

"This invention has millions in it, millions, " said the TennesseeShad, promoter. "It is simple, but revolutionary. Every room in theschool must be equipped with it. "

"Then there's all the apartment houses, " said Dennis eagerly. 

"That will come later, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"We'll patent it, " said Stover, seeing clouds of gold. 

"Certainly, " said the promoter. "We will patent the principle. "

"Let's form a company. "

The three rose and solemnly joined hands. 

"What shall we call it?"

"The Third Triumvirate?" said Dennis. 

"Good!" said the Tennessee Shad. 

"What shall we charge?" said Dink. 

"We must make a dollar profit on each, " said the Tennessee Shad. "Thatmeans--four hundred fellows in the school--allowing for roommates;we should clear two hundred and ten dollars at the lowest. That meansseventy dollars apiece profit. "

"Let's begin, " said Dennis. 

"I'm unalterably opposed, " said Dink, "to allowing Doc Macnooder inthe firm. "

"Me, too, " said Dennis. 

"Doc is strong on detail, " said the Tennessee Shad doubtfully. 

"I'm unalterably opposed, " said Dink, "to allowing Doc Macnooder toswallow this firm. "

"Me, too, " said Dennis. 

"Doc has great business experience, " said the Tennessee Shad;"wonderful, practical mind. "

"I'm unalterably----" said Dink and stopped, as the rest wassuperfluous. 

"Me, too, " said Dennis. 

"Some one's got to work for us in the other Houses. "

"Make him our foreign representative, " said Stover. 

"And give him a commission?"

"Sure--ten per cent. "

"No more, " said Dennis. "Even that cuts down our profits. "

"All right, " said the Tennessee Shad. "As you say, so be it. Butstill I think Doc Macnooder's business sagacity----"

At this moment Doc Macnooder walked into the room. The three futuremillionaires responded to his greeting with dignity, keeping in mindthat distance which should separate a board of directors from a meretraveling man. 

"Hello, " said Macnooder glibly. "All ship-shape and ready for action. Tea served here and chafing-dish ready for the midnight rabbit. Ha, ha, Dink, still got the souvenir toilet set, I see. "

"Still, but not long, " said Dink. "But that story comes later. Sitdown, Doc, and pay attention. "

"Why so much chestiness?" said Doc, puzzled. "I haven't sold anythingto any of you, have I?"

"Doc, " said Stover, "we have formed a company and we want to talkbusiness. "

"What company?"

"The Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company, " said Dennis. 

"What does it manufacture?"

"This, " said Stover, indicating the appliance. "A combined windowcloser and alarm clock that also opens the register. "

"Let's see it, " said Macnooder, all excitement. 

The demonstration took place. Macnooder the enthusiast was conquered, but Macnooder the financier remained cold and controlled. He sat down, watched by three pairs of eyes, took from his pocket a pair ofspectacles, placed them on his nose and said indifferently:

"Well?"

"What do you think of it?"

"It's a beaut!"

"I say, Doc, " said Finnegan, "now, won't every fellow in the school becrying for one, won't be happy till he gets it, and all that sort ofthing?"

"Every fellow in the school will have one, " said Macnooder carefully, making a distinction which was perceived only by the Tennessee Shad. 

"Now, Doc, " said Dink, still glowing with his triumph over theTennessee Shad, "let's talk business. "

Macnooder took off the glasses and minutely polished them with hishandkerchief. 

"You've formed a company, eh?"

"The Third Triumvirate--the three of us. "

"Well, where do I come in?"

"You're to be our foreign representative. "

"Commission ten per cent, " added Finnegan carefully. 

The Tennessee Shad said nothing, waiting expectantly. Macnooder rosewhistling through his teeth and stood gazing down at the alarm clock. 

"Foreign representative, commission ten per cent, " he said softly. 

"We thought we'd give you first whack at it, " said Stover in acareless, business-like way. 

"So. What's your idea of developing it?"

"Why, we thought of installing it for a dollar. "

"With the clock?"

"Oh, no! The clock extra. "

"Charging a dollar for string and pulley?"

"And the invention. "

"Humph!"

"Well, Doc, is it a go?" said Dink, observing him fall into a revery. 

"No, I guess I'm not much interested in this, " said Macnooder, takingup his hat. "There's no money in it. "

"Why, Doc, " said Finnegan, aghast, "you said yourself every fellowwould have to have it. "

"Would have it, " said Macnooder in correction. "The invention's allright, but it's not salable. "

"Why not?"

"Nothing to sell. First fellow who sees it can do it himself. "

Finnegan looked at Stover, who suddenly felt his pockets lighten. 

"Doc is very strong on detail, " said the Tennessee Shad softly, in areminiscent way. 

"You might sell it to one fellow, " said Macnooder, "without tellinghim. But soon as you set it up every one will copy it. "

"Great business head, " continued the Tennessee Shad. 

"It's a good idea, " said Macnooder condescendingly. "You might get avote of thanks, but that's all you would get. Do you see the rub?"

"I see, " said Dink. 

"Me, too, " said Dennis. 

"And a wonderful practical mind, " concluded the Tennessee Shaddreamily. 

"Well, let's be public benefactors then, " said Dennis in a melancholytone. 

"And such a beautiful idea, " said Dink mournfully. 

"I move the Third Triumvirate disband, " said the Tennessee Shad; andthere was no objection. 

"Now, " said Doc Macnooder briskly, sitting down, "I'll put my ownproposition to you amateurs. There's only one way to make the thinggo, and I've got the way. I take all responsibility and all risks. AllI ask is control of the stock--fifty-one per cent. "

Ten minutes later the Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company wasreformed on the following basis:

 PRESIDENT Doc Macnooder, 51 shares. ADVISORY BOARD The Third Triumvirate. TREASURER Doc Macnooder. 

 PAID-UP CAPITAL

 Macnooder $5. 10 The Tennessee Shad 1. 70 Dink Stover 1. 70 Dennis de B. De B. Finnegan 1. 50

"Now, " said Macnooder, when the articles were safely signed and thecapital paid up, "here's the way we work it. We've got to do twothings: first, conceal the way it's done until we sell it; and second, keep those who buy from letting on. "

"That's hard, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"But necessary. I'm thinking out a plan. "

"Of course the first part is a cinch, " said Dennis. "A few extras, etcetera, etceteray. It's putting the ribbons in the lingerie, that'sall. "

"Exactly. "

"You don't think it's selling goods under false pretenses?"

"Naw, " said Macnooder. "Same principle as the patent medicine--theonly wheel that goes round there is a nice, fat temperance measure ofalcohol, isn't it? We'll have the first public demonstrationto-morrow afternoon. I'll distribute a few more pearls to-night. Ta, ta. "

The three sat quietly, listening to the fall of his departing steps. 

"If we'd asked him in the first place, " said the Tennessee Shad, gazing out the window, "we'd only given up twenty-five percent. --great business head, Doc; great mind for detail. "

XIV

Macnooder, that night, formed the Eureka Purchasing Company, incorporated himself, and secured, at jigger rates, every second-handalarm clock on which he could lay his hands--but more of thathereafter. 

At five o'clock the next afternoon the combined Kennedy House packeditself into the Tennessee Shad's room, where Doc Macnooder rose andaddressed them:

"Gentlemen of the Kennedy: I will only detain you an hour or so; Ihave only a few thousand words to offer. We are gathered here on anauspicious occasion, a moment of history--the moment _is_ historical. Your esteemed Housemate, Mr. Dink Stover, has completed, after yearsof endeavor, an invention that is destined to be a household word fromthe northernmost wilds of the Davis House to the sun-kissed fragranceof the Green, from the Ethiopian banks of the fur-bearing canal to theWestern Tins of Hot-dog Land! Gentlemen, I will be frank----"

"Cheese it!" said a voice. 

"I will be frank, " repeated Macnooder, turning on them a countenanceon which candor struggled with innocence. "I did not wish orencourage the present method of procedure. As a member of theDickinson House I combated the proposition of Mr. Stover and hisassociates to make this invention a Kennedy House sinecure. I stillcombat it--but I yield. If they wish to give away their profits theycan. Gentlemen, in a few moments I shall have the pleasure of placingbefore you an opportunity to become shareholders in one of the mostepoch-making inventions the world has ever known. "

"What's it called?" said a voice. 

"It's called, " said Macnooder slowly, secure now of the attention ofhis audience, "it's called The Complete Sleep Prolonger. The titleitself is a promise and a hope. I will claim nothing for thiswonderful little invention. It not only combats the cold, but itencourages the heat; it prolongs not only the sleep, but theexistence; it will increase the stature, make fat men thin, thin menimpressive, clear the complexion, lighten the eye and make the hairlong and curly. "

"Let's have it, " cried several voices. 

"Gentlemen, " said Macnooder, seeing that no further delay waspossible, "our first demonstration will be entitled The Old Way. "

Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, in pajamas, appeared from a closet, went to the window, opened it, shut the register, yawned, went to hisbed and drew the covers over his head. The faint sounds of a mandolinwere heard from the expert hands of the Tennessee Shad. 

"Scene, " said Macnooder, fitting his accents to low music as is thecustom of vaudeville--"scene represents the young Lawrenceville boy, exhausted by the preparation of the next day's lessons, seeking torest his too conscientious brain. The night passes, the wind rises. Itgrows cold. Hark the rising bell. He hears it not. What now? He risesin his bed, the room is bitter cold. He bounds to the window over thefrozen ground. He springs to the register and back to his bed. Helooks at his watch. Heavens! Not a moment to lose. The room is bittercold, but he must up and dress!"

Finnegan, completing the pantomime, returned with thunders ofapplause. 

"Gentlemen, " cried Macnooder, "is this picture a true one?"

And the roar came back:

"You bet!"

"Our next instructive little demonstration is entitled The ScientificWay or The Sleep Prolonger Watches Over Him. Observe now the modestmovements of the Dink, the Kennedy House Edison. "

Dink, thus introduced, connected the hot-air register to the windowsash, the window sash to the weight--specially covered with tinfoil--and brought forth the table on which was the now completed SleepProlonger. Only the face of the clock appeared, the rest was buriedunder an arrangement of cardboard boxes and perfectly useless spools, that turned with the rope that took a thrice devious way to the alarmkey. In front, two Kennedy House flags were prominently displayed. 

"Is everything ready, Mr. Stover?" said Macnooder, while the crowdcraned forth, amazed at the intricacy of the machine. 

"Ready, Mr. President. "

"Second demonstration, " said Macnooder. 

Finnegan again entered, fixed the register, lowered the window and, going to the clock, set the alarm. 

"He sets the alarm for half-past seven, " said Macnooder in cadence. "One half-hour gained. The night passes. The wind rises. It growscold. Hark the rising bell. He hears it not; he doesn't have to. TheSleep Prolonger is there. "

The alarm shot off with a suddenness that brought responsive jumpsfrom the audience, the weight fell, and to the amazement of all, thewindow closed and the register opened. 

"Watch him now, watch him, " cried Macnooder, hushing the tumult ofapplause. "Observe the comfort and the satisfaction in his look. Hehas not stirred, not a limb of his body has been exposed, and yet theroom grows warm. His eye is on the clock; he will rise in time, and hewill rise in comfort!

"Gentlemen, this great opportunity is now before you. This marvel ofhuman ingenuity, this baffling example of mechanical intricacy is nowwithin your reach. It can do anything. It is yours. It is yours atprices that would make a miner turn from picking up gold nuggets. Itis yours for one dollar and twenty-five cents--twenty-five cents isour profit, gentlemen, and you get one profit-sharing bonus. And, furthermore, each of the first fifteen purchasers who will pay the sumof one-fifty will receive not one, but three eight-per-cent. , accumulative, preferred bonuses. "

"Bonus for what?" said an excited voice. 

"Twenty-five per cent. Of the net profits, " cried Macnooder, thumpingthe table, "will be set aside for pro-rata distribution. The deviceitself remains for three days a secret, until the completion of thepatents. Orders from the model set up and installed in twenty-fourhours now acceptable, cash down. No crowding there, first fifteen getthree bonuses--one at a time; keep back there--no crowding, nopushing--no pushing, boys. Here, stop! Owing to the extraordinarydemand, have I the advisory board's consent to give every purchaserpresent who pays one-fifty three bonuses? I have? Let her go! Mr. Finnegan, take down the names. Cash, right over here!"

"I don't like this idea of bonuses, " said Finnegan, when the rooms hadreturned to their quiet again. 

"Twenty-five per cent. , Doc!" said the Tennessee Shad reproachfully. 

"Why, you chump, " said Macnooder proudly, "that's what's called theprofit-sharing system. It keeps 'em quiet, and it also keeps 'em fromgoing out and giving the game away. Mark my words. "

"But twenty-five per cent. , " said the Tennessee Shad, shaking hishead. 

"Of the profits--net profits, " said Macnooder. "There's a way to getaround that. I'll show you later. "

"We must get to work and round up some alarm clocks, " said Stover. 

"I've already thought of that, " said Doc, as he took his leave. "Don'tworry about that. Now I'll canvas the Dickinson. "

"A slight feeling of uneasiness, " said the Tennessee Shad solemnly, when Macnooder had departed--"a slight feeling of uneasiness isstealing over me, as the poet says. "

"Let's have a look at the articles of incorporation, " said Stover, whosat down with Dennis to study them. 

"We're the advisory board, " said Dennis stoutly. 

"He's got fifty-one per cent. Of the stock, though, " said Dink. 

"But we've got forty-nine!"

The Tennessee Shad, who had not risen from his chair as it involvedextraordinary exertion, was heard repeating in a lonely sort of way tohimself:

"A slight feeling of uneasiness. "

By the next nightfall every room in the Kennedy was equipped with aComplete Sleep Prolonger. Their reception was exactly as Macnooder hadforeseen. At first a roar went up as soon as the simplicity of thedevice was unearthed, but the thought of the precious bonuses soonquelled the revolt. 

Besides, there was no doubt of the great humanizing effects of theinvention, and the demand that it would awaken throughout the wholeschool. 

But an obstacle arose to even the deep-laid plans of Macnooderhimself. As the Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company had boughtits stock from the Eureka Purchasing Company--which had cornered thealarm-clock market--it followed that the alarm clocks were distinctlysecond rate. 

The consequence was that, though all were set for half-past seven, thefirst gun went off at about quarter-past two in the morning, bringingMr. Bundy, the assistant house master, to the middle of the floor inone terrified bound, and starting a giggle that ran the darkened houselike an epidemic. 

At half-past three another explosion took place, aggravated this timeby the fact that, the window pulleys being worn, the sash flew up withenough force to shatter most of the glass. 

At four o'clock, when three more went off in friendly conjunction, TheRoman met Mr. Bundy in the hall in light marching costume, and made afew very forcible remarks on the duties of subordinates--the samebeing accentuated by the wailing complaint of the youngest Roman whichresounded through the house. 

From then on the musketry continued intermittently until half-pastseven, when such a salvo went off that the walls of the house seemedjarred apart. 

The Third Triumvirate went down to breakfast with small appetite. Toadd to their apprehension, during the long wakeful reaches of thenight there had been borne to their ears faint but unmistakable soundsfrom the opposite Dickinson and the Woodhull, which had convinced themthat there, too, the great invention of the age had been betrayed bydefective supplies. 

The Roman looked haggard; Mr. Bundy haggard and aggressive. 

"Northwester coming, " said the Tennessee Shad under his breath. "Iknow the signs. "

"It's all Macnooder, " said Stover bitterly. 

At first recitation The Roman flunked Stover on the review, on thegerund and gerundive, on the use of hendiadys--a most unfairexhibition of persecution--on several supines, and requested him toremain after class. 

"Ahem, John, " he said, bringing to bear the batteries of his eyes onthe embattled Dink, "you were, I take it, at the bottom, so to speak, of last night's outrage. Yes? Speak up. "

"May I ask, sir, " said Dink, very much aggrieved--for masters shouldconfine themselves to evidence and not draw deductions--"I should liketo know by what right you pick on me?"

The Roman, knowing thoroughly the subject under hand, did notcondescend to argue, but smiled a thin, wan smile. 

"You were, John, weren't you?"

"I was--that is, I invented it. "

"Invented it?" said The Roman, sending one eyebrow toward the ceiling. "Invented what?"

"The Sleep Prolonger, " said Dink very proudly. 

"Prolonger!" said The Roman, with the jarring memories of the nightupon him. "Explain, sir!"

Dink went minutely over the detailed construction of the invention ofthe age. By request, he repeated the same while The Roman followed, tracing a plan upon his pad. At the conclusion Dink waitedaggressively, watching The Roman, who continued to stare at hissketch. 

"One question, John, " he said, without raising his eyes. "Was theKennedy the only house thus favored?"

"No, sir. Macnooder installed them in the Dickinson and the Woodhull. "

"Ah!" As though finding comfort in this last statement, The Romanraised his head and said slowly: "Dear me! I see, I see now. Quite arelief. It is evident from your recital, John, that at least there wasno concerted effort to destroy the property of the school. I withdrawthe term outrage, in so far as it may suggest outrages of pillage oranarchy. As to the continued usefulness of what you so felicitouslyterm the Sleep Prolonger, that will have to be a subject ofconsultation with the Doctor, but--but, as your friend, I shouldadvise you, for the present, not to risk any further capital in theventure. Don't do it, John, don't do it. "

"Tyrant!" said Stover to himself. Aloud he asked: "Is that all, sir?"

"One moment--one moment, John. Are you contemplating any furtherinventions?"

"Why, no, sir. "

"On your honor, John?"

"Why, yes, sir. "

"Good--very good. You may go now. "

At noon, by virtue of an extraordinary order from headquarters, allalarm clocks were confiscated and ordered to be surrendered. 

"It's all the Old Roman, " said Stover doggedly. "He knew it was myinvention. He's got it in for me, I tell you. "

"Anyhow, " said Finnegan, "since Doc planted a few Prolongers in theDickinson and the Woodhull we ought to be able to stack up a few nice, round plunks. "

The Tennessee Shad looked very thoughtful. 

At this moment the Gutter Pup and P. Lentz, representing theprofit-sharing stockholders, called to know when the surplus was to bedivided. 

"Macnooder is now at work on the books, " said Dink. "We expect himover at any time. "

But when at eight o'clock that evening no word had been received fromthe president, the Third Triumvirate held a meeting and sent theTennessee Shad over to the Dickinson, with orders to return only withthe bullion, for which purpose he was equipped with a small, blacksatchel. 

Just before lights the Tennessee Shad's dragging step was heardreturning. 

"I don't like the sound, " said Dink, listening. 

"He always shuffles his feet, " said Dennis, clinging to hope. 

The door opened and the Tennessee Shad, carrying the black satchel, solemnly entered. Dink flung himself on the bag, wrenched it open andlet it drop, exclaiming:

"Nothing!"

"Nothing?" said Dennis, rising. 

"Nothing, " said the Tennessee Shad, sitting down. 

"But the profits?"

"The profits, " said the Tennessee Shad, pointing sarcastically to thebag, "are in there. "

"Do you mean to say----" began Dink and stopped. 

"I mean to say that the Third Triumvirate Manufacturing Company isinsolvent, bankrupt, busted, up the spout. "

"But then, who's got the coin?"

"Doc Macnooder, " said the Tennessee Shad, "and it's all legal. "

"Legal?"

"All legal. It's this way. Our profits depended upon the price we paidfor alarm clocks. See? Well, when Doc Macnooder, as president of theThird Triumvirate Manufacturing Company looked around for clocks, hefound that Doc Macnooder, as president of the Eureka PurchasingCompany, had cornered the market and could dictate the price. "

"So that?" said Stover indignantly. 

"So that each clock was charged up to us at a rate ranging from onedollar and forty cents to one dollar and fifty. "

"By what right?" said Dennis. 

"It's what is called a subsidiary company, " said the Tennessee Shad. "It's quite popular nowadays. "

"But where's the stock we subscribed?" said Dennis, thinking of hisone dollar and fifty cents. "We get that back?"

"No. "

"What!" said the two in unison. 

"It's this way. Owing to executive interference, the Third TriumvirateManufacturing Company is liable to the Eureka Purchasing Company forten alarm clocks, which it has ordered and can't use. "

"But then, out of the whole, blooming mess, " said Dennis, quiteovercome, "where do I stand?"

The Tennessee Shad unfolded a paper and read:

"You owe the Eureka, as your share of the assessment, two dollars andforty cents. "

"Owe!" said Finnegan with a scream. 

"Just let him come, " said Dink, doubling up his fists. "Let him comeand assess us!"

The three sat in long silence. Finally the Tennessee Shad spoke:

"I am afraid Doc was sore because we tried to freeze him out at first. It was a mistake. "

No one noticed this. 

"Great Willie Keeler!" said Dennis suddenly. "If this thing had been asuccess we'd have been ruined!"

"But what right, " said Dink, unwilling to give up the fight, "had heto pay the Eureka such prices. Who authorized him?"

"A vote of fifty-one per cent. Of the stock, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"But he never said anything to us--the forty-nine per cent. Has theminority no rights?"

"The minority, " said the Tennessee Shad, speaking beyond his horizon, "the minority has only one inalienable right, the right to indorse. "

"I'll get even with him, " said Dink, after a blank period. 

"I suppose, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, "that's what'scalled Finance. "

And the Tennessee Shad nodded assent:

"Higher Finance, Dennis. "

XV

During the busy October week Dink found little time to vent thebrewing mischief within him. The afternoons were given over to thedogged pursuit of the elusive pigskin. In the evenings he resolutelyturned his back on all midnight spreads or expeditions to theprotecting shadows of the woods to smoke the abhorrent cigarette, forthe joy of the risk run. At nine o'clock promptly each night he doveinto bed, wrapped the covers about his head and, leaving the TennesseeShad deep in the pages of Dumas, went soaring off into lands wheregoals are kicked from the center of the field, winning touchdownsscored in the last minute of play and bonfires lighted for his specialhonor. He was only end on the scrub, eagerly learning the game; butwith the intensity of his nature that territory, which each afternoonhe lined up to defend, was his in sacred trust; and he resolved thatthe trust of his captain should not be misplaced if it lay in hispower to prevent it. 

However, the busy mind was not entirely inactive. With the memory ofhis financial disappointment came the resolve to square himself withThe Roman and turn the tables on Doc Macnooder. 

The opportunity to do the first came in an unexpected way. 

One evening P. Lentz came in upon them in great agitation. 

"Why, King, " said Dennis, who was lolling around, "you're excited, very, very much excited!"

"Shut up!" said the King of the Kennedy, who was in anything but agood humor. "It's the deuce to pay. I've had a first warning. "

At this every one looked grave, and Dink, the loyalist, said:

"Oh, King, how could you!"

For another warning meant banishment from the football team and allthe devastation that implied. 

"That would just about end us, " said Dennis. "Might as well saveAndover the traveling expenses. "

"I know, I know!" said P. Lentz furiously. "I've had it all said tome. Beautifully expressed, too. Question is, what's to be done? It'sall the fault of old Baranson. He's been down on me ever since welicked the Woodhull. "

"We must think of something, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"How about a doctor's certificate?"

"Rats!"

"We might get up a demonstration against Baranson. "

"Lot's of good that'll do me!"

Various suggestions were offered and rejected. 

"Well, King, " said the Tennessee Shad at last, "I don't see there'sanything to it but you'll have to buckle down and study. "

"Study?" said P. Lentz. "Is that the best you can produce?"

"It seems the simplest. "

"I came here for consolation, " said P. Lentz, who thereupon departedangrily. 

"Still, it'll come to that, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"P. Lentz study?" said Finnegan contemptuously. "Can a duck whistle?"

"Then we'll have to tutor him. "

"What says Dink?"

"Don't bother me, I'm thinking. "

"Gracious, may I watch you?"

"Shad, " said Stover, ignoring Dennis, "did it ever occur to you howunscientific this whole game is?"

"What game?"

"This chasing the Latin root, wrestling with the unknown equation, andall that sort of thing. "

"Proceed. "

"Why are we smashed up? Because we are discouraged all fighting alone, unscientifically. Does the light dawn?"

"Very slowly, " said the Tennessee Shad. "Keep dawning. "

"I am thinking of organizing, " said Stover impressively, "The KennedyCo-operative Educational Institute. "

"Aha!" said the Tennessee Shad. "_Video, je vois_, I see. Allthird-formers in the house meet, divide up the lesson and thenfraternize. "

"Where do I come in?" said Finnegan, who was two forms below. 

"A very excellent idea, " said the Tennessee Shad in final approval. 

"I've a better one now, " said Stover. 

"Why, Dink!"

"It begins by chucking the Co-operative idea. "

"How so?"

"There's no money in that, " said Stover. "We must give the coursesourselves, see?"

"Give?" said the Tennessee Shad. "We two shining marks!"

"No, " said Stover contemptuously. "We hire the lecturers and collectfrom the lectured. "

"Why, Shad, " said Finnegan, in wide-eyed admiration, "our boy isgrowing up!"

"He is, he certainly is. I love the idea!"

"Why, I think it's pretty good myself, " said Dink. 

"It has only one error--the lecturers. "

"Why, that's the finest of the fine, " said Dink indignantly. "You seewhat I do. Here's Beekstein and Gumbo Binks been laying around aswaste material and the whole house kicking because we've been stuckwith two midnight-oilers. Now what do I do? I utilize them. I makethem a credit to the house, useful citizens. "

"True, most true, " said the Tennessee Shad. "But why pay? Never payany one anything. "

Stover acknowledged the superior financial mind, while Finneganremained silent, his greatest tribute. 

"I suppose we might lasso them, " said Stover, "or bring them up inchains. "

"That's only amateurish and besides reprehensible, " said the TennesseeShad. "No, the highest principle in finance, the real cream de lacrème, is to make others pay you for what you want them to do. "

Stover slowly assimilated this profound truth. 

"We'll charge twenty-five cents a week to students and we'll makeBeekstein and Gumbo disgorge half a plunk each for letting us listento them. "

"I am ready to be convinced, " said Dink, who still doubted. 

"I'll show you how it's done, " said the Tennessee Shad, who, going tothe door, called out: "Oh, you Beekstein!"

"Profound, profound mind, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan. "DocMacnooder is better on detail, but when it comes to theory theTennessee Shad is the Willie Keeler boy every time!"

"I've another idea, " said Stover, "a way to get even with The Roman, too. "

"What's that?"

"To signal the gerund and the gerundive. "

"Magnificent and most popular!" said the Tennessee Shad. "We'll putthat in as a guaranty. Who'll signal?"

"I'll signal, " said Stover, claiming the privilege. "It's my right!"

Beekstein, who might be completely described as a pair of black-rimmedspectacles riding an aquiline nose, now shuffled in with hisdictionary under his arm, his fingers between the leaves of a Ciceroto which he still clung. 

"Mr. Hall, " said the Tennessee Shad with a flourish, "take any chairin the room. "

Beekstein, alarmed by such generosity, sat down like a ramrod and casta roving, anxious glance under the beds and behind the screen. 

"Beekstein, " said the Tennessee Shad, to reassure him, "we have justorganized the Kennedy Educational Quick Lunch Institute. The purposeis fraternal, patriotic and convivial. It will be most exclusive andvery secret. " He explained the working scheme and then addedanxiously: "Now, Beekstein, you see the position of First Grand HotTamale will be the real thing. He will be, so to speak, Valedictorianof the Kennedy and certainly ought to be elected secretary of thehouse next year. Now, Beekstein, what we got you here for is this. What do you think of Gumbo for the position? Well, what?"

Beekstein, in his agitation, withdrew his finger from the Orations ofCicero. 

"What's the matter with me?" he said directly. "Gumbo is only asecond-rater. "

"He's very strong in mathematics. "

"That's the only thing he beats me on!"

"Yes, but, Beekstein, there is another thing--a delicate subject. Idon't know how to approach it. You see, we don't know how you're fixedfor the spondulix, " said the Tennessee Shad, who knew perfectly wellthe other's flourishing condition. "You see, this is not onlyeducational, but a very select body, quite a secret society, --with amidnight spread now and then. Of course there are dues, you see. Itwould cost you a half a week. "

"Is that all?" said Beekstein, who had never belonged to a secretsociety in his life. "Here's the first month down. Right here. "

"I don't know how far we are committed to Gumbo, " said the TennesseeShad, not disdaining to finger the two-dollar bill. "But I'll doeverything I can for you. "

Gumbo Binks, being consulted as to the qualifications of Beekstein, fell into the same trap. He was a monosyllabic, oldish little fellow, whose cheeks had fallen down and disturbed the balance of his alreadybald head. He had but one emotion and one enthusiasm, a professionaljealousy of Beekstein, who was several points ahead of him in the racefor first honors. Under these conditions the Tennessee Shad proceededvictoriously. Having made sure of each, he next informed them that, owing to a wide divergence of opinion, a choice seemed impossible. Each should have two months' opportunity to lecture before the QuickLunchers before a vote would be taken. 

Under these successful auspices the Institute met enthusiastically thefollowing day, both the lecturers and the lectured ignoring thefinancial status of the others. It was found on careful compilationthat, by close and respectful attention to Professors Beekstein andGumbo, twenty minutes would suffice for the rendering of the Greek andLatin test; while only ten minutes extra were needed to follow therequirements of mathematics. 

The clause in the constitution which pledged defiance to The Roman andguaranteed protection on the gerund and gerundive was exceedinglypopular. The signals were agreed upon. Absolute rigidity on Stover'spart denounced the gerund, while a slight wriggling of his sensitiveears betrayed the approach of the abhorrent gerundive. 

In his resolve to destroy forever the peace of mind of The Roman, Dinksat an extra period under Beekstein, stalking and marking down thelair of these enemies of boykind. 

On the following morning The Roman lost no time in calling up P. Lentz, who, to his amazement, recited creditably. 

"Dear me, " said The Roman, quite astonished, "the day of miracles isnot over--most astounding! Bring your book to the desk, Lentz--hem!Everything proper! Profuse apologies, Lentz, profuse ones! Thesuspicion is the compliment. I'm quite upset, quite so. First timesuch a thing has happened. " He hesitated for a moment, debatingwhether to allow him to retire with the honors, but his curiosityproving strong he said: "And now, Lentz, third line, secondword--gerund or gerundive?"

"Gerundive, sir, " said P. Lentz promptly, observing Stover's ears ina state of revolution. 

"Fortunate youth! Next line, third word, gerund or gerundive?"

"Gerund, sir. "

"Still fortunate! Once more, make your bet, Lentz, red or black?" saidThe Roman, smiling, believing Lentz was risking his fortunes on thealternating system. "Once more. Sixth line, first word, gerund orgerundive?"

"Gerund, sir. "

"Is it possible--is it possible?" said The Roman. "Have I lived to seeit! Sit down, _Mr. _ Lentz, sit down. "

He sat silent a moment, his lips twitching, his eyebrows alternatelyjumping, gazing from the text to P. Lentz and back. 

Stover, in the front row, was radiant. 

"Gee, that's a stiff one for him to swallow!" he said, chucklinginwardly. "P. Lentz, of all muts!"

As luck would have it the next boy called up, not being from theKennedy, flunked and somewhat restored The Roman's equanimity. 

"Now he feels better, " thought Dink. "Wait till the next jolt comes, though!"

"Lazelle, " said The Roman. 

The Gutter Pup rose, translated fluently and, with his eyes on Dink'sadmonitory ears, grappled with the gerund and threw the gerundive. 

"Mead, " said The Roman, now thoroughly alert. 

Lovely, with a show of insouciance, bagged three gerunds and onegerundive. 

The Roman thought a moment and, carefully selecting the experts, sentBeekstein, Gumbo Binks, the Red Dog and Poler Fox to the blackboards. Having thus removed the bird dogs, The Roman called up Fatty Harris. 

Stover, struggling to maintain his seriousness, grudgingly admired theprofessional manner with which The Roman attacked the mystery, themore so as it showed the wisdom of his own planning; for, had thesignals been left with either Beekstein or Gumbo, the plot would havebeen instantly exposed. 

As it was, The Roman, to his delighted imagination, at each successfulanswer seemed to rise under an electric application. 

Stover went out radiant, to receive the delighted congratulations ofthe Institute and the recognition of those who were not in the secret. 

"We've got him going, " he said, skipping over the campus arm in armwith the Tennessee Shad. "He's nervous as a witch! It's broken him allup. He won't sleep for a week. "

"He'll spot it to-morrow, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"I'll lay a bet on it. "

The next day The Roman, at the beginning of the lesson, ordered allthe books to the desk and fruitlessly examined them. Macnooder, asspokesman for the justly indignant class, at once expressed the painfelt at this evidence of suspicion and demanded an explanation. Thishighly strategic manoeuver, which would have tripped up a youngermaster, received nothing but a grim smile from The Roman who wavedthem to their seats and called up P. Lentz. 

"Gerund or gerundive?" he began directly, at the same time rising andscanning the front ranks. 

"Why, gerund, sir, " said P. Lentz instantly. 

"What, again?" said The Roman, who then called upon Stover. 

Dink arose, watched with some trepidation by the rest; for being inthe front row he could receive no signal. 

"First paragraph, third word, gerund or gerundive, Stover?"

Dink took a long time, shifting a little as though trying to glancefrom side to side, and finally named haltingly:

"Gerund, sir. "

"Next line, first word, gerund or gerundive? Look in front of you, Stover. Look at me. "

Dink purposely called it wrong, likewise the next; thereby completingthe mystification of The Roman, who now concentrated his attention onMacnooder and the Tennessee Shad, as being next in order of suspicion. The day ended victoriously. 

"He won't live out the week, " announced Dink. "There are circles underhis eyes already. "

"Better quit for a day or two, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"Never!"

Now the advantage of Dink's method of signaling was in its absolutenaturalness. For the growing boy wiggles his ears as a pup tries histeeth or a young goat hardens his horns. Moreover, as Dink held to hisplan of judicious flunking, The Roman's suspicions were completelydiverted. For three days more the lover of the gerund and thegerundive sought to localize and detect the sources of informationwithout avail. 

Finally on the sixth day The Roman arrived with a briskness that wasat once noted and analyzed. P. Lentz was called and translated. 

"We will now take up our daily recreation, " said The Roman, in agentle voice. "It has been a matter of pleasure to me--not unmixedwith a little surprise, incredulous surprise--to note the suddenaffection of certain members of this class for those elusive forms ofLatin grammar known as the gerund and the gerundive. I had despaired, in my unbelief I had despaired, of ever satisfactorily impressingtheir subtle distinctions on certain, shall we say athletic, imaginations. It seems I was wrong. I had not enough faith. I amsorry. It is evident that these Scylla and Charybdis of prosody haveno longer any terrors for you, Lentz. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir, " said P. Lentz hesitatingly. 

"So--so--no terrors? And now, Lentz, take up your book, take it up. Direct your unfailing glance at the first paragraph, page sixty-two. Is it there?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Pick out the first gerund you see. "

P. Lentz, beyond the aid of human help, gazed into the jungle andbrought forth a supine. 

"Is it possible, Lentz?" said The Roman. "Is it possible? Try oncemore, but don't guess. Don't guess, Lentz; don't do it. "

P. Lentz closed the book and sat down. 

"What! A sudden indisposition? Too bad, Lentz, too bad. Now we'll tryLazelle. Lazelle won't fail. Lazelle has not failed for a week. "

The Gutter Pup rose in a panic, guessed and fell horribly over anordinary participle. 

"Quite mysterious!" said The Roman, himself once more. "Sudden changeof weather. Mead, lend us the assistance of your splendid faculties. What? Unable to rise? Too bad. Dear me--dear me--quite the feeling ofhome again--quite homelike. "

The carnage was terrific, the scythe passed over them with theold-time sweep, laying them low. Once maliciously, when Fatty Harriswas on his feet, The Roman asked:

"Top of page, fifth word, gerund or gerundive?"

"Gerund, " said Harris instantly. 

"Ah, pardon----" said The Roman, bringing into play both eyebrows. "Mymistake, Harris, entirely my mistake. Go down to the next paragraphand recognize a gerundive. No? Sit down--gently. Too bad--old methodsmust make way for new ideas. Too bad, then you did have one chance intwo and now, where in the whole wide world will you find a friend tohelp you? Class is dismissed. "

"I told you you couldn't beat The Roman, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"I made him change his system, though, " said Dink gloriously, "and henever caught me. "

"Well, if you have, how are you going to spot the gerund and thegerundive?"

"I don't need to; I've learned 'em, " said Dink, laughing. 

XVI

The Kennedy House Educational Quick Lunch Institute broke up in wratha week later when an innocent inquiry of Beekstein's for the passwordsrevealed the direction of the club's finances. 

Meanwhile, true to his resolve, Dink, with the assistance of Finneganand the Tennessee Shad, had started the fad of souvenir toilet sets;which, like all fads, ran its course the faster because of its highqualities of absurdity and uselessness. Dink's intention of recoupinghimself by selling his own set of seven colors at a big advance wascut short by a spontaneous protest to the Doctor from the housemasters, whose artistic souls were stirred to wrath at the hideousinvasion. The subject was then so successfully treated from thepulpit, with all the power of sarcasm that it afforded, that the onlydistinct artistic movement of New Jersey expired in ridicule. 

Dink took this check severely to heart and, of course, beheld in thisthwarting of his scheme to dispose of the abhorrent set with honor afresh demonstration of the implacability of The Roman. 

He wandered gloomily from Laloo's and Appleby's to the Jigger Shop;where, after pulling his hat over his eyes, folding his armsinconsolably, he confided his desires of revenge on Doc Macnooder tothe sympathetic ears of the guardian of the Jigger. 

"Why not get up a contest and offer it as a prize?" said Al. 

"Have you seen it?" said Dink, who then did the subject full justice. 

Al remained very thoughtful for a long while, running back dreamilythrough the avenues of the past for some stratagem. 

"I remember way back in the winter of '88, " he said at last, "therewas a slick coot by the name of Chops Van Dyne, who got strapped andhit upon a scheme for decoying the shekels. "

"What was that?" said Dink hopefully. 

"He got up a guessing contest with a blind prize. "

"A what?"

"A blind prize all done up in tissue paper and ribbons, and no one wasto know what was in it until it was won. It certainly was amazing thenumber of suckers that paid a quarter to satisfy their curiosity. "

"Well, what was inside?" said Dink at once. 

"There you are!" said Al. "Why, nothing, of course--a lemon, perhaps--but the point is, every one just had to know. "

"Not a word!" said Dink, springing up triumphantly. 

"Mum as the grave, " said Al, accepting his handshake. 

Dink went romping back like a young spring goat, his busy mind seizingall the ramifications possible from the central theory. He found theTennessee Shad and communicated the great idea. 

"I don't like the guessing part, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"Nor I. We must get up a contest. "

"A championship. "

"Something devilishly original. "

"Exactly. "

"Well, what?"

"We must think. "

The day was passed in fruitless searching but the next morning broughtthe answer in the following manner: Dink and the Tennessee Shad--asthe majority of trained Laurentians--were accustomed to wallowgloriously in bed until the breakfast gong itself. At the first crashthey would spring simultaneously forth and race through their dressingfor the winning of the stairs. Now this was an art in itself and manyrecords were claimed and disputed. The Tennessee Shad, like most lazynatures, when aroused was capable of extraordinary bursts of speed andwas one of the claimants for the authorized record of twenty-six and afifth seconds from the bed to the door, established by the famousHickey Hicks who--as has been related--had departed to organize theindustries of his country. Of a consequence Stover was invariablystill at his collar button when the thin shadow of the Shad glided outof the door. But on the present morning, the shoe laces of theTennessee Shad snapping in his hand, Dink reached the exit a bare yardin advance. Suddenly he stopped, clasped the Tennessee Shad by themiddle and flung him toward the ceiling. 

"I have it, " he cried. "We'll organize the dressing championship ofthe school!"

That very evening a poster was distributed among the houses, thusconceived:

 FIRST AMATEUR DRESSING CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE SCHOOL

 under the management of that well-known

 Sporting Promoter MR. DINK STOVER

 FOR THE BELT OF THE SCHOOL

 and

 A SEALED MYSTERIOUS PRIZE

 Guaranteed to be Worth Over $3. 50

 Entrance Fee 25c Books Close at 6 P. M. 

 To-morrow

 For Conditions and Details Consult MR. DENNIS DE B. DE B. FINNEGAN, Secretary. 

While the announcement was running like quicksilver through the schoolthe souvenir toilet set was encased in cotton, packed in the smallestcompass, stowed in a wooden box, which was then sewed up in a gunnysacking. This in turn was wrapped in colored paper, tied with bows ofpink ribbon and sealed with blue sealing wax stamped with the crest ofthe school--VIRTUS SEMPER VIRIDIS. The whole was placed on a table atthe legs of which were grouped stands of flags. 

By noon the next day one-half of the school had passed around thetable, measuring the mysterious package, touching the seals withitching fingers and wanting to know the reason for such secrecy. 

"There are reasons, " said Stover, in response to all inquiries. "Unusual, mysterious, excellent reasons. We ask no one to enter. Weonly guarantee that the prize is worth over three dollars and fiftycents. No one is coaxing you. No one will miss you. The entrance listis already crowded. We are quite willing it should be closed. We urgenobody!"

Macnooder came among the first, scratching his head and walking aroundthe prize as a fox about a tainted trap. Stover, watching from thecorner of his eye, studiously appeared to discourage him. Macnoodersniffed the air once or twice in an alarmed sort of way, grunted tohimself and went off to try to pump Finnegan. 

Finally, just before the closing of the entries, he shambled up withevident dissatisfaction and said:

"Here's my quarter. It's for the championship, though, and not onaccount of any hocus pocus in the box. "

"Do I understand?" said Dink instantly, "that if you win you arewilling to let the prize go to the second man?"

"What are you making out of this?" said Doc hungrily, disdaining ananswer. 

The contest, which began the next afternoon with thirty-one entries, owing to certain features unusual to athletic contests, produced sucha furor of interest that the limited admissions to the strugglebrought soaring prices. 

Everything was conducted on lines of exact formality. 

Each contestant was required to don upper and lower unmentionables, two socks, two shoes, which were to be completely laced and tied, adickey--formed by a junction of two cuffs, a collar and onebutton--one necktie, one pair of trousers and one coat. Eachcontestant was required satisfactorily to wash and dry both hands andput into his hair a recognizable part. 

The contestants were allowed to arrange on the chair their wearingapparel according to their own theories, were permitted to fill thewash basin with water, leaving the comb and towel on either side. Inorder to prevent the formation of two classes, pajamas were suppressedand each contestant, clothed in a nightshirt, was inducted under thecovers and his hair carefully disarranged. 

Time was taken from the starting gun to the moment of the arrival ofthe fully clothed, reasonably washed and apparently brushed candidateat the door. Each time was to be noted and the two lowest scores wereto compete in the finals. A time limit of forty-five seconds wasimposed, after which the contestant was to be ruled out. 

The first heat began with the Triumphant Egghead in the bed for theDickinson, Mr. Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan on the stop watch, Mr. Dink Stover as master of ceremonies and Mr. Turkey Reiter, Mr. Cheyenne Baxter and Mr. Charlie DeSoto as jurors. 

The entries were admitted by all to be the pick of the school; whilethe champions most favored, were the Tennessee Shad for the Kennedy, Doc Macnooder for the Dickinson and the White Mountain Canary for theWoodhull. 

A certain delay took place on the third heat owing to Susie Satterly, of the Davis House, refusing to compete unless there was lesspublicity, and being peremptorily ruled out on a demand for a screen. 

"The next on the program, " said Stover, as master of ceremonies, "isthe champion of the Dickinson, the celebrated old-clothes man, DoctorMacnooder. "

Macnooder gracefully acknowledged the applause which invariablyattended his public performances and asked leave to make a speech, which was unanimously rejected. 

"Very well, gentlemen, " said Macnooder, taking off his coat andstanding forth in a sudden blaze of rainbow underwear. "I will simplydraw attention to this neat little bit of color that I have the honorto present to your inspection. It is the latest thing out in daintyfancies and I stand ready to fill all orders. It is rather springy, but why fall when you can spring? Don't applaud--you'll wake thebaby. It is light, it is warm, it gives a sense of exhilaration tothe skin. It endears you to your friends, and not even a Lawrencevillesuds-lady would bite a hole in it----"

"If you don't get into bed, " said Dink, "I'll rule you out. "

Macnooder, thus admonished, hastened to his post, merely remarking onthe distinction of his garters and impressionistic socks and the factthat he had incurred great expense to afford his schoolmates an equalopportunity. 

"Are you ready?" said Turkey Reiter, for the indignant jury. 

"One moment. "

Macnooder, in bed, glanced carefully at the preparations without, turned on his side and brought his knees up under his chin. 

"All ready?"

"Go!"

With a circular kick, something like the flop of a whale's tail, Macnooder drove the covers from him and sprang into the doubledtrousers. 

A cheer went up from the spectators. 

"Gee, what a dive!"

"Faster, Doc!"

"Wash carefully!"

"Behind the ears!"

"Don't forget the buttons!"

"That's the boy!"

"Come on, Doc, come on!"

"Oh, you Dickinson!"

"Hurray!"

"Time--twenty-seven seconds flat, " said Dennis de Brian de BoruFinnegan. "Best yet. Twenty-seven and four-fifths seconds, next on thelist, made by the White Mountain Canary and the Gutter Pup. "

"Next contestant, " said Dink, in sing-song, "is the champion of theRouse, Mr. Peanuts Biddle. "

But here a difficulty arose. 

"Please, sir, " said the candidate, who as a freshman was visiblyembarrassed at the ordeal before him--"Please, sir, I don't part myhair. "

Every eye went to the pompadour, cropped like a scrubbing brush, andrecognized the truth of this assertion. 

"Please, sir, I don't see why I should have to touch a comb. "

A protest broke forth from the other candidates. 

"Rats!"

"Penalize him!"

"Why part my hair?"

"I always do that with my fingers when I'm skating down the stairs. "

"Why wash till afterward?"

"No favoritism!"

The jury retired to deliberate and announced amid cheers that toequalize matters Mr. Peanuts Biddle would be handicapped two-fifths ofa second. The candidate took this ruling very much to heart andwithdrew. 

The Tennessee Shad, closing the list of entries, slouched up to thestarting-line amid great excitement to better the record of DocMacnooder. 

He first inspected the washstand, filling the basin higher thancustomary and exchanging the stiff face towel for a soft bath towel, which would more quickly absorb the moisture. 

Doc Macnooder, who followed these preparations with a hostile eye, protested against this last substitution, but was overruled. 

The Tennessee Shad then divested himself of his coat and undergarmentsamid cries of:

"Oh, you ribs!"

"What do they feed you?"

"Oh, you wish-bones!"

"Oh, you shad-bones!"

Macnooder then claimed that the undershirt was manifestly sewed to thecoat. The allegation was investigated and disproved, without in theslightest ruffling the composure of the Tennessee Shad, who continuedhis calculations while making a toothpick dance through his lips. Bymeans of safety pins, he next fastened the back and one wing of hiscollar to his coat, so that one motion would clothe his upper half. 

"I protest, " said Doc Macnooder. 

"Denied, " said Turkey Reiter, as foreman of the jury. 

The Tennessee Shad, donning the nightshirt, carefully unloosened thelaces of his low shoes, drew them off and arranged the socks inside ofthem so as to economize the extra movement. 

"The socks aren't his!" said Macnooder. "They're big enough for P. Lentz. "

"Proceed, " said Turkey Reiter. 

The Tennessee Shad then unloosened his belt and the trousers slippeddown him as a sailor down a greased pole. 

Macnooder once more protested and was squelched. 

The Tennessee Shad arranged the voluminous trousers, cast a finalglance, placed the toothpick on the table and went under the covers. 

"All ready?" said Dink. 

"Wait!" With the left hand he clutched the covers, with the right hisnightshirt, just back of the neck. "Ready now. "

"Go!"

With one motion the Tennessee Shad flung the covers from him, tore offhis nightshirt and sprang from the bed like Venus from the waves. 

The audience burst into cheers:

"Holy Mike. "

"Greased lightning!"

"Oh, you Shad!"

"Gee, right through the pants!"

"Suffering Moses!"

"Look at him stab the shoes!"

"Right into the coat!"

"Go it, Shad!"

"Out for the record!"

"Gee, what a wash!"

"Come on, boy, come on!"

"Now for the part!"

"Hurray!"

"Hurrah!"

"Hurroo!"

"Time--twenty-six and one-fifth seconds, " cried the shrill voice ofDennis de Brian de Boru. "Equalizing the world's unchallengedprofessional, amateur and scholastic record made by the late HickeyHicks! The champion's belt is now the Tennessee Shad's to have and tohold. According to the program the champion and Doc Macnooder, second-best score, will now run another heat for the mysterious sealedprize, guaranteed to be worth over three dollars and fifty cents!"

Macnooder, adopting the Shad's theories of preparation, made anextraordinary effort and brought his record down to twenty-six andfour-fifths seconds. The Tennessee Shad then, according to the planagreed upon with Stover, purposely broke a shoe-lace and lost thematch. 

Dink, in a speech full of malice, awarded the mysterious sealed prizeto Doc Macnooder, with a request to open it at once. 

Now, Macnooder, who had been busy thinking the matter over, hadsniffed the pollution in the air and, perceiving a wicked twinkle inthe eye of Stover, shifted the ground by carrying off the box despitea storm of protests to his room in the Dickinson, where strategicallyproving his title to Captain of Industry, he charged ten centsadmission to all who clamored to see the clearing up of the mystery. 

Having thus provided a substantial consolation against discomfitureand joined twenty other curiosity-seekers to his own fortunes, heopened the box and beheld the prodigal souvenir set. At the samemoment Dink stepped forward and presented him with his own former billfor three dollars and seventy-five cents. 

 * * * * *

That night, after Stover had returned much puffed up with thecongratulations of his schoolmates on the outwitting of Macnooder, the Tennessee Shad took him to task from a philosophical point ofview. 

"Baron Munchausen, a word. "

"Lay on. "

"You must come down to earth. "

"Wherefor?"

"You must occasionally, my boy, just as a matter of safeguardingfuture ventures, start in and scatter a few truths. "

"Pooh!" said Stover, with the memory of cheers. "Any fool can tell thetruth. "

"Yes, but----"

"It's such a lazy way!"

"Still----"

"Enervating!"

"But----"

"Besides, now they expect something more from me. "

"True, " said the Tennessee Shad, "but don't you see, Dink, if you dotell the truth no one will believe you. "

XVII

 _Oh, we'll push her over Or rip the cover-- Too bad for the fellows that fall! They must take their chances Of a bruise or two Who follow that jolly football. _

So sang the group on the Kennedy steps, heralding the twilight; andbeyond, past the Dickinson, a chorus from the Woodhull defiantly flungback the challenge. For that week the Woodhull would clash with theKennedy for the championship of the houses. 

The football season was drawing to a close, only the final game withAndover remained, a contest awaited with small hopes of victory. Forthe season had been disastrous for the 'Varsity; several members ofthe team had been caught in the toils of the octopus examination and, what was worse among the members, ill-feeling existed due to pastfeuds. 

Stover, in the long grueling days of practice, had won the respect ofall. Just how favorable an impression he had made he did not himselfsuspect. He had instinctive quickness and no sense of fear--that wassomething that had dropped from him forever. It was not that he had toconquer the impulse to flinch, as most boys do; it simply did notexist with him. The sight of a phalanx of bone and muscle starting forhis end to sweep him off his feet roused only a sort of combativerage, the true joy of battle. He loved to go plunging into theunbroken front and feel the shock of bodies as he tried for theelusive legs of Flash Condit or Charley DeSoto. 

This utter recklessness was indeed his chief fault; he would rathercharge interference than fight it off, waiting for others to break itup for him and so make sure of his man. 

Gradually, however, through the strenuous weeks, he learned the deeperlessons of football--how to use his courage and the control of hisimpulses. 

"It's a game of brains, youngster, remember that, " Mr. Ware wouldrepeat day after day, hauling him out of desperate plunges. "That didno good; better keep on your feet and follow the ball. Above all, study the game. "

His first lesson came when, at last being promoted to end on thescrub, he found himself lined up against Tough McCarty, the opposingtackle. Stover thought he saw the intention at once. 

"Put me against Tough McCarty, eh?" he said, digging his nails intothe palms of his hands. "Want to try out my nerve, eh? I'll show 'em!"

Now McCarty did not relish the situation either; foreseeing as he didthe long weeks of strenuous contact with the one boy in the school whowas vowed to an abiding vengeance. The fact was that Tough McCarty, who was universally liked for his good nature and sociableinclination, had yielded to the irritation Stover's unceasing enmityhad aroused and had come gradually into something of the same attitudeof hostility. Also, he saw in the captain's assigning Stover to hisend a malicious attempt to secure amusement at his expense. 

For all which reasons, when the scrub first lined up against the'Varsity, the alarum of battle that rode on Stover's pugnacious frontwas equaled by the intensity of his enemy's coldly-calculating glance. 

"Here's where I squash that fly, " thought McCarty. 

"Here's where I fasten to that big stuff, " thought Dink, "and stinghim until the last day of the season!"

The first direct clash came when the scrubs were given the ball andDink came in to aid his tackle box McCarty for the run that wassignaled around their end. 

Tough made the mistake of estimating Stover simply by his lack ofweight, without taking account of the nervous, dynamic energy whichwas his strength. Consequently, at the snap of the ball, he was takenby surprise by the wild spring that Stover made directly at his throatand, thrown off his balance momentarily by the frenzy of the impact, tripped and went down under the triumphant Dink, who, unmindful of thefact that the play had gone by, remained proudly fixed on the chest ofthe prostrate tackle. 

"Get off, " said the muffled voice. 

Stover, whose animal instincts were all those of the bulldog, presseddown more firmly. 

"Get off of me, you little blockhead, " said McCarty growing furious ashe heard the jeers of his teammates at his humiliating reversal. 

"Hurry up there, you Stover!" cried the voice of the captain, unheeded, for Dink was too blindly happy with the thrill of perfectsupremacy over the hated McCarty to realize the situation. 

"Stover!!!"

At the shouted command Dink looked up and at last perceived the playwas over. Reluctantly he started to rise, when a sudden upheaval ofthe infuriated McCarty caught him unawares and Tough's vigorous armflung him head over heels. 

Down went Dink with a thump and up again with rage in his heart. Herushed up to McCarty as in the mad fight under the willows and struckhim a resounding blow. 

The next moment not Tough, but Cockrell's own mighty hand caught himby the collar and swung him around. 

"Get off the field!"

"What?" said Dink, astounded, for in his ignorance he had expectedcomplimentary pats on his back. 

"Off the field!"

Dink, cold in a minute, quailed under the stern eye of the supremeleader. 

"I did sling him pretty hard, Garry, " said Tough, taking pity at thelook that came into Dink's eyes at this rebuke. 

"Get off!"

Dink, who had stopped with a sort of despairing hope, went slowly tothe side-lines, threw a blanket over his head and shoulders andsquatted down in bitter, utter misery. Another was in his place, plunging at the tackle that should have been his, racing down thefield under punts that made the blood leap in his exiled body. He didnot understand. Why had he been disgraced? He had only shown hewasn't afraid--wasn't that why they had put him opposite ToughMcCarty, after all?

The contending lines stopped at last their tangled rushes andstraggled, panting, back for a short intermission. Dink, waiting underthe blanket, saw the captain bear down upon him and, shivering like adog watching the approach of his punishment, drew the folds tighterabout him. 

"Stover, " said the dreadful voice, loud enough so that every one couldhear, "you seem to have an idea that football is run like aslaughterhouse. The quicker you get that out of your head the better. Now, do you know why I fired you? Do you?"

"For slugging, " said Dink faintly. 

"Not at all. I fired you because you lost your head; because youforgot you were playing football. If you're only going into this towork off your private grudges, then I don't want you around. I'll fireyou off and keep you off. You're here to play football, to think ofeleven men, not one. You're to use your brains, not your fists. Why, the first game you play in some one will tease you into slugging himand the umpire will fire you. Then where'll the team be? There areeleven men in this game on your side and on the other. No matter whathappens don't lose your temper, don't be so stupid, so brainless--doyou hear?"

"Yes, sir, " said Dink, who had gradually retired under his blanketuntil only the tip of the nose showed and the terror-stricken eyes. 

"And don't forget this. You don't count. It isn't the slightestinterest to the team whether some one whales you or mauls you! Itisn't the slightest interest to you, either. Mind that! Nothing onearth is going to get your mind off following the ball, sizing up theplay, working out the weak points--nothing. Brains, brains, brains, Stover! You told me you came out here because we needed some one to bebanged around--and I took you on your word, didn't I? Now, if you'regoing out there as an egotistical, puffed-up, conceited individualwho's thinking only of his own skin, who isn't willing to sacrificehis own little, measly feelings for the sake of the school, who won'tfight for the team, but himself----"

"I say, Cap, that's enough, " said Dink with difficulty; andimmediately retired so deep that only the mute, pleading eyes could bediscerned. 

Cockrell stopped short, bit his lip and said sternly: "Line up now. Get in, Stover, and don't let me ever have to call you down again. Tough, see here. " The two elevens ran out. The captain continued:"Tough, every chance you get to-day give that little firebrand a jab, understand? So it can't be seen. "

The 'Varsity took the ball and for five minutes Dink felt as thoughhe were in an angry sea, buffeted, flung down and whirled about bymassive breakers. Without sufficient experience his weight waspowerless to stop the interference that bore him back. He tried tomeet it standing up and was rolled head over heels by the brawnyshoulders of Cheyenne Baxter and Doc Macnooder. Then, angrily, hetried charging into the offenses and was drawn in and smothered whilethe back went sweeping around his unprotected end for long gains. 

Mr. Ware came up and volunteered suggestions:

"If you're going into it dive through them, push them apart with yourhands--so. Keep dodging so that the back won't know whether you'regoing around or through. Keep him guessing and follow up the play ifyou miss the first tackle. "

Under this coaching Dink, who had begun to be discouraged, improvedand when he did get a chance at his man he dropped him with a fierce, clean tackle, for this branch of the game he had mastered withinstinctive delight. 

"Give the ball to the scrubs, " said the captain, who was alsocoaching. 

Stover came in close to his tackle. The third signal was a trial atend. He flung himself at McCarty, checked him and, to his amazement, received a dig in the ribs. His fists clenched, went back and thenstopped as remembering, he drew a long breath and walked away, hiseyes on the ground; for the lesson was a rude one to learn. 

"Stover, what are you doing?" cried the captain, who had seen all. 

Dink, who had expected to be praised, was bewildered as well as hurt. 

"What are you stopping for? You're thinking of McCarty again, aren'tyou? Do you know where your place was? Back of your own half. Followup the play. If you'd been there to push there'd been an extra yard. Think quicker, Stover. "

"Yes, sir, " said Stover, suddenly perceiving the truth. "You're right, I wasn't thinking. "

"Look here, boy, " said the captain, laying his hand on his shoulders. "I have just one principle in a game and I want you to tuck it awayand never forget it. "

"Yes, sir, " said Dink reverently. 

"When you get in a game get fighting mad, but get cold mad--play likea fiend--but keep cold. Know just what you're doing and know it allthe time. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Dink, who never forgot the theory, which had awider application than Garry Cockrell perhaps suspected. 

"You laid it on pretty strong, " said Mr. Ware to Cockrell, as theywalked back after practice. 

"I did it for several reasons, " said Garry; "first, because I believethe boy has the makings of a great player in him; and second, I wasusing him to talk to the team. They're not together and it's going tobe hard to get them together. "

"Bad feeling?"

"Yes, several old grudges. "

"What a pity, Garry, " said Mr. Ware. "What a pity it is you can onlyhave second and third formers under you!"

"Why so?"

"Because they'd follow you like mad Dervishes, " said Mr. Ware, thinking of Dink. 

Stover, having once perceived that the game was an intellectual one, learned by bounds. McCarty, under instructions, tried his best toprovoke him, but met with the completest indifference. Dink found anew delight in the exercise of his wits, once the truth was borne inon him that there are more ways of passing beyond a windmill thanriding it down. Owing to his natural speed he was the fastest end onthe field to cover a punt, and once within diving distance of his manhe almost never missed. He learned, too, that the scientificapplication of his one hundred and thirty-eight pounds, well timed, was sufficient to counterbalance the disadvantage in weight. He neverloafed, he never let a play go by without being in it, and atretrieving fumbles he was quick as a cat. 

Meanwhile the house championships had gone on until the Woodhull andthe Kennedy emerged for the final conflict. The experience gained inthese contests, for on such occasions Stover played with his Houseteam, had sharpened his powers of analysis and given him a neededacquaintance with the sudden, shifting crises of actual play. 

Now, the one darling desire of Stover, next to winning the fairopinion of his captain, was the rout of the Woodhull, of which ToughMcCarty was the captain and his old acquaintances of the miserabledays at the Green were members--Cheyenne Baxter, the Coffee-coloredAngel and Butsey White. This aggregation, counting as it did twomembers of the 'Varsity, was strong, but the Kennedy, with P. Lentzand the Waladoo Bird and Pebble Stone, the Gutter Pup, Lovely Mead andStover, all of the scrub, had a slight advantage. 

Dink used to dream of mornings, in the lagging hours of recitation, ofthe contest and the sweet humiliation of his ancient foes. He wouldplay like a demon, he would show them, Tough McCarty and the rest, what it was to be up against the despised Dink--and dreaming thus heused to say to himself, with suddenly tense arms:

"Gee, I only wish McCarty would play back of the line so I could get achance at him!"

But on Tuesday, during the 'Varsity practice, suddenly as a scrimmageended and sifted open a cry went up. Ned Banks, left end on the'Varsity, was seen lying on the ground after an attempt to rise. Theygathered about him with grave faces, while Mr. Ware bent over him inanxious examination. 

"What is it?" said the captain, with serious face. 

"Something wrong with his ankle; can't tell yet just what. "

"I'll play Saturday, Garry, " said Banks, gritting his teeth. "I'll beready by then. It's nothing much. "

The subs carried him off the field with darkened faces--the last hopesof victory seemed to vanish. The gloom spread thickly through theschool, even Dink, for a time, forgot the approaching hour of hisrevenge in the great catastrophe. The next morning a little comfortwas given them in the report of Doctor Charlie that there was nosprain but only a slight wrenching, which, if all went well, wouldallow him to start the game. But the consolation was scant. Whatchance had Banks in an Andover game? There would have to be a shift;but what?

"Turkey Reiter will have to go from tackle to end, " said Dink, thatafternoon, as in football togs they gathered on the steps before thegame, "and put a sub in Turkey's place. "

"Who?"

"I don't know. "

"I guess you don't. "

"Might bring Butcher Stevens back from center. "

"Who'd go in at center?"

"Fatty Harris, perhaps. "

"Hello--here's Garry Cockrell now, " said P. Lentz. "He don't lookparticular cheerful, does he?"

The captain, looking indeed very serious, arrived, surveyed the groupand called Stover out. Dink, surprised, jumped up, saying:

"You want me, sir?"

"Yes. "

Cockrell put his arm under his and drew him away. 

"Stover, " he said, "I've got bad news for you. "

"For me?"

"Yes. I'm not going to let you go in the Woodhull game thisafternoon. "

Stover received the news as though it had been the death of his entirefamily, immediate and distant. His throat choked, he tried to saysomething and did not dare trust himself. 

"I'm sorry, my boy--but we're up against it, and I can't take anyrisks now of your getting hurt. "

"It means the game, " said Dink at last. 

"I'm afraid so. "

"We've no one to put in my place--no one but Beekstein Hall, " saidStover desperately. "Oh, please, sir, let me play; I'll be awfullycareful. It's only a House game. "

"Humph--yes, I know these House games. I'm sorry, but there's no helpfor it. "

"But I'm only a scrub, sir, " said Stover, pleading hard. 

"We're going to play you at end, " said Cockrell suddenly, seeing hedid not understand, "just as soon as we have to take Banks out; andHeaven only knows when that'll be. "

Dink was aghast. 

"You're not going--you're not going----" he tried to speak, andstopped. 

"Yes, we've talked it over and that seems best. "

"But--Turkey Reiter--I--I thought you'd move him out. "

"No, we don't dare weaken the middle; it's bad enough now. "

"Oh, but I'm so light. "

The captain watched the terror-stricken look in his face and waspuzzled. 

"What's the matter? You're not getting shaky?"

"Oh, no, sir, " said Dink, "it's not that. It--it seems so awful thatyou've got to put me in. "

"You're better, my boy, than you think, " said Cockrell, smiling alittle, "and you're going to be better than you know how. Now youunderstand why you've got to keep on the side-lines this afternoon. You're too fragile to take risks on. "

"Yes, I understand. "

"It comes hard, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir, it does; very hard. "

When the Kennedy and the Woodhull lined up for play an hour laterlittle Pebble Stone was at end in place of Stover, who watched fromhis post as linesman the contest that was to have been hisopportunity. He heard nothing of the buzzing comments behind, of thecheers or the shouted entreaties. Gaze fixed and heart in throat, hefollowed the swaying tide of battle, imprisoned, powerless to rush inand stem the disheartening advance. 

The teams, now more evenly matched, both showed the traces of tensenerves in the frequent fumbling that kept the ball changing sides andprevented a score during the first half. 

In the opening of the second half, by a lucky recovery of a blockedkick, the Kennedy scored a touchdown, but failed to kick the goal, making the score four to nothing. The Woodhull then began a determinedassault upon the Kennedy's weak end. Stover, powerless, beheld littlePebble Stone, fighting like grim death, carried back and back five, ten yards at a time as the Woodhull swept up the field. 

"It's the only place they can gain, " he cried in his soul in bitteriteration. 

He looked around and caught the eye of Captain Cockrell and sent him amute, agonizing, fruitless appeal. 

"Kennedy's ball, " came the sharp cry of Slugger Jones, the umpire. 

Dink looked up and felt the blood come back to his body again--on thetwenty-five yard line there had been a fumble and the advance waschecked. Twice again the battered end of the Kennedy was forced backfor what seemed certain touchdowns, only to be saved by loose work onthe Woodhull's part. It was getting dark and the half was ebbingfast--three minutes more to play. A fourth time the Woodhull furiouslyattacked the breach, gaining at every rush over the light opposition, past the forty-yard line, past the twenty-yard mark and triumphantly, in the last minute of play, over the goal for a touchdown. The ballhad been downed well to the right of the goal posts and the trial forgoal was an unusually difficult one. The score was a tie, everythingdepended on the goal that, through the dusk, Tough McCarty wascarefully sighting. Dink, heartbroken, despairing, leaning on hislinesman's staff, directly behind the ball, waited for the long, endless moments to be over. Then there was a sudden movement ofMcCarty's body, a wild rush from the Kennedy and the ball shot high inthe air and, to Stover's horror, passed barely inside the farthergoalpost. 

"No goal, " said Slugger Jones. "Time up. "

Dink raised his head in surprise, scarcely crediting what he hadheard. The Woodhull team were furiously disputing the decision, encouraged by audible comments from the spectators. Slugger Jones, surrounded by a contesting, vociferous mass, suddenly swept them asideand began to take the vote of the officials. 

"Kiefer, what do you say?"

Cap Kiefer, referee, shook his head. 

"I'm sorry, Slugger, it was close, very close, but it did seem a goalto me. "

"Tug, what do you say?"

"Goal, sure, " said Tug Wilson, linesman for the Woodhull. At this, jeers and hoots broke out from the Kennedy. 

"Of course he'll say that!"

"He's from the Woodhull. "

"What do you think?"

"Justice!"

"Hold up, hold up, now, " said Slugger Jones, more excited than anyone. "Don't get excited; it's up to your own man. Dink, was it a goalor no goal?"

Stover suddenly found himself in a whirling, angry mass--the decisionof the game in his own hands. He saw the faces of Tough McCarty andthe Coffee-colored Angel in the blank crowd about him and he saw thesneer on their faces as they waited for his answer. Then he saw thefaces of his own teammates and knew what they, in their frenzy, expected from him. 

He hesitated. 

"Goal or no goal?" cried the umpire, for the second time. 

Then suddenly, face to face with the hostile mass, the fighting bloodcame to Dink. Something cold went up his back. He looked once moreabove the riot, to the shadowy posts, trying to forget Tough McCarty, and then, with a snap to his jaws, he answered:

"Goal. "

XVIII

Dink returned to his room in a rage against everything and every one, at Slugger Jones for having submitted the question, at Tough McCartyfor having looked as though he expected a lie, and at himself for everhaving acted as linesman. 

If it had not been the last days before the Andover match he wouldhave found some consolation in rushing over to the Woodhull andprovoking McCarty to the long-deferred fight. 

"He thought I'd lie out of it, " he said furiously. "He did; I saw it. I'll settle that with him, too. Now I suppose every one in thishouse'll be down on me; but they'd better be mighty careful how theyexpress it. "

For as he had left the field he had heard only too clearly how theKennedy eleven, in the unreasoning passion of conflict, had expresseditself. At present, through the open window, the sounds of violentwords were borne up to him from below. He approached and looked downupon the furious assembly. 

"Damn me up and down, damn me all you want, " he said, doubling up hisfists. "Keep it up, but don't come up to me with it. "

Suddenly, back of him, the door opened and shut and Dennis de Brian deBoru Finnegan stood in the room. 

"I say, Dink----"

"Get out, " said Stover furiously, seizing a pillow. 

Finnegan precipitately retired and, placing the door between him andthe danger, opened it slightly and inserted his freckled little nose. 

"I say, Dink----"

"Get out, I told you!" The pillow struck the door with a bang. "Iwon't have any one snooping around here!"

The next instant Dennis, resolved on martyrdom, stepped inside, saying:

"I say, old man, if it'll do you any good, take it out on me. "

Stover, thus defied, stopped and said:

"Dennis, I don't want to talk about it. "

"All right, " said Dennis, sitting down. 

"And I want to be alone. "

"Correct, " said Dennis, who didn't budge. 

They sat in moody silence, without lighting the lamp. 

"Pretty tough, " said Dennis at last. 

Stover's answer was a grunt. 

"You couldn't see it the way the umpire did, could you?"

"No, I couldn't. "

"Pretty tough!"

"I suppose, " said Dink finally, "the fellows are wild. "

"A little--a little excited, " said Dennis carefully. "It wastough--pretty tough!"

"You don't suppose I wanted that gang of muckers to win, do you?" saidStover. 

"I know, " said Dennis sympathetically. 

The Tennessee Shad now returned from the wars, covered with mud andthe more visible marks of the combat. 

"Hello, " he said gruffly. 

"Hello, " said Stover. 

The Tennessee Shad went wearily to his corner and stripped for thebath. 

"Well, say it, " said Stover, who, in his agitation, had actuallypicked up a textbook and started to study. "Jump on me, why don'tyou?"

"I'm not going to jump on you, " said the Tennessee Shad, who weaklypulled off the heavy shoes. "Only--well, you couldn't see it as theumpire did, could you?"

"No!"

"What a day--what an awful day!"

Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, with great tact, rose and hesitated:

"I'm going--I--I've got to get ready for supper, " he said desperately. Then he went lamely over to Stover and held out his hand: "I know howyou feel old man, but--but--I'm glad you did it!"

Whereupon he disappeared in blushing precipitation. 

Stover breathed hard and tried to bring his mind to the printedlesson. The Tennessee Shad, sighing audibly, continued his ablutions, dressed and sat down. 

"Dink. "

"What?"

"Why did you do it?"

Then Stover, flinging down his book with an access of rage, cried out:

"Why? Because you all, every damn one of you, expected me to _lie_!"

 * * * * *

The next day Stover, who had firmly made up his mind to a sort ofmodified ostracism, was amazed to find that over night he had become ahero. By the next morning the passion and the bitterness of thestruggle having died away, the house looked at the matter in a calmermood and one by one came to him and gripped his hand with halting, blurted words of apology or explanation. 

Utterly unprepared for this development, Stover all at once realizedthat he had won what neither courage nor wit had been able to bringhim, the something he had always longed for without being quite ableto name it--the respect of his fellows. He felt it in the looks thatfollowed him as he went over to chapel, in the nodded recognition ofFifth Formers, who had never before noticed him, in The Roman himself, who flunked him without satire or aggravation. And not yet knowinghimself, his impulses or the strange things that lay dormant beneaththe surface of his everyday life, Stover was a little ashamed, asthough he did not deserve it all. 

That afternoon as Dink was donning his football togs, preparing forpractice, a knock came at the door which opened on a very muchembarrassed delegation from the Woodhull--the Coffee-colored Angel, Cheyenne Baxter and Tough McCarty. 

"I say, is that you, Dink?" said the Coffee-colored Angel. 

"It is, " said Stover, with as much dignity as the state of hiswardrobe would permit. 

"I say, we've come over from the Woodhull, you know, " continued theCoffee-colored Angel, who stopped after this bit of illuminating news. 

"Well, what do you want?"

"I say, that's not just it; we're sent by the Woodhull I meant to say, and we want to say, we want you to know--how white we think it was ofyou!"

"Old man, " said Cheyenne Baxter, "we want to thank you. What we wantto tell you is how white we think it was of you. "

"You needn't thank me, " said Stover gruffly, pulling his leg throughthe football trousers. "I didn't want to do it. "

The delegation stood confused, wondering how to end the painful scene. 

"It was awful white!" said the Coffee-colored Angel, tying knots inhis sweater. 

"It certainly was, " said Cheyenne. 

As this brought them no further along the Coffee-colored Angelexclaimed in alarm:

"I say, Dink, will you shake hands?"

Stover gravely extended his right. 

Cheyenne next clung to it, blurting out:

"Say, Dink, I wish I could make you understand--just--just how whitewe think it was!"

The two rushed away leaving Tough McCarty to have his say. Both stoodawkwardly, frightened before the possibility of a display ofsentiment. 

"Look here, " said Tough firmly, and then stopped, drew a long breathand continued: "Say, you and I have sort of formed up a sort ofvendetta and all that sort of thing, haven't we?"

"We have. "

"Now, I'm not going to call that off. I don't suppose you'd want it, either. "

"No, I wouldn't!"

"We've got to have a good, old, slam-bang fight sooner or later andthen, perhaps, it'll be different. I'm not coming around asking you tobe friends, or anything like that sort of rot, you know, but what Iwant you to know is this--is this--what I want you to understand isjust how darned _white_ that was of you!"

"All right, " said Stover frigidly, because he was tremendously movedand in terror of showing it. 

"That's not what I wanted to say, " said Tough, frowning terrificallyand kicking the floor. "I mean--I say, you know what I mean, don'tyou?"

"All right, " said Stover gruffly. 

"And I say, " said Tough, remembering only one line of all he had comeprepared to say, "if you'll let me, Stover, I should consider it anhonor to shake your hand. "

Dink gave his hand, trembling a little. 

"Of course you understand, " said Tough who thought he comprehendedStover's silence, "of course we fight it out some day. "

"All right, " said Stover gruffly. 

Tough McCarty went away. Dink, left alone, clad in his voluminousfootball trousers, sat staring at the door, clasping his hands tenselybetween his knees, and something inside of him welled up, dangerouslythreatening his eyes--something feminine, to be choked instantly down. 

He rose angrily, flung back his hair and filled his lungs. Then hestopped. 

"What the deuce are they all making such a fuss for?" he said. "I onlytold the truth. "

He struggled into his jersey, still trying to answer the problem. Inhis abstraction he drew a neat part in his hair before perceiving the_faux pas_, he hurriedly obliterated the effete mark. 

"I guess, " he said, standing at the window still pondering over thenew attitude toward himself--"I guess, after all, I don't know it all. Tough McCarty--well, I'll be damned!"

Saturday came all too soon and with it the arrival of the stockyAndover eleven. Dink dressed and went slowly across the campus--everystep seemed an effort. Everywhere was an air of seriousness andapprehension, strangely contrasted to the gay ferment that usuallyannounced a big game. He felt a hundred eyes on him as he went andknew what was in every one's mind. What would happen when Ned Bankswould have to retire and he, little Dink Stover, weighing one hundredand thirty-eight, would have to go forth to stand at the end of theline. And because Stover had learned the lesson of football, thesacrifice for an idea, he too felt not fear but a sort of despair thatthe hopes of the great school would have to rest upon him, little DinkStover, who weighed only one hundred and thirty-eight pounds. 

He went quietly to the Upper, his eyes on the ground like a guiltyman, picking his way through the crowds of Fifth Formers, who watchedhim pass with critical looks, and up the heavy stairs to GarryCockrell's room, where the team sat quietly listening to the finalinstructions. He took his seat silently in an obscure corner, studyingthe stern faces about him, hearing nothing of Mr. Ware's staccatoperiods, his eyes irresistibly drawn to his captain, wondering howsuddenly older he looked and grave. 

By his side Ned Banks was listening stolidly and Charlie DeSoto, twisting a paper-weight in his nervous fingers, fidgeting on his chairwith the longing for the fray. 

"That's all, " said the low voice of Garry Cockrell. "You know what youhave to do. Go down to Charlie's room; I want a few words withStover. "

They went sternly and quickly, Mr. Ware with them. Dink was alone, standing stiff and straight, his heart thumping violently, waiting forhis captain to speak. 

"How do you feel?"

"I'm ready, sir. "

"I don't know when you'll get in the game--probably before the firsthalf is over, " said Cockrell slowly. "We're going to put up to you apretty hard proposition, youngster. " He came nearer, laying his handon Stover's shoulder. "I'm not going to talk nerve to you, youngbulldog, I don't need to. I've watched you and I know the stuff that'sin you. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"Not but what you'll need it--more than you've ever needed it before. You've no right in this game. "

"I know it, sir. "

"Tough McCarty won't be able to help you out much. He's got thetoughest man in the line. Everything's coming at you, my boy, andyou've got to stand it off, somehow. Now, listen once more. It's agame for the long head, for the cool head. You've got to thinkquicker, you've got to out-think every man on the field and you can doit. And remember this: No matter what happens never let up--get yourman back of the line if you can, get him twenty-five yards beyond you, get him on the one-yard line, --but get him!"

"Yes, sir. "

"And now one thing more. There's all sorts of ways you can play thegame. You can charge in like a bull and kill yourself off in tenminutes, but that won't do. You can go in and make grandstand playsand get carried off the field, but that won't do. My boy, you've gotto last out the game. "

"I see, sir. "

"Remember there's a bigger thing than yourself you're fighting for, Stover--it's the school, the old school. Now, when you're on theside-lines don't lose any time; watch your men, find out their tricks, see if they look up or change their footing when they start for an endrun. Everything is going to count. Now, come on. "

They joined the eleven below and presently, in a compact body, wentout and through Memorial and the chapel, where suddenly the fieldappeared and a great roar went up from the school. 

"All ready, " said the captain. 

They broke into a trot and swept up to the cheering mass. Dinkremembered seeing the Tennessee Shad, in his shirt sleeves, frantically leading the school and thinking how funny he looked. Thensome one pulled a blanket over him and he was camped among thesubstitutes, peering out at the gridiron where already the two elevenswere sweeping back and forth in vigorous signal drill. 

He looked eagerly at the Andover eleven. They were big, rangy fellowsand their team worked with a precision and machine-like rush that thered and black team did not have. 

"Trouble with us is, " said the voice of Fatty Harris, at his elbow, "our team's never gotten together. The fellows would rather slug eachother than the enemy. "

"Gee, that fellow at tackle is a monster, " said Dink, picking outMcCarty's opponent. 

"Look at Turkey Reiter and the Waladoo Bird, " continued Fatty Harris. "Bad blood! And there's Tough McCarty and King Lentz. We're nottogether, I tell you! We're hanging apart!"

"Lord, will they ever begin!" said Dink, blowing on his hands that hadsuddenly gone limp and clammy. 

"We've won the toss, " said another voice. "There's a big wind, we'lltake sides. "

"Andover's kick-off, " said Fatty Harris. 

Stover sunk his head in his blanket, waiting for the awful moment toend. Then a whistle piped and he raised his head again. The ball hadlanded short, into the arms of Butcher Stevens, who plunged ahead fora slight gain and went down under a shock of blue jerseys. 

Stover felt the warm blood return, the sinking feeling in the pit ofhis stomach left him, he felt, amazed, a great calm settling overhim, as though he had jumped from out his own body. 

"If Flash Condit can once get loose, " he said quietly, "he'll score. They ought to try a dash through tackle before the others warm up. Good!"

As if in obedience to his thought Flash Condit came rushing throughthe line, between end and tackle, but the Andover left half-back, whowas alert, caught him and brought him to the ground after a gain often yards. 

"Pretty fast, that chap, " thought Dink. "Too bad, Flash was almostclear. "

"Who tackled him?" asked Fatty Harris. 

"Goodhue, " came the answer from somewhere. "They say he runs thehundred in ten and a fifth. "

The next try was not so fortunate, the blue line charged quicker andstopped Cheyenne Baxter without a gain. Charlie DeSoto tried aquarter-back run and some one broke through between the Waladoo Birdand Turkey Reiter. 

"Not together--not together, " said the dismal voice of Fatty Harris. 

The signal was given for a punt and the ball lifted in the air wentsoaring down the field on the force of the wind. It was too long apunt for the ends to cover, and the Andover back with a good startcame twisting through the territory of Ned Banks who had been blockedoff by his opponent. 

"Watch that Andover end, Stover, " said Mr. Ware. "Study out hismethods. "

"All right, sir, " said Dink, who had watched no one else. 

He waited breathless for the first shock of the Andover attack. Itcame with a rush, compact and solid, and swept back the Lawrencevilleleft side for a good eight yards. 

"Good-by!" said Harris in a whisper. 

Dink began to whistle, moving down the field, watching the backs. Another machine-like advance and another big gain succeeded. 

"They'll wake up, " said Dink solemnly to himself. "They'll stop 'em ina minute. "

But they did not stop. Rush by rush, irresistibly the blue left theirown territory and passed the forty-five yard line of Lawrenceville. Then a fumble occurred and the ball went again with the gale far outof danger, over the heads of the Andover backs who had misjudged itstreacherous course. 

"Lucky we've got the wind, " said Dink, calm amid the roaring cheersabout him. "Gee, that Andover attack's going to be hard to stop. Banksis beginning to limp. "

The blue, after a few quick advances, formed and swept out towardGarry Cockrell's end. 

"Three yards lost, " said Dink grimly. "They won't try him often. Funnythey're not onto Banks. Lord, how they can gain through the center ofthe line. First down again. " Substitute and coach, the frantic school, alumni over from Princeton, kept up a constant storm of shouts andentreaties:

"Oh, get together!"

"Throw 'em back!"

"Hold 'em!"

"First down again!"

"Hold 'em, Lawrenceville!"

"Don't let them carry it seventy yards!"

"Get the jump!"

"There they go again!"

"Ten yards around Banks!"

Stover alone, squatting opposite the line of play, moving as it moved, coldly critical, studied each individuality. 

"Funny nervous little tricks that Goodhue's got--blows on hishands--does that mean he takes the ball? No, all a bluff. What's he dowhen he does take it? Quiet and looks at the ground. When he doesn'ttake it he tries to pretend he does. I'll tuck that away. He's my man. Seems to switch in just as the interference strikes the end about tenfeet beyond tackle, running low--Banks is playing too high; better, perhaps, to run in on 'em now and then before they get started. There's going to be trouble there in a minute. The fellows aren't upon their toes yet--what is the matter, anyhow? Tough's getting boxedright along, he ought to play out further, I should think. Hello, someone fumbled again. Who's got it? Looks like Garry. No, they recoveredit themselves--no, they didn't. Lord, what a butter-fingered lot--whydoesn't he get it? He has--Charlie DeSoto--clear field--can he makeit?--he ought to--where's that Goodhue?--looks like a safe lead; he'llmake the twenty-yard line at least--yes, fully that, if he doesn'tstumble--there's that Goodhue now--some one ought to block him off, good work--that's it--that makes the touchdown--lucky--very lucky!"

Some one hit him a terrific clap on the shoulder. He looked up insurprise to behold Fatty Harris dancing about like a crazed man. Theair seemed all arms, hats were rising like startled coveys of birds. Some one flung his arms around him and hugged him. He flung him offalmost indignantly. What were they thinking of--that was only onetouchdown--four points--what was that against that blue team and thewind at their backs, too. One touchdown wasn't going to win the game. 

"Why do they get so excited?" said Dink Stover to John Stover, watching deliberately the ball soaring between the goalposts; "6 to0--they think it's all over. Now's the rub. "

Mr. Ware passed near him. He was quiet, too, seeing far ahead. 

"Better keep warmed up, Stover, " he said. 

"Biting his nails, that's a funny trick for a master, " thought Dink. "He oughtn't to be nervous. That doesn't do any good. "

The shouts of exultation were soon hushed; with the advantage of thewind the game quickly assumed a different complexion. Andover hadfound the weak end and sent play after play at Banks, driving him backfor long advances. 

"Take off your sweater, " said Mr. Ware. 

Dink flung it off, running up and down the side-lines, springing fromhis toes. 

"Why don't they take him out?" he thought angrily, with almost ahatred of the fellow who was fighting it out in vain. "Can't they seeit? Ten yards more, oh, Lord! This ends it. "

With a final rush the Andover interference swung at Banks, brushed himaside and swept over the remaining fifteen yards for the touchdown. Aminute later the goal was kicked and the elevens again changed sides. The suddenness with which the score had been tied impressed everyone--the school team seemed to have no defense against the well-massedattacks of the opponents. 

"Holes as big as a house, " said Fatty Harris. "Asleep! They're allasleep!"

Dink, pacing up and down, waited the word from Mr. Ware, rebellingbecause it did not come. 

Again the scrimmage began, a short advance from the loosely-knitschool eleven, a long punt with the wind and then a quick, business-like line-up of the blue team and another rush at thevulnerable end. 

"Ten yards more; oh, it's giving it away!" said Fatty Harris. 

Stover knelt and tried his shoelaces and rising, tightened his belt. 

"I'll be out there in a moment, " he said to himself. 

Another gain at Banks' end and suddenly from the elevens across thefield the figure of the captain rose and waved a signal. 

"Go in, Stover, " said Mr. Ware. 

He ran out across the long stretch to where the players were movingrestlessly, their clothes flinging out clouds of steam. Back of himsomething was roaring, cheering for him, perhaps, hoping against hope. 

Then he was in the midst of the contestants, Garry Cockrell's armabout his shoulders, whispering something in his ear about keepingcool, breaking up the interference if he couldn't get his man, following up the play. He went to his position, noticing the sullenexpressions of his teammates, angry with the consciousness that theywere not doing their best. Then taking his stand beyond Tough McCarty, he saw the Andover quarter and the backs turn and study him curiously. He noticed the half-back nearest him, a stocky, close-cropped, red-haired fellow, with brawny arms under his rolled-up jersey, whoseduty it would be to send him rolling on the first rush. 

"All ready?" cried the voice of the umpire. "First down. "

The whistle blew, the two lines strained opposite each other. Stoverknew what the play would be--there was no question of that. Fortunately the last two rushes had carried the play well over to hisside--the boundary was only fifteen yards away. Dink had thought outquickly what he would do. He crept in closer than an end usually playsand at the snap of the ball rushed straight into the startinginterference before it could gather dangerous momentum. The back, seeing him thus drawn in, instinctively swerved wide around hisinterference, forced slightly back. Before he could turn forward hisown speed and the necessity of distancing Stover and Condit drove himout of bounds for a four-yard loss. 

"Second down, nine yards to go!" came the verdict. 

"Rather risky going in like that, " said Flash Condit, who backed uphis side. 

"Wanted to force him out of bounds, " said Stover. 

"Oh--look out for something between tackle and guard now. "

"No--they'll try the other side now to get a clean sweep at me, " saidStover. 

The red-haired half-back disappeared in the opposite side and, wellprotected, kept his feet for five yards. 

"Third down, four to gain. "

"Now for a kick, " said Stover, as the Andover end came out oppositehim. "What the deuce am I going to do to this coot to mix him up. Helooks more as though he'd like to tackle me than to get past. " Helooked over and caught a glance from the Andover quarter. "I wonder. Why not a fake kick? They've sized me up for green. I'll play itcarefully. "

At the play, instead of blocking, he jumped back and to one side, escaping the end who dove at his knees. Then, rushing ahead, hestalled off the half and caught the fullback with a tackle thatbrought him to his feet, rubbing his side. 

"Lawrenceville's ball. Time up for first half. "

Dink had not thought of the time. Amazed, he scrambled to his feet, half angry at the interruption, and following the team went over tothe room to be talked to by the captain and the coach. 

It was a hang-dog crowd that gathered there, quailing under thescornful lashing of Garry Cockrell. He spared no one, he omitted nonames. Dink, listening, lowered his eyes, ashamed to look upon theface of the team. One or two cried out:

"Oh, I say, Garry!"

"That's too much!"

"Too much, too much, is it?" cried their captain, walking up and down, striking the flat of his hand with the clenched fist. "By heavens, it's nothing to what they're saying of us out there. They're ashamedof us, one and all! Listen to the cheering if you don't believe it!They'll cheer a losing team, a team that is being driven back foot byfoot. There's something glorious in that, but a team that stands up tobe pushed over, a team that lies down and quits, a team that hasn'tone bit of red fighting blood in it, they won't cheer; they're ashamedof you! Now, I'll tell you what's going to happen to you. You're goingto be run down the field for just about four touchdowns. Here's Lentzbeing tossed around by a fellow that weighs forty pounds less. Why, he's the joke of the game. McCarty hasn't stopped a play, not one!Waladoo's so easy that they rest up walking through him. But that'snot the worst, you're playing wide apart as though there wasn't a manwithin ten miles of you; not one of you is helping out the other. Theonly time you've taken the ball from them is when a little shavercomes in and uses his head. Now, you're not going to win this game, but by the Almighty you're going out there and going to hold thatAndover team! You've got the wind against you; you've got everythingagainst you; you've got to fight on your own goal line, not once, buttwenty times. But you've got to hold 'em; you're going to make good;you're going to wipe out that disgraceful, cowardly first half! You'regoing out there to stand those fellows off! You're going to make theschool cheer for you again as though they believed in you, as thoughthey were proud of you! You're going to do a bigger thing than beat aweaker team! You're going to fight off defeat and show that, if youcan't win, you can't be beaten!"

Mr. Ware, in a professional way, passed from one to another with aword of advice: "Play lower, get the jump--don't be drawn in by a fakeplunge--watch Goodhue. "

But Dink heard nothing; he sat in his corner, clasping and unclaspinghis hands, suffering with the moments that separated him from thefray. Then all at once he was back on the field, catching the force ofthe wind that blew the hair about his temples, hearing thehalf-hearted welcome that went up from the school. 

"Hear that cheer!" said Garry Cockrell bitterly. 

From Butcher Stevens' boot the ball went twisting and veering down thefield. Stover went down, dodging instinctively, hardly knowing what hedid. Then as he started to spring at the runner an interferer frombehind flung himself on him and sent him sprawling, but not until onearm had caught and checked his man. 

McCarty had stopped the runner, when Dink sprang to his feet, wildwith the rage of having missed his tackle. 

"Steady!" cried the voice of his captain. 

He lined up hurriedly, seeing red. The interference started for him, he flung himself at it blindly and was buried under the body of thered-haired half. Powerless to move, humiliatingly held under thesturdy body, the passion of fighting rose in him again. He tried tothrow him off, doubling up his fist, waiting until his arm was free. 

"Why, you're easy, kid, " said a mocking voice. "We'll come again. "

The taunt suddenly chilled him. Without knowing how it happened, helaughed. 

"That's the last time you get me, old rooster, " he said, in a voicethat did not belong to him. 

He glanced back. Andover had gained fifteen yards. 

"That comes from losing my head, " he said quietly. "That's over. "

It had come, the cold consciousness of which Cockrell had spoken, strange as the second wind that surprises the distressed runner. 

"I've got to teach that red-haired coot a lesson, " he said. "He's alittle too confident. I'll shake him up a bit. "

The opportunity came on the third play, with another attack on hisend. He ran forward a few steps and stood still, leaning a littleforward, waiting for the red-haired back who came plunging at him. Suddenly Dink dropped to his knees, the interferer went violently overhis back, something struck Stover in the shoulder and his arms closedwith the fierce thrill of holding his man. 

"Second down, seven yards to gain, " came the welcome sound. 

Time was taken out for the red-haired half-back, who had had the windknocked out of him. 

"Now he'll be more respectful, " said Dink, and as soon as he caughthis eye he grinned. "Red hair--I'll see if I can't get his temper. "

Thus checked and to use the advantage of the wind Andover elected tokick. The ball went twisting, and, changing its course in thestrengthening wind, escaped the clutches of Macnooder and wentbounding toward the goal where Charlie DeSoto saved it on thetwenty-five-yard line. In an instant the overwhelming disparity of thesides was apparent. 

A return kick at best could gain but twenty-five or thirty yards. Fromnow on they would be on the defensive. 

Dink came in to support his traditional enemy, Tough McCarty. Thequick, nervous voice of Charlie DeSoto rose in a shriek: "Now, Lawrenceville, get into this, 7--52--3. "

Dink swept around for a smash on the opposite tackle, head down, eyesfastened on the back before him, feeling the shock of resistance andthe yielding response as he thrust forward, pushing, heaving on, untileverything piled up before him. Four yards gained. 

A second time they repeated the play, making the first down. 

"Time to spring a quick one through us, " he thought. 

But again DeSoto elected the same play. 

"What's he trying to do?" said Dink. "Why don't he vary it?"

Some one hauled him out of the tangled pile. It was Tough McCarty. 

"Say, our tackle's a stiff one, " he said, with his mouth to Stover'sear. "You take his knees; I'll take him above this time. "

Their signal came at last. Dink dove, trying to meet the shiftingknees and throw him off his balance. The next moment a powerful armcaught him as he left the ground and swept him aside. 

"Any gain?" he asked anxiously as he came up. 

"Only a yard, " said McCarty. "He got through and smeered the play. "

"I know how to get him next time, " said Dink. 

The play was repeated. This time Stover made a feint and then dovesuccessfully after the big arm had swept fruitlessly past. FlashCondit, darting through the line, was tackled by Goodhue and fellforward for a gain. 

"How much?" said Stover, rising joyfully. 

"They're measuring. "

The distance was tried and found to be two feet short of the necessaryfive yards. The risk was too great, a kick was signaled and the ballwas Andover's, just inside the center of the field. 

"Now, Lawrenceville, " cried the captain, "show what you're made of. "

The test came quickly, a plunge between McCarty and Lentz yieldedthree yards, a second four. The Andover attack, with the sameprecision as before, struck anywhere between the tackles and foundholes. Dink, at the bottom of almost every pile, raged at ToughMcCarty. 

"He's doing nothing, he isn't fighting, " he said angrily. "He doesn'tknow what it is to fight. Why doesn't he break up that interferencefor me?"

When the attack struck his end now it turned in, slicing off tackle, the runner well screened by close interference that held him up whenStover tackled, dragging him on for the precious yards. Three and fouryards at a time, the blue advance rolled its way irresistibly towardthe red and black goal. They were inside the twenty-yard line now. 

Cockrell was pleading with them. Little Charlie DeSoto was runningalong the line, slapping their backs, calling frantically on them tothrow the blue back. 

And gradually the line did stiffen, slowly but perceptibly the advancewas cut down. Enmities were forgotten with the shadow of thegoalposts looming at their backs. Waladoo and Turkey Reiter werefighting side by side, calling to each other. Tough McCarty washauling Stover out of desperate scrimmages, patting him on the backand calling him "good old Dink. " The fighting blood that GarryCockrell had called upon was at last there--the line had closed andfought together. 

And yet they were borne back to their fifteen-yard line, two yards ata time, just losing the fourth down. 

Stover at end was trembling like a blooded terrier, on edge for eachplay, shrieking:

"Oh, Tough, get through--you must get through!"

He was playing by intuition now, no time to plan. He knew just who hadthe ball and where it was going. Out or in, the attack wasconcentrating on his end--only McCarty and he could stop it. He wasgetting his man, but they were dragging him on, fighting now forinches. 

"Third down, one yard to gain!"

"Watch my end, " he shouted to Flash Condit, and hurling himselfforward at the starting backs dove under the knees, and grabbing thelegs about him went down buried under the mass he had upset. 

It seemed hours before the crushing bodies were pulled off and someone's arm brought him to his feet and some one hugged him, shouting inhis ear:

"You saved it, Dink, you saved it!"

Some one rushed up with a sponge and began dabbing his face. 

"What the deuce are they doing that for?" he said angrily. 

Then he noticed that an arm was under his and he turned curiously tothe face near him. It was Tough McCarty's. 

"Whose ball is it?" he said. 

"Ours. "

He looked to the other side. Garry Cockrell was supporting him. 

"What's the matter?" he said, trying to draw his head away from thesponge that was dripping water down his throat. 

"Just a little wind knocked out, youngster--coming to?"

"I'm all right. "

He walked a few steps alone and then took his place. Things were in adaze on the horizon, but not there in the field. Everything else wasshut out except his duty there. 

Charlie DeSoto's voice rose shrill:

"Now, Lawrenceville, up the field with it. This team's just begun toplay. We've got together, boys. Let her rip!"

No longer scattered, but a unit, all differences forgot, fighting forthe same idea, the team rose up and crashed through the Andover line, every man in the play, ten--fifteen yards ahead. 

"Again!" came the strident cry. 

Without a pause the line sprang into place, formed and swept forward. It was a privilege to be in such a game, to feel the common frenzy, the awakened glance of battle that showed down the line. Dink, side byside with Tough McCarty, thrilled with the same thrill, plunging aheadwith the same motion, fighting the same fight; no longer alone anddesperate, but nerved with the consciousness of a partner whosegameness matched his own. 

For thirty yards they carried the ball down the field, before thestronger Andover team, thrown off its feet by the unexpected frenzy, could rally and stand them off. Then an exchange of punts once moredrove them back to their twenty-five-yard line. 

A second time the Andover advance set out from the fifty-yard line andslowly fought its way to surrender the ball in the shadow of thegoalposts. 

Stover played on in a daze, remembering nothing of the confused shockof bodies that had gone before, wondering how much longer he couldhold out--to last out the game as the captain had told him. He wasgroggy, from time to time he felt the sponge's cold touch on his faceor heard the voice of Tough McCarty in his ear. 

"Good old Dink, die game!"

How he loved McCarty fighting there by his side, whispering to him:

"You and I, Dink! What if he is an old elephant, we'll put him out theplay. "

Still, flesh and blood could not last forever. The half must be nearlyup. 

"Two minutes more time. "

"What was that?" he said groggily to Flash Condit. 

"Two minutes more. Hold 'em now!"

It was Andover's ball. He glanced around. They were down near thetwenty-five-yard line somewhere. He looked at McCarty, whose frantichead showed against the sky. 

"Break it up, Tough, " he said, and struggled toward him. 

A cry went up, the play was halted. 

"He's groggy, " he heard voices say, and then came the welcome splashof the sponge. 

Slowly his vision cleared to the anxious faces around him. 

"Can you last?" said the captain. 

"I'm all right, " he said gruffly. 

"Things cleared up now?"

"Fine!"

McCarty put his arm about him and walked with him. 

"Oh, Dink, you will last, won't you?"

"You bet I will, Tough!"

"It's the last stand, old boy!"

"The last. "

"Only two minutes more we've got to hold 'em! The last ditch, Dink. "

"I'll last. "

He looked up and saw the school crouching along the line--tense drawnfaces. For the first time he realized they were there, calling on himto stand steadfast. 

He went back, meeting the rush that came his way, half-knocked aside, half-getting his man, dragged again until assistance came. DeSoto'sstinging hand slapped his back and the sting was good, clearing hisbrain. 

Things came into clear outline once more. He saw down the line and tothe end where Garry Cockrell stood. 

"Good old captain, " he said. "They'll not get by me, not now. "

He was in every play it seemed to him, wondering why Andover wasalways keeping the ball, always coming at his end. Suddenly he had ashock. Over his shoulder were the goalposts, the line he stood on wasthe line of his own goal. 

He gave a hoarse cry and went forward like a madman, parting theinterference. Some one else was through; Tough was through; the wholeline was through flinging back the runner. He went down clinging toGoodhue, buried under a mass of his own tacklers. Then, through thefrenzy, he heard the shrill call of time. 

He struggled to his feet. The ball lay scarcely four yards away fromthe glorious goalposts. Then, before the school could sweep them up;panting, exhausted, they gathered in a circle with incredulous, delirious faces, and leaning heavily, wearily on one another gave thecheer for Andover. And the touch of Stover's arm on McCarty's shoulderwas like an embrace. 

XIX

At nine o'clock that night Stover eluded Dennis de Brian de BoruFinnegan and the Tennessee Shad and went across the dusky campus, faintly lit by the low-hanging moon. Past him hundreds of gnomelikefigures were scurrying, carrying shadowy planks and barrels, whilegleeful voices crossed and recrossed. 

"There's a whole pile back of Appleby's. "

"We've got an oil barrel. "

"Burn every fence in the county!"

"Who cares!"

"Where did you get that plank?"

"Up by the Rouse. "

"Gee, we'll have a bonfire bigger'n the chapel!"

"More wood, Freshmen!"

"Rotten lot, those Freshmen!"

"Hold up your end, Skinny. Do you think I'm a pack mule?"

Dink pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and slunk away, not tobe recognized. He went in a roundabout way past the chapel. He hadjust one desire, to stand under the goalposts they had defended and tofeel again the thrill. 

"Who's that?" The voice was Tough McCarty's. 

"It's me. It's Dink, " said Stover. 

"I came down here, " said McCarty, appearing from under the goalpostsand hesitating a little, "well, just to feel how it felt again. "

"So did I. "

Dink stood by the posts, taking one affectionately in his hand, andsaid curiously: "They tell me, Tough, we held 'em four times insidethe ten-yard line. "

"Four times, old boy. "

"Funny I don't remember but two. Guess I was groggy. "

"You didn't show it. "

"It was you pulled me through, Tough. "

"Rats!"

"It was. There at the last, I remember when you gripped me. " As thiswas perilously near sentiment he stopped. "I say, how many of ustackled that fellow the last time?"

"The whole bunch. I say, Dink. "

"Yes?"

"Stand out here--that's it, knee to knee. Can't you just feel itbehind you?"

"Yes, " said Dink, surprised that in the big body there was animagination akin to his own. Then he said abruptly:

"Tough, I guess there won't be any fight. "

"No--not after this. "

"What the deuce did we get a grudge for, anyway?"

"I always liked you, Dink, but you wouldn't have it. "

"I was a mean little varmint!"

"Rats! I say, Dink, we've got two years more on the old team. There'snothing going to get around our end, is there, old boy?"

"You bet there isn't!"

All at once a flame ran up the towering bonfire and belched toward thesky. 

"Are you going to let them get you?" said McCarty. 

"Me? Oh, Lord, no--I can't make a speech!"

"Neither can I!" said Tough mendaciously. "I wouldn't go back therefor the world!"

The thin posts stood out against the sheet of flame, gaunt, rigid, imbued with a certain grandeur. 

"I say, Dink, " said McCarty. 

"Yes?"

"I say, we're going to have some great old fights together. But, doyou know, I sort of feel after all, this will be the best. "

Then a chorus of thin shrieks rose about them. They startedhalf-heartedly to run, pretending fury. A swarm of determined boyhoodrushed over them and flung them kicking, struggling into the air. 

"Tough McCarty and Dink Stover!"

"We've got 'em!"

"On to the bonfire!"

"They're ours!"

"Hurray!"

"Help!"

"Help! We've got McCarty and Stover!"

Boys by the score came tearing out. The little knot under Dink becamea thick, black shadow, rushing forward with hilarious, triumphantshouts. Then all at once he landed all-fours on a cart before theflaming stack, greeted by fishhorns and rattles, his name shrieked outin a wild acclaim. 

"Three cheers for good old Dink!"

"Three cheers for honest John Stover!"

"Three cheers for the little cuss!"

He drew himself up, fumbling at his cap, terrified at the multipliedfaces that danced before his eyes. 

"I say, fellows----"

"Hurray!"

"Good boy!"

"Orator!"

"I say, fellows, I don't see why you've got me up here. "

"You don't!"

"We'll show you!"

"Dink, you're the finest ever!"

"You're the stuff!"

"Three cheers for good old Rinky Dink!"

"Fellows, I'm no silver-tongued orator----"

"Don't believe it!"

"You are!"

"Fellows, I haven't got anything to say----"

"That's the stuff!"

"Hurray!"

"Keep it up!"

"Oh, you bulldog!"

"Fellows, they were good----"

A derisive shout went up. 

"Fellows, they were very good----"

"Yes, they were!"

"Fellows, they were re-markably good--but _they didn't beat the oldschool team_! That's all. "

He dove headlong into the crowd, unaware that he had repeated for thesixth time the stock oration of the evening. 

"Good old Dink! Good old Rinky Dink!"

The cry stuck in his memory all through the jubilant night and longafter, when in his delicious bed he tossed and worried over thetackles he had missed. 

"It's a bully nickname--bully!" he repeated drowsily, again and again. "It sounds as though they liked you! And Tough McCarty, what a bullychap--bully! We're going to be friends--pals--what a bully fellow!Everything is bully--everything!"

 * * * * *

With the close of the football season and the advent of December, withits scurries of snow and sleet, what might be termed the open seasonfor masters began. 

A school of four hundred fellows is a good deal like a shaky monarchy:the football and baseball seasons akin to foreign wars; so long asthey last the tranquillity of the state is secure, but with the returnof peace a state of fermentation and unrest is due. 

The three weeks that lead to the Christmas vacation are too filledwith anticipation to be dangerous. It is the long reaches afterJanuary fifth, the period of arctic night that settles down until thepassing of the muddy month of March, that tries the souls of thekeepers of these caged menageries. 

Since those days a humane direction has built a gymnasium to lightenthe condition of servitude, preserve the health and prolong the livesof the Faculty. But at this time, with the shutting of the door on thetreadmills of exercise, the young assistant master arranged his warmwrapper and slippers at the side of his bed and went to sleep with oneear raised. 

Dink Stover entered this season of mischief with all the ardor andintensity of his nature, the more so because, owing to his weeks ofstrict training and his virtual isolation of the year before, it wasall strange to him. And at that period what is forbidden, dangerousand, above all, untried, must be attempted at least once. 

Now, owing to the foresight of a wise father, Dink had never beenforbidden to smoke. Of a consequence when, at an early age, hepracticed upon an old corncob pipe and found it violently disagreedwith him, the desire abruptly ceased and, as the athletic ardor came, he consecrated his years to the duty of growing, with not theslightest regret. 

But between smoking under permission and squeezing close to a cold-airventilator, stealthily, in the pin-drop silences of the night, withfrightful risks of detection, was all the difference in the world. Onewas a disagreeable, thoroughly unsympathetic exercise; the other was aromantic, mediæval adventure. 

So when Slops Barnett, who roomed below and was the proprietor of amodel air flue with direct, perpendicular draught, said to him with anair of mannish _insouciance_:

"I say, old man, I've got a fat box of 'Gyptians. Glad to have youdrop in to-night if you like the weed. "

Dink answered with blasé familiarity:

"Why, thankee, I've been aching for just a good old coffin-nail. "

He slipped down the creaking, nervous stairs, and found Slopsluxuriously reclining before the ventilator, on a mattress re-enforcedby yellow and green sofa pillows, that gave the whole somewhat of thedevilishly dissipated effect of the scenes from Oriental lands thatfascinated him on the covers of cigarette boxes. 

Slops made him a sign in the deaf-and-dumb language to extinguish thelight and creep to his side. 

"Comfy?" said Slops, whispering from the darkness. 

"Out of sight!"

"Here's the filthy weed. "

"Thanks. "

"Always keep the cig in front of the ventilator, " said Slops, applyinghis lips to Dink's ear. "Get a light from mine. Talk in whispers. "

Stover filled his cheeks cautiously and blew out after a sufficientperiod. 

"You inhale?"

"Sure. "

"Inhale a cigar?"

"Always. "

"It's awful the way I inhale, " said Slops with a melancholy sigh. "I'mundermining my constitution. Ever see my hand? Shakes worse'n jelly. Can't help it, though; can't live without the weed. I'm a regular cigfiend!"

Stover, holding his cigarette gingerly, keeping the sickly smoke atthe end of his tongue, looked over at Slops' stupid little face, flashing out of the darkness at each puff. He was no longer theuseless Slops Barnett, good only to fetch and carry the sweaters ofthe team, but Barnett, man of the world, versed in deadly practices. 

"I say, Slops----"

"Hist--lower. "

"I say, Slops, what would they do if they caught us?"

"Bounce us. "

"For good?"

"Sure! P. D. Q. "

The cigarette suddenly had a new delight to Dink. He was even temptedto inhale a small, very small puff, but immediately conquered thisenthusiastic impulse. 

"Isn't this the gay life, though?" said Slops carelessly. 

"You bet, " said Dink. 

From down the flue came three distinct taps. 

"That's the Gutter Pup signaling, " said Slops, putting his fingerover Dink's mouth. "Bundy is snooping around. Mum's the word. "

Presently, as Dink sat there in the darkness, trying desperately tobreathe noiselessly, the sound of slipping footsteps was heard in thehall. Slops' hand closed over his. The steps stopped directly outsidetheir door, waited a long moment and went on. 

"Bundy?" said Dink in a whisper. 

"Yes. "

"Why did he stop?"

"He's got me spotted. He's seen the nicotine on my finger, " saidSlops, showing a finger under a sudden glow of his cigarette. 

A half-hour later when Dink crept up the stairs, homeward bound, heswelled with a new sensation. Yesterday was months away; then he was aboy, now that he had smoked up a cold-air ventilator, with Bundyoutwitted by the door, he had aged with a jump--he must be at last aman. 

The next week he added to his stature by going to P. Lentz's room fora midnight session of the national game, where, after a titanicstruggle of three hours, he won the colossal sum of forty-eight cents. 

Having sunk to these depths he began to listen to the Sunday sermonswith a thrill of personal delight--there being not the slightestdoubt that they were directly launched at him. Sometimes he wonderedhow the Doctor and The Roman could remain ignorant of the extent ofhis debauches, his transgressions were so daring and so complete. Hestood shivering up the Trenton road, under the shadow of an icy trunk, of Sunday mornings, and met Blinky, the one-eyed purveyor of illicitcigarettes and the forbidden Sunday newspapers, which had to bewrapped around his body and smuggled under a sweater. 

Secretly he rubbed iodine on his fingers to simulate the vicious stainof nicotine that was such a precious ornament to Slops' squat fingers. Only one thing distressed him, and that was his invincible dislike forthe cigarette itself. 

Being now a celebrity, many doors were thrown invitingly open to him, invitations that flattered him, without his making a distinction. Hewent over to the Upper at times and into rooms where he had nobusiness, immensely proud that he was called in to share the delightsand liberties of the lords of the school. 

At the Kennedy he was in constant rebellion against establishedprecedent, constantly called below to be lectured by The Roman. Inrevenge for which at night he made the life of Mr. Bundy one ofconstant insomnia, and, by soaping the stairs or strewing tacks in thehall, seriously interfered with that inexperienced young gentleman'snightly exercises. 

The deeper he went the deeper he was determined to go; doggedlyimagining that the whole Faculty, led by The Roman, were bending everyeffort to bring him down and convict him. 

The Tennessee Shad had no inclinations toward sporting life--greatlyto Stover's surprise. When Dink urged him to join the clandestineparties he only yawned in a bored way. 

"Come on now, Shad, be a sport, " said Dink, repeating the stockphrase. 

"You're not sports, " said the Tennessee Shad in languid derision, "you're bluffs. Besides, I've been all through it, two years ago. Hurry up with your dead-game sporting phase, if you've got to, but getthrough it; 'cause now you're nothing but a nuisance. "

Dink felt considerably grieved at his roommate's flippant attitudetoward his career of vice. Secretly, he felt that a word of kindlyremonstrance, some friendly effort to pull him back from the frightfulabyss into which he was sinking, would have been more like a friendand a roommate. 

This same callous indifference to the fate of his roommate's soul soincensed Stover that, to bring before the Shad's eyes the reallydesperate state of his morals, he appointed a Welsh-rabbit party intheir room for the following night. 

"Don't mind, do you?" he said carelessly. 

"Not if I don't have to eat it!"

"It's going to be a real one, " said Stover, "making a distinction. "

"Come off!"

"Fact. It is not going to be flavored with rootbeer, toothwash, condensed milk or russet polish; it is going to be the genuine, satisfaction guaranteed, or you get your money back. "

"With beer?"

"Exactly. "

"Yes, it is!"

"It is. "

"Where'll you get it?"

"I have ways. "

"Oh, " said the Tennessee Shad sarcastically, "this is one of yourreal, sporting-life parties, is it?"

Stover disdained to answer. 

"Is that bunch of slums going to be here?"

"Are you referring to my friends?" said Stover. 

"I am, " said the Tennessee Shad, "and all I ask while this feast ofbacchanalian orgies is going on, is that _I_ be allowed to sleep. "

At eleven o'clock Stover, holding his shoes in his hand, went down thestairs to meet Slops in Fatty Harris' room and thence into theoutlawed night. They stole over the crinkling snow, burying theirnoses in their sweaters, until, having climbed several fences, theyarrived behind a shed of particularly cavernous appearance. 

"Make the signal, " said Slops, sheltering himself behind Stover. 

Blinky appeared like a monster of the night. 

"Hist, Blinky, O. K. ?" said Slops, who, having his shoulder to Dink'srecovered his sporting manner. "Got the booze?"

"I got it, " said Blinky in husky accents, with his hand behind hisback. "What's youse got?"

"The cash is here all right. How many bots did you bring?"

Blinky slowly brought forward one bottle. 

"What, only one?" said Slops the bacchanalian, in dismay. 

"All's left, " said Blinky, with a double meaning. 

"How much?"

"One dollar. "

"What! You robber!"

"Take it or leave it--don't care, " said Blinky, who sat down andhugged the bottle to him like a baby. 

They paid the extortion and slunk back. 

"We'll have to cook up a story, " said Dink. 

"Sure!"

"Still, it's beer. "

"It certainly is!"

"It's expulsion if we're caught. "

"And a penal offense, don't forget that!"

Somewhat consoled by this delightful thought they cautiously tapped onFatty Harris' window and, removing their boots, tiptoed upstairs likeanarchists with a price on their heads. 

In Stover's room three more desperate characters were waiting aboutthe chafing dish, Fatty Harris, Slush Randolph and Pee-wee Norris, alldetermined on a life of crime--but all slightly nervous. 

The Tennessee Shad, rolled into a ball on his bed, was venting hisscorn with an occasional snore. 

Stover held up the lonely bottle. 

"Is that all?" exclaimed the three in indignant whispers. 

"All, and mighty lucky to get that, " said Dink valiantly. "We werechased by the constable, terrific time, pounced on us, desperatestruggle, just got away with our skins. "

At this a distinct snort was heard from the direction of the TennesseeShad's bed. 

"I say, isn't it rather--rather dangerous?" said Pee-wee Norris, withhis ears horribly strained. 

"What of it?"

"Suppose he goes to the Doctor?"

"We'll have to take the risk. "

"I say, though, let's be quick about it. "

An uncongenial chill began to pervade the room. Fatty Harris, asmaster cook, visibly hastened the operations. 

The Tennessee Shad was now heard to say in a mumbled jumble:

"Hurrah for crime! Never say die, boys--dead game sports--give us adrink, bartender!"

The revelers stood at the bed looking wrathfully down at the cynic, who snored heavily and said drowsily:

"Talks in his sleep, he talks in his sleep, poor old Pol!"

"Don't pay any attention to him, " said Stover angrily. "He's a cheapwit. What are you doing at the door, Pee-wee?"

"I'm listening, " said Norris, turning guiltily. 

"You're afraid!"

"I'm not; only let's hurry it up. "

Fatty Harris, watching the swirling yellow depths of the rabbit withevident anxiety, emptied a third of the beer into it and held out thebottle, saying:

"Here, sports, fill up the glasses with the good old liquor. "

When the three glasses and two toothmugs had received their exactportion of the bitter stuff, which had been allowed to foam copiouslyin order to eke out, the five desperadoes solemnly touched glasses andSlops Barnett, who had visited in Princeton, led them in thatwhispered toast that is the acme of devilment:

 "_Then stand by your glasses steady, _ _This world is a world full of lies. _ _Then here's to the dead already dead, _ _And here's to the next man who dies!"_

It was terrific. Stover, quite moved, looked about the circle, thoughtthat Pee-wee looked the nearest to the earthworm and repeatedsolemnly:

"To the next man who dies. "

At this moment the Tennessee Shad was heard derisively intoning:

 "_Ring around a rosie, Pocket full of posie. Oats, peas, beans and barley grows. Open the ring and take her in And kiss her when you get her in!_"

They paid no heed. They felt too acutely the solemnity of life and thefleeting hour of pleasure to be deterred by even the lathery aspect oftheir own faces, which emerged from the suds of the beer ready for thebarber. 

"Dish out the bunny, " said Slops, putting down his mug with a recklesslook. 

Suddenly there came an impressive knock and the voice of Mr. Bundysaying:

"Open the door, Stover!"

In a thrice the revelry broke up, the telltale bottle and glasses werestowed under the window-seat, the visiting sporting gentlemenprecipitately groveled to places of concealment, while Stoverextinguished the lights and softly stole into bed. 

"Open the door at once!"

"Who's there?" said Dink with a start. 

"Open the door!"

All sleepy innocence Dink opened the door, rubbing his eyes at thesudden glow. 

"Up after lights?" said Mr. Bundy, marching in. 

"I, sir?" said Dink, astounded. 

All at once Mr. Bundy perceived the chafing-dish and descended uponit. Stover's heart sank--if he tasted it they were lost; no powercould save them. Mr. Bundy turned and surveyed the room; one by onethe terrified roués were dragged forth and recognized, while theTennessee Shad sat on the edge of his bed, reflectively sharpening hisfingers on the pointed knee-caps. 

Then, to the horror of all, Mr. Bundy, sniffing the chafing-dish, inserted a spoon and tasted it. Immediately he set the spoon down witha crash, gave a furious glance at Stover and departed, after orderingthem to their rooms. 

The dead game sports, white and shaky, went without stopping. 

"They're a fine sample of vicious bounders, they are!" said theTennessee Shad. "Bet that Slops Barnett is weeping to his pillow now!"

"I'm sorry I got you into this, " said Stover gloomily. 

"You've brought my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave!" said theTennessee Shad solemnly. 

"Don't jest, " said Dink in a still voice. "It's all up with me, butI'll square you. "

"Don't worry, " said the Tennessee Shad, smiling. "I may not be a tinsport, but I keep my thinker going all the time. "

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I mean you'll get twigged for a midnight spread, that's all. "

"But the beer. Bundy tasted the beer. "

"Taste it yourself, " said the Tennessee Shad, with a wave of his hand. 

Stover hurriedly dipped in a spoon, tasted it and uttered anexecration. 

"Murder, what did you put in it?"

"About half a bottle of horse liniment, " said the Tennessee Shad, crawling back into bed. "Only, don't tell the others if you want tosee how much dead game sportiness there is in them by to-morrowmorning. "

The affair made a great noise and, as Stover suppressed thetransformation worked by the Tennessee Shad, Slops Barnett and hiscompanions did not exactly show those qualities of Stoic resignationwhich might be expected from brazen characters with their view oflife. 

Meanwhile, the skies cleared and the earth hardened, and the airresounded with the cries of baseball candidates. 

Much to his surprise, Dink found at the end of the strenuous day noimpelling desire to plunge into fast life. Still the convictionremained for a long time that his soul had been surrendered, that notonly was he destined for the gallows in this world, but that only theprayers of his mother might save him from being irrevocably damned inthe next. It was a terrific thought, and yet it brought a certainpleasure. He was different from the rest. He was a man of the world. He had known--LIFE!

The episode ended as episodes in the young days end--in a laugh. 

"I say, Dink, " said the Tennessee Shad one afternoon in April, as, gloriously reveling on the warm turf, they watched the 'Varsity nine. 

"Say it. "

"In your dead-game sporting days did you ever, by chance, paint yournicotine fingers with iodine?"

"How in blazes did you know?"

"Used to do it myself, " said the Shad reminiscently. Then he added:"Thought yourself a lost soul?"

Stover began to laugh. 

"All alone in a cold, cold world--wicked, very wicked?"

"Perhaps. "

"And it was rather a nice feeling, too, wasn't it?"

"I didn't know, you----" said Dink, blushing to find himself back inthe common herd. 

"Me, too, " said the Tennessee Shad, sucking a straw. "Good oldsporting days!" Presently he began mischievously:

 "_Then stand by your glasses steady, This world is a----_"

But here Dink, rising up, tumbled him over. 

XX

With the complete arrival of the spring came also a lessening ofDink's requested appearances at Faculty meetings, his little eveningchats in The Roman's study on matters of disciplinary interpretationand the occasional summons through the gates of Avernus to quailbefore the all-seeing eye. 

It was not that the spirit of Spartacus was faint, or that his enmityhad weakened toward The Roman--who, of course, without the slightestdoubt, was always the persecutor responsible for his summons beforethe courts of injustice. The truth was, Stover had suddenly begun toage and to desire to put from himself youthful things. Thisextraordinary phenomenon that somehow does happen was in some measurea reflex action. 

Ever since the stormy afternoon on which he had decided against hisown eleven, he had slowly come to realize that he had won a peculiarplace in the estimation of the school--somewhat of the dignity of theincorruptible judges that existed in former days. He became in a smallway a sort of court of arbitration before which questions of more orless gravity were submitted. This deference at first embarrassed, thenamused, then finally pleased him with an acute, mannish pleasure. 

The consequence was that Stover, who until this time had only lookedforward and up at the majestic shadows of the fourth and fifthformers, now looked backward and down, and became pleasurably awarethat leagues below him was the large body of the first and secondforms. Having perceived this new adjustment he woke with a start and, rubbing his eyes, took stock of his amazing knowledge of life andagain said to himself that now, finally, he certainly must havearrived at man's estate. 

On top of which, having been asked to referee several disputes in hischaracter of Honest John Stover, Dink, while holding himself inreserve to direct operations on a dignified and colossal scale againstthe Natural Enemy, decided that it was unbecoming of a man of hisposition, age and reputation, who had the entrée of the Upper House, to go skipping about the midnight ways, in undignified costume, withsuch rank shavers as Pebble Stone and Dennis de B. De B. Finnegan. 

So when Dennis arrived after lights, like a will-o'-the-wisp, with awhispered:

"I say, Dink, all ready. "

Stover replied:

"All ready in bed. "

"What, " said Dennis aghast, "you're not with us?"

"No. "

"Aren't you feeling well?"

"First rate. "

"But I say, Dink, there's half a dozen of us. We've got all thelaundry bags in the house heaped up just outside of Beekstein's doorand, I say, we're going to pile 'em all up on top of him and then jumpon and pie him, and scoot for our rooms before old Bundy can jump thestairs and nab us. It'll be regular touch and go--a regular lark! Comeon!"

A snore answered him. 

"You won't come?"

"No. "

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm sleepy!"

"Sleepy!" said Dennis in such amazement that he no longer had anystrength to argue, and left the room convinced that Stover washeroically concealing an agony of pain. 

Stover immediately settled his tired body, sunk his nose to the levelof the covers and floated blissfully off into the land of dreams. Thenext night and the next it was the same. For a whole month Dink slept, wasting not a one of the precious moments of the night, sleepingthrough the slow-moving recitations, sleeping on the green turf ofafternoons, pillowed on Tough McCarty or the Tennessee Shad, andwatching others scampering around the diamond in incomprehensibleactivity; but the month was the month of April and his years sixteen. In the first week of May Stover awakened, the drowsiness dropped fromhim and the spirit of perpetual motion again returned. Still, thedistance between himself and his past remained. He had changed, becomegraver, more laconic, moving with sedateness, like Garry Cockrell, whose tricks of speech and gestures he imitated, holding himselfrather aloof from the populace, curiously conscious that the changehad come, and sometimes looking back with profound melancholy on theyouth that had now passed irrevocably away. 

During this period of somewhat fragile self-importance, theacquaintance with Tough McCarty had strengthened into an eternalfriendship in a manner that had a certain touch of humor. 

McCarty, after the close of the football season, had repeatedly soughtout his late antagonist, but, though Dink at the bottom of his soulwas thrilled with the thought that here at last was the friend offriends, the Damon to his Pythias, the chum who was to stand shoulderto his shoulder, and so on, still there was too much self-consciouspride in him to yield immediately to this feeling. 

McCarty perceived the reserve without quite analyzing it, and waspuzzled at the barriers that still intervened. 

During the winter, when Dink was resolutely set in the pursuit of thatbeau-ideal, which had a marked resemblance with a certain creation ofBret Harte's, Mr. Jack Hamlin, "gentleman sport, " as Dennis would havecalled him, McCarty found little opportunity for friendly intercourse. He disapproved of many of Dink's friendships, not so much from amoralistic point of view as from Stover's not exercising the principleof selection. As this phase was intensified and Stover became theobject of criticism of his classmates for hanging at the heels offifth-formers and neglecting his own territory, McCarty resolved thatthe plain duty of a friend required him to administer a moral lecture. 

This heroic resolve threw him into confusion for a week, for, in thefirst place, he had been accustomed to receive rather than to givewords of warning and, in the second place, he was fully aware of thedifficulties of opening up the subject at all. 

After much anxious and gloomy cogitation he hit upon a novel planand, approaching Stover at the end of the last recitation, gave him amysterious wink. 

"What's up?" said Dink instantly. 

McCarty pulled him aside:

"I've got a couple of A. No. 1 millionaire cigars, " he said in awhisper. "If you've got nothing better, why, come along. "

"I'm yours on the jump, " said Dink, trying to give to his words a joywhich he was far from feeling in his stomach. 

"You smoke cigars?"

"Do I!"

"Come on, then!"

It was the last day of March, which had gone out like a lamb, leavingthe ground still chill and moist with the memory of departed snows. They went down by the pond in the shelter of the grove and McCartyproudly produced two cigars coated with gilt foil. 

"They look the real thing to me, " said Dink, eying the longprojectiles with a rakish, professional look. 

Now, Dink had never smoked a cigar in his life and was alarmed at thethought of the task before him; but he was resolved to die a lingeringdeath rather than allow that humiliating secret to be discovered. 

"You bet they're the real thing, " said Tough McCarty, slipping offthe foil. "Real, black beauties! Get the flavor?"

Dink approached the ominous black cigar to his nose, sniffed itrapturously and cocked a knowing eye. 

"Aha!"

"Real Havanas!"

"They certainly smell good!"

"Swiped 'em off my brother-in-law, forty-five centers. "

"I believe it. Say, what do you call 'em?"

"Invincibles. "

The name threw a momentary chill over Stover, but he instantlyrecovered. 

"I say, we ought to have a couple of hatpins, " he said, turning thecigar in his fingers. 

"What for?"

"Smoke 'em to the last puff!"

"We'll use our penknives. "

"All right--after you. "

Stover cautiously drew in his first puff. To his surprise nothingimmediate happened. 

"How is it?" said McCarty. 

"Terrific!"

"Do you inhale?"

"Sometimes, " said Stover, with an inconsequential wave of his hand. 

This gave McCarty his opening; besides, he was deceived by Stover'scomplete manner. 

"Dink, I'm afraid you're smoking too much, " he saidearnestly, puffing on his cigar. 

"Oh, no, " said Dink, immensely flattered by this undeserved accusationfrom McCarty, who smoked forty-five-cent cigars. 

"Yes, you are. I know it. Trouble with you is, old boy, you never doanything by halves. I know you. "

"Oh, well, " said Stover loftily. 

"You're smoking too much, and that's not all, Dink. I--I've wanted tohave a chance at you for a long while, and now I'm going for you. "

"Hello----"

"Now, look here, boy, " said Tough McCarty, filling the air with theblue smoke, "I'm not a mammy boy nor a goody-goody, and I don't likepreaching; but you've got too much ahead of you, old rooster, to goand throw it away. "

"What do you mean?" said Dink, champing furiously on his cigar, as hehad seen several stage villains do. 

"I mean, old socks, " said Tough, frowning with his effort--"I meanthere are some fellows here who are worth while and some who are not, who won't do you any good, who don't amount to a row of pins, andaren't up to you in any way you look at it. "

"Are you criticising my friends?" said Stover, who had just passed aneven more unflattering judgment, due to the Welsh-rabbit episode. 

"I am, " said McCarty, passing his hand over his forehead withdifficulty. 

Stover was just about to make an angry reply when he looked atMcCarty, who suddenly leaned back against the tree. At the same momenta feeling of insecurity overtook him. He started again to make anangry answer and then all pugnacious thoughts left him. He sat downsuddenly, his head swam on his shoulders and about him the woodsdanced in drunken reelings, sweeping grotesque boughs over him. Onlythe earth felt good, the damp, muddy earth, which he all at onceconvulsively embraced. 

"Dink!"

The sound was far off, weak and fraught with mortal distress. 

"Has it hit you, too?"

Dink's answer was a groan. He opened one eye; McCarty, prone at hisside, lay on his stomach, burying his head in his arms. 

At this moment a light patter sounded about them. 

"It's beginning to rain. "

"I don't care!"

"Neither do I. "

Stover lay clutching the earth, that somehow wouldn't kept still, that moved under him, that swayed and rose and fell. Then things beganto rush through his brain: armies of football-clad warriors, The Romanwhirling by on one leg of his chair, Dennis de Brian de Boru Finneganprancing impishly, sticking out his tongue at him, whole flocks ofSunday preachers gesticulating in his direction, crowds of faces, legs, arms, an old, yellow dog with a sausage in his mouth----

Suddenly near him McCarty began to move. 

"Where are you going?" he managed to say. "For Heaven's sake, don'tleave me. "

"To the pond--drink. "

McCarty, on his hands and knees, began to crawl. Stover raised himselfup and staggered after. The rain came down unheeded--nothing could addto his misery. They reached the pond and drank long copious drinks, plunging their dripping heads in the water. 

Gradually the vertigo passed. Faint and weak they sat propped upopposite each other, solemnly, sadly, glance to glance, whileunnoticed the rain spouted from the ends of their noses. 

"Oh, Dink!" said Tough at last. 

"Don't!"

"I thought I was going to die. "

"I'm not sure of it yet. "

"I had a lot I wanted to say to you, " said Tough painfully, feelingthe opportunity was slipping away. 

"You said I was smoking too much, " said Dink maliciously. 

"Ugh! Don't--no, that wasn't it. "

"Shut up, old cockalorum, " said Dink pleasantly. "I know all you wantto say--found it out myself--it's all in one word--swelled head!"

"Oh!" said Tough deprecatingly, now that Dink had turned accuser. 

"I've been a little, fluffy ass!" said Dink, marvelously stimulated torepentance by the episode which had gone before. "But that's over. Myhead's subsiding. "

"What?"

The two burst into sympathetic laughter. 

"You--you didn't mind my sailing into you, old horse?" said Tough. 

"Not now. "

McCarty looked mystified. 

"Tough, " said Dink with a queer look, "if you had smoked that blackdevil and I hadn't--all would have been over between us. As it is----"

"Well?" said Tough. 

"As it is--Tough, here's my hand--let's swear an eternal friendship!"

"Put it there!"

"I say, Tough----"

"What?"

"Now, on your honor--did you ever smoke a cigar before?"

"Never, " said McCarty. "And I'll never smoke another. So help me. "

"Nor I. I say, what was that name?"

"Invincibles. "

"That's where we should have stopped!"

"Dink, I begin to feel a little chilly. "

"Tough, that's a good sign; let's up. "

Arm in arm, laughing uproariously, they went, still a little shaky, back toward the school. 

"I say, Tough, " said Dink, throwing his arm affectionately about theother's shoulders. "I've been pretty much of a jackass, haven't I?"

"Oh, come, now!"

"I'm afraid I'm not built for a sport, " said Dink, with a lingeringregret. "But I say, Tough----"

"What?"

"I may be the prodigal son, but you're the devil of a moral lecturer, you are!"

XXI

One Wednesday afternoon, as Dink was lolling gorgeously on hiswindow-seat, sniffing the alert air and waiting for the moment to goskipping over to the 'Varsity field for the game with a visitingschool, a voice from below hailed him:

"Oh, you, Rinky Dink!"

Stover languidly extended his head and beheld Tough McCarty. 

"Hello there, Dink. "

"Hello yourself. "

"Come over to the Woodhull and meet my family. "

"What!" said Dink in consternation. 

"They're over for the game. Hurry up now and help me out!"

Dink tried frantically to call him back, but Tough, as though to shutoff a refusal, disappeared around the house. Dink returned to the roomin a rage. 

"What's the matter?" said the Tennessee Shad. 

"I've got to go over and meet a lot of women, " said Dink in disgust. "Confound Tough McCarty! That's a rotten trick to play on me. I'llwring his neck!"

"Go on now, make yourself beautiful!" said the Tennessee Shad, delighted. "Remember the whole school will be watching you. "

"Shut up!" said Dink savagely, making the grand toilet, whichconsisted in putting on a high collar, exchanging his belt for a pairof suspenders and donning a pair of patent-leathers. "The place forwomen is at home! It's an outrage!"

He tied his necktie with a vicious lunge, ran the comb once throughthe tangled hair, glanced at his hands, decided that they would passmuster, slapped on his hat and went out, kicking the door open. 

At the Woodhull, Tough hailed him from his window. Dink went up, boredand rebellious. The door opened, he found himself in Tough McCarty'sroom in the vortex of a crowd of fellow-sufferers. Over by thewindow-seat two fluffy figures, with skirts and hats on, were seated. He shook hands with both; one was Mrs. McCarty, the other was thedaughter, he wasn't quite sure which. He said something about thedelight which the meeting afforded him, and, gravitating into acorner, fell upon Butsey White, with whom he gravely shook hands. 

"Isn't this awful?" said Butsey in a confidential whisper. 

"Frightful!"

"What the deuce's got into Tough?"

"It's a rotten trick!"

"Let's hook it. "

"All right. Slide toward the door. "

But at this moment, when deliverance seemed near, Tough bore down and, taking Stover by the arm, drew him aside. 

"I say, stick by me on this, old man, " he said desperately. "Take 'emto the game with me, will you?"

"To the game!" cried Dink in horror. "Oh, Tough, come now, I say, I'mno fusser. I'm tongue-tied and pigeon-toed. Oh, I say, old man, do getsome one else!"

But as Tough McCarty kept a firm grip on the lapel of his coat Dinksuddenly found himself, with the departure of the other guests, ahelpless captive. The first painful scraps of conversation passed in ablur. Before he knew it he was crossing the campus, actually walking, in full view of the school, at the side of Miss McCarty. 

Her unconsciousness was paralyzing, perfectly paralyzing! Dink, struggling for a word in the vast desert of his brain, was overwhelmedwith the ease with which his companion ran on. He stole a glance underthe floating azure veil and decided, from the way the brilliant blueparasol swung from her hand, that she must be a woman of theworld--thirty, at least. 

He extracted his hands precipitately from the trousers pockets inwhich they had been plunged and buttoned the last button of his coat. Somehow, his hands seemed to wander all over his anatomy, like jibsthat had broken loose. He tried to clasp them behind his back, likethe Doctor, or to insert one between the first and second button ofhis coat, the characteristic pose of the great Corsican, according tohis history. For a moment he found relief by slipping them, Englishfashion, into his coat pockets; but at the thought of being detectedthus by the Tennessee Shad he withdrew them as though he had struck ahornet's nest. 

The school, meanwhile, had gamboled past, all snickering, of course, at his predicament. In this state of utter misery he arrived at lastat the field, where, to his amazement, quite a group of Fifth-Formerscame up and surrounded Miss McCarty, chattering in the mostbewildering manner. Dink seized the opportunity to drop back, draw along sigh, reach madly behind for his necktie, which had climbedperilously near the edge of his collar, and shoot back his cuffs. Hesaw the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Boru grinning at him from thecrowd, and showed them his fist with a threatening gesture. 

Then the game began and he was seated by Miss McCarty, unutterablyrelieved that the tension of the contest had diverted the entireattention of the school from his particular sufferings. 

The excitement of the play for the first time gave him an opportunityto study his companion. His first estimate was undoubtedly correct;she was plainly a woman of the world. No one else could sit at suchperfect ease, the cynosure of so many eyes. Her dress was somewonderful creation, from Paris, no doubt, that rustled with analluring sound and gave forth a pleasant perfume. 

The more he looked the more his eye approved. She was quiteunusual--quite. She had style--a very impressive style. He had neverbefore remembered any one who held herself quite so well, or whosehead carried itself so regally. There was something Spanish, too, about her black hair and eyes and the flush of red in her cheeks. 

Having perceived all this Dink began to recover from his panic and, with a desire to wipe out his past awkwardness, began busily to searchfor some subject with which gracefully to open up the conversation. 

At that moment his eye fell upon his boot carelessly displayed and, tohis horror, beheld there a gaping crack. This discovery drove alldesire for conversation at once out of his head. By a covert movementhe drew the offending shoe up under the shadow of the other. 

"You hate this, don't you?" said a laughing voice. 

He turned, blushing, to find Miss McCarty's dark eyes alive withamusement. 

"Oh, now, I say, really----" he began. 

"Of course, you loathe being dragged out this way, " she said, cuttingin. "Confess!"

Dink began to laugh guiltily. 

"That's better, " said Miss McCarty approvingly. "Now we shall get onbetter. "

"How did you know?" said Dink, immensely mystified. 

Miss McCarty wisely withheld this information, and before he knew itDink was in the midst of a conversation, all his embarrassment forgot. The game ended--it had never been really important--and Dink foundhimself, actually to his regret, moving toward the Lodge. 

There, as he was saying good-by with a Chesterfieldian air, Toughplucked him by the sleeve. 

"I say, Dink, old man, " he said doubtfully, "I'd like you to come overand grub with us. But I don't want to haul you over, you know----"

"My dear boy, I should love to!" said Dink, squeezing his arm eagerly. 

"Honest?"

"Straight goods!"

"Bully for you!"

He had three-quarters of an hour to dress before dinner. He went tohis room at a gallop, upsetting Beekstein and Gumbo on his volcanicway upward. Then for half an hour the Kennedy was thrown into aturmoil as the half-clothed figure of Dink Stover flitted from room toroom, burrowed into closets, ransacked bureaus and departed, bearingoff the choicest articles of wearing apparel. Meanwhile, the corridorsresounded with such unintelligible cries as these:

"Who's got a collar, fourteen and a half?"

"Darn you, Dink, bring back my pants!"

"Who swiped my blue coat?"

"Who's been pulling my things to pieces?"

"Hi there, bring back my shoes!"

"Dinged if he hasn't gone off with my cuff buttons, too!"

"Oh you robber!"

"Body snatcher!"

"Dink, the fusser!"

"Who'd have believed it!"

Meanwhile, Dink, returning to his room laden with the spoils of thehouse, proceeded to adorn himself on the principle of selection, discarding the Gutter Pup's trousers for the gala breeches of theTennessee Shad, donning the braided cutaway of Lovely Mead's inpreference to an affair of Slush Randolph's which was too tight in thechest. 

The Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pup and Dennis de Brian de Boru watchedthe proceedings, brownie fashion, across the transom, volunteeringadvice. 

"Why, look at Dink wash!"

"It's a regular annual, isn't it?"

"Look out for my pants!"

"I say, Dink, your theory's wrong. You want to begin by parting yourhair--soak it into place, you know. "

Stover, struck by this expert advice, approached the mirror and seizedhis comb and brush with determination. But the liberties of arebellious people, unmolested for sixteen years, were not to besuddenly abolished. The more he brushed the more the indignant locksrose up in revolt. He broke the comb and threw it down angrily. 

"Wet your hair, " said the Tennessee Shad. 

"Soak it in water, " said the Gutter Pup. 

"Soak it in witch-hazel, " said Dennis. "It will make it morefragrant. "

Dink hesitated:

"Won't it smell too much?"

"Naw. It evaporates. "

Stover seized the bottle and inundated his head, made an exact part inthe middle and drew the sides back in the fashion of pigeon wings. 

"Now clap on a dicer, " said the Gutter Pup approvingly, "and she'llcome up and feed from your hand. "

"Are you really in love?" said Dennis softly. 

Stover, ignoring all comments, tied a white satin four-in-hand withforget-me-not embossings, which had struck his fancy in Fatty Harris'room, and inserted a stick-pin of Finnegan's. 

"You ought to have a colored handkerchief to stick in your breastpocket, " said the Gutter Pup, who began to yield to the excitement. 

"Up his sleeve is more English, don't you know, " said Dennis. 

Stover stood brazenly before the mirror, looking himself over. Thescrubbing he had inflicted on his face had left red, shining spots inprominent places, while his hair, slicked back and plastered down, gave him somewhat the look of an Italian barber on a Sunday off. Hefelt the general glistening effect without, in his innocence, knowingthe remedy. 

"Dink, you are bee-oo-tiful!" said Dennis. 

"Be careful how you sit down, " said the Tennessee Shad, thinking ofthe trousers. 

"How are the shoes?" asked the Gutter Pup solicitously. 

"Tight as mischief, " said Dink, with a wry face. 

"Walk on your heels. "

Stover, with a last deprecating glance, opened the door and departed, amid cheers from the contributing committee. 

When he arrived at the Lodge the dusky waitress who opened the doorstarted back, as he dropped his hat, and sniffed the air. He went intothe parlor, spoiling his carefully-planned entrance by tripping overthe rug. 

"Heavens!" said Tough, "what a smell of witch-hazel. Why, it's Dink. What have you been doing?"

Stover felt the temperature rise to boiling. 

"We had a bit of a shindy, " he said desperately, trying to give it atragic accent, "and I bumped my head. "

"Well, you look like a skinned rat, " said Tough to put him thoroughlyat his ease. 

The angel, however, came to his rescue with solicitous inquiries andwith such a heavenly look that Stover only regretted that he could notappear completely done up in bandages. 

They went in to dinner, where Dink was so overwhelmed by the visionof Miss McCarty in all her transcendent charms that the effort ofswallowing became a painful physical operation. 

Afterward, Tough and his mother went over to Foundation House for avisit with the Doctor, and Dink found himself actually alone, escorting Miss McCarty about the grounds in the favoring dusk of thefast-closing twilight. 

"Let's go toward the Green House, " she said. "Will you take my cloak?"

The cloak settled the perplexing question of the hands. He wondereduneasily why she chose that particular direction. 

"Are you sure you want to go there?" he said. 

"Quite, " she said. "I want to see the exact spot where the historicfight took place. "

Stover moved uneasily. 

"Dear me, what's the matter?"

"I never go there. I hate the place. "

"Why?"

"I was miserable there, " said Dink abruptly. "Hasn't Tough told youabout it?"

"Tell me yourself, " said the angelic voice. 

Stover felt on the instant the most overpowering desire to confide hiswhole life's history, and being under the influence of a genuineemotion as well as aided by the obliterating hour, he began straightforward to relate the story of his months of Coventry in tense, direct sentences, without pausing to calculate either their vividnessor their effect. Once started, he withheld nothing, neither the agonyof his pride nor the utter hopelessness of that isolation. Once ortwice he hesitated, blurting out:

"I say, does this bore you?"

And each time she answered quickly:

"No, no--go on. "

They went back in the fallen night to the campus, and there he pointedout the spot where he had stood and listened to the singing on theEsplanade and made up his mind to return. All at once, his story endedand he perceived, to his utter confusion, that he had been pouring outhis heart to some one whose face he couldn't see, some one who wasprobably smiling at his impetuous confidence, some one whom he had metonly a few hours before. 

"Oh, I say, " he said in horror, "you must think me an awful fool to goon like this. "

"No. "

"You made me tell you, you know, " he said miserably, wondering whatshe could think of him. "I never talked like this before--to any one. I don't know what made me confide in you. "

This was untrue, for he knew perfectly well what had led him to speak. So did she and, knowing full well what was working in the tense, awkward boy beside her, she had no feeling of offense, being at an agewhen such tributes, when genuine, are valued, not scorned. 

"I can just feel how you felt--poor boy, " she said, perhaps notentirely innocent of the effect of her words. "But then, you have wonout, haven't you?"

"I suppose I have, " said Stover, almost suffocated by the gentlenessof her voice. 

"Charlie's told me all about the rest, " she said. "Every one looks upto you now--it's quite a romance, isn't it?"

He was delighted that she saw it thus, secretly wondering if shereally knew every point that could be urged in his favor. 

"I suppose I'll kick myself all over the lot to-morrow, " he said, choosing to be lugubrious. 

"Why?" she said, stopping in surprise. 

"For talking as I've done. "

"You don't regret it?" she said softly, laying her hand on his arm. 

Stover drew a long breath--a difficult one. 

"No, you bet I don't, " he said abruptly. "I'd tell you anything!"

"Come, " she said, smiling to herself, "we must go back--but it's sofascinating here, isn't it?"

He thought he had offended her and was in a panic. 

"I say, you did not understand what I meant. "

"Oh, yes, I did. "

"You're not offended?"

"Not at all. "

This answer left Stover in such a state of bewilderment that allspeech expired. What did she mean by that? Did she really understandor not?

They walked a little way in silence, watching the lights that fell inlong lines across the campus, hearing through the soft night thetinkling of mandolins and the thrumming of guitars, a vibrant, feverish life that suddenly seemed unreal to him. They were fastapproaching the Lodge. A sudden fear came to him that she would gowithout understanding what the one, the only night had been in hislife. 

"I say, Miss McCarty, " he began desperately. 

"Yes. "

"I wish I could tell you----"

"What?"

"I wish I could tell you just what a privilege it's been to meet you. "

"Oh, that's very nice. "

He felt he had failed. He had not expressed himself well. She did notunderstand. 

"I shall never forget it, " he said, plunging ahead. 

She stopped a little guiltily and looked at him. 

"You queer boy, " she said, too pleasantly moved to be severe. "Youqueer, romantic boy! Why, of course you're going to visit us thissummer, and we're going to be good chums, aren't we?"

He did not answer. 

"Aren't we?" she repeated, amused at a situation that was not entirelystrange. 

"No!" he said abruptly, amazed at his own audacity; and with animpulse that he had not suspected he closed the conversation and ledthe way to the Lodge. 

When at last he and Tough were homeward bound he felt he should die ifhe did not then and there learn certain things. So he began withMachiavellian adroitness:

"I say, Tough, what a splendid mother you've got. I didn't get half achance to talk to her. I say, how long will she be here?"

"They're going over to Princeton first thing in the morning, " saidTough, who was secretly relieved. 

A button on the borrowed vest popped with Stover's emotion. 

"How did you get on with Sis?"

"First rate. She's--she's awful sensible, " said Dink. 

"Oh, yes, I suppose so. "

"I say, " said Dink, seeing that he made no progress, "she's been allaround--had lots of experience, hasn't she?"

"Oh, she's bounded about a bit. "

"Still, she doesn't seem much older than you, " said Dink craftily. 

"Sis--oh, she's a bit older. "

"About twenty-two, I should say, " said Dink hopefully. 

"Twenty-four, my boy, " said Tough unfeelingly. "But I say, don't giveit away; she'd bite and scratch me all over the map for telling. "

Stover left him without daring to ask any more questions--he knew whathe wanted to know. He could not go to his room, he could not face theTennessee Shad, possessor of the trousers. He wanted to be alone--towander over the unseen earth, to gulp in the gentle air in long, feverish breaths, to think over what she had said, to grow hot andcold at the thought of his daring, to reconstruct the world ofyesterday and organize the new. 

He went to the back of chapel and sat down on the cool steps, underthe impenetrable clouds of the night. 

"She's twenty-four, only twenty-four, " he said to himself. "I'msixteen, almost seventeen--that's only seven years' difference. "

XXII

When Stover awoke the next morning it was to the light of the blushingday. He thought of the events of the night before and sprang up inhorror. What had he been thinking of? He had made an ass of himself, acomplete, egregious ass. What had possessed him? He looked at himselfin the glass and his heart sunk at the thought of what she must bethinking. He was glad she was going. He did not want to see her again. He would never visit Tough McCarty. Thank Heaven it was daylight againand he had recovered his senses. 

Indignant at every one, himself most of all, he went to chapel and torecitations, profoundly thankful that he would not have to face her inthe mocking light of the day. That he never could have done, never, never!

As he left second recitation Tough McCarty joined him. 

"I say, Dink, they both wanted to be remembered to you, and here's anote from Sis. "

"A note?"

"Here it is. "

Stover stood staring at a violet envelope, inscribed in large, flowing letters: "Mr. John H. Stover. "

Then he put it in his pocket hastily and went to his room. Luckily theTennessee Shad was poaching in the village. He locked the door, secured the transom and drew out the note. It was sealed with a crestand perfumed with a heavenly scent. He held it in his hand a longwhile, convulsively, and then broke the seal with an awkward fingerand read:

 _Dear Mr. Stover_: Just a word to thank you for being my faithful cavalier. Don't forget that you are to pay us a good, long visit this summer, and that we are to become the best of chums. 

 Your very good _friend_, JOSEPHINE MCCARTY. 

P. S. Don't dare to "kick yourself about the place, "whatever that may mean. 

When Dink had read this through once he immediately began it again. The second reading left him more bewildered than ever. It was thefirst time he had come in contact with a manifestation of the workingsof the feminine mind. What did she intend him to understand?

"I'll read it again, " he said, perching on the back of a chair. "DearMr. Stover!" He stopped and considered. "My dear Mr. Stover--Dear Mr. Stover--well, that's all right. But what the deuce does she mean by'faithful cavalier'--I wonder now, I wonder. She wants me to visither--she can't be offended then. 'Your very good friend, ' underlinedtwice, that sounds as though she wanted to warn me. Undoubtedly I madea fool of myself and this is her angelic way of letting me down. 'Friend'--underlined twice--of course that's it. What a blooming, sentimental, moon-struck jay I was. Gee, I could kick myself toJericho and back!" But here his eye fell on the postscript and his jawdropped. "Now how did she guess that? That sounds different from therest, as though--as though she understood. "

He went to the window frowning, and then to the mirror, with a newinterest in this new Mr. John H. Stover who received perplexing noteson scented paper. 

"I must get some decent collars, " he said pensively. "How the deucedoes Lovely Mead keep his tie tight--mine's always slipping down, showing the stud. " He changed his collar, having detected a smirch, and tried the effect of parting his hair on the side, like GarryCockrell. 

"She's a wonderful woman--wonderful, " he said softly, taking up theletter again. "What eyes! Reminds me of Lorna Doone. Josephine--sothat's her name, Josephine--it's a beautiful name. I wish the deuce Iknew just what she did mean by this!"

By nightfall he had written a dozen answers which had been torn up ina panic as soon as written. Finally, he determined that the craftiestway would be to send her his remembrances by Tough--that would expresseverything as well as show her that he could be both discreet anddignified. 

In the afternoon he added a dozen extra high collars to his wardrobeand examined hesitatingly the counter of Gent's Bon-Ton socks, springstyles, displayed at Bill Appleby's. 

The collars, the latest cut, he tried on surreptitiously. They wereuncomfortable and projected into his chin, but there was no questionof the superior effect. Suddenly a new element in the school came tohis notice--fellows like Lovely Mead, Jock Hasbrouk and Dudy Rankin, who wore tailor-made clothes, rainbow cravats, who always lookedimmaculate and whose trousers never bagged at the knees. 

No sooner was this borne in upon him than he was appalled at the stateof his wardrobe. He had outgrown everything. Everything he had baggedat the elbows as well as the knees. His neckties were frazzled andhis socks were all earthy-browns and oat-meal grays. 

His first step was to buy a blacking brush and his next to press histrousers under his mattress, with the result that, being detected anddiverted by Dennis, they appeared next morning with a cross-garteredeffect. 

At nights, especially moonlight nights, under pretense of insomnia, hedrew his bed to the open window and gazed sentimentally into thesuddenly discovered starry system. 

"What the deuce are you mooning about?" said the Tennessee Shad on thefirst occasion. 

"I'm studying astronomy, " said Dink with dignity. 

The Tennessee Shad gave a snort and soon went loudly off to sleep. 

Dink, unmolested, soared away into his own domain. It is true that, having read Peter Ibbetson, he tried for a week to emulate thatfavored dreamer, throwing his arms up, clasping his hands behind hishead and being most particular in the crossing of the feet. Hedreamed, but only discouraging, tantalizing dreams, and the figure hismagic summoned up was not the angelic one, but invariably the elfisheyes and star-pointing nose of Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan. 

But the dreams that lay like shadows between the faltering eyelids andthe shut were real and magic. Then all the difficulties were sweptaway, no cold chill ran up his back to stay the words that rushed tohis lips. Conversations to defy the novelist were spun out and, havingperiodically saved her from a hundred malignant deaths, he continuedeach night anew the heroic work of rescue with unsatiated delight. Attimes, in the throbs of the sacred passion, he thought with a start ofhis blackened past and the tendencies to crime within him. 

"Lord!" he said with a gasp, thinking of the orgy in beer, "what wouldhave become of me--it's like an act of Providence. I wish I could lether know what a--what a good influence she's been. I don't know whatI'd 'a' done--if I hadn't met her! I was in a dreadful way!"

By this time, having had the advantage of countless midnight walks, not to mention the familiarizing effect of several scores of desperateadventures, the character of Miss Lorna Doone McCarty had beencompletely unfolded to the reverential Dink. He saw her, he conversedwith her, he knew her. She was a sort of heavenly being, misunderstoodby her family--especially her brother, who had not the slightestcomprehension. She was like Dante's Beatrice, as the pictures, not thedreadful text, represent that lady--and only seven years older thanMr. John H. Stover. There was Napoleon, who had married a woman olderthan he was--Napoleon and hosts of others. 

With the sudden fear of being dropped a year he began to study withsuch assiduity that, as is the way with newly-sprouted virtue in acynical world, his motives were suspected by the masters, who, ofcourse, could know nothing of the divine transformation, and by hisclassmates, who secretly credited him with some new method ofcribbing. 

Meanwhile, as the year neared its close, the inventive minds of Dennisde Brian de Boru Finnegan and the Tennessee Shad conceived the idea ofa monster mass meeting and illustrative parade, which should down thehereditary foe--the steam laundry. 

Up to this time the columns of _The Lawrence_ had been flooded withcommunications couched in the style of the oration against Catiline, demanding to know how long the supine Lawrenceville boy would bear insilence the return of his shirt with added entrances and exits, andcollars that enclosed the neck with a cheval-de-frise. 

This verbal, annual outbreak was succeeded, as usual, by House toHouse mutinies on the occasion of the arrival of the weekly boxes, without the protest taking further head or front. But at the openingof the last week of the school year, whether a machine had suddenlyjumped its fences or whether the ladies of the washtubs desired toopen the way for the new summer styles; however it may have been, thelaundry returned like the battle flags of the republic to the outragedschool. Windows were flung open and indignant boys appeared, withwhite shreds in hand, and vociferously appealed to the heavens aboveand the green lands below for justice and indemnification. 

A meeting of determined spirits was speedily held under the leadershipof the Tennessee Shad and Doc Macnooder, and it was decided that ademonstration should take place instanter, the Houses to form andmarch with complete exhibits to the Upper House, where thefifth-formers should likewise display their grievances and join themin a mammoth protest. 

Dink, at the first sounds of martial organization, pricked up his earsand summoned the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Brian de Boru Finneganto explain why he had been left out of such an important enterprise. 

"Why have we left you out?" said the Tennessee Shad indignantly. "What's happened to you these last three weeks? You've had a fightinggrouch--no one dared to speak to you for fear of being bitten!"

"In fact, " said Dennis, with his sharp, little glance, "you are underthe gravest suspicion. "

Seeing his secret in peril, Stover assumed a melancholy, injured air. 

"You don't know what I've had to worry me, " he said, looking out thewindow, "family matters--financial reverses. "

"Oh, I say, Dink, old boy, " said the Tennessee Shad, in instantcontrition. 

"You don't mean it's anything that might keep you from coming backnext year?" said Dennis, aghast. "Oh, Dink!"

"I had rather not talk about it, " said Stover solemnly. 

Dennis and the Shad were overwhelmed with remorse--they offered him atonce the Grand Marshalship, which he refused with still offendeddignity, but promised his fertile brain to the common cause. 

Now Dink's sentimental education, which had progressed with a rush, had just begun to languish on insufficiency of food and a littlefeeling of staleness on having exhausted the one thousand and onepossible methods of saving a heroine's life and wringing the consentof her parents. 

He felt a species of guilt in the accusation of his roommate and asudden longing to be back among mannish pursuits. In an hour, withdelighted energy, he had organized the banner and effigy committees ofthe demonstration and had helped concoct the fiery speech of protestthat Doc Macnooder, as spokesman, was solemnly pledged to deliver forthe embattled school. 

Four hours later the Kennedy House, led by Toots Cortell and hisfamous Confederate bugle, defiled and formed the head of theprocession. Each member carried a pole attached to which was somearticle that had been wholly or partly shot to pieces. The Dickinsoncontingent, led by Doc Macnooder, marched in a square, supporting fourposts around which ran a clothesline decked out with the dreadfuldébris of the house laundry. 

The Woodhull proudly bore as its battle flag a few strings of linenfloating from a rake, with this inscription underneath:

 THE GRAND OLD SHIRT OF THE WOODHULL! WASHED 16 TIMES AND STILL IN THE GAME!

Several poles, adorned with single hosing in the fashion of libertycaps, were labeled:

 WHERE IS MY WANDERING SOCK TO-NIGHT?

The Davis House was headed by Moses Moseby in a tattered nightshirt, backed up by an irreverent placard:

 HOLY MOSES!

But the premier exhibit of the parade was admitted by all to be theKennedy float, conceived and executed by the Honorable Dink Stover. 

On a platform carried by eight hilarious members, was displayed Dennisde Brian de Boru Finnegan, clothed in a suit of dark gymnasium tights, over which were superimposed a mangled set of upper and lowerunmentionables, whose rents and cavities stood admirably out againstthe dark background, while the Irishman sat on a chair and alternatelystuck a white foot through the bottomless socks that were fed him. 

Above the platform was the flaring ensign:

 RATHER FRANK NUDITY THAN THIS!

Now it happened that at the auspicious moment when Dink Stover led theapparently scantily-clothed Finnegan and the procession of immodestbanners around to the Esplanade of the Upper, the Doctor suddenlyappeared through the shrubbery that screens Foundation House from therest of the campus, with a party of ladies, relatives, as itunfortunately happened, of one of the trustees of the school. 

One glance of horror and indignation was sufficient for him to waveback the more modest sex and to advance on the astounding processionwith fury and determination. 

Before Jove's awful look the spirit of '76 vanished. There was a cryof warning and the hosts hesitated, shivered and scampered forshelter. 

Now, at any other time the Doctor--who suffered, too, from the commonblight--would have secretly if not openly enjoyed the joke; but atthat moment the circumstances were admittedly trying. Besides, therewas the delicate explanation to be offered to the ladies, who wererelatives of one of the influential members of the board of trusteesof the Lawrenceville School, John C. Green Foundation. As aconsequence, in a towering rage, he summoned the ringleaders, chiefamong whom he had recognized Dink Stover and, corraling them in hisstudy that night, exposed to them the enormity of their offenseagainst the sex of their mothers and sisters, common decency, moralsand morality, the ideals of the school, and the hope that the Nationhad a right to place in a body of young men nurtured in such homes andeducated at such an institution. 

The ringleaders, being veterans, viewed the speech from the point ofview of artists, and were unanimous in their appreciation. The episodehad for Stover, however, unfortunate complications. With the closingof the scholastic season came the elections in the Houses. The KennedyHouse, unanimously and with much enthusiasm, chose the HonorableHonest John Stover to succeed the Honorable King Lentz asadministrator and benevolent despot for the ensuing year. 

This election, coming as it did as a complete surprise to Stover, wasnaturally a source of deep gratification. His enjoyment, however, wasrudely shocked when, the next morning after chapel, the Doctor stoppedhim and said:

"Stover, I am considerably surprised at the choice of the KennedyHouse and I am not at all sure that I shall ratify it. Nothing in yourcareer has indicated to me your fitness for such a place ofresponsibility. I shall have a further talk with Mr. Hopkins and lethim know my decision. "

The Roman! Of course it was The Roman! Of course he had been raging atthe thought of his elevation to the presidency! Dink, forgetting thehundred and one times he had met the Faculty in the Monday afternoondeliberations, rushed out to spread the news of The Roman's vindictivepersecution. Every one was indignant, outraged at this crowning insultto a free electorate. The whole House would protest _en masse_ if thedespot's veto was exercised. 

At the hour of these angry threats The Roman, persecutor of Dink, wasactually saying to the tyrant:

"Doctor, I think it would be the best thing--the very best. It willbring out the manliness, the serious earnestness that is in the boy. "

"What, you say that!" said the Doctor, a little impatiently, for itwas only the morrow of the parade. "I should think your patience wouldbe exhausted. The scamp has been in more mischief than any other boyin the school. He's incorrigibly wild!"

"No--no. I shouldn't say that. Very high spirited--excess ofenergy--too much imagination--that's all. There's nothing viciousabout the boy. "

"But as president, Hopkins, not as president!"

"No one better, " said The Roman firmly. "The boy is bound to lead. Iknow what's in him--he will rise to his responsibility. Doctor, youwill see. I have never lost confidence in him. "

The Doctor, unconvinced, debated at length before acceding. When hefinally gave his ratification he added with a smile:

"Well, Hopkins, I do this on your judgment. You may be right, we shallsee. By the way, Stover must have led you quite a dance over in theKennedy. What is it you like in him?"

The Roman reflected and then, his eye twitching reminiscently:

"Fearlessness, " he said, "and--and a diabolical imagination. "

When The Roman returned to the Kennedy he summoned Stover to hisstudy. He knew that Dink misunderstood his attitude and he would haveliked to enlighten him. Unfortunately, complete confidence in suchcases is sometimes as embarrassing as the relations between father andson. The Roman, pondering, twisted a paper-cutter and frowned in frontof him. 

"Stover, " he said at last. "I have talked with the Doctor. He has seenbest to approve of your election. "

Dink, of course, perceiving the hesitation, went out gleefully, persuaded that the decision was gall and wormwood to his inveteratefoe. 

The last day of school ended. He drove to Trenton in a buggy withTough McCarty as befitted his new dignity. He passed the Green Housewith a strange thrill. The humiliation of a year before had well beenatoned, and yet the associations somehow still had power to rise upand wound him. 

"Lord, you've changed!" said Tough, following his thoughts. 

"Improved!" said Dink grimly. 

"I was an infernal nuisance myself when I landed, " said Tough, President of the Woodhull, evasively. "I say, Dink, next year we'll belicking the cubs into shape ourselves. "

"That's so, " said Stover. "Well, by this time next year I probablywon't be so popular. "

"Why not?"

"I'm going to put an end to a lot of nonsense, " said Dink solemnly. "I'm going to see that my kids walk a chalk-line. "

"So am I, " said McCarty, with equal paternity. "What a shame we can'troom together, old boy!"

"That'll come in the Upper, and afterward!"

They drove sedately, amid the whirling masses of the school that wenthilariously past them. They were no longer of the irresponsible; thecares of the state were descending on their shoulders and a certainrespect was necessary:

"Good-by, old Sockbuts, " said Tough, departing toward New York. "Good-by, old geezer!"

"Au revoir. "

"Mind now--fifteenth of July and you come for one month. "

"You bet I will!"

"Take care of yourself!"

"I say, Tough, " said Dink, with his heart in his mouth. McCarty, laden with valises, stopped:

"What is it?"

"Remember me to your mother, will you?"

"Oh, sure. "

"And--and to all the rest of the family!" said Dink, who thereuponbolted, panic-stricken. 

XXIII

When John Stover, President of the Kennedy House, arrived at theopening of the new scholastic year, he arrived magnificently in aspecial buggy, his changed personal appearance spreading wonder andincredulity before him. He was stylishly encased in a suit of tanwhipcord, with creases down his trousers front that cut the air likethe prow of a ship. On his head, rakishly set, was a Panama hat, overhis arm was a natty raincoat and he wore gloves. 

"Who is it?" said the Tennessee Shad faintly. 

"It's the gas inspector, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru, who, thoughnow long of trousers, continued short of respect. 

"Goodness gracious, " said the Tennessee Shad, "can it be the littleDink who came to us from the Green House?"

Stover approached serenely and shook hands. 

"Heavens, Dink, " said the Gutter Pup, "what has happened? Have yougone into the clothing business?"

"Like my jibs?" said Stover, throwing back his coat. "Catch this!"

The front rank went over like so many nine pins. Stover, pleased withthe effect, waved his hand and disappeared to pay his militantrespects to The Roman who led him to the light and looked him overwith unconcealed amazement. 

When Dink had gone to his old room the Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pupand Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan were already awaiting him, withheads critically slanted. 

"Tell us the worst, " said the Gutter Pup. 

"Are you married?" said the Tennessee Shad. 

"Let's see her photograph, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan. 

Now, Stover had foreseen the greeting and the question and had comeprepared. He opened his valise and, taking out a case, arranged adozen photographs on his bureau, artfully concealing the one and onlyin a temporarily subordinate position. 

The three village loungers arose and stationed themselves in front ofthe portrait gallery. 

"Why, he must be perfectly irresistible!" said the Gutter Pup. 

"Dink, " said Dennis, "do all these girls love you?"

Stover, disdaining a reply, selected another case. 

"Razors!" said the Tennessee Shad. 

"What for?" said Dennis. 

"Oh, I shave, too, " said the Gutter Pup, in whom the spirit of envywas beginning to work. 

"And now, boys, " said Stover briskly, taking off his coat, folding itcarefully over a chair and beginning to unpack, "sit down. Don't actlike a lot of hayseeds on a rail, but tell me what the Freshmen arelike. "

The manner was complete--convincing, without a trace of embarrassment. The three wits exchanged foolish glances and sat down. 

"What do you weigh?" said the Gutter Pup faintly. 

"One hundred and fifty-five, and I've grown an inch, " said Stover, ranging on a ring a score of flashy neckties. 

"I wish Lovely Mead could see those, " said the Gutter Pup with a lastappearance of levity. 

"Call him up. Look at them yourself, " said Stover, tendering theneckwear. "I think they're rather tasty myself. "

Before such absolute serenity frivolity died of starvation. They madeno further attempt at sarcasm, but sat awed until Stover had departedto carry the glad news of his increased weight to Captain FlashCondit. 

"Why he's older than The Roman, " said the Tennessee Shad, the first torecover. 

"He's in love, " said Dennis, who had intuitions. 

"No, be-loved, " said the Gutter Pup with a sigh, who was sufferingfrom the first case, but not from the second. 

The amazement of rolling, old Sir John Falstaff at the transformationof Prince Hal was nothing to the consternation of the Kennedy House atthe sudden conversion of Dink Stover, the fount of mischief, into acomplete disciplinarian. 

Now the cardinal principle of House government is the division of theflock by the establishing of an age line. The control of theyoungsters is almost always vigorously enforced, and though thelogical principles involved are sometimes rather dubious they areadequate from the fact that they are never open to argument. Occasionally, however, under the leadership of some president eithertoo indolent or incapable of leadership, this strict surveillance overthe habits and conduct of youth is relaxed, with disastrous results tothe orderly reputation of the House. 

Stover, having been the arch rebel and fomenter of mischief, had themost determined ideas as to the discipline he intended to enforce andthe respect he should exact. 

The first clash came with the initial House Meeting, over which hepresided. Now in the past these occasions had offered Dennis de Briande Boru Finnegan and his attendant imps unlimited amusement, as KingLentz had been almost totally ignorant of the laws of parliamentaryprocedure. 

Of a consequence, no sooner was a meeting fairly under way, than someyoung scamp would rise and solemnly move the previous question, whichnever failed to bring down a storm of hoots at the completemystification of the perplexed chairman, who never to his last day wasable to solve this knotty point of procedure. 

Now, Dennis, while he had been impressed by Stover's new majesty, retained still a feeling of resistance. So the moment the gaveldeclared the meeting open he bobbed up with a wicked gleam and shrillyannounced:

"Mr. Chairman, I move the previous question. "

"Mr. Finnegan will come to order, " said Stover quietly. 

"Oh, I say, Dink!"

"Are you addressing the chair?" said Stover sternly. 

"Oh, no, " said Finnegan, according to his usual manner, "I was justwhistling through my teeth, gargling my larynx, trilling----"

Crash came the gavel and the law spoke forth:

"Mr. Finnegan will come to order?"

"I won't!"

"Mr. Finnegan either apologizes to the chair, or the chair will seethat Mr. Finnegan returns to short trousers and stays there. Mr. Finnegan has exactly one minute to make up his mind. "

Dennis, crimson and gasping, stood more thoroughly amazed andnonplussed than he had ever been in his active existence. He openedhis mouth as though to reply, and beheld Stover calmly draw forth hiswatch. Had it been any one else, Dennis would have hesitated; but heknew Stover of old and what the chilly, metallic note was in hisvoice. He chose the lesser of two evils and gave the apology. 

"The chair will now state, " said Stover, replacing his watch, "for thebenefit of any other young, transcendent jokers that may care todisplay their side-splitting wit, that the chair is quite capable ofhandling the previous question, or any other question, and that thesemeetings are going to be orderly proceedings and not one-ring circusesfor the benefit of the Kennedy Association of Clowns. The questionbefore the House is the protest against compulsory bath. The chairrecognizes Mr. Lazelle to make a motion. "

The cup of Finnegan's bitterness was not yet filled. Stover's firstact of administration was to forbid the privileges of the cold-airflues and the demon cigarette to all members of the House who had notattained, according to his judgment, either a proper age or asufficient display of bodily stature. Among the proscribed was Dennisde Brian de Boru Finnegan, whose legs, clothed in new dignity, fairlyquivered under the affront, as he tearfully protested:

"I say, Dink, it's an outrage!"

"Can't help it. It's for your own good. "

"But I'm fifteen. "

"Now, see here, Dennis, " said Stover firmly, "your business is to growand to be of some use. No one's going to know about it unless you yellit out, but I'm going to see that you turn out a decent, manly chapand not another Slops Barnett. "

"But you went with Slops yourself. "

"I did--but you're not going to be such a fool. "

"Why, you're a regular tyrant!"

"All right, call it that. "

"And I elected you, " said Dennis, the aggrieved and astounded modernpolitician. "This is Goo-gooism!"

"No, it isn't, " said Stover indignantly. "I'm not interfering with anyfellow who's sixteen--they can do what they darn please. But I'm notgoing to have a lot of kids in this House starting sporting life untilthey've grown up to it, savez? They're going to be worth living withand having around, and not abominations in the sight of gods and men. Pass the word along. "

The revolt, for a short while, was furiously indignant, but theprestige of Stover's reputation forestalled all thought ofdisobedience. In such cases absolute power is in the hands of him whocan wield it, and Stover could command. 

In short order he had reduced the youngsters to respect andusefulness, with the following imperial decrees:

 1. All squabs are to maintain in public a deferential and modest attitude. 

 2. No squab shall talk to excess in the presence of his elders. 

 3. No squab shall habitually use bad language, under penalty of an application of soap and water. 

 4. No squab shall use tobacco in any form. 

 5. No squab shall leave the House after lights without express permission. 

These regulations were not simply an exercise of arbitrary authority, for in the House itself were certain elements which Dink perfectlyunderstood, and whose spheres of influence he was resolved to confineto their own limits. 

"How're you going to enforce, Sire, these imperial decrees?" asked theTennessee Shad, who, however, thoroughly approved. 

"I have a method, " said Stover, with an interior smile. "It's what Icall a Rogues' Gallery. "

"I don't see, " said the Tennessee Shad, puzzled. 

"You will. "

The first rebel was a Freshman, Bellefont, known as the MillionaireBaby, who, due to a previous luxurious existence, had acquired manlypractices at an early age. Bellefont was detected with the odor oftobacco. 

"Young squab, have you been smoking?" said Stover. 

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" said the youngsterdefiantly. 

"Gutter Pup, get your camera, " said Stover. 

The Gutter Pup, mystified, returned. The autocrat seized the youngrebel, slung him paternally across his knee and with raised handspoke:

"Gutter Pup, snap a couple of good ones. We'll make this Exhibit A inour Rogues' Gallery. "

Bellefont, at the thought of this public perpetuation, set up a howland kicked as though mortally stung. Stover held firm. The snapshotswere taken, developed and duly posted. 

From that moment, in public at least, Stover's slightest gesture wasobeyed as promptly as the lifting of an English policeman's finger. 

The yoke once accepted became popular alike with the older members, who ceased to be annoyed, and with the squabs themselves, who, findingthey were protected from bullying or unfair exactions, soon adoptedtoward Stover an attitude of reverent idolatry that was not withoutits embarrassments. He was called upon at all hours to renderdecisions on matters political and philosophical, with the knowledgethat his opinion would instantly be adopted as religion. Before himwere brought all family quarrels, some serious, some grotesque; buteach class demanding a settlement in equity. 

One afternoon Dennis maliciously piloted to his presence Pee-weeNorris and his new roommate, a youngster named Berbacker, calledCyclops from the fact that one eye was glass, a gift that brought hima peculiar admiration and envy. 

Stover, observing the cunning expression on Finnegan's face, scented atrap. The matter was, indeed, very grave. 

"See here, Dink, " said Pee-wee indignantly; "I leave it to you. Howwould you like to stumble upon a loose eye all over the room?"

"A what?"

"A loose eye. This fellow Cyclops is all the time leaving his glasseye around in my diggin's and I don't like it. It's the deuce of athing to find it winking up at you from the table or the window-seat. It gives me the creeps. "

"What have you got to say, Cyclops?" said Stover, assuming a judicialair. 

"Well, I've always been used to takin' the eye out, " said Cyclops, with an injured look. "Most fellows are glad to see it. But, I say, I'm the fellow who has the kick. The whole thing started by Norrishiding it on me. "

"Did you swipe his eye?" said Stover severely. 

"Well, yes, I did. What right's he got to let it out loose?"

"I want him to leave my eye alone, " said Cyclops. 

"I want him to keep his old eye in his old socket, " said Pee-wee. 

"Oh, Solomon, what is thy judgment?" said Dennis, who had engineeredit all. 

"I'll give my judgment and it'll settle it, " said Dink firmly. "ButI'll think it over first. "

True to his word, he deliberated long and actively and, as thejudgment had to be given, he called the complaining parties before himand said:

"Now, look here, Pee-wee and Cyclops; you fellows are rooming togetherand you've got to get on. If you fight, keep it to yourselves; don'tshout it around. But get together--agree. You've got to go on, andthe more you agree--ahem--the less you'll disagree, see? It's justlike marriage. Now you go back and live like a respectable marriedcouple, and if I hear any more about this glass eye I'll spank youboth and have you photographed for the Rogues' Gallery. "

Among the members of the Kennedy House there were two who defied hisauthority and gave him cause for dissatisfaction--the MillionaireBaby, who was a nuisance because he had been pampered and impressedwith his own divine right, and a fellow named Horses Griffin, who wasunbearable because, owing to his size and strength, he had never hadthe blessing of a good thrashing. 

Now when Stover promulgated his laws for the protection of Squabs hehad served notice on the sporting centers that he expected theiradherence. Fellows like Slops Barnett and Fatty Harris, who, to dothem justice, approved of segregation, made no defiance. Griffin, though, who was a hulking, rather surly, self-conscious fellow, secretly rebelled at this act of authority, and gave asylum toBellefont, from whom he was glad to accept the good things thatregularly arrived in boxes from a solicitous mother. 

Stover had seen from the first how the issue would have to be met, and met it at the first opportunity. Griffin having defied hisauthority by openly inviting the Millionaire Baby up for the nefariouspractice of matching pennies, Dink marched up the stairs and enteredthe enemy's room. 

A moment later the group expectantly gathered in the hall heardsomething within that resembled an itinerant cyclone, then the doorblew open and Griffin shot out and raced for the stairs, while behindhim--like an angry tom-cat--came Stover, in time to give to thepanicky champion just that extra impetus that allowed him, as Dennisexpressed it, to establish a new record--flying start--for thetwenty-six steps. After this little explanation Griffin showed amarked disinclination for the company of Bellefont, and became, indeed, quite a useful member of the community, though he alwaysretained such acute memories that an angry tone from Stover wouldcause him to fidget and calculate the distance to the door. 

Griffin subdued, the Millionaire Baby still remained. The problem wasa knotty one, for as Bellefont was still of sub-stature the means ofcorrection were limited. 

"What worries your Majesty?" said Dennis de Brian de Boru, perceivingStover in stern meditation. "Is it that beautiful specimen offlunky-raised squab entitled the Millionaire Baby?"

"It is, " said Dink. Between him and Dennis peace had long since beenconcluded. 

"He is a very precious hothouse flower, " said Dennis sarcastically. 

"He is the most useless, pestiferous, conceited little squirt I eversaw, " said Dink. 

"I love him not. "

"But I'll get that flunky smell out of him yet!"

"The pity is he has such fat, juicy boxes from home. "

"He has--how often?"

"Every two weeks. "

"It oughtn't to be allowed. "

"What are you going to do? You can't take 'em by force. "

"No--that wouldn't do. "

"Still, " said Dennis regretfully, "he's so young it is just ruininghis little digestion. "

They sat a moment deliberating. Finally Dink spoke rapturously:

"I have it. We'll organize the Kennedy Customs House. "

"Aha!"

"Everything imported must pass the Customs House. "

"Pass?"

"Certainly; everything must be legal. "

"What am I to be?"

"Appraiser. "

"I'd rather be first taster. "

"Same thing. "

"You said pass, " said Dennis obstinately. "I don't like that word. "

"Purely technical sense. "

"But there will be duties imposed?"

"Certainly. "

"Aha!" said Dennis brightening. "Very high duties?"

"The maximum duty on luxuries, " said Dink. "We're all goodRepublicans, aren't we?"

"I am, if I can write the tariff schedule, " said Dennis, who, as maybe seen, was orthodox. 

When, on the following week, young Bellefont received his regularinstallment of high-priced indigestibles he was amazed to see theGutter Pup and Lovely Mead appear with solemn demeanor. 

"Hello, " said the Millionaire Baby, placing himself in front of thehalf-open box. 

"See these badges, " said Lovely Mead, pointing to their caps, aroundwhich were displayed white bandages inscribed "inspector. "

"Sure. "

"We're in the Customs House. "

"Well, what?"

"And we have received information that you are systematicallysmuggling goods into this territory. "

The Millionaire Baby looked as though a ghost had arisen. 

"Aha!" said the Gutter Pup, perceiving the box. "Here's the evidencenow. Officer, seize the goods and the prisoner. "

"What are you going to do to me?" said the culprit in great alarm. 

"Take you before the Customs Court. "

The Customs Court was sitting, without absentees, in Stover'sroom--appraisers, weighers, adjusters and consulting experts, alllegally ticketed and very solemn. The prisoner was stood in a cornerand the contents of the box spread on the floor. 

"First exhibit--one plum cake, " announced Beekstein, who was in amenial position. 

"Duty sixty-five per cent, " said Dennis de Brian de Born Finnegan, consulting a book. "Raisins and spices. "

"Two bottles of anchovy olives. "

"Duty fifty per cent, imported fruits. "

"Only fifty per cent?" said Stover, who had a preference for the same. 

"That's all. "

"What's it on?"

"Imported fruits. "

"How about spiced fish?" said the Tennessee Shad, coming to therescue, "and, likewise, Italian glass?"

The Millionaire Baby gave a groan. 

"Imported fish, forty per cent, " said Dennis, "glass--Venetianglass--thirty-five per cent. He owes us thirty per cent on this. "

"Continue, " said Stover, casting a grateful glance at the TennesseeShad. 

"Two boxes of candied prunes, that's vegetables, twenty-five percent. "

"They're preserved in sugar, aren't they?"

"Sure. "

"There's a duty of fifty per cent on sugar. "

"Long live the Sugar Trust. "

"Doggone robbers!" said the Millionaire Baby tearfully. 

"Three boxes salted almonds, one large box of chocolate bonbons, oneangel cake and six tins of candied ginger. "

The judges, deliberating, assessed each article. Stover rose toannounce the decree. 

"The clerk of the court will return to the importer thirty-five percent of the plum cake, twenty-five per cent of the candied prunes, onebox of salted almonds and two tins of ginger. "

The Millionaire Baby breathlessly contained his wrath. 

Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan addressed the court:

"Your Honor. "

"Mr. Finnegan. "

"I beg to call to your Honor's attention that these goods have beenseized and are subject to a fine. "

"True, " said Stover, glancing sternly at the frothing Bellefont. "Iwould be inclined to be lenient, but I am informed that this is notthe defendant's first offense. The clerk of the court will, therefore, confiscate the whole. "

The Millionaire Baby, with a howl, began to express himself in thelanguage of the stables. 

"Gag him, " said Stover, "and let him be informed that the duties willbe lightened if in the future he declares his imports. "

The government then applied the revenues to the needs of thedepartment of the interior. 

"The duty on anchovy olives is too high, " said Finnegan, lookingfondly down a bottle. 

"How so?"

"It will stop the imports. "

"True--we might reduce it. "

"We must encourage imports, " said the Gutter Pup firmly. 

And the chorus came full mouthed:

"Sure!"

The Millionaire Baby received three more boxes--that is, he receivedthe limited portion that a paternal government allowed him. Then, being chastened, he took a despicable revenge--he stopped the supply. 

"Well, it was sweet while it lasted, " said Dennis regretfully. 

"We've stopped toadyism in the House, " said Stover virtuously. "Wehave eliminated the influence of money. "

"That is praiseworthy, but it doesn't fill me with enthusiasm. "

"Dink, " said the Tennessee Shad, "I must say I consider this one ofyour few failures. You're a great administrator, but you don'tunderstand the theory of taxation. "

"I don't, eh? Well, what is the theory?"

"The theory of taxation, " said the Tennessee Shad, "is to soak thetaxed all they'll stand for, but to leave them just enough, so they'llcome again. "

XXIV

No sooner had Mr. John H. Stover returned from the seriousdevelopments of the summer, arranged his new possessions and broughtforward the photograph of Miss McCarty to a position on the edge ofhis bureau, where he could turn to it the last thing at night andagain behold it with his waiting glance, than a horrible coincidenceappeared. 

Among the festive decorations that made the corporate home of Dink andthe Tennessee Shad a place to visit and admire was, as has beenrelated, a smashing poster of a ballet dancer in the costume of anamazon parader. Up to now Dink had shared the just pride of theTennessee Shad in this rakish exhibit that somehow gave the possessorthe reputation of having an acquaintance with stage entrances. But onthe second morning when his faithful glance turned to the protectingpresence of Miss McCarty resting among the brushes, it paused a momenton the representative of the American dramatic profession, who wascoquettishly trying to conceal one foot behind her ear. 

Then he sat bolt upright with a start. By some strange perversion ofthe fate that delights in torturing lovers, the features of theimmodestly clothed amazon bore the most startling resemblance to thatparagon of celestial purity, Miss Josephine McCarty. 

The more he gazed the more astounding was the impression. He gazed andthen he did not gaze at all--it seemed like a profanation. Theresemblance, once perceived, positively haunted him; stand where hemight his eyes could see nothing but the seraphic head of Miss McCartyupon the unspeakable body of the amazon--and then those legs!

For days this centaurian combination tortured him without his beingable to evolve a satisfactory method of removing the blasphemousposter. A direct attack was quite out of the question, for manifestlythe Tennessee Shad would demand an adequate explanation for thedestruction of his treasured possession. There could be no explanationexcept the true one, and such a confession was unthinkable, even to aroommate under oath. 

For two solid weeks Stover, brooding desperately, sought to avert hisglance from the profane spectacle before chance came to his rescue. One Saturday night, after a strenuous game with the PrincetonFreshmen, Dink, afraid of going stale, decided to quicken his jadedappetite by an application of sardines, deviled ham and rootbeer. 

The feasting-table happened to be directly beneath the abhorrentposter, so that Stover, as he lifted the bottle to open it, beheldwith fury the offending tights. He gave the bottle instinctively ashake and with that disturbing motion suddenly came his plan. 

"This rootbeer has been flat as the deuce lately, " he said. 

"They're selling us poor stuff, " said the Tennessee Shad, with thetail of a sardine disappearing within. 

"I wonder if I could put life in the blame thing if I shook it up abit, " said Stover, suiting the action to the word. 

Now, the Tennessee Shad knew from experience what that result wouldbe, but as Stover was holding the bottle he dissembled his knowledge. 

"Give it a shake, " he said. 

Stover complied. 

"Shake her again. "

"How's that?"

"Once more. It'll be just like champagne. "

Stover gave it a final vigorous shake, pointed the nozzle toward theposter and cut the cork. There was an explosion and then the contentsrose like a geyser and spread over the ceiling and the lucklessballet dancer who dared to resemble Miss McCarty. 

By the next morning the poster was unrecognizable under a coating ofdried reddish spots and was ignominiously removed, to the delight ofStover, whose illusions were thus preserved, as well as his secret. 

Now, the month spent at the McCartys' had strengthened his honorableintentions and given them that definite purpose that is sometimesvulgarly ticketed--object matrimony. 

It is not that Dink could return over the romantic days of his visitand lay his finger on any particular scene or any definite word thatcould be construed as binding Miss McCarty. But, on the other hand, his own actions and expressions, he thought, must have been so capableof but one interpretation that, as a man of honor, he held himselfmorally as well as willingly bound. Of course, she had understood hisattitude; she must have understood. And, likewise, there were eventsthat made him believe that she, in her discreet way, had let him seeby her actions what she could not convey by her words. For, of course, in his present position of dependence on his father, nothing could besaid. He understood that. He would not have changed it. Still, therewere unmistakable memories of the preference he had enjoyed. Therehad been, in particular, an ill-favored dude, called Ver Plank, whohad always been hanging around with his tandem and his millions, whohad been sacrificed a dozen times by the unmercenary angel to his, John H. Stover's, profit. That was clear enough, and there had beenmany such incidents. 

The only thing that disappointed Dink was the polite correctness ofher letters. But then something, he said to himself, must be allowedfor maiden modesty. His own letters were the product of afternoons andevenings. The herculean difficulty that he experienced in coveringfour sheets of paper--even when writing a flowing hand and allowinghalf a page for the signature--secretly worried him. It seemed asthough something was lacking in his character or in the strength ofhis devotion. 

On the day after the final disappearance of the brazen amazon Dinkpounced upon a violet envelope in the well-known handwriting and boreit to a place of secrecy. It was in answer to four of his own painfulcompositions. 

He gave three glances before reading, three glances that estimate allsuch longed-for epistles. There were five pages, which brought him athrill; it was signed "as ever, Josephine, " which brought him a doubt;and it began "Dear Jack, " which brought him nothing at all. 

Having thus passed from hot to cold, and back to a fluctuatingtemperature, he began the letter--first, to read what was written, andsecond, to read what might be concealed between the lines:

 DEAR JACK: Since your last letter I've been in a perfect whirl of gayety--dances, coaching parties and what-not. Really, you would say that I was nothing but a frivolous butterfly of fashion. Next week I am going to the Ver Planks' with quite a party and we are to coach through the Berkshires. The Judsons are to be along and that pretty Miss Dow, of whom I was so jealous when you were here, do you remember? I met a Mr. Cockrell, who, it seems, was at Lawrenceville. He told me you were going to be a phenomenal football player, captain of the team next year, and all sorts of wonderful things. He _admires_ you _tremendously_. I was so pleased! Don't forget to write soon. 

 As ever, JOSEPHINE. 

This letter, as indeed all her letters did, left Dink trapezing, so tospeak, from one emotion to another. He had not acquired thatknowledge, which indeed is never acquired, of valuing to a nicety theintents, insinuations and complexities of the feminine school ofliterature. 

There were things that sent him soaring like a Japanese kite and therewere things, notably the reference to Ver Plank, that tumbled him asawkwardly down. 

He immediately seized upon pen and paper. It had, perhaps, been hisfault. He would conduct the correspondence on a more serious tone. Hewould be a little--daring. 

At the start he fell into the usual inky deliberation. "DearJosephine" was so inadequate. "My dear Josephine" had--or did it nothave--just an extra little touch of tenderness, a peculiar claim topossession. But if so, would it be too bold or too sentimental? Hewrote boldly:

"My dear Josephine:"

Then he considered. Unfortunately, at that time the late lamented PeteDaly, in the halls of the likewise lamented Weber and Fields, wassinging dusky love songs to a lady likewise entitled "My Josephine. "The connection was unthinkable. Dink tore the page into minute bitsand, selecting another, sighed and returned to the old formula. 

Here another long pause succeeded while he searched for a sentiment ora resolve that would raise him in her estimation. It is a mood inwhich the direction of a lifetime is sometimes bartered for a phrase. So it happened with Dink. Suddenly his face lit up and he started towrite:

 DEAR JOSEPHINE: Your letter came to me just as I was writing you of a plan I have been thinking of for weeks. I have decided not to go to college. Of course, it would be a great pleasure and, perhaps, I look upon life too seriously, as you often tell me; but I want to get to work, to feel that I am standing on my own feet, and four years seems an awful time to wait, --for that. What do you think? I do hope you understand just _what_ I mean. It is very serious to me, the most serious thing in the world. 

 I'm glad you're having a good time. 

 Don't write such nonsense about Miss Dow; you know there's nothing in that direction. Do write and tell me what you think about my plan. 

 Faithfully yours, JACK. 

 P. S. When are you going to send me that new photograph? I have only three of you now, a real one and two kodaks. I'm glad you're having a good time. 

No sooner was this letter dispatched and Stover had realized what hadbeen in his mind for weeks than he went to Tough McCarty to informhim of his high resolve. 

"But, Dink, " said Tough in dismay, "you can't be serious! Why, we weregoing through college together!"

"That's the hard part of it, " said Dink, looking and, indeed, feelingvery solemn. 

"But you're giving up a wonderful career. Every one says you'll be astar end. You'll make the All-American. Oh, Dink!"

"Don't, " said Dink heroically. 

"But, I say, what's happened?"

"It's--it's a family matter, " said Stover, who on such occasions, itwill be perceived, had a strong family feeling. 

"Is it decided?" said Tough in consternation. 

"Unless stocks take a turn, " said Dink. 

McCarty was heartbroken, Dink rather pleased, with the new role that, somehow, lifted him from his fellows in dignity and seriousness andseemed to cut down the seven years. All that week he waited hopefullyfor her answer. She must understand now the inflexibility of hischaracter and the intensity of his devotion. His letter toldeverything, and yet in such a delicate manner that she must honor himthe more for the generous way in which he took everything uponhimself, offered everything and asked nothing. He was so confidentlyhappy and elated with the vexed decision of his affairs that he eventook the Millionaire Baby over to the Jigger Shop and stood treat, after a few words of paternal advice which went unheeded. 

Toward the beginning of the third week in the early days of November, as the squad was returning from practice Tough said casually:

"I say, did you get a letter from Sis?"

"No, " said Dink with difficulty. 

"You probably have one at the house. She's engaged. "

"What?" said Dink faintly. The word seemed to be spoken from anothermouth. 

"Engaged to that Ver Plank fellow that was hanging around. I thinkhe's a mutt. "

"Oh, yes--Ver Plank. "

"Gee, it gave me quite a jolt!"

"Oh, I--I rather expected it. "

He left Tough, wondering how he had had the strength to answer. 

"Look out, you're treading on my toes, " said the Gutter Pup next him. 

He mumbled something and his teeth closed over his tongue in theeffort to bring the sharp sense of pain. He went to his box; theletter was there. He went to his room and laid it on the table, goingto the window and staring out. Then he sat down heavily, rested hishead in his hands and read:

 DEAR JACK: I'm writing to you among the first, for I want you particularly to know how happy I am. Mr. Ver Plank----

He put the letter down; indeed, he could not see to read any further. There was nothing more to read--nothing mattered. It was all over, thelight was gone, everything was topsy-turvy. He could notunderstand--but it was over--all over. There was nothing left. 

Some time later the Tennessee Shad came loping down the hall, triedthe door and, finding it locked, called out:

"What the deuce--open up!"

Dink, in terror, rose from the table where he had remained motionless. He caught up the letter and hastily stuffed it in his desk, sayinggruffly:

"In a moment. "

Then he dabbed a sponge over his face, pressed his hands to histemples and, steadying himself, unlocked the door. 

"For the love of Mike!" said the indignant Tennessee Shad, and then, catching sight of Dink, stopped. "Dink, what is the matter?"

"It's--it's my mother, " said Dink desperately. 

"She's not dead?"

"No--no----" said Dink, now free to suffocate, "not yet. "

XXV

This providential appearance of his mother mercifully allowed Dink anopportunity to suffer without fear of disgrace in the eyes of theunemotional Tennessee Shad. 

That very night, as soon as the Shad had departed in search ofBeekstein's guiding mathematical hand, Dink sat down heroically toframe his letter of congratulations. He would show her that, thoughshe looked upon him as a boy, there was in him the courage that nevercries out. She had played with him, but at least she should look backwith admiration. 

"Dear Miss McCarty, " he wrote--that much he owed to his own dignity, and that should be his only reproach. The rest should be in the toneof levity, the smile that shows no ache. 

 DEAR MISS MCCARTY: Of course, it was no surprise to me. I saw it coming long ago. Mr. Ver Plank seems to me a most estimable young man. You will be very congenial, I am sure, and very happy. Thank you for letting me know among the first. That was _bully_ of you! Give my very best congratulations to Mr. Ver Plank and tell him I think he's a very lucky fellow. 

 Faithfully yours, JACK. 

He had resolved to sign formally "Cordially yours--John H. Stover. "But toward the end his resolution weakened. He would be faithful, evenif she were not. Perhaps, when she read it and thought it over shewould feel a little remorse, a little acute sorrow. Imbued with thethought, he stood looking at the letter, which somehow brought alittle consolation, a little pride into the night of his misery. Itwas a good letter--a very good letter. He read it over three times andthen, going to the washstand, took up the sponge and pressed out alachrymal drop that fell directly over the "Faithfully yours. "

It made a blot that no one could have looked at unmoved. 

He hastily sealed the letter and slipping out the house, went over andmailed it with his own hands. It was the farewell--he would never toilout his heart over another. And with it went John Stover, the faithfulcavalier. Another John Stover had arisen, the man of heroic sorrows. 

For a whole week faithfully he was true to his grief, keeping his owncompany, eating out his heart, suffering as only that first deceptioncan inflict sorrow. And he sought nothing else. He hoped--he hopedthat he would go on suffering for years and years, saddened anddeceived. 

But, somehow--though, of course, deep down within him nothing wouldever change--the gloom gradually lifted. The call of his fellows beganto be heard again. The glances of the under formers that followed hispublic appearances with adoring worship began to please him once more. 

Finally, one afternoon, he stopped in at Appleby's to inspect a newsupply of dazzling cravats. 

"You've got the first choice, Mr. Stover, " said Appleby in hiscaressing way. "No one's had a look at them before you. "

"Well, let's look 'em over, " said Stover, with a beginning ofinterest. 

"Look at them, " said Appleby; "you're a judge, Mr. Stover. You knowhow to dress in a tasty way. Now, really, have you ever seen anythinggenteeler than them?"

Stover fingered them and his eye lit up. They certainly wereexceptional and just the style that was becoming to his blondadvantages. He selected six, then added two more and, finally, went tohis room with a dozen, where he tried them, one after the other, before his mirror, smiling a little at the effect. 

Then he went to his bureau and relegated the photograph of the futureMrs. Ver Plank to the rear and promoted Miss Dow to the place ofhonor. 

"That's over, " he said; "but she nearly ruined my life!"

In which he was wrong, for if Miss McCarty had not arrived Appleby, purveyor of Gents' Fancies, would never have sold him a dozen mostbecoming neckties. 

When the Tennessee Shad came in, he looked in surprise. 

"Hello, better news to-day?" he said sympathetically. 

"News?" said Dink in a moment of abstraction. 

"Why, your mother. "

"Oh, yes--yes, she's better, " said Dink hastily, and to make itconvincing he added in a reverent voice, "thank God!"

The next day he informed McCarty that he had changed his mind. He wasgoing to college; they would have four glorious years together. 

"What's happened?" said Tough mystified. "Better news from home?"

"Yes, " said Dink, "stocks have gone up. "

But the tragedy of his life had one result that came near wreckinghis career and the school's hope for victory in the Andover game. During the early weeks of the term Dink had been too engrossed withhis new responsibilities to study, and during the later weeks toooverwhelmed by the real burden of life to think of such technicalitiesas lessons. Having studied the preferences and dislikes of his tyrantshe succeeded, however, in bluffing through most of his recitationswith the loyal support of Beekstein. But The Roman was not thus to becircumvented, and as Dink, in the Byronic period of grief, had noheart for florid improvisations of the applause of the multitude hecontented himself, whenever annoyed by his implacable persecutor, TheRoman, by rising and saying with great dignity:

"Not prepared, sir. "

The blow fell one week before the Andover game, when such blows alwaysfall. The Roman called him up after class and informed him that, owingto the paucity of evidence in his daily appearances, he would have toput him to a special examination to determine whether he had a passingknowledge. 

The school was in dismay. A failure, of course, meant disbarment fromthe Andover game--the loss of Stover, who was the strength of thewhole left side. 

To Dink, of course, this extraordinary decree was the crowningevidence of the determined hatred of The Roman. And all because hehad, years before, mistaken him for a commercial traveler and calledhim "Old Cocky-wax!"

He would be flunked--of course he would be flunked if The Roman hadmade up his mind to do it. He might have waited another week--afterthe Andover game. But no, his plan was to keep him out the game, whichof course, meant the loss of the captaincy, which every one accordedhim. 

These opinions, needless to say, were shared by all well-wishers ofthe eleven. There was even talk, in the first moments of excitement, of arraigning The Roman before the Board of Trustees. 

The examination was to be held in The Roman's study that night. Beekstein and Gumbo hurried to Dink's assistance. But what could thatavail with six weeks' work to cover!

In this desperate state desperate means were suggested by desperatecharacters. Stover should go the examination padded with interlinear, friendly aids to translation. A committee from outside should thenconvey the gigantic water cooler that stood in the hall to the upperlanding. There it should be nicely balanced on the topmost step and astring thrown out the window, which, at the right time, should bepulled by three patriots from other Houses. The water cooler woulddescend with a hideous clatter, The Roman would rush from his study, and Stover would be given time to refresh his memory. 

Now, Stover did not like this plan. He had never done much directcribbing, as that species of deception made him uncomfortable andseemed devoid of the high qualities of dignity that should attend thewarfare against the Natural Enemy. 

At first he refused to enter this conspiracy, but finally yielded in ahalf-hearted way when it was dinned in his ears that he was onlymeeting The Roman at his own game, that he was being persecuted, thatthe school was being sacrificed for a private spite--in a word, thatthe end must be looked at and not the means and that the end was moraland noble. 

Thus partly won over, Dink entered The Roman's study that night withportions of interlinear translations distributed about his person andwhipped up into a rage against The Roman that made him forget allelse. 

The study was on the ground floor--the conspirators were to wait atthe window until Stover should have received the examination paper andgiven the signal. 

The Roman nodded as Stover entered and, motioning him to a seat, gavehim the questions, saying:

"I sincerely hope, John, you are able to answer these. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Stover with great sarcasm. 

He went to the desk by the window and sat down, taking out his pencil. 

There was a shuffling of feet and the scraping of a chair across theroom. Stover looked up in surprise. 

"Take your time, John, " said The Roman, who had risen. Then, withoutanother word, he turned and left the room. 

Stover smiled to himself. He knew that trick. He waited for the suddenreopening of the door, but no noise came. He frowned and, mechanicallylooking at the questions, opened his book at the place designated. Then he raised his head and listened again. 

All at once he became very angry. The Roman was putting him on hishonor--he had no right to do any such thing! It changed all theirpreparations. It was a low-down, malignant trick. It took away all theelements of danger that glorified the conspiracy. It made it easy and, therefore, mean. 

At the window came a timid scratching. Stover shook his head. TheRoman would return. Then he would give the signal willingly. So hefolded his arms sternly and waited--but no footsteps slipped alongoutside the door. The Roman had indeed left him to his honor. 

A great, angry lump came in his throat, angry tears blurred his eyes. He hated The Roman, he despised him; it was unfair, it was malicious, but he could not do what he would have done. There _was_ a difference. 

All at once the bowels of the House seemed rent asunder, as down thestairs, bumping and smashing, went the liberated water cooler. Instantly a chorus of shrieks arose, steps rushing to and fro, andthen quiet. 

Still The Roman did not come. Stover glanced at the paragraphsselected, and oh, mockery and bitterness, two out of three happened tobe passages he had read with Beekstein not an hour before. His eyewent over them, he remembered them perfectly. 

"If that ain't the limit!" he said, choking. "To know 'em after all. Of course, now I can't do 'em. Of course, now if I hand 'em in the oldrhinoceros will think I cribbed 'em. Of all the original Jobs I am theworst! This is the last straw!"

When half an hour later The Roman returned Stover was sitting erect, with folded arms and lips compressed. 

"Ah, Stover, all through?" said The Roman, as though the House had notjust been blown asunder. "Hand in your paper. "

Stover stiffly arose and handed him the foolscap. The Roman took itwith a frowning little glance. At the top was written in big, defiantletters: "John H. Stover. "

Below there was nothing at all. 

Stover stood, swaying from heel to heel, watching The Roman. 

"What the deuce is he looking at?" he thought in wonder, as The Romansat silently staring at the blank sheet. 

Finally he turned over the page, as though carefully perusing it, poised a pencil, and said in a low voice, without glancing up:

"Well, John, I think this will just about pass. "

XXVI

The football season had ended victoriously. The next week brought thecaptaincy for the following year to Stover by unanimous approval. Butthe outlook for the next season was of the weakest; only four menwould remain. The charge that he would have to lead would be adesperate one. This sense of responsibility was, perhaps, more acutein Stover than even the pleasure-giving sense of the attendantadmiration of the school whenever he appeared among them. 

Other thoughts, too, were working within him. Ever since theextraordinary outcome of his examination at the hands of The RomanStover had been in a ferment of confusion. The Roman's action amazed, then perplexed, then doubly confounded him. 

If The Roman was not his enemy, had not been all this time hispersistent, malignant foe, what then? What was left to him to clingto? If he admitted this, then his whole career would have to bereconstructed. Could it be that, after all, month in and month out, ithad been The Roman himself who had stood as his friend in all thehundred and one scrapes in which he had tempted Fate? And pondering onthis gravely, Dink Stover, in the portion of his soul that wasconsecrated to fair play, was mightily exercised. 

He consulted Tough McCarty, as he consulted him now on everything thatlay deeper than the lip currency of his fellows. They were returningfrom a long walk over the early December roads in the grays and drabsof the approaching twilight. Stover had been unusually silent, and themood settled on him, as, turning the hill, they saw the clusteredskyline of the school through the bared branches. 

"What the deuce makes you so solemncholy?" said Tough. 

"I was thinking, " said Dink with dignity. 

"Excuse me. "

"I was thinking, " said Dink, rousing himself, "that I've been allwrong. "

"I don't get that. "

"I mean The Roman. "

"How so?"

"Tough, you know down at the bottom I have a sneaking suspicion thathe's been for me right along. It's a rotten feeling, but I'm afraidit's so. "

"Shouldn't wonder. Have you spoken to him?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure. And then, I don't know just how to get to it. "

"Jump right in and tackle him around the knees, " said Tough. 

"I think I will, " said Dink, who understood the metaphor. 

They went up swinging briskly, watching in silence the never stalespectacle of the panorama of the school. 

"I say, Dink, " said Tough suddenly, "Sis is going to put the clamps onthat T. Willyboy, Ver Plank. "

"Really--when?" said Dink, surprised that the news brought him noemotion. 

"Next month. "

Stover laughed a little laugh. 

"You know, " he said with a bit of confusion, "I fancied I was terriblyin love with Josephine myself--for a little while. "

"Sure, " said Tough without surprise. "Jo would flirt with anythingthat had long pants on. "

"Yes, she's a flirt, " said Stover, and the judgment sounded like theswish of shears cutting away angels' wings. 

They separated at the campus and Stover went toward the Kennedy. Half-way there an excited little urchin came rushing up, pulling offhis cap. 

"Well, what is it, youngster?" said Stover, who didn't recognize him. 

"Please, sir, " said the young hero worshiper, producing a photographof the team from under his jacket, "would you mind putting your nameon this? I should be awfully obliged. "

Stover took it and wrote his name. 

"Who is this?"

"Williams, Jigs Williams, sir, over in the Cleve. "

"Well, Jigs, there you are. "

"Oh, thank you. Say----"

"Well?"

"Aren't you going to have an individual photograph?"

"No, of course not, " said Stover with only outward gruffness. 

"All the fellows are crazy for one, sir. "

"Run along, now, " said Stover with a pleased laugh. He stood on thesteps, watching the elated Jigs go scudding across the Circle, andthen went into the Kennedy. In his box was a letter of congratulationfrom Miss Dow. He read it smiling, and then took up the photograph andexamined it more critically. 

"She's a dear little girl, " he said. "Devilish smart figure. "

Miss Dow, of course, was very young. She was only twenty. 

That night, after an hour's brown meditation, he suddenly rose and, descending the stairs, knocked at the sanctum sanctorum. 

"Come in, " said the low, musical voice. 

Stover entered solemnly. 

"Ah, it's you, John, " said The Roman with a smile. 

"Yes, sir, it's me, " said Stover, leaning up against the door. 

The Roman glanced up quickly and, seeing what was coming, took up thepaper-cutter and began to twist it through his fingers. There was asilence, long and painful. 

"Well?" said The Roman in a queer voice. 

"Mr. Hopkins, " said Dink, advancing a step. "I guess I've been allwrong. I haven't come to you before, as I suppose I ought, becauseI've had to sort of think it over. But now, sir, I've come in to haveit out. "

"I'm glad you have, John. "

"I want to ask you one question. "

"Yes?"

"Have you, all this time, really been standing by me, yanking me outof all the messes I got in?"

"Well, that expresses it, perhaps. "

"Then I've been way off, " said Stover solemnly. "Why, sir, all thistime I thought you were down on me, had it in for me, right from thefirst. "

"From our first meeting?" said The Roman, with a little chuckle. "Perhaps, John, you didn't give me credit--shall I say, for a sense ofhumor?"

"Yes, sir. " Stover looked a moment at his polished boot and thenresolutely at The Roman. "Mr. Hopkins, I've been all wrong. I've beenunfair, sir; I want to apologize to you. "

"Thank you, " said The Roman, and then because they were Anglo-Saxonsthey shook hands and instantly dropped them. 

"Mr. Hopkins, " said Stover after a moment, "I must have given you somepretty hard times?"

"You were always full of energy, John. "

"I don't see what made you stand by me, sir. "

"John, " said The Roman, leaning back and caging his fingers, "it is atruth which it is, perhaps, unwise to publish abroad, and I shall haveto swear you to the secret. It is the boy whose energy must explodeperiodically and often disastrously, it is the boy who gives us themost trouble, who wears down our patience and tries our souls, who isreally the most worth while. "

"Not the high markers and the gospel sharks?" said Stover, too amazedto choose the classic line. 

"Sh!" said the Roman, laying his finger on his lips. 

Stover felt as though he held the secret of kings. 

"And now, John, " said The Roman in a matter-of-fact tone, "since youare behind the scenes, one thing more. The real teacher, the realinstructor, is not I, it is you. We of the Faculty can only paint thememory with facts that are like the writing in the sand. The realthings that are learned are learned from you. Now, forgive me forbeing a little serious. You are a leader. It is a greatresponsibility. They're all looking up at you, copying you. You setthe standard; set a manly one. "

"I think, sir, I've tried to do that--lately, " said Stover, nodding. 

"And now, in the House--bring out some of the younger fellows. "

"Yes, sir. "

"There's Norris. Perhaps a little serious talk--only a word dropped. "

"You're right, sir; I understand what you mean. "

"Then there's Berbecker. "

"He's only a little fresh, sir; there's good stuff in him. "

"And then, John, there's a boy who's been under early disadvantages, but a bright boy, full of energy, good mind, but needs to be taken inhand, with a little kindness. "

"Who, sir?"

"Bellefont. "

"Bellefont!" said Stover, exploding. "I beg your pardon, sir. You'rewrong there. That kid is hopeless. Nothing will do him any good. He'sa perfect little nuisance. He's a thoroughgoing, out-and-out littlevarmint!"

The Roman tapped the table and, looking far out through the darkenedwindow, smiled the gentle smile of one who has watched theever-recurrent miracle of humanity, the struggling birth of the manout of the dirtied, hopeless cocoon of the boy. 

And Stover, suddenly beholding that smile, all at once stopped, blushed and understood!

THE END