Chapter 22

A FRESH EXCITEMENT

"What I want every one of you young men to do," the speaker was saying, "is to give your better self a chance. There isn't one of you to-day who is not proud of his physical strength, not one of you who, if he should be urged to join one of the athletic teams, would not willingly, even proudly go through all the training that would be required of him. And that is right. In your intellectual work some of you see what the desired end is--the development of power, getting your brains into form so that you can meet and compete with the forces you will have to face when you leave your college days behind you and go forth to make your name and place in the great battlefield of life. Some of you, it may be, do not as yet see this clearly, and when you can evade a task or dodge a difficult demand upon you, count it as so much gained. But in your heart of hearts you know better, and are dimly conscious that you are losing and not gaining by your neglect."

The earnestness, the sincerity, and naturalness of the speaker acted upon Will Phelps with the effect of an electric shock. Never had he been so thoroughly aroused, and every nerve in his body was tingling when he left the chapel and started toward his own room.

"That's the kind of a talk the fellows like."

Will glanced up and beheld Wagner, who had overtaken him and now was walking by his side.

"I never heard such a man in all my life," said Will warmly.

"There isn't a man that comes here who has such a grip on the students as he has. One of the best things you have to look forward to is the treat you will have every year of hearing him. There isn't a spark of 'cant' or 'gush' about him, but what he says goes straight home. I don't think I'll ever forget some of the things he has said to us while I've been in college."

Accepting Will's cordial invitation, Wagner went with him to his room and remained there for an hour, and for the most of the time their conversation was of the man and the message they had that morning heard.

"I'll never forget one thing he said," remarked Wagner thoughtfully.

"What was that?" inquired Will, deeply interested at once.

"He was talking once about the reason why women were supposed to be so much more religious than men, and he said he didn't believe they were."

"There are more in the churches, anyway," suggested Will.

"Yes, that's what he said; but he said too, that the reason for it was because one side of the life of Christ had been emphasized at the expense of the other. He said so much had been made of his gentleness and meekness and the kindly virtues, which were the feminine side of his nature and appealed most to women, that he was afraid sometimes the other the stronger side and the one that appealed most to men had been lost. And then, he went on to speak of the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and he pictured the temptation and the power of decision and the heroic endurance and strength, and all that. I never heard anything like it in all my life. It made me feel as I do when the team is in for a meet. I'll never forget it! Never!"

"I wish I'd heard it."

"You'll have three more chances, anyway."

"Maybe more than that if I don't pass in all my work," laughed Will.

"Having any trouble?"

"A little with my Greek, but I've passed off my condition now."

"I think you're all right then, though Splinter is a hard proposition. Just imagine him talking like this man this morning."

Will laughed, and then becoming serious, he said, "Wagner, I've a classmate who is bothering me."

"Who is it?"

"Schenck. Peter John everybody calls him."

"What's he doing? What's the trouble with him?"

"Well, to be honest, he's drinking hard."

"Wasn't he one of the fellows who was down, with the typhoid when I had it?"

"Yes."

"An awkward, ungainly, redheaded fellow?"

"That's the one."

"What have you been doing for him?"

"Everything I could think of, but nothing seems to hold. He made all sorts of promises when he was sick and he hasn't kept one of them. He goes around with Mott and you know what that means."

"Yes," said Wagner thoughtfully.

"He's a queer chap. I was in school three years with him and in some ways he was absolutely idiotic. For a while he'd work all right and then without a word of warning he'd break out and do some of the most absolutely fool things you ever heard of."

"Not very much to appeal to, I fancy."

"There might be if a fellow knew how, but I confess I don't."

"You think it would do any good for me to see him?"

"Yes, I do," said Will eagerly. "You know he might stand a show for the track team--"

"Is he the fellow that won the half-mile in the sophomore-freshman meet?" inquired Wagner eagerly. "Is he the one?"

"Yes."

"I'll see him. I'll go right over there now. You're not letting up any in your own work for the team are you, Phelps?"

"I'm doing a little all the time," Will admitted, "but I don't suppose it will amount to much."

"Yes, it will. You never can tell till you try. If Mott does not do better he'll find himself out of it. We'll need you and every one we can get. You know I can't go in this year."

"Why not?"

"The typhoid. Doctor won't let me."

"Then Peter John can't go in either."

"That's so. I hadn't thought of that. All the more reason then why you ought to do your best, Phelps. I'll see this John Henry anyway--"

"You mean Peter John."

"All right. Have it your own way. I'll go over to his room and look him up anyway. Good-bye, Phelps."

"Good-bye," responded Will, as the senior started down the stairway.

Several days elapsed before Will heard anything of Wagner's interview with Peter John and then all that Wagner told him was that the freshman had promised faithfully to do better. But Will had already had so much experience with Peter John's promises that he was somewhat skeptical as to results. His classmate he knew was not essentially vicious, only weak. He was so weak and vain that he was eager to gain the favor of whatever person he chanced to be with, and his promise of better things to Wagner was as readily given as was his response to Mott when the latter happened to be his companion of the hour.

Troubled as Will was, he nevertheless did for Peter John all that was within his power, which was not much, and was heavy-hearted as the reports steadily came of his classmate's downfall. Even Hawley, good-natured as he was, had at last rebelled and declared that he would no longer room with a fellow who had no more sense than Schenck, and Peter John, left to himself, was quick to respond to Mott's invitation to share his room, and was soon domiciled in the sophomore's more luxurious quarters.

Will Phelps found meanwhile that his own work in the classroom was of a character that promised a fair grade, though by no means a high one. Even his professor of Greek now appeared in a slightly more favorable light, and Will was convinced that the change was in Splinter, not in himself, so natural and strong were his boyish prejudices.

As the springtime drew near, however, his thoughts and time were somewhat divided in the excitement of the last great struggle between the members of his own class and their rivals, the sophomores. For years it had been the custom of the college for the two lower classes to bury, or rather to burn the hatchet on St. Patrick's Day. For a week preceding that time the tussles between the rival classes were keener than at any other time during the year.

At that eventful date the freshmen for the first time were permitted to carry canes, and on the day itself there was to be a parade of the freshman class, every member clad in some outlandish garment which he wore outside his other clothing, and it was the one ambition of the sophomore class to silence the music of the band that was at the head of the procession and at the same time tear the outer garments from the noisy freshmen. For a week preceding the time of the parade the freshmen were striving by every means in their power to smuggle their canes into Winthrop so that they would all be supplied when the day of emancipation arrived, and the test of the sophomores' keenness was in being able to thwart the plans of their adversaries and prevent the entrance of the canes into the town.

Every road leading to the village was strictly guarded by the vigilant sophomores and spies were busy in the adjacent towns who were continually on the lookout for the purchase or purchasers of the canes. The excitement had become keener with the passing of the days until now only two days remained before the great parade when the huge wooden hatchet would be borne at the head of the procession and duly consigned to the flames on the lower campus in the presence of the entire student body.

Will and Foster had shared in the growing interest and both knew just where the coveted canes had been purchased by the duly authorized committee and hidden till the time should arrive when they were to be brought stealthily into the village. Their excitement became keener still when on the evening of the day to which reference has been made Peter John Schenck burst into Will's room with a report that instantly aroused his two friends.