For the Honor of the School: A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport

“Dinner? No, I forgot about it. What time is it? Am I too late?”

“Of course; it’s twenty after two. What have you been doing?”

“Oh, I’ve – ” Wayne’s face grew cloudy as he jumped off the end of the table and went to the door. “I’ll tell you about it later. I’m busy now. Has Dave got a recitation on?”

“What’s to-day – Thursday? I’m sure I don’t know. I never can keep track of his hours; seniors are such an erratic, self-important lot.”

“Well, I’ll run over and see. Er – by the way, do you know a chap called Gray, a rather pasty-looking lower middle fellow?”

“Gray? No, I don’t think so. What does he do?”

“Do? Oh, I think he’s a baseball player, or something like that.”

“Don’t remember him. Are you coming up here after four?”

“Yep; wait for me.”

Wayne clattered off downstairs and crossed the green back of the gymnasium and the principal’s residence. As he went he drew a little roll of money from his vest, supplemented it with a few coins from his trousers’ pocket, and counted the whole over twice. He shook his head as he put the money away again.

“Nine dollars and forty-two cents,” he muttered, “and I can’t make any more of it if I count it all day.”

He ran up the steps to Hampton House, pushed open the broad, white door and entered the big colonial hallway. At the far end a cheerful fire was cracking in a generous chimney place, lighting up the dim gilt frames and dull canvases of the portraits of bygone Hilltonians that looked severely down from the walls. Hampton House is a dormitory whose half dozen rooms are inhabited by a few wealthy youths who find in the comfort of the great, old-fashioned apartments and the prestige that residence therein brings compensation for the high rents. Wayne turned sharply to the right and beat a tattoo with his knuckles over the black figure 2 on the door. From within came the sound of a loud voice in monotonous declamation. Wayne substituted his shoe for his knuckles and Paddy’s voice bade him enter.

“Where’s Dave?” asked Wayne. Paddy, who had been tramping up and down the apartment with a book in his hand, and declaiming pages of Cæsar’s Civil War to the chandelier, tossed the volume aside and tried to smooth down his hair, which was standing up in tumbled heaps, making him look not unlike “the fretful porcupine.”

“Dave’s at a recitation; German, I think. Want to see him?”

“Yes, I want to borrow some money from him.”

“Don’t think he has any. You see, I borrow most of his money as soon as it comes; he never has any use for it himself, and it grieves me to see it laying round idle. How much do you want?”

“Two dollars. Have you got it, Paddy?”

“’Fraid not; let’s see.” He pulled open a table drawer and rummaged about until several pieces of silver rewarded his search. Then he emptied his pockets, and the two counted the result.

“Eighty-five cents,” said Paddy regretfully. “Hold on; perhaps Dave has some change left. Sometimes I leave him a few cents for pocket money.” He went to his chum’s bureau and in a moment returned with a purse which, when turned up over the study table, rained from its depths four quarters and a nickel.

“Oh, the desavin critter!” cried Paddy. “Now, where did he get all that wealth? Let’s see; that’s one dollar and ninety cents. If we could only find another dime – ”

“That’ll do,” answered Wayne, as he pocketed the coins. “I’ll write home to-night and pay you back as soon as I get it. I’m awfully much obliged.”

“Don’t mention it. Is there anything else I can do for you to-day?”

“Have you got anything to eat? I lost my dinner; forgot it until a minute ago.”

“I’ve got some crackers,” replied Paddy dubiously, “and a tin of some kind of meat. It’s been opened a good while, but I guess it’ll be all right after I scrape the mold off.”

“Bring them out, will you? I’m in a hurry, Paddy; I’ve got a recitation at 3.15.” Paddy whistled.

“In a hurry! Whisper, Wayne, are yez ill?”

“Shut up. Where’s the meat?”

The delicacies were produced and Wayne ate ravenously. As Paddy had predicted, the tinned beef was extremely palatable to the hungry boy after a half inch of mold had been detached with the paper cutter.

“Do you know a chap named Gray?” asked Wayne, with his mouth full of cracker.

“Aisy, me boy!” cried Paddy. “Don’t choke yersilf. Wait till your tongue has more room. Gray, did you say? I know a youngster by that name in the lower middle. He played ball on the junior nine last year when they beat us by one run in twelve innings.”

“That’s the fellow. Where does he room?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll soon tell you.” Paddy found a school catalogue and turned the leaves. “Here we are: Gray, Carl Ellis, Buffalo, N. Y., W. H. Vance’s.”

“Whereabouts is Vance’s?” asked Wayne, as he scraped the bottom of the can.

“Just around the corner from the post office; a big, square, white house with green blinds and a cat-colored roof.”

“A what?”

“Cat-colored roof – kind of a Maltese color, you know.”

“Well, I’m off. Thanks for the stuff! Tell Dave – ”

“Hold on and I’ll go with you. What’s up?”

“No, you won’t; I’m going alone. I’ll tell you about it later – perhaps.”

“Well, if it’s a lark, you’re mighty mean not to let a chap into it.”

“It isn’t a lark at all. By!”

Wayne hurried out and Paddy grumblingly closed the door and watched him from the window.

“He’s mighty secret-like, I’m thinking, and mighty hurried. I haven’t seen him move so fast since he came. Must be something important. Wish I knew, bad cess to him!”

Wayne trudged off up the village road and soon found the boarding house with the “cat-colored roof.” Gray’s name adorned a door on the second floor, and Wayne’s knock elicited, after a moment, a faint “Come in!” The room was a cheerful one with four big windows, but the furnishings were tattered and worn and the walls were almost bare of pictures. The floor was partly covered by a threadbare ingrain rug and the green leather on the student desk in the center was full of holes and spots. The boy whom Wayne had seen in the principal’s office arose from a chair at the desk as Wayne entered, and a half-written letter before him told its own story. Gray’s eyes were suspiciously red and the lad looked embarrassed and ill at ease. Wayne, with a sudden recollection of Professor Wheeler’s advice, plunged at once into the subject of his visit.

“You’re Carl Gray, aren’t you? Well, my name’s Gordon; I’m in the upper middle. I happened to be in Wheeler’s outer office when you were in there. The door was partly open and I couldn’t help hearing what was said, and – and I’m awfully sorry, of course. But you see it wasn’t my fault.”

“I’m sorry you heard it,” answered Gray, looking piteously embarrassed; “but of course you – it wasn’t your fault.”

“No – was it?” asked Wayne eagerly. “So I thought that perhaps I could help you, and – ” He stepped forward and placed the money on the table. “There’s eleven dollars there. I couldn’t get hold of any more, but you said you had a dollar, you know, so perhaps that’ll be enough.” Gray looked helplessly from Wayne to the money and back again. Once he opened his mouth, but, as he apparently could find no words, Wayne went on: “I haven’t a mother myself, you see – she died when I was just a youngster – but if I had I’d feel as you do about the bill; and of course Professor Wheeler won’t send it to her if you pay this money to Porter to-day and tell him about it.”

“But I don’t see why – why you should lend me this,” said Gray, at length. “You don’t know me and – and I can’t pay you for a good while. I don’t get much of an allowance, and – ”

“I know,” replied Wayne cheerfully. “Fifty cents a week. But pay me back when you can; I’m in no hurry. And – and you might come and see me sometime; I room in Bradley – No. 15.”

“I’ll pay you fifty cents every week until it’s all returned!” cried Gray. “Why, I’d have done – done anything to keep mother from knowing about it and having to pay it! I was such a fool, wasn’t I? Bought clothes and gloves and lots of things that I didn’t need just because Porter said I could charge them and that he wouldn’t ask for the money until I could pay it.”

“He ought to be kicked!” exclaimed Wayne angrily.

“He didn’t act decently,” continued Gray. “If he’d only told me last year I could have had it almost paid by now; but I thought there was no hurry, and – and – ” He stopped and dropped his gaze; then he went on in lowered tones: “I wish I could make you understand how glad I am and how much I thank you – ”

“Oh, dry up!” said Wayne, backing toward the door and searching with his hand for the knob. “It’s all right, and I understand. And – well, I must hurry – got a recitation, you know – may be late now.”

He had found the knob and the last words were spoken from the hallway.

“But, I say, Gray, I wish you wouldn’t try to pay fifty cents a week to me. I don’t need it, you know, and it’s all your allowance, and – ”

“I think I’d rather, if you don’t mind,” answered the younger lad resolutely. He was smiling now and looked quite healthy and happy; but something was glittering in the corner of his eye, and Wayne seeing it, bolted downstairs three steps at a time.

After Wayne left Hampton House Paddy went dejectedly back to his Latin, but at the end of twenty minutes found that he had remembered nothing of what he had gone over, and so tossed his book aside, yawned, glanced at the clock, and sallied forth in the direction of Academy Building. As he turned the corner he caught sight of Don coming down the steps and gained that youth’s attention by a war whoop. Don was looking unusually thoughtful as Paddy overtook him.

“Why, you look serious enough to have been visiting ‘Wheels’!” cried Paddy.

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“What – you? What’s the trouble?”

“I’ll tell you. It’s Wayne. He won’t attend gym work and he’s told ‘Wheels’ as much, and ‘Wheels’ has threatened to put him on probation if he doesn’t report to Beck to-morrow.”

“But – ”

“‘Wheels’ sent for me and asked me to use my persuasive powers on the silly dub. But what can I do? Wayne’s as stubborn as a mule, and he declares he won’t attend; says it’s an injustice – that faculty hasn’t any right to compel him to do gym work unless he wants to.”

“Do you mean that he told all that rot to ‘Wheels’?”

“Every word, and a lot more, I guess.” Paddy whistled.

“Well, he is a chump. Where is he? He came over and borrowed some money awhile ago. What’s he up to now?”

“Don’t ask me,” responded Don helplessly. “What I want to know is, how can we keep the fellow from being put on probation or suspended, for ‘Wheels’ declares he’ll do both?”

“Why, we’ll get Dave, and the three of us will reason with him.”

“Pshaw! we might as well save our breath. I’d just as soon reason with a lamp-post,” answered Don, in disgust.

“Hello! there he comes now,” said Paddy. “He’s been to the village to see some fellow by the name of Gray. Shall we walk down and try our arguments now?”

“No; let’s wait. You and Dave come up to the room to-night and we’ll see what we can do with him,” said Don. “I hate to have him get into trouble, because, after all, he’s a good chap.”

“Of course he is,” answered Paddy heartily, “and we’ll look after him all right. Why, if he won’t go and take his gym work like a little man, after we’ve reasoned with him, we’ll – ”

Paddy stopped, grinning broadly, and slapped Don triumphantly on the shoulder.

“I have it!” he cried.

“Have what?”

“A way, my lad.”

“What is it?” asked Don eagerly.

“Why, if he refuses to go to gym to-morrow, we’ll just – But I’ll tell you later. Here he is. Hello, Old Virginia! where’ve you been?”

“Oh, just to the village,” answered Wayne vaguely.

“And did you spend all that money?”

“Every cent of it.”

“Well, pony up. Where are the goodies?” demanded Paddy.

“Why, I – well, the fact is – ”

“Cut it out. What did you buy?”

“Nothing. Fact is I – I paid a bill.”

CHAPTER VII

THE REVOLT ENDS

The sun came up from behind Mount Adam, the chapel bell rang, some two hundred boys leaped, crawled, or rolled out of bed, and life at Hillton began the next morning as though the day was of no more importance than any of the five which had preceded it that week; in fact, as though Wayne Gordon was not heroically resolved to sacrifice himself upon the altar of principle.

While the unfeeling sun was coming up Wayne was going through a most remarkable adventure. Plainly he had won Professor Wheeler to his side, for together they were besieged in the school library and had barricaded the doors and windows with books, while from convenient loopholes they maintained a rapid and merciless fusillade of ancient and modern history, Greek and Latin text-books, geometries, and algebras upon the heads of the besiegers, who retaliated with chest weights, dumb-bells, single sticks, and Indian clubs until the air was dark with the flying missiles and the battle cries of the foes shook the building. Wayne and the principal had just clasped hands and sworn to perish side by side, fighting grandly to the last gasp for the right, when a whole covey of chest weights came through a window and smote Wayne on the head, and he awoke to see Don with a second pillow poised, ready to throw.

“Get up, Wayne; bell’s rung!”

Wayne yawned, pitched the pillow back at Don, and arose. He hadn’t slept well, and wished that Don wouldn’t always insist on his getting up so early. And he told him so. But Don was good nature itself that morning and refused to argue or get cross, and Wayne was perforce obliged to recover his wonted gayety, much against his inclination, and trudge off arm in arm with Don to chapel. And after he had got through with a hearty breakfast, even the thought that probation awaited him on the morrow failed to dispel his excellent spirits.

For, as Don had feared, the combined efforts of the three friends had failed to shake Wayne’s resolution. Don had pleaded, Paddy had begged, Dave had threatened; and Wayne had reiterated passionately his desire to suffer martyrdom on account of his principles, and had utterly and absolutely and finally refused to attend gymnasium work to-day or to plead illness in extenuation. The three friends had not appeared cast down – a fact at which Wayne wondered not a little. It looked as though they didn’t care whether he was put on probation or not, and he had gone to bed deeply pessimistic on the subject of friendship.

Wayne’s hour for physical training in the gymnasium began at three, and when, five minutes before that time, he issued from Academy Building resolved to proceed to his room and put in the momentous hour at hard study, he found Don and Dave and Paddy on the steps. The two latter youths at once locked arms with him, much to his surprise, for Dave especially was little given to such expressions of friendliness, and the quartet moved toward Bradley Hall.

“Why aren’t you and Dave on the campus?” asked Wayne.

“Oh, we didn’t like to leave you alone this afternoon,” answered Paddy, with a smile. “You see, we have your welfare at heart, my boy, and we are going to see that you don’t act silly and get put on probation, and not be able to go to Marshall with us next week.”

“If you mean not going to the gymnasium when you say ‘acting silly,’” replied Wayne, with much dignity, “why, then, I’m going to act silly.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” said Dave.

“What do you mean?” demanded Wayne, striving to withdraw himself from his friends’ clutches. They had almost reached the steps of Bradley, and now they stopped and faced about.

“Just this,” said Dave. “We’ve tried persuasion and – and – ”

“Entreaty,” prompted Don.

“And entreaty – and both have failed. So now we’re going to use force. If you don’t agree to go to the gym and do your work peaceable, we are going to take you there.”

Wayne struggled violently, only to suddenly find his feet off the ground, his arms held fast, and himself being borne, kicking wildly, toward the gymnasium.

“Let me go, Dave! Paddy, you – you beast, put me down!”

“Aisy, me child,” answered Paddy soothingly. “’Tis for yer own good.”

“Don, make ’em let me go!” pleaded Wayne. But his chum shook his head.

“Go you must, Wayne, so you’d better promise and we’ll let you walk.” Wayne made no answer, only struggled the harder.

“You’ll have to take his legs, Don,” panted Paddy. “’Tis mighty unaisy he is.” They were crossing the green now, and several fellows were hurrying nearer to see what was going on. A group of boys on the steps of the gymnasium were watching.

“It’s – it’s an outrage!” panted Wayne, his face white with anger.

“Maybe it is,” said Dave calmly, “but we’re getting you there.” Struggle was useless, and Wayne for a moment lay quiet in the grasp of the three boys. Then he caught sight of the watchers. It was public degradation! He temporized.

“I’ll walk, fellows,” he said.

His bearers stopped and let him down.

“Will you promise to go to the gym?” asked Don.

“Yes,” growled Wayne. “But I’ll not do any work, and nobody can make me!”

“Up with him!” cried Dave, and once more Wayne was fighting in the arms of the three and being borne on toward the gymnasium.

“What’s the fun, Paddy?” yelled one of the fellows who were hurrying to meet them.

“Oh, we’re just taking exercise,” answered Paddy carelessly.

“What – what are you going to do with me?” asked Wayne, in meeker tones.

“Carry you to the locker room, change your clothes, take you upstairs, and give you, like a bundle of old rags, to Professor Beck,” answered Dave.

“Let me down, then, and I’ll agree.” Once more he found his feet, but the others took no chances and still stood guard.

“Promise to do your work?” asked Don.

“Yes,” growled Wayne.

“Honest Injun?”

“Honest Injun,” echoed the other.

“All right,” replied Dave. “Then let’s proceed.”

They walked on, Wayne striving to look at ease under the inquiring gaze of many eyes as they passed up the steps and into the building. In the locker room Dave and Paddy left him to get into their own clothes and to hurry away to the campus, while Don stood by and listened patiently to all that Wayne had to say, which was much, and not altogether polite or flattering. Then the two proceeded upstairs and Wayne went through a long siege with the dumb-bells and the chest weights. Professor Beck made no sign, and Wayne wondered resentfully if he was aware of his presence. He was, for after awhile he came to the boy, watched him tugging the cords over his shoulders for a moment in silence and then said:

“Don’t get yourself too tired, Gordon. Stop when you think best.”

Whereat Wayne scowled, tugged the harder at the weights, and resolved to stay until the class was dismissed, hoping resentfully that he would injure his spine or some other portion of his anatomy, and that Professor Wheeler and Don and Paddy and Dave would be sorry and would regret their treatment of him. This so cheered him up that he was quite ready to forgive and forget when he had dried himself after his bath, and so met Don with almost a smile; for that youth, hoping for a reconciliation, had abandoned a French recitation and had waited patiently outside. Neither mentioned the recent affair as they strolled off together, and by mutual consent the subject of physical training was tabooed in their conversation for several weeks. And Dave and Paddy evinced the utmost tact, and were in turn forgiven on the morrow.

Professor Wheeler, however, was not so silent on the subject nor so considerate of Wayne’s feelings. He summoned the boy before him on the following day and earnestly and kindly thanked him for his action in attending the gymnasium; and Wayne, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, heard him through and then broke out with:

“But I didn’t, sir!”

“Didn’t what?” asked the principal.

“Didn’t voluntarily attend the class.”

“But Professor Beck himself told me that you were there.”

“Yes, sir, I was there; but – but – ” And Wayne told the circumstances of his attendance, and the principal smiled broadly when he had finished.

“Well, well, that’s one way to persuade. I asked Cunningham to see what he could do with you, but I didn’t suppose he would use such – ah – heroic measures.”

“I don’t think it was his idea, sir,” answered Wayne. “I believe Paddy was at the bottom of it.”

“Paddy? Oh, yes – Breen. I shouldn’t be surprised if he was.” Professor Wheeler was smiling again. “Well, it wasn’t so hard yesterday, was it, Gordon?”

“No, sir, not very hard; but the principle – ”

The professor held up his hands in simulated despair.

“Gordon, it’s a reckless thing to say, but let us forget our principles for once. If I were you I’d try to keep out of all trouble if for no other reason than to please three such good friends as Cunningham and Breen and – er – Merton have proved to be. I’d even put principle aside, I think, and only consider that I was pleasing my chums. Now, don’t you think you can afford to do that?”

Wayne thoughtfully smoothed the carpet with the toe of his shoe.

“Yes, sir,” he said, at length, “I think I can.”

“And you’ll attend the ‘compulsory physical education’ class in future?” Wayne scowled and tried the effect of the other shoe for a moment.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. “I’ll do gymnasium work, but not because I think it is right, for I don’t. I still think it’s wrong. But I’ll do it to please Don and Dave and Paddy and – and – ”

“And me,” said the principal smilingly.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s right. By the way, Carl Gray came to me yesterday and told me about that money, you know. It may please you to hear that the account will not be sent to his mother.”

“I’m very glad, sir,” responded Wayne heartily. “It seemed too bad to have her know, didn’t it, sir?”

“Yes,” said Professor Wheeler gravely. “I feel sure that you don’t want thanks for the kindness, but I’d like to tell you that it has made me very nearly as happy as it has Gray; I disliked my duty greatly. Well, that’s all, I think, Gordon. Come and see me sometimes. I’m always glad to see you boys at any time, and especially on Saturday evenings. I wish more of you could find time to come then. Oh, by the way, you said the other day that you were having hard work with your studies. Which ones bother you most?”

“Greek and mathematics are the worst.”

“Perhaps you could get a little help from some one for a while. Have you tried?”

“No, sir, I – I didn’t like to own up; all the other fellows get along so well.”

“Not all, Gordon; there are others in your fix. Take my advice and go and see Professor Durkee. He rooms in your building. You’ll find him quite willing to help you all he can; and he’s an excellent Greek man. He’s a little – ah – well, crusty, Gordon, on the surface, but you’ll find him kindness itself underneath. Try him.”

“Thank you, sir, I will.”

“Yes. And it’s all settled about the ‘compulsory physical education,’ is it?”

“Yes, sir, only – ”

“What, have we struck a snag already?”

“No, only I’d like it understood that I’m doing it under protest, sir.”

“That,” answered the principal gravely, “is of course understood. Shall we shake hands on it?”

And they did.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FOOTBALL GAME

Thanksgiving recess began the following Wednesday, to last until Friday evening, and many of the boys whose homes were near by departed by the noonday train, superciliously sympathizing with less fortunate friends whose turkey and cranberry sauce were to be eaten in the school dining hall. Paddy and Don had both received boxes of canned and sugared delicacies from home, and a supplementary feast, to follow the six o’clock repast in the hall, was arranged to take place in Paddy’s room, and that youth, who was to break training after the St. Eustace game, promised himself to atone for two months of healthful diet by a veritable orgy on indigestible luxuries.

Wayne, Don, and Dave, together with more than fifty other Hilltonians, boarded the morning express and were transported to the little down-river town of Marshall, where their arrival was enthusiastically welcomed by several score of St. Eustace fellows, headed by a brass band, who escorted them twice through the village, and finally left them, to recover their breaths before lunch at the hotel. Hillton’s band was already on the ground, having accompanied the football team the evening before, and with the arrival of the wearers of the crimson a day of hard work began for it. The band’s repertory was limited, but its energy tremendous, and the Marshall population gathered in front of the hotel to hearken to it and to be mercilessly guyed by the Hilltonians who thronged the broad veranda.