Winning His "W" Part 15

"You think I ought to hit it between the eyes?"

"Yes, though I should not put it in quite that way," said his father with a smile.

"I'd like to smash it! I don't like it! I'll never make a Greek scholar, and I detest Splinter. He's as dry as a bone or a Greek root! He hasn't any more juice than a piece of boiled ba.s.swood!"

"That does not alter the matter. It won't change, and you've got to choose in which of the three ways I have suggested you will meet it."

"I suppose that's so," said Will quietly. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Not a bit."

"I know what you would say."

"Then it isn't necessary for me to say another word. There's one thing I am thankful for, Will, and that is that you and I are such good friends that we can talk this trouble all over together. The dean was telling me this morning--"

"Have you seen the dean?" interrupted Will quickly. "What did he say?"

"The dean was telling me," resumed Mr. Phelps smiling and ignoring the interruption, "that he sees so many of what might be termed the tragical elements of college life, that he sometimes feels as if he could not retain his position another day. Fathers and mothers broken-hearted, boys discouraged or worse, but the most tragical experience of all, he says, is to try to deal with fathers who have no special interest in their boys, and between whom there is no confidence. Whatever troubles may come to us, Will, I am thankful that that at least will not be one of them."

As he spoke Mr. Phelps arose, for the machine which was to convey him to the station could now be seen approaching and the time of his departure had arrived. His good-bye was hastily spoken for he knew how hard it would be for Will to be left behind, and in a brief time he had taken his seat in the auto. He saw Will as he hastily ran back to his room and then he could see him as he stood by the window in his room watching the departing auto as long as it could be seen. He gave no signal to show that he saw his boy, but his own eyes were wet as he was carried swiftly down the street, as he thought of the predicament in which Will was and how the testing-time had come again. But the young student must be left to fight out his battle alone. To save him from the struggle would be to save him from the strength. If it were only possible for a father to save his boy by a.s.suming his burden, how thankful he would be, was Mr.

Phelps' reflection, but he was too wise a man and too good a father to flinch or falter now, and, though his heart was heavy, he resolutely kept on his way leaving Will to fight his own battle, and hoping that the issue would be as he most fervently desired.

Left to himself, for a moment Will was almost despondent. The departure of his father seemed to leave the loneliness intensified, but he was recalled as he heard some one run up the stairway and rush into the room. His visitor was Mott, and perhaps the soph.o.m.ore almost instinctively felt that his presence was not welcome, for he said:

"Governor gone, Phelps? Hope he left a good-sized check with you! I've come over to be the first to help you get rid of it."

"What's the trouble?" inquired Will quietly, glancing up as he spoke.

"Your money all gone? Want to borrow some?"

"I'm always ready for that," laughed Mott, "though I'll have to own up that I've got a few cents on hand yet. No, I don't know that I want to borrow any; but I thought you might want a little help in getting rid of that check, and I'd just run over to oblige you. Just pure missionary work, you see." Mott seated himself in the large easy-chair and endeavored to appear at his ease, though to Will it still seemed as if there was something which still troubled his visitor.

"I haven't any special check."

"That's all right. My 'old man' never has been up to see me since I entered Winthrop, but as I look around at the fellows whose fathers and mothers have been up, I've noticed that they're usually pretty flush right after the old gentleman departs."

"Hasn't your mother ever been up?" inquired Will in surprise.

"No. Why should she? She hasn't any time to bother with me. She's on more than forty boards, and is on the 'go' all the time. She has to attend all sorts of 'mothers' meetings' too, and I believe she has a lecture also, which she gives."

"A lecture?"

"Yes. She has a lecture on 'The proper method of bringing up boys.' How do you suppose she ever has any time to visit me?" Mott laughed as if the matter was one of supreme indifference to him, but Will fancied that he could detect a feeling of bitterness beneath it all. For himself, the condition described by the soph.o.m.ore seemed to him to be incredible. His own relations with his father had been of the frankest and most friendly nature. Indeed, it never occurred to him in a time of trouble or perplexity that there was any one else to whom he so naturally could go as to his own father. Since he had entered Winthrop, however, he had discovered several who were not unlike Mott in their feelings toward their own families; and as Mott spoke he almost unconsciously found a feeling of sympathy arising in his heart for him. Some of his apparently reckless deeds could be explained now.

"Mott, you must go home with me next vacation," he said impulsively.

"That's good of you, but it's too far off to promise. Say, Phelps, what's become of that man Friday of yours?"

"Who's he?"

"Schenck."

"Oh, he's flourishing."

"He's the freshest freshman that ever entered Winthrop. What do you suppose he had the nerve to say to me to-day?"

"I can't imagine."

"Well, he told me that he thought the Alpha Omega was the best fraternity in college, and that he'd made up his mind to join it."

As this was the fraternity to which Mott himself belonged, Will laughed as he said, "Oh, well, don't be too hard with Peter John. He doesn't know any better now, but he'll learn."

"That's what he will," replied Mott with a very decided shake of his head. "I thought I'd come over to tell you that the soph.o.m.ore-freshmen meet is to come off on Sat.u.r.day afternoon."

"Not next Sat.u.r.day?" exclaimed Will aghast.

"Yes, that's the very day."

"They told me it wasn't to be for two weeks yet."

"All the same it's on Sat.u.r.day. I thought I'd tell you, though I'm going to do my best to keep you from winning your numerals."

Mott rose and departed from the room, and when Foster returned he found his room-mate hard at work, with his Greek books spread out on the desk before him.

CHAPTER XII

THE MEET

The fact that the track meet between the two lower cla.s.ses had been placed at an earlier date than that for which it had first been announced was a serious disappointment to Will Phelps. His success in the school athletics had made him quietly hopeful, if not confident, that he might be able to win some laurels in college, and he also was aware that the gold medal he wore upon his fob had made his own cla.s.smates expect great things from him. And the changed date now prevented him from doing any training and he must enter the contest without any preparation.

Reports had come to him that Mott and Ogden, the two fleetest-footed soph.o.m.ores, had already been working hard, and rumors were also current that he himself was to be kidnapped and prevented from entering the games. Will had given but slight heed to any of these reports, but he had in his own mind decided that he would begin training at once for the contest, for if he should by any chance win then he would be the first member of his own cla.s.s to gain the coveted privilege of wearing his cla.s.s numerals upon his cap and sweater. And, not unnaturally, Will was eager to secure the honor.

As he thought over Mott's words he was half inclined to believe that the soph.o.m.ore himself had been the cause of the unexpected change in the date of holding the games, and his feeling of anger and desire to win both became keener. There was no time, however, afforded in which he might make preparations for the meet, and he must simply do his best under existing circ.u.mstances. There was to be no burlesque or "horse play" in this contest, and the entire college would be on hand and interested to note the promise of the entering cla.s.s in a department of college life that appealed strongly to all the students. Even his new determination to push his work in his Greek harder than ever he had done and his feeling of homesickness did not in the day that intervened between the present and the day of the games prevent his interest and excitement from increasing during the pa.s.sing hours.

Sat.u.r.day afternoon finally arrived, clear and cool, an ideal day for the contest. When Will stepped forth from the dressing-room, clad in his light running suit and with his bath robe wrapped around him, as he glanced over the track he could see that a crowd was already a.s.sembled.

The soph.o.m.ores were seated in a body in one portion of the "bleachers,"

and their noisy shouts or loud cla.s.s cries rose steadily on the autumn air. Opposite was the freshman cla.s.s, but its members were still too unfamiliar with their surroundings and with one another to enable them to join in anything like the unison of their rivals. In the grand stand were numbers of the members of the families of the faculty and the townspeople and visitors, and altogether the scene was one that strongly stirred Will and his room-mate, Foster Bennett, who also was to compete in the games.

Suddenly a loud, derisive shout arose from the soph.o.m.ores, and Will glanced quickly up to discover its cause. In a moment the cause was seen, when Peter John Schenck came running across the field toward the place where Will and Foster were standing beside a few of their cla.s.smates, who were also waiting for the game to begin.

The sight of Peter John was one that caused even Will and Foster to smile, for their cla.s.smate was dressed as if he too was about to become a contestant, and this was something neither of them had expected. It was Peter John's garb, however, which had so greatly delighted the beholders, for it was unlike anything to be seen upon the field--"fearfully and wonderfully made," as Mott, who had joined them for a moment, had expressed it. Evidently it was the result of Peter John's own handiwork. His running trousers came to a place about halfway between his knees and ankles before they stopped, and were fashioned of coa.r.s.e bagging or material very similar to it. He wore no running shoes, but a pair of gray woolen socks, plainly "hand made," provided a subst.i.tute. His "running shirt" was a calico blouse which had at one time doubtless served him as a garment in which he had done the daily ch.o.r.es upon his father's farm, but, as if to make matters still worse, a broad band of ribbon, the colors of the cla.s.s, was diagonally fastened to his blouse in front, and Peter John's fierce shock of bright red hair, uncut since he had entered Winthrop, served to set off the entire picture he presented.

"Well, I guess we'll do 'em to-day, Will," exclaimed Peter John as he approached the group of which his friend was a member.

"I guess we will," remarked Mott soberly.