Winning His "W" Part 31

"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 soph.o.m.ore-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 cla.s.smate 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 cla.s.smate'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 soph.o.m.ore's more luxurious quarters.

Will Phelps found meanwhile that his own work in the cla.s.sroom 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 cla.s.s and their rivals, the soph.o.m.ores. For years it had been the custom of the college for the two lower cla.s.ses to bury, or rather to burn the hatchet on St. Patrick's Day. For a week preceding that time the tussles between the rival cla.s.ses 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 cla.s.s, every member clad in some outlandish garment which he wore outside his other clothing, and it was the one ambition of the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s 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 emanc.i.p.ation arrived, and the test of the soph.o.m.ores' 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 soph.o.m.ores 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 pa.s.sing 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.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE RUSH TO COVENTRY CENTER

"The sophs have found out where the canes are," Peter John almost shouted.

"They have? How do you know?" demanded Will.

"I was in my bedroom and I heard them talking with Mott in our study room."

"Who?"

"Tucker, Spencer, and Goodman."

"What did they say?"

"They said the canes were over in Coventry Center, at the minister's house there."

Coventry Center was a little hamlet about seven miles distant from Winthrop, and the excited freshmen had indeed stored a part of their canes in the house of the worthy old minister of the village. They had frankly explained to him what their purpose was and he had laughingly consented to receive the coveted possessions in his home and store them there for the four days that intervened between the time and St.

Patrick's day. And the freshmen had been confident that their hiding-place would not readily be discovered. No one would suspect that the parsonage would be selected or the worthy minister would act as a guard. To make a.s.surance doubly certain, however, only half of the canes had been entrusted to the minister, and even those were divided--a bundle containing a dozen being placed in the woodshed and the remaining being stored beneath the hay in the little loft of the barn. The other half of the cla.s.s canes had been taken to a farmhouse a mile distant from the parsonage and there concealed in an unused well, the mouth of which was filled with rubbish and the _debris_ of a shed that had been blown down by a severe windstorm that had occurred a few weeks before this time.

As the utmost care had been observed by the committee having in charge the purchase of the canes, and they had stealthily in a stormy night taken their precious burdens to the two places of concealment they had been confident, over-confident now it appeared, that their actions had not been discovered.

Will and Foster had both served on the committee that had purchased and hidden the canes, and when Peter John brought his unwelcome tidings that the rival cla.s.s was aware of the place where the canes had been stored, it was difficult for them to determine whether anger or chagrin was uppermost in their feelings. At all events they both were greatly excited, and Will said as he hastily rose from his chair:

"How did they find it out?"

"I don't know. I didn't hear them say," replied Peter John.

"Did they find out that you were there?"

"No, they left before I came out of my room. The door was partly open and I didn't dare stir hand or foot."

"Lucky for you, Peter John."

"Yes. I know it."

"What are they going to do?" inquired Foster, who up to this time had been silent.

"They've gone over to get the canes."

"Gone!" exclaimed Will aghast.

"Yes. That's what Goodman said."

"How many went, do you know, Peter John?" demanded Foster.

"He said three."

"Do you know who they were?"

"No."