CHAPTER III
IN NEW QUARTERS
Almost every one has heard of Erskine College. For the benefit of thefew who have not, and lest they confound it with Williams or Dartmouthor Bowdoin or some other of its New England neighbors, it may be well totell something about it. Erskine College is still in its infancy, as NewEngland universities go, with its centennial yet eight years distant.But it has its own share of historic associations, and although the bigelm in the center of the campus was not planted until 1812 it has shadedmany youths who in later years have by good deeds and greataccomplishments endeared themselves to country and alma mater.
In the middle of the last century, when Erskine was little more than anacademy, it was often called "the little green school at Centerport." Itis not so little now, but it's greener than ever. Wide-spreading elmsgrow everywhere; in serried ranks within the college grounds, in smallerdetachments throughout the village, in picket lines along the river andout into the country. The grass grows lush wherever it can gain hold,and, not content with having its own way on green and campus, is foreverattempting the conquest of path and road. The warm red bricks of thecollege buildings are well-nigh hidden by ivy, which, too, is an ardentexpansionist. And where neither grass nor ivy can subjugate, soft,velvety moss reigns humbly.
In the year 1901, which is the period of this story, the enrolment inall departments at Erskine was close to six hundred students. Thefreshman class, as had been the case for many years past, was thelargest in the history of the college. It numbered 180; but of thisnumber we are at present chiefly interested in only two; and these two,at the moment when this chapter begins--which, to be exact, is eighto'clock of the evening of the twenty-fourth day of September in the yearabove mentioned--were busily at work in a first-floor study in theboarding-house of Mrs. Curtis on Elm Street.
It were perhaps more truthful to say that one was busily at work and theother was busily advising and directing. Neil Fletcher stood on a smalltable, which swayed perilously from side to side at his every movement,and drove nails into an already much mutilated wall. Paul Gale sat in ahospitable armchair upholstered in a good imitation of green leather andnodded approval.
"That'll do for 'Old Abe'; now hang The First Snow a bit to the left andunderneath."
"The First Snow hasn't any wire on it," complained Neil. "See if youcan't find some."
"Wire's all gone," answered Paul. "We'll have to get some more. Where'sthat list? Oh, here it is. 'Item, picture wire.' I say, what inthunder's this you've got down--'Ring for waistband'?"
"Rug for wash-stand, you idiot! I guess we'll have to quit until we getsome more wire, eh? Or we might hang a few of them with boot-laces andneckties?"
"Oh, let's call it off. I'm tired," answered Paul with a grin. "The roombegins to look rather decent, doesn't it? We must change that couch,though; put it the other way so the ravelings won't show. And thatpicture of--"
But just here Neil attempted to step from the table and landed in a heapon the floor, and Paul forgot criticism in joyful applause.
"Oh, noble work! Do it again, old man; I didn't see the take-off!"
But Neil refused, and plumping himself into a wicker rocking-chair thatcreaked complainingly, rubbed the dust from his hands to his trousersand looked about the study approvingly.
"We're going to be jolly comfy here, Paul," he said. "Mrs. Curtis isgoing to get a new globe for that fixture over there."
"Then we will be," said Paul. "And if she would only find us atowel-rack that didn't fall into twelve separate pieces like a Chinesepuzzle every time a chap put a towel on it we'd be simply revelingin luxury."
"I think I can fix that thing with string," answered Neil. "Or we mightbuy one of those nickel-plated affairs that you screw into the wall."
"The sort that always dump the towels on to the floor, you mean? Yes, wemight. Of course, they're of no practical value judged as towel-racks,but they're terribly ornamental. You know we had one in the bath-room atthe beach. Remember? When you got through your bath and groped round forthe towel it was always lying on the floor just out of reach."
"Yes, I remember," answered Neil, smiling. "We had rather a good time,didn't we, at Seabright? It was awfully nice of you to ask me downthere, Paul; and your folks were mighty good to me. Next summer I wantyou to come up to New Hampshire and see us for a while. Of course, wecan't give you sea bathing, and you won't look like a red Indian whenyou go home, but we could have a good time just the same."
"Red Indian yourself!" cried Paul. "You're nearly twice as tanned as Iam. I don't see how you did it. I was there pretty near all summer andyou stayed just three weeks; and look at us! I'm as white as a sheetof paper--"
"Yes, brown paper," interpolated Neil.
"And you have a complexion like a--a football after a hard game."
Neil grinned, then--
"By the way," he said, "did I tell you I'd heard from Crozier?"
"About Billy and the ducks? And Gordon's not going back to Hillton? Yes,you got that at the beach; remember?"
"So I did. 'Old Cro' will be up to his ears in trouble pretty soon,won't he? I'm glad they made him captain, awfully glad. I think he canturn out a team that'll rub it into St. Eustace again just as you didlast year."
"Yes; and Gardiner's going to coach again." Paul smiled reminiscently.Then, "By Jove, it does seem funny not to be going back to old Hillton,doesn't it? I suppose after a while a fellow'll get to feeling at homehere, but just at present--" He sighed and shook his head.
"Wait until college opens to-morrow and we get to work; we won't havemuch time to feel much of anything, I guess. Practise is called for fouro'clock. I wonder--I wonder if we'll make the team?"
"Why not?" objected Paul. "If I thought I wouldn't I think I'd pitch itall up and--and go to Robinson!" He grinned across at his chum.
"You stay here and you'll get a chance to go _at_ Robinson; that's aheap more satisfactory."
"Well, I'm going to make the varsity, Neil. I've set my heart on that,and what I make up my mind to do I sometimes most always generally do.I'm not troubling, my boy; I'll show them a few tricks about playinghalf-back that'll open their eyes. You wait and see!"
Neil looked as though he was not quite certain as to that, but saidnothing, and Paul went on:
"I wonder what sort of a fellow this Devoe is?"
"Well, I've never seen him, but we know that he's about as good an endas there is in college to-day; and I guess he's bound to be the rightsort or they wouldn't have made him captain."
"He's a senior, isn't he?"
"Yes; he's played only two years, and they say he's going into the YaleLaw School next year. If he does, of course he'll get on the team there.Well, I hope he'll take pity on two ambitious but unprotectedfreshmen and--"
There was a knock at the study door and Paul jumped forward and threw itopen. A tall youth of twenty-one or twenty-two years of age stood inthe doorway.
"I'm looking for Mr. Gale and Mr. Fletcher. Have I hit it right?"
"I'm Gale," answered Paul, "and that's Fletcher. Won't you come in?" Thevisitor entered.
"My name's Devoe," he explained smilingly. "I'm captain of the footballteam this year, and as you two fellows are, of course, going to try forthe team, I thought we'd better get acquainted." He accepted the squeakyrocking-chair and allowed Paul to take his straw hat. Neil thought he'dought to shake hands, but as Devoe made no move in that direction heretired to another seat and grinned hospitably instead.
"I've heard of the good work you chaps did for Hillton last year, and Iwas mighty glad when I learned from Gardiner that you were comingup here."
"You know Gardiner?" asked Neil.
"No, I've never met him, but of course every football man knows who heis. He wrote to me in the spring that you were coming, and ratherintimated that if I knew my business I'd keep an eye on you and see thatyou didn't get lost in the shuffle. So here I am."
"He didn't say anything about having written," pondered Neil.
/> "Oh, he wouldn't," answered Devoe. "Well, how do you like us as far asyou've seen us?"
"We only got here yesterday," replied Paul. "I think it looks likerather a jolly sort of place; awfully pretty, you know,and--er--historic."
"Yes, it is pretty; historic too; and it's the finest young college inthe country, bar none," answered Devoe. "You'll like it when you getused to it. I like it so well I wish I wasn't going to leave it in thespring. Very cozy quarters you have here." He looked about the study.
"They'll do," answered Neil modestly. "Of course we couldn't get roomsin the Yard, and we liked this as well as anything we saw outside. Theview's rather good from the windows."
"Yes, I know; you have the common and pretty much the whole college insight; it is good." Devoe brought his gaze back and fixed it on Neil."You played left half, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"What's your weight?"
"I haven't weighed this summer," answered Neil. "In the spring I was ahundred and sixty-two."
"Good. We need some heavy backs. How about you, Gale?"
"About a hundred and sixty."
"Of course I haven't seen the new material yet," continued Devoe, "butthe last year's men we have are a bit light, take them all around.That's what beat us, you see; Robinson had an unusually heavy line andrather heavy backs. They plowed through us without trouble."
Neil studied the football captain with some interest. He saw a tall andfairly heavy youth, with well-set head and broad shoulders. He lookedquite as fast on his feet as rumor credited him with being, and his darkeyes, sharp and steady in their regard, suggested both courage andability to lead. His other features were strong, the nose a trifleheavy, the mouth usually unsmiling, the chin determined, and theforehead, set off by carefully brushed dark-brown hair, high and broad.After the first few moments of conversation Devoe devoted his attentionprincipally to Neil, questioning him regarding Gardiner's coachingmethods, about Neil's experience on the gridiron, as to what studies hewas taking up. Occasionally he included Paul in the conversation, butthat youth discovered, with surprise and chagrin, that he was apparentlyof much less interest to Devoe than was Neil. After a while he droppedout of the talk altogether, save when directly appealed to, and satsilent with an expression of elaborate unconcern. At the end of half anhour Devoe arose.
"I must be getting on," he announced. "I'm glad we've had this talk, andI hope you'll both come over some evening and call on me; I'm in Morris,No. 8. We've got our work cut out this fall, and I hope we'll all pulltogether." He smiled across at Paul, evidently unaware of havingneglected that young gentleman in his conversation. "Good-night. Fouro'clock to-morrow is the hour."
"I never met any one that could ask more questions than he can,"exclaimed Neil when Devoe was safely out of hearing. "But I supposethat's the way to learn, eh?"
Paul yawned loudly and shrugged his shoulders.
"Funny he should have come just when we were talking about him, wasn'tit?" Neil pursued. "What do you think of him?"
"Well, if you ask me," Paul answered, "I think he's a conceited,stuck-up prig!"