CHAPTER IX
THE BROKEN TRICYCLE
As soon as Livingston heard the kidnapers staggering down-stairs withtheir burden he unlocked the bed-room door and stole to the window. Hesaw Neil, his head hidden by the carriage robe, thrust into the hack anddriven away, and saw the conspirators for whom the vehicle afforded noroom separate and disappear in the gathering darkness. Livingston'semotions were varied: admiration for Neil's harebrained but successfulruse, distaste for the sorry part taken by himself in the affair, andamusement over the coming amazement and discomfiture of the enemy weremingled. In the end delight in the frustration of the sophomores' plangained the ascendency, and he resolved that although Neil would miss thefreshman dinner he should have it made up to him.
And so in his speech an hour or so later Fanwell Livingston told theastonished company of the attempted kidnaping and of its failure, andnever before had Odd Fellows' Hall rang with such laughter and cheering.And a little knot of sophomores, already bewildered by the appearanceof the freshman president on the scene, were more than ever at a loss.They stood under an awning across the street, some twenty or thirty ofthem, and asked each other what it meant. Content with the supposedsuccess of the abduction, they had made no attempt to prevent thedinner. And now Livingston, who by every law of nature should be fivemiles out in the country, was presiding at the feast and moving hisaudience to the wildest applause.
"But I helped put him in the hack!" Carey cried over and over.
"And I saw it drive off with him!" marveled another.
"And if that's Livingston, where's Baker, and Morton, and Cowan, andDyer?" asked the rest. And all shook their heads and gazed bewilderedthrough the rain to where a raised window-shade gave them occasionalglimpses of "Fan" Livingston, a fine figure in dinner jacket and whiteshirt bosom, leading the cheering.
"_Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Fletcher_!"
The group under the awning turned puzzled looks upon each other.
"Who's Fletcher? What are they cheering Fletcher for?" was asked. Butnone could answer.
But over in the hall it was different. Not a lad there, perhaps, butwould have been glad to have exchanged places with the gallantconfounder of sophomore plots, who was pictured in most minds asstarving to death somewhere out in the rain, a captive in the ungentlehands of the enemy.
However, starving Neil certainly was not. For at that very moment,seated at the hospitable board of Farmer Hutchins, he was helpinghimself to his fifth hot biscuit, and allowing Miss Hutchins, ared-cheeked and admiring young lady of fourteen years, to fill histeacup for the second time. From the role of prisoner Neil had advancedhimself to the position of honored guest. For after the firstconsternation, bewilderment, and mortification had passed, his captorsphilosophically accepted the situation, and under the benign influenceof cold chicken and hot soda biscuits found themselves not only able todisplay equanimity, but to join in the laugh against themselves and toadmire the cleverness displayed in their out-witting. Of the foursophomores Cowan's laughter and praise alone rang false. But Neil wassupremely indifferent to that youth's sentiments. The others he soondiscovered to be thoroughly good fellows, and there is no doubt but thathe enjoyed the hospitality of Farmer Hutchins more than he would haveenjoyed the freshman class dinner.
At nine o'clock the drive back to Centerport began, and as the horsessoon found that they were headed toward home the journey occupiedsurprisingly little time, and at ten Neil was back in his room awaitingthe return of Paul. To Neil's surprise that gentleman was at firstdecidedly grumpy.
"You might have let me into it," he grumbled.
But Neil explained and apologized until at length peace was restored.Then he had to tell Paul all about it from first to last, and Paullaughed until he choked; "I--I just wish--wish I had--seen Cowan's--facewhen--he--found it--out!" he shrieked.
One result of that night's adventure was that the Class of 1905 wasnever thereafter bothered in the slightest degree by the sophomores; itappeared to be the generally accepted verdict that the freshmen hadestablished their right to immunity from all molestation. Another resultwas that Neil became a class hero and a college notable. Youngerfreshmen pointed him out to each other in admiring awe; older and moreinfluential ones went out of their way to claim recognition from him;sophomores viewed him with more than passing interest, and upper-classmen predicted for him a brilliant college career. Even the Dean, when hepassed Neil the following afternoon and returned his bow, allowinghimself something almost approaching a grin. Neil, however, bore hishonors modestly even while acknowledging to himself the benefit of them.He learned that his chances of making a certain society, membership inwhich was one of his highest ambitions, had been more than doubled, andwas glad accordingly. (He was duly elected and underwent rigorousinitiation proudly and joyfully.)
The kidnaping affair even affected his football standing, for Mills andDevoe and Simson, the trainer, spoke or looked applause, while the headcoach thereafter displayed quite a personal interest in him. Severaldays subsequent to the affair Neil was taking dummy practise with therest of the second eleven. Mills had appropriated the invention of aHarvard trainer, rigging the dummy with hook and eye-bolt, so that whenproperly tackled the stuffed canvas effigy of a Robinson player becamedetached from its cable and fell on to the soft loam much after themanner of a human being. But to bring the dummy from the hooknecessitated the fiercest of tackling, and many fellows failed at this.To-day Neil was one of this number. Twice the dummy, bearing upon itsbreast the brown R of Robinson, had sped away on its twenty-foot flight,and twice Neil had thrown himself upon it without bringing it down. Ashe arose after the second attempt and brushed the soil from his trousersMills "went for him."
"You're very ladylike, Fletcher, but as this isn't crewel-work orcrochet you'll oblige me by being so rude as to bring that dummy off.Now, once more; put some snap into it! Get your hold, find yourpurchase, and then throw! Just imagine it's a sophomore, please."
The roar of laughter that followed restored some of Neil's confidence,and, whether he deceived himself into momentarily thinking the dummy asophomore, he tackled finely, brought the canvas figure from the hook,and triumphantly sat on the letter R.
Signal practise followed work at the dummy that afternoon, and last ofall the varsity and second teams had their daily line-up. Neil, however,did not get into this. Greatly to his surprise and disappointmentMcCullough took his place at left half, and Neil sat on the bench andaggrievedly watched the lucky ones peeling off their sweaters inpreparation for the fray. But idleness was not to be his portion, for amoment later Mills called to him:
"Here, take this ball, go down there to the fifteen-yard line, and trydrop-kicking. Keep a strict count, and let me know how many tries youhad and how many times you put it over the goal."
Neil took the ball and trotted off to the scene of his labors, greatlycomforted. Kicking goals from the fifteen-yard line didn't sound verydifficult, and he set to work resolved to distinguish himself. Butdrop-kicks were not among Neil's accomplishments, and he soon found thatthe cross-bar had a way of being in the wrong place at the criticalmoment. At first it was hard to keep from turning his head to watch theprogress of the game, but presently he became absorbed in his work. As apunter he had been somewhat of a success at Hillton, but drop-kickinghad been left to the full-back, and consequently it was unaccustomedwork. The first five tries went low, and the next four went high enoughbut wide of the goal. The next one barely cleared the cross-bar, andNeil was hugely tickled. The count was then ten tries and one goal. Hegot out of the way in order to keep from being ground to pieces by thestruggling teams, and while he stood by and watched the varsity make itsfirst touch-down, ruminated sadly upon the report he would have torender to Mills.
But a long acquaintance with footballs had thoroughly dispelled Neil'sawe of them, and he returned to his labor determined to better hisscore. And he did, for when the teams trotted by him on their way offthe field and Mills came up, he was able to re
port 38 tries, of which 12were goals.
"Not bad," said the coach. "That'll do for to-day. But whenever you finda football, and don't know what to do with it, try drop-kicking. Yourpunting is very good, and there's no reason why you shouldn't learn tokick from drop or placement as well. Take my advice and put your heartand brain and muscle into it, for, while we've got backs that can buckand hurdle and run, we haven't many that can be depended on to kick agoal, and we'll need them before long."
Neil trotted out to the locker-house with throbbing heart. Mills had asgood as promised him his place. That is, if he could learn to kickgoals. The condition didn't trouble Neil, however; he _could_ learn todrop-kick and he _would_ learn, he told himself exultantly as he pantedunder the effects of a cold shower-bath. For a moment the wild idea ofrising at unchristian hours and practising before chapel occurred tohim, but upon maturer thought was given up. No, the only thing to do wasto follow Mills's advice: "Put your heart and brain and muscle into it,"the coach had said. Neil nodded vigorously and rubbed himself so hardwith the towel as to almost take the skin off. He was late in leavingthe house that evening, and as all the fellows he knew personally hadalready taken their departure, he started back toward the campus alone.Near the corner of King Street he glanced up and saw something a shortdistance ahead that puzzled him. It looked at first like a cluster ofbicycles with a single rider. But as the rider was motionless Neil sooncame up to him.
On nearer view he saw that the object was in reality a tricycle, andthat it held beside the rider a pair of crutches which lay in supportslengthwise along one side. The machine was made to work with the handsinstead of the feet, and a bow-shaped piece of steel which fitted aroundthe operator's knee served as steering apparatus. The youth who satmotionless on the seat was a rather pale-faced, frail-looking lad ofeighteen years, and it needed no second glance to tell Neil that he wascrippled from his waist down. As Neil approached he was pulling thehandles to and fro and looking perplexedly at the gear. The tricyclerefused to budge.
"I guess you've broken down," said Neil, approaching. "Stay where youare and I'll have a look."
"Thanks, but you needn't bother," said the lad.
But Neil was already on his knees. The trouble was soon found; the chainhad broken and for the present was beyond repair.
"But the wheels will go round, just the same," said Neil cheerfully."Keep your seat and I'll push you back. Where do you room?"
"Walton," was the answer. "But I don't like to bother you, Mr. Fletcher.You see I have my crutches here, and I can get around very wellon them."
"Nonsense, there's no use in your walking all the way to Walton. Here,I'll take the chain off and play horse. By the way, how'd you knowmy name?"
"Oh, every one knows you since that kidnaping business," laughed theother, beginning to forget some of his shyness. "And besides I've heardthe coach speak to you at practise."
"Oh," said Neil, who was now walking behind the tricycle and pushing itbefore him, "then you've been out to the field, eh?"
"Yes, I like to watch practise. I go out very nearly every day."
"Come to think of it, I believe I've seen you there," said Neil. "It'swonderful how you can get around on this machine as you do. Isn't ithard work at times?"
"Rather, on grades, you know. But on smooth roads it goes very easily;besides, I've worked it every day almost for so long that I've got apretty good muscle now. My father had this one made for me only twomonths ago to use here at Erskine. The last machine I had was very muchheavier and harder to manage."
"I guess being so light has made it weak," said Neil, "or it wouldn'thave broken down like this."
"Oh, I fancy that was more my fault than the tricycle's," answered theboy. As Neil was behind him he did not see the smile that accompaniedthe words.
"Well, I'll take you home and then wheel the thing down to the bicyclerepair-shop near the depot, eh?"
"Oh, no, indeed," protested the other. "I'll--I'll have them send up forit. I wouldn't have you go way down there with it for anything."
"Pshaw! that's no walk; besides, if you have them send, it will be sometime to-morrow afternoon before you get it back."
"I sha'n't really need it before then," answered the lad earnestly.
"You might," said Neil. There was such a tone of finality in the replythat the boy on the seat yielded, but for an instant drew his face intoa pucker of perplexity.
"Thank you," he said; "it's awfully nice of you to take so muchtrouble."
"I can't see that," Neil replied. "I don't see how I could do any less.By the way, what's your name, if you don't mind?"
"Sydney Burr."
"Burr? That's why you were stuck there up the road," laughed Neil."We're in the same class, aren't we?"
"Yes."
At the middle entrance of Walton Hall Neil helped Burr on to hiscrutches, and would have assisted him up the steps had he not objected.
"Please don't," he said, flushing slightly. "I can get up all right; Ido it every day. My room's on this floor, too. I'm awfully much obligedto you for what you've done. I wish you'd come and see me some time--No.3. Do you--do you think you could?"
"Of course," Neil answered heartily, "I'll be glad to. Three, you said?All right. I'll take this nag down to the blacksmith's now and get himreshod. If they can fix him right off I'll bring him back with me. Wheredo you stable him?"
"The janitor takes it down-stairs somewhere. If I'm not here just giveit to him, please. I wish, though, you wouldn't bother about bringingit back."
"I'll ride him back," laughed Neil. "Good-night."
"Good-night. Don't forget you're coming to see me."
Sydney Burr smiled and, turning, climbed the steps with astonishingease, using his crutches with a dexterity born of many years' dependenceupon them. His lower limbs, slender and frail, swung from side to side,mere useless appendages. Neil sighed as he saw his new acquaintance outof sight, and then started on his errand with the tricycle.
"Poor duffer!" he muttered. "And yet he seems cheerful enough, and lookshappy. But to think of having to creep round on stilts or pull himselfabout on this contrivance! I mustn't forget to call on him; I dare sayhe hasn't many friends. He seems a nice chap, too; and he'd befrightfully good-looking if he wasn't so white."
It was almost dark when he reached the repair-shop near the railroad,and the proprietor, a wizened little bald-headed man, was preparingto go home.
"Can't fix anything to-night," he protested shrilly. "It's too late;come in the morning."
"Well, if you think I'm going to wheel this thing back here to-morrowyou've missed your guess," said Neil. "All it needs is to have a chainlink welded or glued or something; it won't take five minutes. And thefellow that owns it is a cripple and can't go out until this machine'sfixed. Now go ahead, like a good chap; I'll hold your bonnet."
"Eh? What bonnet?" The little man stared perplexedly.
"I meant I'd help," answered Neil unabashed.
"Help! Huh! Lot's of help, you'd be to any one! Well, let's see it." Heknelt and inspected the tricycle, grumbling all the while and shakinghis head angrily. "Who said it was broke?" he demanded presently. "Queerkind of break; looks like you'd pried the link apart with acold-chisel."
"Well, I didn't; nor with a hot chisel. Besides, I've just told you itdidn't belong to me. Do I look like a cripple?"
"More like a fool," answered the other with a chuckle.
"You're a naughty old man," said Neil sorrowfully, "and if you were myfather I'd spank you." The other was too angry to find words, andcontented himself with bending back the damaged link and emitting aseries of choking sounds which Neil rightly judged to be expressions ofdispleasure. When the repair was finished he pushed the machine angrilytoward the boy.
"Take it and get out," he said.
"Thanks. How much?"
"Fifty cents," was the reply, given with a toothless grin and a chuckle."Twenty-five cents for the job and twenty-five cents for workingafter hours."
&nb
sp; "Cheap enough," answered Neil, laying a quarter on the bench. "That'sfor the job; I'll owe you the rest."
When he reached the first corner the proprietor of the repair-shop wasstill calling him names and shaking his fist in the air.
"Looked just like a he-witch or something," chuckled Neil, as hepropelled his steed toward the campus. "Maybe he will put a curse uponme and my right foot will wither up and I won't be able to kick goals!"