CHAPTER IV
IN THE GYM
Trevor left the dressing-room and climbed the stairs to the runningtrack. The gymnasium was quiet and filled with the twilight of a winterafternoon. It was but a few minutes after three, and, save for a youthwho was heroically exercising with the weights, the building appeareddeserted. But as he reached the head of the stairs the soft pat ofshoes on the boards greeted him, and he stepped aside to let a litherunner jog past. He recognized him as Stewart Earle, the boy who hadbrought the message to Dick Hope the night before, and when he nextpassed he nodded.
“Hello,” answered Stewart as he slowed down a little, “I didn’trecognize you. Awfully dark to-day, isn’t it?”
“Beastly,” responded Trevor. Then, with a glance at the big clock hestarted into a slow jog, lifting his feet high and stretching hismuscles, that were somewhat stiffened by a week’s idleness. A flood ofsubdued white light bathed the track from the big north window, and ashe passed he could hear the soft _swir_ of the snowflakes against theglass. It had been snowing all night and all day, and showed as yet nosign of abatement. The broad skylights in the roof were covered deeply,and looked from beneath like sheets of lead.
The boy at the weights stopped and disappeared into the dressing-room.Perhaps he found it lonely work there all by himself. The pat ofthe runners’ shoes alone broke the stillness. Trevor took his pacefrom Stewart, and for some time the two circled the track. It wastwenty-four laps to the mile, and when he had accomplished thatdistance Trevor went down and put in several minutes with the weights.Several other boys had entered meanwhile, and were changing outdoorclothing for gymnasium suits. When he had rubbed himself dry after ashower bath, Trevor took a seat by Stewart and began to dress leisurely.
“Do you run much?” he asked.
“Yes; that is, I try. I did a mile and a half to-day. I’m going to tryfor the two hundred and twenty yards at the indoor meet.”
“Why, so am I,” answered Trevor. Stewart grimaced.
“I guess it’s all up with me, then,” he said ruefully. “They say you’rea dandy sprinter.”
“Oh, I’m not much. I suppose there are lots of entries, eh?”
“Only about sixteen, I think. You’re one of the upper middle relayteam, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m to run last, I believe. I hope we beat the seniors,” laughedTrevor.
“I guess I’ve got more reason to want to win than you,” respondedStewart. “My father and mother are coming up for the meet. We live inPoughkeepsie, you know; I’d like awfully to win that two-twenty, but Iguess I won’t.”
“Well, I don’t think you need be afraid of me,” said Trevor; “I feelrather rusty to-day. Fact is, you know, I’m a bit too heavy on my legsfor sprints, I fancy. I think I’ll chuck it after Saturday night; I’mgoing to try for the crew.”
“Are you?” said Stewart admiringly. “You look as though you’d make acracking good oar. I sometimes think I’d like to try for the crew;perhaps I can year after next; Beck doesn’t want me to now, he says.”
“Doesn’t want you to? Do you mean he’s forbid you?”
“N-no, he hasn’t forbidden me; but I always do as he tells me.You see”--Stewart paused in the middle of a struggle with a whitesweater--“Beck’s done all sorts of things for me. Why, when I camehere a year ago last fall I only weighed about eighty pounds; I wasalways tired, and didn’t have any--any ambition for anything; used tosit in my room and read. Of course there’s no harm in reading, but Ididn’t seem to do anything else; Gray--I room with him over in thevillage--Gray used to call me the ‘White Mouse.’ I guess I was a prettypoor-looking youngster. Well, Professor Beck got hold of me one dayand induced me to take up a course of training; of course I’d beendoing my two days a week here at the weights and things, but I alwaysshirked and got tired, and it never did me any good, I guess. But Beckmade me take walks, wouldn’t let me eat anything but what was on a listhe gave me, and put me at weights. Finally he got me to try jumping,and then running. I liked running right away. First thing I knew Icouldn’t get enough to eat, it seemed; used to be hungry every meal.Then I entered the four hundred and forty yards last winter at theindoor meeting and came in second. After that I couldn’t run enough. Iwon the four hundred and forty at the handicap meet in the spring, andwanted to go to the Interscholastic Meet, only Beck said I’d betterwait until this year. Of course I’m not a Samson yet, but I’m about twohundred per cent better than I was a year or so ago. And--and Beck didit. And that’s why I do what he says.”
“I see,” answered Trevor. “Well, Beck knows his business. You lookabout as fit as any chap I’ve seen here, and I don’t blame you forgiving under to him. By the way, Gray’s the baseball captain, isn’t he?Rather tall, thin chap?”
“Yes, he’s awfully smart, regular jack-of-all-trades. He used to dostunts for the fellows, like mend golf clubs and cricket bats, and moldgolf balls and things, and made pretty near enough money last year topay his board and room rent. But he got the Carmichael scholarshiplast winter, and so he doesn’t do much of that sort this term. This ishis second year as captain of the nine, and I guess he could be captainagain if he was going to be here, but he goes up to college next fall.He--he’s been a--he’s been awfully kind to me--ever since I came here.”Stewart glanced rather apologetically at Trevor, doubtful as to whetherhe would feel a schoolboy’s contempt for the trace of feeling that hehad unintentionally allowed to creep into his tones. But Trevor smiledunderstandingly.
“Must be a good sort,” he answered sympathetically. “Hello, here’sHope.”
Dick approached and nodded smilingly to the two. He had a slip of paperin his hand, and as he greeted them he glanced over the dressing-roomas though in search of some one.
“Have either of you fellows seen Professor Beck?” Both replied in thenegative, and Dick folded up the slip and placed it in his pocket.“I’ve been looking all over the place for him; wanted to see him aboutthe crew candidates. By the way, Nesbitt, we want you to report here aweek from Tuesday at four o’clock. I’m going to post the notices thisevening. Carl tells me you’re going to try for the two hundred andtwenty yards, Stewart?”
“Yes, I’m down for it, but Nesbitt here says he’s entered too, and I’mrather doubtful of my chances now.”
“I didn’t know you ran,” said Dick, turning to Trevor.
“Oh, yes, I run a bit, now and then. I’ve been jogging round the trackand feel as stiff as a poker.”
“That’ll wear off all right. I was stiff myself to-day--at recitations.”
“I should say so,” exclaimed Stewart. “I honestly didn’t know a thing.I think they ought to give us a day after recess to get caught upwith things; a fellow can’t do any studying the night he gets back toschool. I went to the library last night and almost fell asleep over anencyclopedia.”
“Well, you did better than I did. I scarcely looked into a book.”
“Ditto,” said Trevor. “‘Turkey’ gave us fits; there wasn’t a chap inthe English class knew what the lesson was.”
“Well, I’m going to have a go at the weights,” said Dick. “See you twolater.”
“And I guess I’ll go back to the room,” said Stewart. “If you haven’tanything better to do, Nesbitt, you might walk over that way.”
“Thanks, but Wheels is rather careful of my health just now, anddoesn’t want me to leave the grounds; he’s afraid I might get my feetwet, I fancy; so I’ll come over and see you some other time. I havehalf an idea to do some studying, just to be queer.”
The two went out together, and Dick, opening his locker, proceeded toattire himself in his gymnasium clothes. The room had filled up withboys, and he was kept busy answering questions about the crew. A bigyouth in a blue-and-white striped sweater entered, and, seeing Dick,made for him at once.
“Say, Hope, is it so that we’re not going to have any crew this spring?”
“No, it’s not so. We’re going to have the best crew that we ever putinto the wate
r,” answered Dick. “Who told you such rot as that?”
“Blessed if I know who did say it, but I’ve heard one or two fellowstalking about it. I’m glad there’s no truth in it, old chap; I didn’tthink there was, you know. When are we going to work?”
“Report a week from Tuesday at four, will you? I guess we’ll start thetrouble about the fifteenth. And say, Crocker, if you hear any onetalking nonsense about no crew or poor material, just call them down,will you? There’s nothing in it, and it’s hard enough anyhow to get thefellows to turn out without any rumors of that sort.”
“All right.”
Crocker swung himself off, and Dick went into the gymnasium and setto work at the weights. With the cords over his shoulders and theirons sliding rhythmically in the box, he began to go over in his minda conversation he had had a half hour before with Carl Gray. Carl’sinformation had not been encouraging, and Dick was more worried thanhe liked to own even to himself. Carl had stayed at the academy duringthe recess, as had Roy Taylor--the first for financial reasons, thelatter because his home was half-way across the continent. Accordingto Carl, Taylor had been very active for a week past in predicting afailure for the crew among the old men and the possible candidates. Hecould have but one end in view, to discourage the fellows, and renderit difficult, if not impossible, for Dick to get enough good men toform a winning eight. The worst of it was, he reflected, that Taylor’smanner of creating discouragement was so artful that it was out of thequestion to charge him with it. Even during his loudest talk about theuselessness of trying to form a good crew, he never failed to announcehis intention of reporting for practice and of doing all in his powerto avert the impending defeat. And now, as evidenced by Crocker’sremark a few minutes since, he had even managed to gain circulation forthe report that there was to be no crew at all!
Dick changed his position, pulling the grips with half-arm movement tohis shoulders, and frowned wrathfully at the wall. Carl was right, hetold himself; Taylor deserved to have his head punched! That, however,was the last remedy to be considered, if only for the reason that tolose Taylor from the boat meant almost certain defeat. For the bigNebraskan was without any doubt the best man at Number 7 that a Hilltoncrew had had for many years--strong, a hard worker, and an excellentoar. Plainly the last thing to do was to antagonize him. Besides, hewas popular among quite a lot of the fellows, and his word undoubtedlyhad weight; another reason for making almost any sacrifice to retainhis good-will. If there was only another man to take his place atNumber 7, thought Dick, tugging the cords viciously, he’d mightysoon spoil his game, but--he ran quickly over the fellows who by anypossible stretch of the imagination might be considered material forTaylor’s position in the boat, and sighed. There was no one. It mightbe that there was one among the newer candidates who, by dint of hardwork, could be fashioned into a good Number 7, but to lose Taylorfor such a possibility was risky work. No, the only course was toapparently know nothing of Taylor’s underhand work, to undo it as besthe could, and to at all hazards keep him in the crew. For a moment Dickwished that Taylor had been made captain.
“Hello, Hope!”
Dick turned to find a big, good-looking youth of eighteen with a ratherflorid complexion and black eyes and hair smiling broadly upon him. Hewas dressed in knitted tights and jersey that showed an almost perfectform, and swung a pair of boxing-gloves in one hand.
“Hello, Taylor,” answered Dick, forcing himself to return the smile.“How are you?”
“First-rate. Glad to see you back. Some one said you were in here, andI thought I’d look you up; wanted to ask about crew practice. When arethe fellows going to report?”
“Tuesday week.”
“All right; I’ll be on hand. Rather a tough outlook, though, I expect.”
“Oh, I don’t know; we’ve enough of last year’s fellows to make a goodbasis for the new crew. I think we’ll do pretty well.”
Taylor shook his head sadly, then looked up and smiled brightly.
“Well, never say die, eh? We must all do our best. You can count on me,you know, old fellow. In fact, I’ve been drumming up trade already;persuaded quite a bunch of chaps to report. The trouble is that theydon’t seem to think it’s worth while; seem to be cock-sure that we’llbe beaten.”
“Do they? I haven’t heard anything of that sort. There isn’t any goodreason for it, anyhow.”
“Oh, come now, Hope, you’ll have to own up we’ve got a hard row to hoe.I wouldn’t say so to any one else, you understand, but just betweenourselves, I don’t think we’ve got the ghost of a show.”
“Well,” answered Dick smilingly, “all the more reason for hard work.And for goodness’ sake, don’t let the fellows hear you talking thatway.”
“Me? I guess not,” protested Taylor. “I know better than that, I hope!Well, I’m going to have a bout with Miller; see you again.”
As the other turned and crossed the floor, Dick became possessed of analmost overwhelming desire to follow him and call him to account; tohave it out with him then and there, and, if necessary, to--to---- Hisfists clenched themselves and he set his teeth together. He was gladwhen Taylor passed from sight. Turning again to the weights he seizedthe cords and for many minutes the irons bumped and banged up and downin the slides as though--well, as though some one thereabouts washopping mad.