CHAPTER XXIII.
THE YALE SPIRIT.
Frank went to his room with his head in a whirl. He had dreamed ofworking hard to secure a place on the freshman team, but he had notdreamed there was a possibility that he would be given a trial in theregular Yale nine during his first year in college.
Merriwell knew well enough that Phillips men were given the preferencein everything at Yale as a rule, for they had friends to pull themthrough, while the fellows who had been prepared by private tutorslacked such an advantage.
But Frank had likewise discovered that in most cases a man was judgedfairly at Yale, and he could become whatever he chose to make himself,in case he had the ability.
The Phillips man might have the advantage at the start, but he could nothold the advantage unless he proved himself worthy. If the unknownstudent had nerve and determination he could win his way for all of thewire pulling of the friends of some rival who was not so capable.
Frank had heard the cry which had been raised at that time that the oldspirit of democracy was dying out at Yale, and that great changes hadtaken place there. He had heard that Yale was getting to be more likeanother college, where the swell set are strongly in evidence and thesenior likely to be very exclusive, having but a small circle ofspeaking acquaintances.
It was said that in the old days the Yale junior or senior kneweverybody worth knowing. But this had changed. The blue-bloodedaristocrat had appeared at Yale, and he had chosen his circle ofacquaintances with great care. To all outward appearances, this manbelieved that outside his limited circle there was nobody at Yale worthknowing.
Professor Scotch, Frank's guardian, had read this in certain newspaperarticles relating to Yale, and had expressed his regret that such shouldbe the case.
After coming to Yale Frank kept his eyes open to see to what extent sucha state of affairs obtained. At first it had seemed that the newspaperswere right, but he came to see that his position as freshman did notgive him the proper opportunity to judge.
In the course of time Frank came to believe that the old spirit wasstill powerful at Yale. There were a limited number of young gentlemenwho plainly considered themselves superior beings, and who positivelyrefused to make acquaintances outside a certain limit; but those menheld no positions in athletics, were seldom of prominence in thesocieties, and were regarded as cads by the men most worth knowing. Theywere to be pitied, not envied.
At Yale the old democratic spirit still prevailed. The young men weredrawn from different social conditions, and in their homes they kept totheir own set; but they seemed to leave this aside, and they mingled andsubmerged their natural differences under that one broad generalization,"the Yale man."
And Merriwell was to find that this extended even to their social life,their dances, their secret societies, where all who showed themselves tohave the proper dispositions and qualifications were admitted withoutdistinction of previous condition or rank in their own homes.
Each class associated with itself, it is true, the members making noclose friendships with members of other classes, with the possibleexception of the juniors and seniors, where class feeling did not seemto run so high. A man might know men of other classes, but he never tookthem for chums.
The democratic spirit at Yale came mainly from athletics, as Frank soondiscovered. Every class had half a dozen teams--tennis, baseball,football, the crew and so on. Everybody, even the "greasy" grinds,seemed interested in the something, and so one or more of theseorganization had some sort of a claim on everybody.
Besides this, there was the general work in the gymnasium, almost everymember of every class appearing there at some time or other, takingexercise as a pastime or a necessity.
The 'Varsity athletic organization drew men from every class, notexcepting the professional and graduate schools, and, counting thetrials and everything, brought together hundreds of men.
In athletics strength and skill win, regardless of money or family; soit happened that the poorest man in the university stood a show ofbecoming the lion and idol of the whole body of young men.
Compulsory chapel every morning brought together the entire college, andhad its effect in making everybody acquainted with everybody else.
A great fosterer of the democratic spirit was the old Yale fence, overthe departure of which "old grads" are forever shedding bitter tears.The student who had not known the old fence was inclined to smilewearily over the expressions of regret at its loss, but still the "oldgrad" continued to insist that the fence was one of the crowningbeauties of Yale, and that nothing can ever replace it.
On the old fence men read the newspapers, crammed for recitation,gossiped, told stories, talked athletics, sung songs, flirted withpassing girls, and got acquainted. Oh, yes, it was a great fosterer ofthe democratic spirit.
In the promotion of this spirit the drinking places at Yale areimportant factors. At Harvard the men drink in their clubs, the most ofwhich are very expensive places, and in the Boston cafes. The Yale mendrink at Morey's, and Traeger's, and Billy's. Traeger's, where from ascore to fifty students may be seen any afternoon or evening, isfurnished in exact imitation of German students' drinking places. In theback room is heavy furniture, quaint paintings, and woodwork andcarvings. It had a sort of subdued cathedral light, which fell softly onthe mugs which decorated the shelves and mantel.
Frank had proven that it was not necessary for a man to drink at Yale inorder to be esteemed as a good fellow. Frank was a total abstainer, andhis friends had found that nothing would induce him to drink or smoke.At first they ridiculed him, but they came to secretly admire him, andit is certain that his example was productive of no small amount ofgood.
Frank's acquaintances declared he had a mighty nerve, for he was able totravel with a crowd that drank and smoked, and still refrained fromdoing either. That was something difficult for them to understand.
It was apparent to everybody that Merriwell's popularity did not dependon his ability to absorb beer or his generosity in opening fizz. It camefrom his sterling qualities, his ability as an athlete, his naturalmagnetism, and his genial, sunny nature. Although he was refined andgentlemanly, there was not the least suggestion of anything soft oreffeminate about him.
It is not strange that Merriwell could scarcely believe it possible thatPaul Pierson had been in earnest. Such a thing seemed altogether toogood to be true.
"If it's a jolly, he'll not have the satisfaction of knowing that Ispread it," Frank decided. "Mum is the word with me, and I'll keep righton working for a place with the freshmen. Oh, if we can win the race atSaltonstall!"
Frank knew that he stood well with Old Put, who was to manage thefreshman team in the spring. If the freshman crew could defeat thesophs, Put would have more confidence than ever in Merriwell.
Frank was thinking these things over, when Harry came in with a rush,slamming the door and tripping over a rug in his haste.
"Say! say! say!" he spluttered, staring at Frank.
"Well, what is it?"
"Is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"I heard Paul Pierson was seen talking to you on the campus."
"Well, what of that?"
"Then it is true?"
"Yes."
"Gracious! Pierson was never known to thing a do--er--do a thing likethat before!"
"Is that so?"
"Is it so! Why, you know it is so! Think of Pierson--the great and onlyPierson--talking to a freshman on the campus in the middle of the day!Wow!"
"You are excited, Harry. Sit down and cool off."
"I'll sit down, but you must tell me what he was saying to you."
"Must I?"
"Must you? I should say yes! I am dying to know what he could be sayingto a freshman!"
Frank was troubled, for he saw his roommate's curiosity was aroused tothe highest notch, and he knew it would be no easy thing to satisfyHarry without telling the truth.
"Go ahead," urged Rattleton. "What did Pierson say to you?"
r />
"Oh, he said a number of things," replied Frank, awkwardly.
Harry lifted his eyebrows.
"Haven't a doubt of it," he returned; "but what are they?"
Frank hesitated, and a cloud came to his friend's face.
"You see, it is a private matter," Merriwell explained.
"Oh!"
There was infinite sarcasm in that ejaculation.
"You know I would tell you if I could, Harry," said Frank, rising; "butthis is a matter which I--"
"Oh, you needn't trouble yourself!" Rattleton cut in, sharply. "I'lllive just as long and be just as happy."
"Now don't be angry, old man; that is foolish. You know I would tell youif I could do so without--"
"Oh, I don't know about that! You are getting so you have secretslately, and you don't seem to trust me. Say, if you think I am a sneakand a tattler, say so, for I want to know it. I don't care to room withany fellow who doesn't trust me."
Harry was angry, and Frank felt very sorry.
"Old man," said Merriwell, meeting Rattleton's sullen glance with afrank, open look, "I do trust you, and you should know it. There is nofellow in college I would as soon room with. Still, you should knowthere are some things a man cannot honorably tell even his chum."
Harry was silent.
"Perhaps there are some things about yourself or some friend that youwould not care to tell me," Frank went on. "I am not going to beoffended at that. It is your right to tell what you like and keep whatyou like to yourself. A thing like that should not create feelingbetween us."
"But this seems different."
"Does it? Well, I will explain that I told Pierson I would say nothingof the matter to anybody. I do not believe in lying. Do you want me tobreak my word in this case?"
"No!" cried Harry. "You are all right again, Frank! You are alwaysright! Don't you mind me when I get cranky. I'm a fundering thool--Imean a thundering fool! But I do hope Pierson is not working a jolly onyou."
"He may have tried to work a jolly on me, but he is not succeeding,"smiled Frank, whose face had cleared. "And the quieter I keep thesmaller will be the chance of success, if that is his little game."