Center Rush Rowland

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER VI

  THE ENEMY CALLS

  The note proved to be from Mart Johnston.

  "Where do you keep yourself? [he read] Come over to 16 Goss about fiveand play with us. Eternally and indestructibly yours, M. J."

  Ira smiled over the message as he crumpled it up and dropped it into awaste basket. The temptation to accept Mart's invitation was strong,but he knew that he ought to at least get acquainted with some of thebooks piled there beside him. It wouldn't do to leave all the studyinguntil evening. Anyhow, five o'clock was still three-quarters of an houraway, and----

  And just then the odour of stale cigarette smoke assailed his nostrilsagain and he frowned. Of course, if Mart wanted to smoke cigarettes itwas no one's business; at least, not Ira Rowland's; but Ira didn't holdwith smoking for boys and he guessed he and Mart weren't destined tocontinue that acquaintance after all. He wasn't afraid that Mart wouldcorrupt him, of course, but he didn't see any advantage to be gained bybecoming intimate with fellows who smoked. Doubtless Mart was one ofthe "smart class" at Parkinson, and Ira wasn't "smart" and didn't wantto be. No, on the whole he guessed he'd let Mart Johnston slide. He wasa little bit sorry, for the gay-hearted chap with his queer phrases andready laughter was certainly likable, and an existence containing onlyNead as an intimate didn't look enticing. He didn't even know Nead'sfirst name yet, he reflected--as he settled himself for study--and,in any case, he didn't believe that he could ever grow fond of thatrather unpleasant youth. He supposed, though, that he'd get acquaintedwith other fellows after awhile. Amongst nearly five hundred there weresurely some to become friendly with! After which encouraging conclusionhe opened his Greek Reader, settled his elbows on the desk and his chinin his hands and resolutely began his task.

  Ten minutes later footsteps sounded outside and a knock came at thedoor. Ira marked his place with a finger and called "Come in!" For amoment Ira failed to recognize the boy who entered, although he knewthat he had seen him. He was a finely built chap of eighteen or so,of middle height and with rather an engaging countenance. It wasn'tuntil the visitor had nodded smilingly, closed the door behind him andgreeted Ira with a careless "Hello!" that the latter recognised him asEugene Goodloe. Today he was wearing tennis flannels and carrying aracket in his hand. Ira arose from his chair a trifle warily.

  "How do you do?" he responded gravely.

  "Better than when you saw me last," answered the caller, his smiledeepening. "Mind if I sit down? I've had three sets of tennis and I'vebeen leading a lazy life of late. I'm about all in, Rowland."

  "Of course! Have a chair!" said Ira, trying not to sound surprised."I--er--Did you get my note?"

  "Yes, a little while ago. That's why I'm here. I thought I might aswell drop around and talk things over. Say, where did you learn topunch like that, Rowland? You nearly broke my jaw!"

  "Why, in the woods, I guess. Sorry if I hurt you much. Maybe I hitharder than I needed to, Goodloe."

  "Oh, that's all right. I had it coming to me. What do you mean by thewoods, though? Oh, I know! You said you lived in a lumber camp, didn'tyou?"

  "Not exactly," replied Ira, seating himself on a corner of the desk."I don't live in a lumber camp, but I've spent some time in them. Thelumbermen are mostly pretty handy with their fists. You sort of pick upfighting when you're around with the drive."

  "Guess I'd better spend a few months in the Maine woods," said GeneGoodloe ruefully. "Well, what's your idea, Rowland? Want to try itagain?"

  "Any time you say, thanks."

  "Suits me. We'd better not advertise, though. Faculty's a bit down onscraps. I don't see why you and I can't just take a walk, say, tomorrowmorning early, eh? Do you know where the brick-yards are, over acrossApple Street? They aren't used nowadays and the fellows generally pulloff their scraps there."

  "I don't know where you mean," said Ira, "but I can find the place allright."

  "Sure! Or you might meet me at the West Gate. It's on our way. Any timeyou say after six-thirty."

  "Six-thirty will suit me. The West Gate's the one over that way, to theleft, isn't it?"

  "Yes. Of course, if you'd rather bring some fellow with you, I don'tmind. I'll do the same, if you like. Only I don't see any use inhaving a crowd, what?"

  "N-no; and I don't think I know anyone who would go with me." He didthink of Nead, but somehow Nead didn't appeal to him in the role ofsecond. "We can get along without help, I guess," he added.

  "Sure! You may have to carry me home, or I may have to lug you back,"chuckled Goodloe, "and I hope it'll be the latter way. No use infighting rounds, is there? Just dig in and keep at it until we've hadenough, what?"

  "I think so."

  "Good! And now that that's settled," said Goodloe, "I'd like to saythat--well, I guess I want to apologise, Rowland, for anything I saidyesterday that wasn't decent. I had a sort of a grouch, I guess."

  "All right," assented Ira. "Maybe I was sort of flarey, too."

  "No, you weren't," Goodloe laughed. "You were about as cool as theymake 'em. Do you ever lose your head and get rattled?"

  Ira smiled slowly. "I guess so--sometimes. I did yesterday."

  "No one would have known it! Rather jolly room you've got here. Allalone? Oh, I see you're not."

  "No, there's a fellow named Nead in with me."

  "Nead? Don't know him, I guess. But I thought you said you didn't knowany fellow who'd act as second for you."

  "Well, I did think of Nead, but--he doesn't--" Ira hesitated and hisvisitor laughed understandingly.

  "Not the sort you want in a pinch, eh? Well, we won't Nead him. Rottenpun, wasn't it? So long, Rowland. I must be getting back to hall. Muchobliged for that note, you know. Glad we got together so nicely, too.I guess there won't be any hard feelings, no matter who pulls down thepurse! Six-thirty at the West Gate then. I'll be there."

  Gene Goodloe nodded affably and took his departure, leaving Ira lookingperplexedly at the door that had closed behind him.

  "I wonder," thought Ira, "what there is to fight for? He says he wasin the wrong and has apologised. I'm certainly satisfied. Then what dowe scrap about in the morning?" But there was no satisfactory answerto that conundrum and he went back to his books. When, just before sixo'clock, Nead came in, he had conquered his Greek lesson and had dippedinto Algebra.

  Nead viewed him contemptuously as he skimmed his hat across the room tohis bed. "Gee," he said in disgust, "I hope you're not going to be a'grind,' Rowland. That would be the limit."

  "Hope not myself," replied Ira. "By the way, Nead, what's your othername, if you have one?"

  "Humphrey."

  "Thanks. Mine's Ira."

  "There's not much choice between them, is there?" laughed Nead. "I wasnamed for an uncle, my Mother's brother. How did yours happen?"

  "I don't know, I'm sure. I guess Father or Mother liked the name. Iconfess I'm not fond of it, but it might be worse. What have you beendoing this afternoon?"

  "Oh, moseying around. It's rather a dull hole. Played some pool over onGreen Street with a fellow, for one thing."

  "Who was he?" asked Ira.

  "Search me. I ran across him there and he wanted to play and I tookhim on. He was a shark, too. I only got three games out of ten. Hadperfectly rotten luck."

  "One of the school fellows, was he?"

  "Great Scott, no! He was a real player. Guess I could handle any ofthe school chaps at pool without much trouble. Say, there's a receptionor something tonight at the Principal's. Sort of a shindig for the newchaps. You going?"

  "I think so. One of the instructors said we ought to. By the way, who'syour adviser?"

  "Hale, Physics man. He looks like a pill. I've got a date with him atseven-thirty. Who's yours?"

  "Mr. McCreedy, the Mathematics instructor. I'm to confer tomorrow ateleven-thirty. Where do we eat tonight?"

  "Let's try the Owl Grill. This guy I played pool with says it's swell."

  "Where is it?"

  "A block this side of the station, on Maple
Street. Want to start alongpretty soon? I'm starved."

  "I'm ready now," responded Ira, marking his place and closing his book."Done any studying yet?"

  "Me? No, I'll take a fall out of it tonight. It looks like a cinch. TheAlgebra's review stuff. I've had it already. And the Latin's easy, too.Guess German's the only thing I'll mind much. How about you?"

  "Looks stiff," acknowledged Ira. "I didn't expect to have to takeFrench until next year. Languages were always hard for me. I've electedGreek instead of German. I don't see why a fellow needs much German, doyou?"

  "I don't see why he needs any. Or French, either, for that matter.Latin's enough, I think."

  "Really? But French is different from German. I mean, it's a sort ofuniversal language----"

  "Sure. I know. But why not learn it in college? That's time enough. Myidea is that they try to teach you too blamed much at these big prepschools."

  "A good many fellows don't go to college," said Ira. "I'm not certainthat I shall."

  "Gee, I wouldn't miss it! If it wasn't for going to college I wouldn'tever waste time at a prep school, believe me. College is fun, old man.You take my advice and go. Get a move on and let's start along. I couldeat bent nails!"

  The food at the Owl Grill proved excellent, but the prices weredismayingly high and the atmosphere of the place didn't please Ira.They ate in one of the little booths that lined the walls of therestaurant, which was a bright and attractive place of many lightsand black-oak panelling and cheerful pictures of hunting and coachingscenes. But after the room had filled up Ira had an uncomfortablefeeling of being in the wrong place. His modest order brought anexpression of disdain to the waiter's face, and when he glancedout into the room and saw what most of the diners were surroundingthemselves with he understood it. Humphrey Nead ordered as if quitefamiliar with that style of restaurant and bought far more food than hewas able to eat and paid his check later with a lordly air.

  "Some place for a one-horse town like this, eh?" he asked, lookingapprovingly around. "I guess it beats eating in hall, what? SometimeI'm going to have one of those planked steaks like the fat guy overthere has. Bet they cost about two dollars. They ought to have musichere, though. We've got a place in Buffalo you ought to see, Rowland.It's got this beat a mile. Going to drink anything?"

  "I guess not. I don't like tea much, and coffee at night keeps meawake."

  "Gee, you're a greenie!" jeered Nead. "I meant a real drink, a glass ofbeer or something."

  "I don't drink beer," replied Ira shortly. "And if you take my adviceyou won't, either."

  "Piffle! I often have a glass of beer with my dinner. Don't be a pill!"

  "What you do at home is different, Nead. You're not allowed to do ithere, and if faculty found it out----"

  "What faculty doesn't know won't hurt it," returned Nead flippantly.But Ira observed that he didn't order the beer. When they had finished,Nead wanted to sit there awhile and talk, but Ira wasn't comfortableand Nead grumblingly consented to leave. When Ira handed the waiterfifteen cents, which was the change from the dollar he had placedon his check, Nead looked even more disgusted than the waiter andostentatiously tossed a fifty-cent piece on the cloth.

  "Did you see his look when you slipped him that tip?" he asked as theypassed out. "It was a study. It doesn't do to be a piker in a placelike that, Rowland. They remember it, and the next time you go thereyou don't get any sort of attention. It pays to loosen up sometimes."

  "There won't be any next time for me," answered the other untroubledly."I don't like the place. And, anyway, I wouldn't have tipped him morethan fifteen cents. That's more than enough."

  "Oh, sure! You don't _have_ to give anything, but they expect it, youknow, and they think you're a tightwad if you don't come across."

  "What that waiter thinks of me doesn't worry me a bit," replied Ira,smiling. "It isn't a patch on what I think of him!"

  "Oh, he didn't do so badly," said the other carelessly. "I think it'sa pretty decent dive for a town like this. They do know how to charge,though. A fellow couldn't eat there more than a couple of times a week,I guess."

  "I couldn't. Suppose we look around and find a good boarding house,Nead?"

  "Not on your tintype! No boarding house for yours truly! Guess I'llgo to Alumni after a week or so. I'll be busted by that time," hechuckled, "and you can chalk it up at Alumni until the end of the term.It's nearly seven-thirty and I'll have to hustle over to Goss and keepthat date with Hale. See you at the party, eh?"

  "All right. I'll be there about a quarter past eight. Bye!"

  Humphrey Nead turned into School Street in the direction of the campusand Ira kept on until he reached Number 200. As usual, the littletailor was hard at work under a flaring gas jet as Ira pushed open theouter door, and was humming a queer tune as he trundled the steaminggoose up and down the pressing board. Ira fumbled his way up the darkstaircase to the floor above and then went along the hall with morecertainty in the dim radiance of the single bracket. As he passed thedoor of a room on the front of the house it opened suddenly and a tallform in a blanket dressing gown stood revealed in the light.

  "The Peloponnesian War was 430, wasn't it? Or was it 431?"

  Ira, already startled by the sudden apparition, drew back in surprise."I--What did you say?" he gasped.

  "The Peloponnesian War," repeated the stranger in the doorwayimpatiently. "What was the date?"

  "I'm afraid I don't remember," replied Ira apologetically. "But it wassomewhere around there."

  "Rather indefinite," said the other drily. "Thought you might know.Much obliged." He was gone and the door was closed before Ira couldreply, leaving the dim impression of a thin, earnest face and a pair ofbig spectacles. Ira smiled as he climbed the next stairway. From theroom across the corridor came the muffled strains of "Boola" punctuatedby a sound that suggested the beating of a book with a ruler. Ira'ssmile became a grin. Evidently "Maggy's" was inhabited by some queercharacters, he thought.

  There was barely time for a letter before eight o'clock and he lightedthe gas and set to work. But after writing "Dear Dad" at the top of thesheet he leaned back and began to think of that encounter with Goodloein the morning. He found that he entertained a sentiment of cordialitytoward Goodloe and the idea of standing up to him and trying to flattenhis nose for him seemed somewhat ridiculous. "If only he hadn't comearound and called," thought Ira. "He seemed such a decent chap, andapologised so nicely! Wonder why he wants to fight. I'm sure I don't.Well, I suppose I'll have to go through with it. I guess I can lickhim, all right, but I haven't got much enthusiasm for it. Still, if Idon't make a fight of it he will probably mess me up considerable. Iguess he's the sort that'll bore in and take a lot of punishment, too.Bother him, I wish he was in Halifax!"

  After that there was not time left for the home letter, and he sprucedup a bit and trudged through School Street and then along WashingtonAvenue, in front of what was known as Faculty Row, and found thePrincipal's residence, at the corner of the grounds, quite gay withlights within and coloured lanterns without. A thin stream of moreor less embarrassed First Class fellows was ascending the steps andedging in to be greeted by Dr. and Mrs. Lane at the door of the biglibrary. Ira liked Dr. Lane's looks and his hearty handshake and hisdeep and pleasant voice. The Principal was a man still slightly underthirty, of medium height and build, clean-shaven, with rather moreof the executive than the pedagog in his appearance. He held Ira inconversation a few moments and then passed him over to Mrs. Lane, arotund, cheerful little woman who invited him to tea on Friday next athalf-past four and asked him what church he attended. Ira was afterwardin doubt whether he had accepted the invitation or not, but concludedthat it didn't matter. He met Professor Addicks a minute later and wasflattered to discover that the professor remembered him. The professor,although Ira didn't know it, always remembered everyone and everything.After that he met many other members of the faculty, many of whosenames he promptly forgot, and talked, without being introduced, to anumber of lonesome looking
fellows whom he found standing around incorners or flattened against walls. Most of the guests were, of course,first year students, and Ira and some eight or nine others were theonly older boys there. One small chap of fourteen whom Ira discoveredin a niche between a door and a mantel in a back room mistook him foran instructor or something official, a misapprehension flattering butembarrassing. He caught sight of Nead once for a moment, but thatyouth was hobnobbing with a freshman in the hall and didn't see him.Refreshments were served in the garden at nine, and after demolishinga helping of ice cream and a slice of cake Ira slipped quietly away.It wouldn't do to stay up very late, since he had an importantengagement at half-past six at the West Gate, and he had still to dosome studying. What time Nead returned he didn't know, for he was fastasleep at half-past ten.