CHAPTER XXI
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
I have never found any one with sufficient courage to defend thewinters at Centerport. At the best they are bearable, at the worst theyare beyond description. Nothing any one might say would be too harsh toapply to what the residents call "a hard winter."
In short, from January to April the weather is everything detestable,and reminds one of a very bad little boy who has made up his very badlittle mind to be as very bad as he possibly can.
And then--as like as not between a sunset and a sunrise--springappears, and it is just as though the very bad little boy had grownsorry and repentant and had made up his mind to be very, very goodand sweet and kind, and never do anything to grieve his dear, _dear_parents any more. And there is a soft, warm breeze blowing up the rivervalley, the grass on the southern side of the library is unmistakablygreen, a bluebird, or maybe a valiant robin, is singing from a branchof the big elm at the corner of the chapel, and there is a strong,heartening aroma of moist earth in your nostrils. And you know thatfrom thenceforth until you leave the old green town the last of Juneyour lines are cast in pleasant places and that it is going to be veryeasy to be happy and good.
Well, I suppose there are other places where spring is superlativelypleasant, where the trees and sod are extravagantly green, and whereyouth finds life so well worth living. Only--I have never found them.And I doubt if there is an old Erskine man the country over who canrecollect the month of May at Centerport without a little catch of thebreath and a sudden lighting of the eye.
For in those Mays his memory recalls Main Street and the yard werecanopied with a swaying lacework of whispering elm branches, throughwhich the sunlight dripped in golden globules and splashed upon thesoft, velvety sod or moist gravel and spread itself in limpid pools.And the ivy was newly green against the old red brick buildings, thefence below College Place was lined with fellows you knew, and theslow-moving old blue watering-cart trundled by with a soft and pleasantsound of splashing water. Fellows called gaily to you as you crossedthe yard, the muslin curtains at the windows of Morris and Sesson werea-flutter in the morning breeze, and from Elm Street floated themusical and monotonous chime of the scissor-grinder's bells. What ifthe Finals were close at hand? The sky was blue overhead, the springair was kind and--you were young!
I think something of this occurred to Allan when, at a quarter of tenon a mild, bright morning three days before the dual meet, he crossedthe street from his room, books under arm, and turned into CollegePlace.
Perched on the fence in front of the chapel were Clarke Mason, theeditor of the Purple, and Stearns, the track team captain. Afterexchanging greetings, Allan dropped his books back of the fence andswung himself onto the top rail.
The sun was pleasant, the ten o'clock bell would not ring for severalminutes, and there was an invitation in the way in which Mason edgedaway from the post. Allan was a warm admirer of Mason, and the factthat, as was natural, he seldom had an opportunity to speak with himmade him glad of the present opportunity. There was but one topic ofoverwhelming interest at present, and that was the track and field meetwith Robinson. With two successive defeats against them, and the addedresult of the last football game still in memory, it is not strangethat Erskine men had set their hearts on administering a trouncing tothe Brown and regaining something of their old athletic prestige. Theboat race and the baseball contests were too far distant for presentconsideration.
"I don't know when there's been so much enthusiasm over the athleticmeet as there is this year," said Mason. "And it's bound to tell, too.I've noticed that when the college as a whole wakes up and wants athing it generally comes pretty near getting it."
"We wanted the football game badly enough," said Stearns.
"Yes, just as we want all of them, but there wasn't the enthusiasmthere has been some years. I think we expected to win, and so didn'tget much wrought up over it. But next year--although you and I won'tbe here to see it, Walt--I'll bet the college will be red-headed overfootball; there'll be mass-meetings and the band up from Hastings, andWare here will be marching out to the field singing 'Glory, Glory forthe Purple' at the top of his lungs. And the team will just naturallygo in and win."
"At that rate," ventured Allan, "we ought to lick Robinson on Saturday,for, as you say, the fellows are all worked up over it."
"I think we're going to," answered Mason, with quiet conviction. "But,of course, I don't know so much about it as Walt here, and he says I'moff my reckoning."
Allan looked at the captain with surprise. All along Stearns haddisplayed a confidence that, in Allan's case at least, had been a greatincentive to hard work. Stearns frowned a little as he answered:
"Oh, well, maybe to-morrow I'll be hopeful again. A fellow can't helphaving a spell of nerves now and then, you know."
"Well, if it's only that, we'll forgive you," Mason replied. "I thoughtmaybe something had happened. Things have a way of happening, I'venoticed, just before a meet; Jones lames his ankle, Brown is put onprobation, Smith is protested, or something else unforeseen playshavoc."
"That's so," said Stearns, emphatically, "and maybe one reason I feeluneasy is because nothing _has_ happened; Robinson hasn't protested anyone and no one has sprained his ankle or got water on the knee. I thinkI'd feel safer if something of the sort had occurred."
"Well, I guess you're safe now," laughed Mason. "The men have quitpractise and Robinson's opportunity for protesting our best men haspassed."
"I don't know," said Stearns, doubtfully. "Something will turn up, yousee if it doesn't."
"Nonsense! How about you, Ware? Going to win the two miles?"
"I'm scared to think about it," answered Allan, uneasily. "ThatRobinson crack can do better than I've succeeded in doing yet, and so Iguess I'll have to be satisfied with second place."
"Oh, Ware's all right," said Stearns, encouragingly. "He's going topresent us with five points, and we'll need 'em!"
This sounded more like the Stearns Allan was accustomed to.
"They tell me that chum of yours, Burley, is going to do great thingswith the shot, Ware," said Mason, questioningly.
"I hope so," Allan answered. "He can, all right; the only thing iswhether he will get fussed and forget how; he's funny that way."
"Well, Billy thinks he's a wonder, and says that by next year he'llbe able to give a foot to the best college man in the country. Well,there's the bell. I hate to waste a day like this indoors, but--needsmust when the faculty drives!"
The trio slipped off the fence and went their separate ways, but beforethey parted Stearns drew Allan aside.
"I say, Ware," he said, "don't say anything to any one about what--whatyou've heard. There's no use in discouraging them, you know, and whatI just said doesn't amount to anything; I guess I'm feeling a bitnervous. You understand?"
But Allan, as he crossed the yard to College Hall, in the tower ofwhich the bell was clanging its imperative summons, couldn't helpfeeling apprehensive and worried. It was so unlike Stearns to admiteven the possibility of defeat. On the steps Allan ran against Pete,big, smiling, and serenely satisfied with life.
"How'd you get on yesterday?" asked Allan, as they went in together.
"Oh, pretty middlin'," said Pete, cheerfully. "I got within four inchesof that cayuse of a Monroe."
"But you'll have to beat him if you expect to win over Robinson," saidAllan, anxiously.
"Oh, I'm not bothering about Robinson," answered Pete. "If I can do upMonroe, that's all I give a hang about!"
The next afternoon, Thursday, Stearns appeared at Allan's room, lookingexcessively cheerful.
"Hello!" he said, as he sat down. "How are things?"
"All right," answered the other, wondering at the track captain'serrand. "How about you?"
"Fine as silk," he said. "Say, Ware, Robinson has sent a foolishletter, and asks the committee to look up your record. Of course," hewent on, carelessly and hurriedly, "it's all poppycock, but they thinkthey have a case
, and so maybe you'd better walk over with me and seeNast about it; just explain things so he can write back to 'em, youknow. Are you busy?"
Allan, bewildered and dismayed, looked across at Stearns with wide eyesand sinking heart. The track team captain's forebodings of yesterdayflashed into memory, and it was with a very weak voice that he askedfinally:
"You mean that--that Robinson has protested me?"
Stearns laughed carelessly, but something in the other's tone sent aqualm of uneasiness to his heart.
"Oh, there's no question of a protest," he answered, "because the timefor protests has gone by. But, of course, they knew the committee wouldinvestigate the matter, and that if everything wasn't all right theywouldn't allow you to run. But, of course, as I say, it's all nonsense.They say you were entered in the mile run at the St. Thomas Club Meet,in Brooklyn, during vacation, and came in third. And--and there's asilly newspaper clipping with your name in it. But, as I told Nast, youcan explain that all right, I guess. Fact is, you know," he continued,with a little annoyed laugh, "you've got to; we can't afford to loseyou, Ware."
Allan took his cap from the desk.
"Come on," he said, quietly.
On Your Mark! A Story of College Life and Athletics Page 22