Читать книгу Tom Fairfield's Schooldays: or, The Chums of Elmwood Hall - Chapman Allen - Страница 4

Tom crossed the aisle of the lurching car, and was soon sitting beside the red-haired youth who had made such friendly advances.

“How did you know I was going to Elmwood?” asked our hero, as a sort of opening.

“Easy enough. You’ve got the air of a fellow going to college for the first time sticking out all over you. Oh, no offense!” exclaimed Reddy Burke as he saw Tom’s start. “It’s an honor to start at Elmwood Hall. Lots of fellows would like to, but can’t. I spotted you for a Freshman right off the bat.”

“I suppose I do look a bit green,” admitted Tom, with a smile.

“Oh, no more so than usual. Then, too, I heard your friends giving an imitation of the Elmwood yell, and that told me all I wanted to know. I’m glad to meet you. I hope I see more of you when we strike the school. Term opens to-morrow and next day you know, and there’ll be no end of fellows there. Opening day generally lasts a week. I thought I’d go down a day early, and get settled in my room.”

“That was my idea,” confessed Tom.

“Where are you going to put up?”

“I’ve got a room in Opus Manor. That seemed a nice place, and I picked it out when I came down for the entrance exams.,” replied Tom.

“It is nice,” admitted Reddy Burke. “It’s where all the Freshmen like to get, but usually it’s so crowded that you have to go on the waiting list. You’re in luck, Fairfield.”

“Glad you think so. Where do you room?”

“Oh, I put up with the rest of our crowd at the Ball and Bat. That’s our fraternity house you know.”

“Yes, I noticed it when I was down before. It’s a beaut place, all right.”

“Pretty fair. We have some good times there. You must come to some of the blowouts. I’ll send you a card when we get settled, and you know the ropes.”

“Thanks,” replied Tom gratefully. “And now tell me all about Elmwood Hall.”

“Oh land! It would take a week!” exclaimed the red-haired athlete. “There’s lots to tell about it, but I guess you know the history of it as well as I do, if you’ve seen a catalog.”

“Yes, but I mean tell me something about the fellows, and the professors.”

“Well, the professors are no better nor worse than at other colleges, I suppose,” spoke Reddy, with something like a sigh. “They all seem to have exaggerated notions about the value of Greek, Latin and mathematics, though I’ll be hanged if I like ’em. Baseball and football for mine, though I suppose if I’m ever to become a lawyer, which dad seems to think I’m cut out for, I’ll have to buckle down sooner or later, and assimilate some of that dry stuff. It’s time I begin, I reckon.”

“I should think so – if you’re in your Junior year,” spoke Tom with a laugh.

“That’s right. Oh, I have done some boning, and I haven’t cut lectures any more than the rest of the team did. You simply have to cut some if you play all the games, and I didn’t miss any contests, you can make up your mind to that. Most all of us at the Ball and Bat play either on the diamond, or gridiron, or row on the crew. I say though, maybe you’re that way yourself?” and Reddy looked questioningly at our hero.

“Well,” admitted Tom, modestly, “I can row a bit, and I like baseball. I’ve never played football much. I wasn’t quite heavy enough for the team at our Academy.”

“You look husky enough,” spoke Reddy, casting a critical pair of blue eyes over his seatmate. “You ought to try for the eleven down at Elmwood.”

“Maybe I will. Think I’d have a chance?”

“It’s too early to say, but have a try, anyhow.”

“Are any of the professors very savage?” asked Tom.

“Only so-so. Doctor Pliny Meredith is head master, I suppose you know.”

“Yes. How is he?”

“As full of learning as a crab is of meat in the middle of August, but he’s not very jolly. Rather stand-offish, and distant, though sometimes he warms up. We call him ‘Merry’ because he’s usually so glum. But he’s fair, and he thinks Elmwood Hall the greatest institution ever. To him a fellow’s word is as good as his bond. It all goes on the honor system there. No profs. at the exams., you know, and all that. You have to be a gentleman at Elmwood.”

“Do the fellows live up to it?” asked Tom.

“Pretty much. There are one or two a little off color, of course. But any fellow who would lie to Merry wouldn’t stay long at Elmwood if the fellows got on to it.

“Then, the rest of the profs. are about like the average, except that I don’t mind admitting that Burton Skeel is a regular grinder, and as mean as they make ’em. He’s the Latin taskmaster and maybe that’s why I hate it so.”

“Aren’t there any jolly professors?” asked Tom, beginning to think that perhaps, after all, he wasn’t going to like it at Elmwood as much as he had hoped.

“Oh, bless you, yes!” exclaimed Reddy. “I was almost forgetting Live Wire. That would never do.”

“Live Wire? Who’s he?”

“Professor Livingston Hammond. He’s fat and jolly and he almost makes you like trigonometry, which is saying a lot, and, as for solid geometry, and conic sections, well, if anybody can make them look like the comic sheet of a Sunday newspaper it’s the Live Wire. You’ll like him; all the fellows do. But he won’t stand for any nonsense. You’ve got to come ‘prepared,’ or he’ll turn you back to make it up after class.”

“I like maths.,” admitted Tom.

“Then you and the Live Wire will be friends and brothers, I guess,” predicted Reddy.

“Tell me something about the fellows,” suggested Tom. “I know one Senior, slightly.”

“You do? How’d you make his acquaintance?”

“He’s Bruce Bennington,” replied our hero, as he told of the manner of their first meeting.

“That’s odd,” commented Reddy. “Bruce is one of the nicest chaps in college. ‘Easy Money Bennington’ we call him, ‘Easy’ for short, though. He’s a good spender, and his own worst enemy.”

“How’s that?” asked Tom. “I could see that something was troubling him the day I met him, but he wouldn’t say what it was.”

“No, that’s his way,” spoke the red-haired athlete. “I mean that he’s impulsive. He’d do anything for a friend, or an enemy too, for that matter, and that often gets him into trouble. He doesn’t stop to think, but he’s got a host of friends, and everybody likes him, even old Skeel I guess, for I’ve seen ’em together lots of times.”

“I wonder what his special trouble is now?” speculated Tom.

“Give it up. Bruce will never tell until it’s settled. He’s proud – won’t take help from any one if he can help it. So you know him?”

“Well, I hardly can say I know him. He may not want to keep up the acquaintance down here,” spoke Tom.

“Oh, yes he will. Bruce isn’t that kind. Once he meets you he’s always friendly, and, if he takes a notion to you, why you couldn’t have a better friend.”

Tom was glad to hear this, and he felt a warm spot in his heart for the somewhat unhappy Senior. He resolved to find out his trouble, if he could, and help him if it were possible.

“Of course there are some mean and undesirable chaps at Elmwood,” admitted Reddy. “Just as there are anywhere, I guess, only I wouldn’t want to name any of ’em. You’ll find out who they are, soon enough. But you just play straight and they’ll soon let you alone. They may try to pick a quarrel, and there are a few who are always trying to get up a mill. Do you fight?”

“I box a little,” admitted Tom.

“Good, then you can take care of yourself if it comes to a scrap, I suppose. But don’t get into a fight if you can help it. Not that I mean to run away, but it’s against the rules to fight, and you don’t want to be suspended, though there are more or less mills pulled off every term.”

“I’ll fight if I have to; not otherwise,” spoke Tom, quietly.

“Good. Say, you’ll think I’m trying to put it all over you, and do the big brother act with such advice; won’t you?”

“Not a bit of it,” replied Tom, stoutly. “I’m glad to have you give me points.”

“All right then. I guess you’ll do. We’ve got one funny character at the school – Demosthenes Miller.”

“A student?”

“Land no. He’s our educated janitor. He’s always around with a copy of the classics, or some book on maths., and if he sees you getting at all friendly he’ll ask you to help him translate a passage, or work out a problem. He says he might as well be getting an education on the side as long as he’s at college. He’s good fun, but rather tiresome at times. Demy, we call him.”

“He must be odd,” agreed Tom.

“There! I guess I’ve told you all I know,” spoke Reddy, with a laugh. “The rest you’ll find out after you’ve been at the school a few days. Now tell me something about yourself.”

Which Tom did, mentioning about his father and mother going to Australia.

“That’s a trip I’d like to take,” said Reddy. “Cracky, what sport! I love travel.”

The lads talked on various topics as the train sped along. They were nearing Elmwood Hall, which was located in the town of the same name, on the Ware river. Several other lads, whom Reddy pointed out to Tom as old or new students, had meanwhile boarded the train. A number greeted Tom’s seatmate as an old friend and our hero was introduced to them. They greeted him nicely enough, but talked to Reddy.

Soon the latter was deep in conversation about the chances for a good football season, and Tom did not like to break in, but listened with all his might.

“Here we are, Fairfield,” said Reddy Burke, at length. “Get your grip, and I’ll show you the way to the Hall. Oh, I forgot, you’ve been here before, though.”

“Yes, I can find my way up well enough,” spoke Tom. “Don’t let me hold you back.”

“All right then. I’ll see you later. There’s Hen Mattock up ahead. He was football captain last year. I want to talk to him, so I’ll just run on. See you again!” and with that Reddy rushed off, to clap on the shoulder a tall, well-built lad, who looked every inch an athlete. Tom gathered up his belongings, gave his trunk check to an expressman, and headed for Opus Manor.

This residence, or dormitory, was one of the school buildings, located not far away from the main hall and was “within bounds,” so that the Freshmen, did they wish to spend an evening in town, had to get permission, or else “run the guard,” a proceeding fraught with some danger, carrying with detection a penalty more or less severe. It was the aim of the school proctor, Mr. Frederick Porter, to thus keep watch and ward over the first year students.

The others were allowed more liberty, or at least they took it, for many of them lived in fraternity houses, and some Seniors boarded in private families in town. Most of the Seniors, however, dwelt in a house near the Hall. It was called Elmwood Castle, and Tom looked longingly at it as he passed on his way to his own more humble, and less distinctive, dormitory.

As Tom was ascending the steps, intending to report to the monitor in charge, and also seek out the matron, he became aware of a student standing on the topmost platform, looking down at him. Beside him was another lad, and, as our hero came up, one shoved the other against Tom, jostling him severely.

Instantly Tom flared up. He could see that it was done intentionally. His face flushed.

“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.

“Whatever you like to think,” was the reply of the student whom Tom had first noticed.

“Well, I think I don’t like it,” retorted Tom quickly.

“You’ll have to get used to it then; won’t he, Nick?” and the lad who had done the shoving appealed to his companion, with a sneering laugh.

“That’s what he will, Sam.”

“I won’t then!” exclaimed Tom, “and the sooner you realize that the better.”

“Oh ho! So that’s the kind of talk, eh?” sneered the one called Sam. “What’s your name, Fresh?”

“Fairfield – Tom Fairfield – Fresh!” retorted Tom, for he could see by the other’s cap that he, too, was a first year lad.

“Well mine’s Heller – Sam Heller, Capital ‘S’ and capital ‘H,’ and don’t forget it. This must be the fellow who’s got my room, Nick,” he added.

“Probably,” replied Sam Heller’s crony, who was Nick Johnson. “Yes, that was the name the monitor mentioned, come to think of it.”

“How have I your room?” asked Tom.

“Because you have. I had the room last year, and I told ’em to save it for me this term. But you came along and snatched it up, so – ”

“I took it because it was assigned to me,” spoke Tom, and from the other’s talk he understood that the lad was a Freshman who had not passed, and who, in consequence, was obliged to spend another year in the same grade. Perhaps this made him bitter.

“Well, you’ve got my room,” grumbled Sam, “and I’m going to get square with somebody.”

“You can get square with me, if you like,” said Tom quietly, “though I told you I had nothing to do with it. One thing, though, if you do any more shoving I’ll shove back, and it won’t be a gentle shove, either.”

“Is that a threat?” growled Sam.

“You can take it so if you like.”

“I will, and if you don’t look out – ”

What Sam was going to say he did not finish, for, at that moment, the monitor in charge of Opus Manor came to the door, and the two who had sought to pick a quarrel with Tom slouched off across the campus.

“New student here?” asked the monitor, who did not seem to remember Tom.

“Yes. I’m Fairfield.”

“Oh yes, I recall you now. Come, and I’ll introduce you to my wife. She’s matron here. Blackford is my name.”

“I remember it,” spoke Tom, who had met the monitor when down for his examinations.

As the two were about to enter the building Tom saw his new friend, Reddy Burke, hurrying along, beckoning to him to wait.

He halted a moment, and the Junior ran up the steps.

“I just saw you talking here to a couple of students,” began the athlete, “and as I passed them just now I heard Sam Heller say he was going to get even with you. What happened?”

Tom told him and Reddy whistled.

“Why, what’s up?” asked our hero.

“Nothing, if you don’t mind it, only you’ve made an enemy right off the bat. That Heller is one of the few undesirables here. His crony, Nick Johnson, is another. Heller is down on you all right, though it isn’t your fault.”

“I don’t mind in the least,” spoke Tom.

“He’s one of the scrappers,” went on Reddy. “Look out!”

“I can take care of myself,” replied Tom. “Thanks, just the same,” and, as he followed Monitor Blackford into the dormitory, he realized that he had made an enemy and a friend in the same day.