Truly ye come of The Blood;slower to bless than to ban;Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man.
--KIPLING
BITTER weather followed the night of the storm.
Biting winds beat all the autumn beauty from tree and shrub.
Cold gray skies hung over a cold gray land,and a heavy snowfall and a penetrating chill seemed to destroy all hope for the Indian Summer that makes the Kansas Novembers glorious.
Dennie Saxon was the only girl of the party who was not affected by the storm at the Kickapoo Corral.Professor Burgess,who narrowly escaped pneumonia himself,and who disliked irregular class attendance,took comfort in the sight of Dennie.She was so fresh-checked and wholesome,and she went about her work promptly,forgetful of storm and rain and muddy ways.
"You seem immune from sickness,Miss Dennie,"Burgess said one day as she was putting the library in order.
Under her little blue dusting cap,the sunny ripples of her hair framed a face glowing with health.She smiled up at him comfortably--a smile that played about the edges of his consciousness all that day.
"I've never been sick,"she said."It 's a good thing,too,for our house is a regular hospital this week.Little Bug Buler is the worst of all.He took cold on the night of the storm.
That's why Victor Burleigh's out of school so much.
He won't leave Bug."
Vincent Burgess despised the name of Burleigh now.While Vic's safe escort of Elinor Wream had increased his popularity with the students,Burgess honestly believed that old Bond Saxon's drunken speech hinted at some disgrace the big freshman would not long be able to conceal,and he resented the high place given to such a low grade of character.
To a man like himself it was galling to look upon such a fellow as a rival.
So,he tightened the rules and exacted the last mental farthing of Vic in the classroom.And Vic,easily understanding all this,because he was frankly and fool-ishly in love with the same girl whom Vincent Burgess seemed to claim,contrived in a thousand ways to make life a burden to the Harvard man.Of course,Burgess showed no mercy toward Vic for absence from the classroom while he was caring for little Bug,and the black marks multiplied against him.
Elinor Wream.had been ill after the night of the storm.
Vic had not seen her since the hour when he left her at Lloyd Fenneben's door.He knew he was a fool to think of her at all.
He knew she must sometime be won by Burgess,and that she was born to gentle culture which his hard life had never known.
Besides,he was poor.Not a pauper,but poor,and luxuries belonged naturally to a girl like Elinor.The storm of the holiday was a balmy zephyr compared to the storm that raged every day in him.
For with all the hopelessness of things,he was in love.
Poor fellow!The strength of his spirit was like the strength of his body--unbreakable.
He had no fear of pneumonia after the stormy night,for he was used to hard knocks.And he meant to go again by daylight and explore the rocky glen and hidden ways,and to find out,if possible,whose face it was that was behind that cavern wall,whose voice had whispered in his ear,and what loot was hidden there.
For reasons of his own,he had mentioned this matter to nobody.
But the cold,wet days,little Bug's illness,and the hard study to keep up his class standing,took all of his time.
Especially,the study,that he might not be shut out of the great football game of the year on Thanksgiving day.Sunrise was stiff in its scholastic requirements,and conscientious to the last degree.
The football team stood on mental ability and moral honor,no less than on scientific skill and muscular weight and cunning.
Dr.Fenneben watched Burleigh carefully,for the boy seemed to be always on his heart.The Dean knew how to mix common sense and justice into his rulings,so the word was sent quietly from the head office--the suggestion of leniency in the matter of Burleigh's absence.
Burleigh was good for it.It lay with his professors,of course,to grant or withhold scholarship ranking,but the Dean would be pleased to have all latitude given in Burleigh's case.
Bug was better now,and Vic was burning midnight oil in study,for the hours of practice for the game were doubled.
On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside.
"Everything is safe.Only one report not in,but it will be in tomorrow."the coach declared."I asked Professor Burgess about your standing,and he says your grades are away above average.
He's got to reckon up your absent marks,but that's easy.
All the teachers understand about that.I guess Dean Funnybone fixed 'em.And now,Vic,the honor of Sunrise rests on you.
If you fail us,we're lost.Can I count on you?"The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy black brows,as Vic shut his white teeth tightly.
"Count on me!"he said,and turning,he left the coach abruptly.
"Hey,there,Burleigh,hold on a minute,"Trench,the right guard,called,as Vic was striding up the steep south slope of the limestone ridge.
"Say,wind a fellow,will you!You infernal,never-wear-out,human steam engine.I'm on to some things you ought to know.Even a lazy old scout like I am gets a crack at things once in a while.""Well,get rid of it once in a while,if you really do know anything,"Vic responded.
"Say,you're nervous.Coach says you spend too much time in your nursery;says you'd better get rid of that little kid.""Tell the coach to go to the devil!"Vic spoke savagely.
"Say,Coach,"Trench roared down from the hillslope,"Vic says for you to go to the devil.""Wait till after tomorrow,"the coach shouted back,"and I'll take you fellows along if you don't do your best.""Now,that's settled,I'll tell you what I know,"Trench drawled lazily.
"First,Elinor Wream,what Dean Funnybone calls `Norrie,'is heading the bunch that's going to shower us with roses tomorrow,if we win.