"The eight bunched well together for the first half of the first round." (See page 13.5.) SHADOWS LIFTED A Sequel to Saint Cuthbert's BY REV. J. E. COPUS, SJ. [CUTHBERT] Author of "Harry Russell," "Saint Cuthbert's," etc. With Frontispiece New York, Cincinnati, Chicago BENZIGER BROTHERS Printers to the Holy Apostolic See 1904 VJNW. OF CALIF. LIBKAKY. LOS ANGELES BY THE SAME A UTHOR : HARRY RUSSELL, a Rockland College Boy. i2mo, cloth, with frontispiece, . ... $0.85 SAINT CUTHBERT'S. i2mo, cloth, with frontis- piece, 0.85 For sale by all Catholic Booksellers, or --nailed postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. BENZIGER BROTHERS, New York, 36-38 Barclay St., Cincinnati, 343 Main St. Chicago, 211-213 Madison St. Copyright, 1904, by BENZIGER BROTHERS. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE AFTER VACATION 5 CHAPTER II. THE NKW PREFECT 13 CHAPTER III. A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE 22 CHAPTER IV. CLARENCE GILKINS ^i CHAPTER V. A WONDER WORKER 4 1 CHAPTER VI. THE HINDU'S STORY ,. r r CHAPTER VII. MR. HILLSON LEAVES g CHAPTER VIII. A MOTHER'S MEMORY 6g CHAPTER IX. How GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF 8o CHAPTER X. CLAUDE'S LETTER q CHAPTER XI. SOME FAMILY HISTORY oc CHAPTER XII. AN HONORABLE COMBINATION I0 , CHAPTER XIII. PLANS 113 2126087 4 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIV. PAGE THE GREAT DAY ARRIVES 122 CHAPTER XV. SOME TRACK EVENTS . *3 l CHAPTER XVI. SOME DISCOVERIES H CHAPTER XVII. IDENTIFIED 148 CHAPTER XVIII. IN CLASS 155 CHAPTER XIX. A FATHER'S FEARS 165 CHAPTER XX. WAS IT A COINCIDENCE ? . . 173 CHAPTER XXI. THE INVITATION 180 CHAPTER XXII. GILKINS FINDS FRIENDS 190 CHAPTER XXIII. SOME HISTRIONIC FUN 199 CHAPTER XXIV. RETROSPECTIVE 215 CHAPTER XXV. LEAVE-TAKING 226 CHAPTER XXVI. CHUDWALLA 233 CHAPTER XXVII. How IT ENDED , , , . 250 Shadows Lifted. CHAPTER I. AFTER VACATION. ALL day long, by various trains, boys were returning to old St. Cuthbert's college. In the yard there was much bustle and confusion and hurrying on this second Tuesday of September. Old boys, that is, those who had returned to college, felt, and were, perfectly at home. Many were taking advantage of the lax discipline of "first day" to do certain things with impunity, fully conscious that such attempts would not be tolerated a day or two hence, when routine had been once more established. Every now and then a teamster would drive into the yard with a high load of trunks from the depot. These were eagerly pounced upon by their owners, who soon stowed them away in the trunk-room, in the far corner of the yard. The Rhetoricians and the Philosophers, among whom we shall find our old acquaintances, had, with their supe- rior experience, shipped their trunks before departing from their homes. These grave doctors in Israel had now merely to watch the bustle and noise and excitement of the less experienced newcomers, laughing at the mishaps of this one, teasing the more anxious, and not unfre- quently lending a strong hand at lifting an unusually 6 AFTER VACATION. heavy box, which was perhaps filled by mother and sisters with everything best calculated to cause the happy owner to become an inmate of the infirmary for many days to come. Notwithstanding their vast, and to them immeasurably superior experience, the "old hands" among the boys those who had already returned four or five times felt the strangeness of the position. Love their college as much as they might and, as those know who have read Howard Hunter's experiences, most of the boys with whom we are concerned did love old St. Cuthbert's with a love loyal and true yet they felt that college was not home. Mother's sweet voice was not there, and sister's kindly ministrations were now for a time things only to be remembered. "First day," no matter how often it is repeated, is, after all, a strange day in one's college life. The transition from the home life of the family circle to the necessarily stricter, public, and unrelaxing discipline of a college is always abrupt, and being so, it is unpleasant even to the most college-hardened youth. On this particular occasion the old place looked un- wontedly strange, for there was some impertinent grass actually growing right in the college yard a pathetic token of a summer's neglect and desertion. It is the experience of most boys, when they see grass growing on their own special domain the yard on the first day of term, that they cannot help taking its presence there as a personal affront. Grass in the yard makes old boys feel "blue" and young boys downright homesick. Mr. Hillson, the prefect, was particularly busy assign- ing beds in the dormitory, and selecting suitable desks AFTER VACATION 7 in the study-hall. The latter occupation was no easy task. Knowing how much the results of class-work depended on proper study, and how much good study depended on a suitable selection of desks in the study-hall and on suitable companions, the prefect was particularly anxious to put as few troublesome boys together as possible. He tried to scatter those known to be troublesome in such a way as to prevent them being a positive detriment to the better disposed and more studiously inclined. The prefect of studies, with several assistants, was busy examining the newcomers and assigning them to the various classes according to their proficiency ; the kindly, white-haired President held "open house" at his office, giving hearty welcome to the old students as they came flocking in to greet him, or kindly words of welcome and of warning to those who had just arrived for the first time. Howard Hunter, Frank Stapleton, Harry Selby, and Rob Jones sat on a tilted bench outside the study-hall. Greetings among these old friends were over. They were now watching the number of new faces as the strangers wandered listlessly about amid their new surroundings. "It's a gigantic shame," suddenly remarked Frank Stapleton vehemently. "What is, Frank?" asked Hunter. "Oh, everything! Look at that grass! eugh! Then look at those new boys. There doesn't seem to be a decent fellow in the lot. I don't believe Claude Winters is coming back either. And then to add to our misfor- tunes, I have just learned that Mr. Hillson is not going to stay this year. He told me he was going away to study to be a priest. Just as if they couldn't ordain him at 8 AFTER VACATION. once and let him stay here. I'm sure he knows enough why, he knows more than the President himself !" The latter part of this boyish speech showed how highly Frank Stapleton esteemed Mr. Hillson's learning and abilities, for to the boys the President was Knowledge personified. The speech also indicated how little he knew of the requirements for the priesthood. "Hold on, Frank," exclaimed Howard Hunter. "You are making out too strong a case every way. These new boys may not be so bad after all. Many of them, it is true, do not look very prepossessing, but let us wait until they get under college influence. Probably not one of them is as bad as you are inclined to paint him." "Oh, I know you," responded the other. "You wouldn't let a certain personage be painted as black as he is." "Humph ! that's what you say. But what you say about Mr. Hillson is bad news indeed. Are you sure he is going to leave us?" "Sure he told me so just now," replied the other gloomily. "He told me, too," said Rob Jones, "and I'm terribly sorry to hear it. If there's one man in the college that can keep me straight, it's Mr. Hillson." "Nonsense, Rob," said Hunter; "you don't want any man to keep you straight, old fellow. You're straight enough yourself now." The last word was said slowly, and with hesitation. "Now.; that's just it, Howard. Straight enough now, but that is chiefly owing to Mr. Hillson, and you fellows. Suppose we were to get a new prefect with whom we couldn't get along ?" "We won't suppose anything of the kind," said Hunter ; AFTER VACATION. 9 "it isn't fair to the new man. Let's see who he is, and what he is like, and form our opinion afterward. But what makes you think Claude Winters is not coming back, Frank?" "Because he isn't here," replied Stapleton. "This would be the sixth time he has come to college, and he has always come on the noon train of the first day, and now it's near five o'clock. There's the whistle of the last train from his direction. If he is not here in a quarter of an hour, I shall put it down that he is not coming." "Why, here's Ambrose Bracebridge from Rosecroft Manor!" shouted Rob Jones, as the son of the Major walked into the yard. The boys gave him a hearty welcome to St. Cuthbert's. As soon as the greetings were over they conducted their non-Catholic friend, first to the President, and then to the prefect of studies. The President was much taken with the manly, gentle- manly appearance of Ambrose. He saw a well-made young fellow of about seventeen, neatly dressed, and bear- ing a fine, open countenance. His well-rounded face bore traces of good nurturing, without being at all fat or flabby. The jaw was strong and showed determination, which was emphasized by firm lips, which, when parted, revealed a handsome set of well-preserved, laughing teeth. An earnest look in the brown eyes gave a dignity to the bronzed face. The forehead was rather low and was ornamented with somewhat long, wavy hair, the rpots of which grew far down in front. In a large city, Ambrose Bracebridge would easily have passed, had he worn more expensive clothing which, by the way, he possessed, but had good sense not to bring to college for one of those 10 AFTER VACATION. golden youths of the modern club. But the President saw in him more than the mere society butterfly. The old gentleman thought he discerned here the makings of a fine, honest, sturdy man, and he determined that if careful training and much experience could do it, he would develop all the best talents of the boy before him. With what success the President's intentions met, this story has largely to do. After a few kindly words of welcome the President dis- missed him, saying : "You do not come, Bracebridge, as a complete stranger to St. Cuthbert's. Your father's generous invitation to a dozen of our boys last June has made you more or less acquainted here. Keep the college rules. Study hard and play hard, and then I am sure you will be happy with us." "I mean to be, sir," said the boy earnestly. "That's right, that's right. Good-by, boys. Remember I shall always be glad to see you." In this way they were dismissed to make room for others equally anxious to pay their respects to the head of the college. When outside the President's door, Frank Stapleton said to Bracebridge : "One on you, old fellow." "One what? What do you mean?" "We all make breaks sometimes, don't we, Howard?" and there was the usual mischievous twinkle in Frank's eyes. "Have I been guilty of any breach of etiquette? When? where? how?" asked Ambrose in real distress. "Don't alarm yourself," replied Hunter; "you have no knowledge as yet of what a tease Stapleton is. What AFTER VACATION. 11 he refers to is your addressing a priest as 'sir,' while a Catholic always says 'Father.' " "Dear me, I am very sorry ! Do you think the President is offended? I wouldn't have done it indeed I didn't know you see how it is : I am totally ignorant of your customs. Do you think he is offended? Shall I go and apologize? Tell me what to do, please." The boys were delighted with Bracebridge's evident desire to make himself agreeable and not to give offense. The gentlemanly training he had received at home showed itself. "It seems so strange to me to call any one who is not my father by the sacred name of father," said the boy. "Because of the sacredness of the name, and by reason of the reverence in which we hold our priests on account of their sacred office, we give them that most sacred of all names," said Hunter. "It is the custom with us, and you will soon get used to it." Stapleton's teasing humor, however, was in the ascen- dant at the moment. With a serious face he began again. "I think, Ambrose, you had better go back, knock, enter, fall on your knees, and " "Rubbish," put in Jones, who saw that Bracebridge was taking the matter in earnest, "why, man, you couldn't offend the President if you tried." This rather extravagant statement was taken for what it was worth by the new boy, whose fears now began to be allayed. The four then invaded the office of the prefect of studies, but the "old boys" were ignominiously dismissed. Father Lovelace did not intend for a moment to expose the newcomer to the annoyance of a semi-public exami- 12 AFTER VACATION. nation before he placed him in the class to which he should belong. Ambrose's friends retired, therefore, as gracefully as boys manage to do on such occasions. In about ten minutes Bracebridge came out into the yard, bearing a card in his hand. "What class?" asked his friends, excitedly. "I'm sure I don't know. I don't know your system yet, you know," was the reply. "I know, you know, that you don't know, you know, but as soon as I know I'll let you know, you know," said Stapeton, as he reached for the card. But Jones was too quick. He seized it and read it. "Great land of the snark!" he shouted. "Is that on the card !" asked Hunter. "No, but look at that, will you !" Howard took the card and was surprised at what he saw. He read one word : "Rhetoric." "How in the name of all that's rhetorical did you get that high class and a new man, too !" asked Stapleton, in real surprise. Such a thing had never been heard of before, that a new boy should be fit for the highest classical class in the college. "How on earth did you do it?" asked Jones. "I don't know, really. You see I graduated the year before last at a private semi-military academy in the East There they certainly taught classics and mathematics well. Then, knowing that I was coming to St. Cuthbert's this year, I have been brushing up a bit during vacation and so I found I could satisfy Mr. Lovelace." "Satisfy whom ?" asked Frank, in feigned horror. "Oh, bother ! I mean Father Lovelace. Really, gentle- THE NEW PREFECT. 13 > men, I hope you won't be offended with me when I make these mistakes. I'll get used to the proper titles in time." The boys paid small regard to his mistakes, for just at that moment Rob Jones, in order to give an outward and adequate demonstration of the satisfaction he felt in having Ambrose Bracebridge as a classmate, and forgetting the dignity belonging to a Rhetorician, actually indulged in that most small-boy amusement of turning a hand-spring, which he did with as much abandon and as regardless of consequences as if he were one of the small boys with no tremendous weight of rhetorical dignity to sustain. A ringing laugh at his expense followed his extravagant mode of expressing satisfaction, and his handsome sun- burned face flushed deeply as, busily rubbing the dust from the palms of his hands, he rejoined his companions. CHAPTER II. THE NEW PREFECT. BY five o'clock the greater part of the hurry and excite- ment of "first day" had subsided. School affairs, so the boys thought, were assuming normal conditions with appalling rapidity. Often during the few hours since the reunion of our young friends had they discussed the possi- bilities with regard to the new prefect, an event in college life of more importance than changes of government or of dynasties. All had agreed that, be he who he may, he could not be expected to be as much liked or as popular as was Mr. Hillson. This was a settled conviction among the larger 14 THE NEW PREFECT. students. The boys believed that there was only one Mr. Hillson in all the wide world and they had him at St. Cuthbert's. And now they were to lose him! Oh, the pity of it! Their regret was in proportion to their love for him, and their love and confidence were very thorough, for he had the happy faculty of winning both. Mr. Hillson had been five years at St. Cuthbert's, and the college had rarely seen a more successful manager of boys. It was almost entirely owing to him that such a splendid college spirit existed at the close of last year. It can easily be understood how anxious our friends were about his successor. Many of the higher classes were old enough to remem- ber Mr. Hillson's first year of prefecting at St. Cuthbert's. It was within their recollection how he had worked to create a real college spirit, not only in religious matters, but also in studies and in sports. They remembered how year by year he had weeded out the undesirable elements, and had brought the discipline to what it now was, an almost perfectly smooth-running machine "smooth as a first-class wheel" as Claude Winters had remarked in the previous June. There was a good deal of truth in Stapleton's grumb- ling remark that the newcomers in the large yard appeared to be anything but a desirable set. Howard Hunter, too, although he had put the best face on the matter, as was his wont in all doubtful cases, could not help surmising that had Mr. Hillson remained, even he would have found plenty of trouble this year. Much, then, depended on the impression which the new prefect would make on the boys, and very much indeed on first impressions. THE NEW PREFECT. 15 Just as our acquaintances began for the tenth time within the hour to offer conjectures about the new and unknown man who was to be so intimately connected with them for the next ten months, an active, business-like, broad-shouldered, pleasant-faced person came hurrying out of the college building, and almost ran into the group that was still standing around Bracebridge. "How do you do, boys ? How do, how do ?" and he held out his hand. "Glad to make your acquaintances. Glad to be at St. Cuthbert's. Heard about it very often. Wanted to come very much. Old boys? Yes, yes, I could know that at a glance. Fine college, eh ? Fine yard ; fine boys, of course ; yes, yes, all fine, very fine !" Howard Hunter and his friends were at once captivated by his genial manner and his enthusiasm. They saw a round, smiling face. There was a merry twinkle in the eyes eyes, nevertheless, which took in everything at a glance. Yet there was a kindly, warm-hearted look in them, too. The one peculiar feature of the face was a pair of large and over-hanging bushy eyebrows, which were partial curtains to eyes which at times were very scrutinizing, as many a boy in a school-boy scrape after- ward learned. The new prefect appeared to be a man always in a hurry,* always immersed in business of importance. He moved rapidly, and spoke with force as one accustomed 'to give quick and important decisions, and to direct others. There was an air of good humor and enthusiasm about him that was contagious. Hunter and the other boys of the group were at once under its influence. "Boys, I am going to tell you a secret," he continued ; "tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Ascalon ! 16 THE NEW PREFECT. Would you believe me if I were to say that I am just the least bit blue homesick !" and he laughed aloud. The boys opened their eyes in real amazement. A member of the faculty of St. Cuthbert's homesick ! Im- possible ! The prefect, of all persons in the world, blue ! What was the world coming to? The new man saw the look of amazement on their faces on not a few he noticed an expression of incredulity. He burst out laughing again. "I told you a secret, boys, and you must keep it. The fact is I have left a class of Rhetoric boys in the college where I was teaching last year whose equal I do not think can be found from Maine to California. Oh, they were splendid fellows ! Such students, and such gentlemen, too ! But I couldn't bring them with me, you know. Too bad, too bad!" The listeners were not quite certain that the prefect was not quizzing them, yet they were certainly pleased with the loyalty he displayed toward his former pupils. They argued correctly that if he were loyal and enthusiastic about a former set of boys, he would be so about them- selves too, in time, if they were deserving. Bracebridge did not quite understand it all. His pre- vious education had been managed on entirely different lines from those of St. Cuthbert's. He wisely kept quiet for a time. He was soon to learn the spirit of confidence and of respectful familiarity that existed between pro- fessors and prefects and the boys of St. Cuthbert's. The others of the group had already mentally voted the new prefect a jolly good fellow. "I hope you will find us, too, sir, fair specimens of college boys," remarked Harry Selby. THE NEW PREFECT. 17 "I am sure I shall. Quite sure. Dear me, to hear all that Mr. Hillson says about some of you one would sup- pose that already wings had begun to sprout ! Ha, ha ! But then Mr. Hillson is partial, yes, very partial, yes, yes, very." "But Mr. " began Frank the Fearless, and then he remembered that he had not yet heard the new prefect's name. He consequently stopped short in his speech, and, boy-like, blushed awkwardly. "Oh, I beg your pardon, all of you," said the prefect. "I should have introduced myself at once. My name is Shalford Joseph White Shalford." The boys bowed. "But, Mr. Shalford," urged Frank Stapleton, respect- fully but freely, for the boys saw at once that they could talk without restraint "but, Mr. Shalford, if Mr. Hillson is partial, what about a certain Rhetoric professor of last year in regard to " "Oh, you rogue!" exclaimed Mr. Shalford. "So you would catch me in my words at our first meeting! Yes, I confess I am partial to that class. They were the finest boys I ever knew,; but that does not say there are no other good boys in the world, or no other good students, eh? Hello ! look there. There's a poor little homesick fellow actually crying. That won't do. I must go and console him. Good-by, boys, we will soon get better acquainted." "Good-by, sir," came the hearty chorus and the hearti- ness of the response convinced Mr. Shalford that he had already some friends among the boys. In a few minutes the boys, who had watched closely, saw the little fellow, under the prefect's winning manner, dry his tears and begin to smile. It was not long before 18 THE NEW PREFECT. they heard him break out into a hearty laugh the best panacea for all schoolboy ills, and a mortal enemy to home- sickness. "Well, fellows, what's the vote?" asked Stapleton, after he had cast a glance at the now silent group. "I think- he's just splendiferous," said Selby, enthusias- tically. "If I may be allowed to express myself intelligibly," remarked Rob Jones, "I should say Mr. Shalford is a "Brick !" broke in Stapleton. "Correct, go to the head of the class." "I think we shall get along splendidly with Mr. Shal- ford, eh, boys?" asked Howard Hunter. "Look, look, gentlemen, see who is coming up the road from the station !" said Rob Jones. All in the group turned to look in the direction pointed out. They saw a short, solidly built, neatly dressed boy, whose sturdy legs and square' chest denoted an excellent physique. "That's Claude, for certain," remarked Frank ; "there's not a boy in the yard who plants his feet more firmly when walking than he does." "Nor uses them faster when running away," put in Selby. "Oh! the dear old fellow. Isn't it grand that he's back? Now our company is complete. 'Rah for Claude !" "There's something strange about him," remarked Jones, who was closely watching the approaching figure. "How is he changed? He's not the same Claude that left here last June, and who is that little fellow by his side, I wonder?" "Wait till he conies closer," said Hunter. "I cannot make out what the change is as yet. But there is one." THE NEW PREFECT. 19 "Great and little fishes ! I have it," from Frank. "What is it?" asked several. "Pants !" And so it was. Claude knew he was to be in the gradu- ating class this year, and the day before he started for college he had put on long pants for the first time in his life. He had worn short knee-pants in the Rhetoric class and all his friends had declared that he had no sense of the fitness of things, no regard for the proper dignity of the class, no respect for his compeers ; that he was bringing things down to the level of the kindergarten, etc., etc., but through all their bantering he remained firm. He would not give up his cool and comfortable black stock- ings and knee-breeches. His will was as sturdy as his thick, short legs. As the readers who have thus far fol- lowed Claude Winter's career are aware, Claude was by no means a dull boy. Certainly there was not a lazy bone in his body, and to his activity there was allied a corres- ponding determination of will. So he had borne all last year's chaffing and bantering with a firm resolve to go home as he had come, in short pants, or, as he preferred to call them, knee-breeches. Too appreciative of their comfort in vacation time, he had no thought of changing while by lake and wood, or climbing mountain paths. But the time came for returning to St. Cuthbert's and Claude had to make a decision. His father, upon being consulted on this all-important step, amusedly left the decision to the boy, with the remark : "It is time for you to learn to make decisions for yourself." His mother had as much reluctance to grant the per- mission as some mothers have to purchase the first razor 20 THE NEW PREFECT. for the eldest boy. So Claude had to decide, and, truth to tell, from the time he made the decision up to the present moment he felt extremely awkward in trousers. The boys watched him approach. In a hurried con- sultation they decided upon the manner of his reception. No one was to know him. All were to require an intro- duction. By this time Claude was within thirty paces of the group of friends. He stopped a moment to speak to his diminu- tive counterpart by his side. "Stay here just a moment, Ernest, and your brother will bring his friends over to you. You are not afraid, Ernie, are you ?'* "N-no," came the doubtful answer; "but this place is so big and there are so many people here. It isn't a bit like home, and mamma!" "Of course it isn't like home, Ernie. It's college, you know. This is the great St. Cuthbert's college. Grand, isn't it? "Y-yes, but" "Well, you just wait here one minute. I won't be gone more than a minute. Be brave. Nobody will hurt you. You won't mind ? You won't cry, will you ?" "No," and this time there was something like Claude's own firmness of will displayed in the reply. "That's right. Only a minute," and Claude Winters bounded across the yard to his friends of last year, with eyes sparkling with pleasure, and his vacation-browned face one huge smile. With hands outstretched he began speaking before he reached the group. For the moment he had forgotten all about his uncomfortable long pants. "Oh, how do, Frank ! Awfully glad to see all you fel- THE NEW PREFECT. 21 lows ! How are you, Howard ? Ah, Rob, glad to see you. How are you all? And Bracebridge! How do you do? My, it's fine to get back to St. Cuthbert's! Shake, old fellows." He was greeted with a cold, expressionless stare by all. Claude was astounded. He did not withdraw his hand, but stood with it outstretched, and with wide-open mouth. Presently Stapleton, imitating one who uses an eyeglass, holding an imaginary one in its place, looked down on the stoutly-built small boy. "Aw ! ah ! a stranger here, friends ! Your name, if you please, sir ?" "Frank !" exclaimed Claude in surprise. "Frank. Frank who, sir?" "Oh, come, you fellows, what's the matter with you? As if you didn't know me !" "Know you ? How can we know why I do declare, boys," said the actor, Stapleton, "if it isn't Claude and in long pants !" They all rushed around him. With a tremendous dis- play of affection they pump-handled his arm until it was sore. Under all this bantering and teasing, it must be under- stood, there was a genuine welcome to the late comer. Suddenly Stapleton struck an attitude of mock tragedy. "Oh, shade of Shakespeare! look! look at his face!" All turned and stared at Claude. "What's the matter with my face?" he asked, as he quickly rubbed both cheeks, thinking that perhaps some mud or dust of the journey was disfiguring them. "You can't brush it off, Claude. It's no use trying." 22 A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. "Brush off what ? You fellows seem to be losing your senses. What's up, now?" "I'm sure it's positively against college rules. Let's go and see the President about it, boys. We can't stand this." Claude was more mystified than ever. "What on earth are you fellows driving at?" "How many on a side, Claude ?" asked one. "Why, nine on a side, of course," said some one else. "Two nines, enough for a game of ball." Then Claude blushed outright. He was now conscious they were quizzing him on the incipient mustache, which, during the vacation, had begun to make its appearance. "Oh, I say, you fellows, you but never mind. Wait a minute until I bring my little brother over here. I want you to make him feel at home." "Do, Claude," said Selby. "You must be a perfect pagan to leave the little fellow standing all alone in a strange place." Claude Winters turned and looked toward the spot where he had left his brother standing. He was gone. He scanned the large boys' yard. Not seeing him, he ran in haste over to the small division yard. There was not a trace of Ernest Winters. CHAPTER III. A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. CLAUDE WINTERS went to the spot where he had left his younger brother. Not finding him there he surmised that he had already formed acquaintance with some of the boys A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. 23 of the junior division. He soon found that no one there had seen him. "The youngster became tired of waiting. He must have started out to inspect the buildings, I suppose," thought Claude. Acting upon this idea, he began a systematic search. Going first to the President's room, and then to that of the prefect of studies, he next went through all the class-rooms, visited the gymnasium, reading-room, bath-rooms, game-rooms, study-halls, infirmary, chapel, and finally went to each professor's room. He could find no trace of the missing boy. Winters now began to be anxious. One of the pro- fessors suggested that Ernest might have wandered toward the kitchen. Claude ran there. Barely taking time to shake hands with the serving-boys, with whom he was a great favorite, he went from kitchen to sculleries, pan- tries, dairy, bake-shop. shoe-shop everywhere, but Ernest was nowhere to be found. Claude returned to his friends in the yard and told them of the sudden and mysterious disappearance of his younger brother. Immediately all was excitement. The most extravagant conjectures were indulged in. No one seemed to be able to offer any solution to the problem. While the boys were earnestly discussing the difficulty, Mr. Shalford approached unobserved. "Well, boys, what's the matter? You all look as scared as if you had seen a ghost. There's been no quarrel, eh? No disagreement among you boys, that's sure. What's wrong?" He was told the cause of their uneasiness. Mr. Shal- ford liked Claude's appearance and open, frank counten- ance. 24 A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. "If your brother is like you," he said kindly to the anxious boy, "you may be sure he is not in mischief, wherever he may be." Claude loved Mr. Shalford from that day. "Ah !" continued the prefect, "I have it! You walked from the railway depot you two did you not ? Yes ; well, he saw that candy store half way between here and the station, and, as I suppose he has some money in his pocket yet, that must have been the attraction. Run, Win- ters, and see if he is not there making himself sick with pies and tarts." Just as the big college bell rang for supper Claude ran in hot haste up the road to the candy store. He burst into the little shop : "Have you got my brother here, Mrs. Lane ?" "Why, no, Master Claude. I ain't seen no brother of yours whatever. Never knew you had one. Do you want some of my taffy to-day?" "Oh, hang your candy. I have lost my brother ! You are hiding him behind the counter there." "Lawks sakes, Master Claude, what you do be sayin'! There ain't no brother of yours ever come here this day. Come behind the counter and see for yourself." "Excuse me, ma'am," said the boy immediately, like the true little gentleman he was ; "I forgot myself. I cannot think where he has gone. I do hope no harm's come to him. If you see a little boy that looks like me "How is he dressed?" interrupted the woman. "He has on a black velvet Sunday coat, with silver but- tons, and a broad linen collar, with black stockings and low shoes. He's got long black curly hair, and a 'shanter' hat. And oh ! if you catch sight of him, let us know, won't you ? A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. 25 If you find him, perhaps it's best to keep him here and send some one to the college." "That I will, sure, if ever I sets my eyes on him. Here, Master Winters, take some of these," and the sympathetic woman thrust into his hand some of the newly made "taffy." In spite of his troubles Claude was too much of a boy to refuse the candies. Hastily thanking the donor he at once ran home again at full speed. By this time there was considerable excitement in the yard. The word was passed hurriedly from mouth to mouth that Claude Winters' little brother was lost. What made his rediscovery more difficult from the boys' point of view, was that no one knew the lost boy, as yet no one had seen him, and there were many new faces on the junior division on the first day of term. A search party was suggested by Roy Henning. With the permission of Mr. Shalford three or four small groups .were organized to go in different directions. Mr. Hillson, who knew the country better than the new prefect, gave directions to each group. Claude did not leave the grounds. Again and again he ran through the various rooms and halls of the college, as well as through all the out-buildings and offices and even the barns and stables of the farm. The four search parties were to return by nine o'clock. If by that time there were no traces of the miss- ing boy, then some of the workmen and farm hands were to continue the search farther afield on horseback. Tele- grams were sent up and down the line, as it was possible that Ernest Winters had been enticed to take a ride on a hand-car by some repair men who were known to be work- ing in the neighborhood. 26 A MJSTERT FOR CLAUDE. About nine o'clock all the unsuccessful searchers re- turned. The workmen were at once dispatched, with special instructions to look out for tramps and vagrants. About ten o'clock that night the President turned the light low in his room, and walked to the door of the pre- fect of studies, to have a further consultation on the very mysterious affair. Father Lovelace suggested that Claude's father be telegraphed to, but to this the President objected, saying that there would be time enough for that in the morning should the boy not be found by that time. By wiring at once it would be uselessly alarming the family without putting them in a position to render the slightest assistance. If some accident had happened to Ernest Winters, bad news would travel fast enough. While the two priests were talking together, they heard the clatter of horses' hoofs along the hard gravel road. Some of the workmen were returning. The two went to the door. "Any tidings ?" "Not the slightest trace, Father," was the reply. The two men were completely mystified. That a boy, in broad daylight, from amid a crowd of over two hun- dred and fifty, should be wafted away as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up such a thing had never come within the experience of either. They talked in a low tone, so as not to disturb other members of the faculty living on the same corridor, who had long ago retired to rest. Suddenly in the stillness of a hot, close, September night, the two priests heard a strange voice : "That's mine ; gimme my hat ! Oh, what a big crowd of boys ! Now I lay me down to " The sentence ended in A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. 27 some indistinct mumbling. In a second later the words "pray for us sinners," were heard, then more indistinct mutterings, which soon sank into the silence of sleep. Some one had been disturbed by the clatter of the horses' hoofs as they had approached the college. The President and his subordinate stared at each other in mute surprise. "Where on earth did that sound come from?" enquired the former. "From the Bishop's room," answered Father Lovelace. "Wait till I get a light." The Bishop's room was situated between the rooms of the President and the prefect of studies. It was, of course, the best furnished room in the college, being reserved for the bishop of the diocese, or any other particularly honored guest. The door stood ajar. With the light held above their heads, the two cautiously entered the room. What was their surprise when they saw a boy fully dressed, with his beads around his neck and resting on his now sadly crumpled broad collar, fast asleep on the large bed. The sleeper was Ernest Winters. The two men gently removed the boy's shoes. They then put him into bed without awakening him. Father Lovelace then went to find Claude, to tell him of the discovery, and thus put the now almost frantic boy's mind at rest. All the boys had gone to bed except Howard Hunter, who had been permitted, as the one best fitted to soothe his anxiety, to keep Claude company. Father Lovelace found both kneeling at the altar-steps and recit- ing their beads. Like the true Catholic boys they were, they had sought strength and relief at the tabernacle door. 28 A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. As may well be supposed, Ernest was the hero of the hour the next morning. He had to tell the story of his sudden disappearance over and over again. We give the story as he told it to his brother the next morning. "Why, Ernie, where have you been?" asked Claude, as the boy jumped out of the Bishop's bed ready dressed. "I don't know, Claude. I can't remember much. But he had such big black eyes, I had to follow him." "Who had big black eyes?" "The tall, dark-looking man. He looked just like the picture of the Hindu pa has at home in the dining room." "What are you talking about? That picture has a big white turban that comes down over the ears. There isn't anybody who dresses like that in this country. I guess you have been dreaming." "No, indeed, I wasn't dreaming. When you left me standing alone when you went to speak to those big boys, I felt like crying because I felt lonesome and I didn't know anybody. You were gone ever so long. I got tired and began to look around." "* "Why, Ernie, I wasn't away from you two minutes," said Claude ; but the fact was that he was away for more than ten, although the time did not appear so long to him. "Well?" "Then, when I looked around, I saw this tall, dark man with big eyes just around the corner of that smaller house there" L and Ernest went to the window and pointed to the infirmary, which was separated from the main building of the college "and I was afraid, but his eyes drew me on and I could not help going toward him. 'What is your name?' he asked in such a funny, solemn way. I told him Ernest Winters. Then he said 'Ah !' " A MYSTERY FOR CLAUDE. 29 "How was he dressed?" asked Claude. "Just like pa dresses when he leaves home and goes to New York once a year." "What happened then, Ernie?" inquired Claude. "He beckoned me on, and I felt as if I were in a dream. At the gate down there, see," and he pointed out of the window "there was a carriage. Without saying a word we got in, and the carriage drove off. All the time he kept his big eyes on me and I didn't dare move. Soon we came to a big house I think it was a hotel and without saying a word, we left the carriage and went in and up stairs into a beautiful room with large looking-glasses all around the walls. I stood in the middle of the carpet without know- ing why I was there or what he wanted of me. All the time I hadn't spoken a word. "Then he left me and went through a door covered all over with looking-glass and I was alone. Then I began to be frightened and wanted to cry but I didn't. In about a minute, the same man came back. All the time he was there I could only look at his eyes and when I did that it seemed as if I couldn't do anything else." "What did you do next?" asked Claude with breathless interest. "He clapped his hands, suddenly, without speaking a word and another door opened one of those looking-glass doors and another person, dressed just the same as he was, came in with a tray on which were fruits and a bottle of water. When the servant had put down the tray he made a low bow, like those we read of in the Arabian Nights, and then stood with his arms folded across his breast. I guess the fellow with the big eyes was the boss, and the other the servant," 30 A MTSTER7 FOR CLAUDE. "All this time neither of them spoke!" said Claude. "Look here, Ernie, I guess you have been dreaming and are now telling me a fairy story out of your Arabian Nights. You know you were reading it only this week." "No, cross my heart, Claudie. Then the funniest thing happened. First place, he, the big-eyed fellow, took his eyes off me, and then I didn't mind. Then the two began to say something I couldn't make out, but it sounded awful funny, just like the conjurer fellows use when they do their tricks. They mixed a few English words with their funny talk, and I seemed to make out that Big Eyes was asking the other something about me. The servant appeared to deny what the other fellow was saying. I am sure I caught the words 'not old enough/ 'too small,' 'should be twenty.' " "Good gracious!" exclaimed Claude, with a laugh, "perhaps those fellows are after me. You know, Ernest, I shall be twenty next Christmas. But what followed?" "Somehow they didn't seem to agree. Then, with many bowings and scrapings, the smaller man went out of the room backward." "What followed then, Ernest?" "Big Eyes walked up and down the room several times. Then he went to the table and poured out some of the water from the bottle and put a white powder in the glass. It fizzled up. Then he stroked my head quite kindly and offered me the glass." "Did you drink it?" "Yes." 'What did it taste like?" "Something like that sherbet papa once gave us at home." CLARENCE GILKINS. 31 "What then?" "That's all." "That's all ? What do you mean, Ernie ? How did you get back here, and into the Bishop's room of all places in the college?" "Oh, Claudie, I don't remember anything more till I woke up this morning. Isn't this the room I am going to have? It isn't half as nice as our room at home any way." Claude laughed aloud. He assured his brother most emphatically that it was not the room he would occupy. He promised that after breakfast he would show him his bed in the dormitory. It is needless to say that Claude Winters wrote a full account of this strange occurrence to his father, but while he is waiting a reply from his father a letter which is to contain very important information for our young friend we will make the acquaintance of several of the new boys of the large yard, as several of these bright and delightful youngsters will have to enter into the history of this year at St. Cuthbert's. CHAPTER IV. CLARENCE GILKINS. MR. JOSEPH WHITE SHALFORD, prefect of the large di- vision, stood talking to his assistant on the morning after the occurrences we have related in the last chapter. There was a satisfied look on his face. Claude Winters was telling the two officials the curious story he had heard 32 CLARENCE GILKINS. before breakfast from his brother. When the boy had fin- ished, he said: "Don't you think it all very strange, sir? If Ernie had not told me all this himself I wouldn't have believed it, but he never tells a lie." "That's good. Yes, it's strange indeed. Where is he now ?" "Over in his own yard, sir. May I go, please, and show him his bed in his dormitory?" "Yes, if the small division prefect will permit you. As you go, Winters, send that tall fellow, who is leaning against the corner of the candy-store, to me. Do you see the boy I mean ?" "Yes, sir. I'll send him to you," and Claude ran at full speed across the yard and almost into the boy for whom he had the message. "Say, Cornstalks, the prefect wants you. Better hurry up, he's waiting for you," was his greeting to the new boy. "The what ?" asked the boy. "The prefect, the manager of this menagerie, the boss. See, there he stands waiting for you. Better hurry." "Don't know as I will. If he wants me he had better come for me." "My goodness ! does it hurt ?" asked Claude, apparently with great solicitude. "Does what hurt?" "Why, that bad temper." "I'll show you whether it hurts/' and he made a vicious kick at Claude's shins, but as he had his hands buried deeply in his pockets he was not quick enough for the smaller boy, who jumped away and began chaffing him CLARENCE GILKINS. 33 most unmercifully, relying on the swiftness of his legs in case of any attack. The big boy sauntered over to where the prefect was waiting for him, his hands still in his pockets and his hat well down over his eyes. "What is your name, my boy?" asked Mr. Shalford in a kindly way, as the boy shambled up to him. "Gilkins." "Gilkins what?" asked the prefect, as he gave the boy a piercing glance from under his bushy eyebrows a glance which the boy perfectly understood, although he gave no indications that he did. "Gilkins nothing," answered the boy impudently. "Oh, yes it is, you know," and there was a look in the prefect's face which was a revelation to the boy, who saw at once the man before him was master and would stand no trifling. "Gilkins what?" came more sternly. "Gilkins, sir." "Ah ! And what is your Christian name ?" "Clarence, sir." "Ah ! What a nice name. What a pity to have so nice a name and so ugly a temper one of the finest names in all history. Now, Clarence Gilkins, go to the wash-room and put on a necktie." "I don't want no " began the boy. "Go !" and the prefect pointed sternly toward the door. There was a force in the gesture and a determination in the tone which were again revelations to Gilkins and to the boys standing around. Whatever might happen the boys saw that Mr. Shalford was not to be trifled with. The boy went. 34 CLARENCE GILKINS. In about ten minutes he returned wearing a flaring red tie. He had evidently put it on to vex the prefect. In this he failed. As soon as Mr. Shalford saw Gilkins emerge from the wash-room, he went over to him, and shook hands. "Ah, that's something like, my boy. Always try to dress neatly. See, all our boys pride themselves on their natty appearance and taste." The shot, however, was lost on Gilkins. "Did you enjoy it ?" suddenly asked the prefect. "Enjoy what? I mean, what, sir." "Oh, come, my boy, let's be friends. You are not such a bad fellow if you only knew it. Did you enjoy your extra smoke? There now don't blush. Besides, I can smell the smoke on you now. It didn't take twelve minutes to tie that tie, that's sure. I think if I were a boy and had the same chance as you had for an extra smoke, I'd take it, too. Wouldn't you, boys?" he said, suddenly turning to the bystanders. Many laughingly responded in the affirmative. "I don't doubt but what you would," responded the prefect, dryly. Gilkins began to think that Mr. Shalford was "not so bad" after all, and that perhaps it would be just as well to keep on his good side. Like many another improperly trained boy, he had allowed himself, unfortunately, to believe that every one in a position of authority was his natural enemy. He had taken it for granted that Mr. Shalford was so, and was now more or less surprised to learn that he could enter exactly into a boy's own manner of thinking about things. By a movement, which the boys who had gathered CLARENCE GILKINS. 35 around the two quickly understood, Mr. Shalford intimated that he wished to talk to Gilkins privately. When the rest had dispersed Mr. Shalford said kindly : "I hope you will be happy and contented here, Clar- ence." "Guess I won't though, if everybody is going to be down on me, like they were at my last school," said the boy. "But, my dear lad, there is no one here who has the slightest intention of doing any such thing. I suppose people were 'down on you' as you express it, because you didn't behave well and broke the rules and did all sorts of things." "Who told you all that?" "No one. I do not know where you were last year, and I do not care to know. I only judge from my knowl- edge of boys, and from the way you express yourself." "Well, sir, I expect you will soon be the same as all the others were toward me." There was a strange pathos in the tone. It indicated many things previous misunderstanding of his nature, blunders which had made his education almost a tragedy, and a longing, a desire for better things and a fresh chance. Mr. Shalford saw all this. He replied : . "I see no reason why I should. It rests entirely with yourself. Make me your friend and make a reasonable effort to keep straight, and you will be as happy as a king. By the way, do you play ball ? Are you any good at foot- ball ? you know the practice season opens in a few days." "I was center rush on our team last year." "Capital ! You are big and strong enough to make a good one. In training at all now?' 36 CLARENCE CILKINS. Gilkins put his fingers to his head and flicked his arm muscles. "Good! Muscles as hard as iron! First rate. Why. man, if you watch yourself, you will be an acquisition to St. Cuthbert's yet." The boy felt pleased at the interest taken in him. He began to talk freely about matches, and gridirons, and all the technicalities of football. Matters began to look dif- ferent to him. Instead of being exiled from home as a covert punishment for unmanageableness, Gilkins began to see that it was quite possible that the year might prove a most enjoyable one to him after all. He felt as if he were going to get a "fair show" as he called it. Under such pleasant conditions his better nature came uppermost, and he surprised himself by the following remark: "I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Shalford : You are just the first man that ever spoke to me like that, and I'm going to try to get along." "That's a good resolution. Try hard to keep it. By the way, Clarence, when did you go to Communion last?" "I made my Easter, and and " "I see, my boy, I see it all. For six months you have foolishly been neglecting the very means to enable you to do right and be happy and contented. Well, we'll change all that, won't we? And remember, my dear boy, I expect great things from you." The conference ended by the prefect tactfully securing a promise from Gilkins that some time during the day he would make a visit to the venerable chaplain or spiritual director of the boys. The prefect knew very well that if this zealous old Father once got a boy under his influence everything would soon be all right with him. CLARENCE GILKINS. 37 Clarence Gilkins was of an unamiable disposition. He had the unhappy faculty of showing his very worst side to others. A heartless system of harshness at home had stunted all the boy's aspirations and destroyed his ideals. Nor were matters at all mended during the two years he had spent at school previous to his coming, this year, to St. Cuthbert's. Already marks of hardness and of cyni- cism were beginning to show in rather strong lines around the mouth and habitually tightened lips. At a casual glance, a stranger would call him a "tough" boy. He was so in a certain way, but it was mostly on the exterior. The heart was in the right place. He was big, awkward, loose-jointed. His clothes did not fit him well. He had not as yet acquired those habits of neatness in dress which make so much for self-respect. Unquestionably he had many faults, and we shall have to chronicle many of his failings. Behind all this array of undesirable qualities there were latent many good ones, and it required just such experience as his prefect possessed to bring them to the surface. About an hour later Gilkins once more approached Mr. Shalford. This time the prefect noticed that his hands were not in his pockets, and he also observed that the boy touched his cap, as was the general custom, when he spoke to the prefect. "Would you mind lending me the key again, sir?" Without inquiring why he wanted it, the prefect immedi- ately handed it to him. The boy at once realized he was trusted. He was pleased. In two minutes he returned. The flaring red tie had been removed, and one much neater and of a more sober color had been substituted. The reader may regard this as a small matter and scarcely 38 CLARENCE GILKINS. worth recording, but Mr. Shalford saw its full signifi- cance. "I'm not much of a critic in high art colors, but un- questionably necktie number two is an improvement," he said laughingly, as he again pocketed the key. The boy walked away with a satisfied smile on his face. "He'll do, if others do not influence him too much," said the prefect to himself. Gilkins walked slowly back to his companions. He was thinking deeply. He had taken a liking to the prefect. He was determined to keep the promise he had made to see the chaplain. But this he knew meant confession, ultimately, and confession meant the breaking away from a class of boys whom he had become acquainted with only yesterday, but who, he had already learned, would for the present, neither go to con- fession, nor be much influenced by him if he were to try to set them an example of keeping straight. In his heart of hearts he felt that he was not an alto- gether bad boy. In a dim sort of way he realized that cir- cumstances had been against him : that his chance com- panions had often been undesirable ones : that the mistaken home training of harshness and repression with all its unpleasant consequences had been a misfortune for him. He could not have stated these feelings so clearly as they are set down here, but in some confused manner he felt them. The kindly manner of the prefect ; his evident intention to trust him, and, if he himself did not prevent it, to make him happy and contented for the school year, touched him deeply. It aroused within him a desire to recover his self- respect; to make a vigorous effort to rise out of the slovenly, ungentlemanly habits into which he had drifted. CLARENCE GILKINS. 39 "By Jove !" he said, half aloud, and then checking him- self "humph ! my patron saint at all events for some time past ! Guess Fll drop that way of talking any way. It seems to me that with a man like that Shalford to look after a fellow there is no reason for me to go to the dogs. Guess I won't, either." Now these resolutions, good in themselves, were natu- ral, and were valuable in so far as his natural determina- tion bore him up. By many a breakdown, by many a lapse and fall, he was to learn they were not sufficient of them- selves. It took Gilkins a long time to look to other and more real source of strength than his own will alone, and it caused him many a bitter day, many a hard, hard strug- gle before he arrived at the knowledge that it was not safe to trust himself or to rely solely on his own natural powers, in order, as he expressed it, "not to go to the dogs." However, under the influence of his present good reso- lutions he did the correct thing. Instead of returning to the crowd of discontented and more or less maliciously inclined boys with whom he had so far associated, he walked over to where Roy Henning, Selby, and Staple- ton were talking over the prospects of the coming football season. Just as he arrived from one direction Claude Winters came from another. They met face to face. Claude was a little frightened and feared for the consequences of their first meeting. He was just a little ashamed at his own rather rude way of addressing a stranger, but he put on a bold face on the matter. "Say, Gilkins, what did the prefect say to you?" "Look here, young fellow, I don't want you to call me 'cornstalks' or any other name any more, d'ye hear?" 40 CLARENCE (HLKINS. "I hear ; but what did Mr. Shalford say, anyway ?" "No matter. He's a fine man, and I'm going to get along with him." "Shake, old fellow. That's the talk," said Claude; "but what a pity you can't play on the gridiron this fall. You are big enough and strong enough to break through any line." And Winters, after the fashion of the young Roman who bet his sesterces on the gladiator, began to pat Gilkins' muscular arm. The new boy did not know what to make of Claude. He was half-inclined to think he was being patronized. He felt his pulse quickening with anger. Stapleton took in the situation at once. "Shut up, Winters let him alone, can't you? You mustn't mind him, Gilkins. Here, you know," and Frank touched his forehead with his forefinger as if to indicate that Claude was not quite sound in the head. Winters clenched his fists, making pantomime motions at Frank as if he would presently annihilate him. "All right, Claude. I understand. Pistols and coffee for two to-morrow morning before breakfast," he said laughingly. "All the same, if you'll excuse us, Gilkins and I want to talk of football matters," and Stapleton walked off with his newly found acquaintance. A WONDER WORKER 41 CHAPTER V. A WONDER WORKER. ABOUT a year before Ernest Winters' strange disap- pearance at St. Cuthbert's college, a number of people had gathered on a hillside, close to the ruins of a temple of Brahma, not many miles from Simla, in northern India. Professional Hindu beggars, squalid and in tatters, and carrying empty rice bowls, were there. They wore the yellow robes which distinguished them as holy mendi- cants. Tall, lithe, dark-skinned and straight-featured men were also there, with yards upon yards of fine Indian muslin rolled turban-fashion around their heads, leaving only the lobe of the ears visible. Many wore white, flow- ing robes reaching to their feet. The white garments lent, by contrast, a brilliancy to the rich Oriental coloring of the various costumes which gave a variety and pict- uresqueness to the scene. There were not many Europeans present. Here and there could be seen the redcoat of the British soldier, whose round, red face would indicate his nationality, even without the assistance of his conspicuous uniform. On a few tanned and sun-darkened faces could be dis- tinguished the genuine imperial and goatee of the typical sharp-featured and polite Frenchman. Two long-coated Germans were stolidly smoking china pipes with evident satisfaction. Most of the gathered crowd were expectant. While waiting, many of the natives sat cross-legged on the ground indulging in the fascinating narghile, and if one stood near enough, he could hear the smoke bubbling 42 A WONDER WORKER. through the bulb, and observe with what delight the smoker enveloped himself in a cloud of deliciously per- fumed tobacco smoke. To some of the company assembled the gathering appeared to have the significance of a religious ceremonial, but by far the greater number had come together for pur- poses of amusement. No people under the sun are so fond of the wonderful and the inexplicable as are the natives of India. They revel in mysticism, provided it be not of too violent a kind. The genius of the people tends to that "Nirvana where the silence reigns" to rest and to indo- lent repose. Nevertheless there are no people on earth that delight more in the wonderful, and the present gathering composed chiefly of Hindus, had congregated in the blaz- ing sun for no other purpose than to witness some extraor- dinary feats of jugglery which a famous wizard had announced he would show them. The sightseers were arranged in the form of two-thirds of a circle, the remaining third being occupied by a moderate-sized tent of black goat-hair cloth, before which was erected a low platform about two feet high. The great conjurer appeared apparelled in a red fez and a flowing black robe ornamented profusely with hiero- glyphic and cabalistic designs in gold and crimson threads. He held in his hands a short, white, polished wand. The performance commenced with the ordinary leger- demain tricks, such as the clever manipulation of swords, of brass balls, of spinning plates and a pretty butterfly trick. This latter performance seemed to please the audi- ence very much. Taking tissue paper of various colors the performer deftly manufactured some paper butterflies. By a gentle movement of his fan he set them in motion, A WONDER WORKER. 43 made them hover around his head, settle on his left hand, hover again and settle on a bouquet of flowers. Finally he fanned them high into the air and a slight breeze wafted them among the audience to the intense satisfaction of those who could secure one of them. After some snake-charming, the wizard came to the most important part of his entertainment. Producing a long sack, which was capable of holding a man, he showed it to the audience, turned it inside out several times and beat it on the floor of the platform. Then he clapped his hands and an assistant appeared clothed in the scantiest of garments, consisting of the Hindu hip-cloth of the water-men of the rivers. This man entered the sack which the conjurer held. The conjurer then tied the sack over the assistant's head. He then began to ring violently a good-sized hand-bell. While doing this the wizard's eyes shone brilliantly, giving him a strangely fascinating appearance. Untying the sack the occupant's head just appeared enveloped in a large white turban. As the folds of the sack fell from his shoulders it was seen that he was dressed in a full white flowing robe. The audience were much astonished when the whole figure was revealed, to dis- cover that the assistant, now fully costumed, held in one hand a dish of cooked rice actually steaming, and in the other a candlestick containing a lighted candle. The next trick was even more startling. The performer went to his tent and brought out a wicker-basket, large enough to hold his assistant. The basket was placed upon end, the lid thrown open and was moved about in various positions so that every one could see that it was a real basket, and empty. While it was being shown to the 44 A WONDER WORKER. audience, the assistant stepped to the stage and stood in one corner with arms folded across his breast, motionless as a statue. The wizard, placing the basket in the middle of the stage, invited, by gestures, the other to enter it. The latter refused, with evident anger which could be seen in his large black eyes. The wordless entreaty continued for some little time, but the smaller man remained obdurate. He would not move. The conjurer, in anger, ran to the tent and brought out a dangerous looking Damascus blade, with which he threatened the other, who, however, did not appear to be much concerned. Seeing he could effect nothing by theatening, he threw down the sword and recommenced his blandishments and persuasive gestures. The other began to relent. He looked at the basket, to the intense satisfaction of the principal actor. All this time, and throughout the won- derful performance no word was spoken. The assistant looked at the basket again, stepped nearer to it, and finally consented to get into it. The black-robed master of magic was suave and genial now, but as soon as the man was fairly within the basket his manner changed. He hurriedly and angrily closed the lid, fasten- ing the hasp with a stout, wooden peg so that it could not be opened from the inside. It was evident to the audience that, as soon as the assis- tant had entered the wickerwork-basket and had seen his master close the lid on him, he had repented of his acquiescence, for all could hear him striking the under part of the lid. He bent the willow lid in his efforts to get free. This seemed to make the magician still more angry. A WONDER WORKER. 45 His eyes glared angrily. His whole body shook with pas- sion as he paced up and down the small platform. Every moment his anger was rising, and his passion becoming less under his control. Suddenly, in his frantic rage, he caught sight of the sword where he had thrown it. Seizing it he rushed to the basket, which he pierced. When he withdrew the sword it was dripping with blood. An unearthly, agonizing shriek followed such a shriek that it made many of the dark faces of those who were witnessing the strange proceeding, turn several shades lighter. Many believed that the magician had suddenly gone insane. All were sure that he had massacred his faithful assistant. The audience rose to its feet at the horror of the situation. Some were calling aloud, others were trembling, and not a few would have rushed to the stage to secure the murderer. The sight of blood on the sword served only to enrage him the more. Again and again did he thrust the sharp instrument through the wickerwork, and each thrust was responded to by a fresh shriek until at last they died away. The assistant's life had evidently been sacrificed to a momentary insane fury of his master. There was the intensest excitement among the natives. A hurried consultation was held by about a dozen of the more prominent members of the village community. They hastily decided upon the conjurer's capture. Some made a rapid movement toward the platform. The now perspiring actor ran to the front of the stage, and threw down the blood-stained sword. Immediately he returned to the basket. Undoing the fastening, he tilted it on end, with the lid toward the excited audience. He then opened it. 46 A WONDER WORKER. The basket was empty! A reaction followed. The sightseers stared in astonish- ment at the wonder worker. Never had they seen any- thing half so marvelous. To add to their amazement a moment later the assistant walked from the tent, smiling and bowing. The two clever performers went to the front of the platform and made a profound salaam. The per- formance was over. Among the audience was a sharp, business-like native of the United States. He was one of those men who can be found in almost any part of the world. He was shrewd and keen, with an eye ever open to the main chance. He was a purchaser of elephants, lions, and other wild animals, engaged Albanians for dime museums, could drive hard bargains in live snakes, and was ever on the lookout for curios and freaks. The only American in the audience was an agent for a large amusement syndicate in New York. "I do declare," he said, half aloud ; "if I could only get those two men to come to the United States, they would make a tremendous hit. I would give them their own terms almost. They'd be the greatest thing of the sea- son, sure.''" He determined to make an engagement with them, if possible, but he knew that would take some time. Busi- ness matters in India especially outside the larger cities do not move as rapidly as on Broadway, New York. He knew, also, that he would have to procure the consent of the chief, or head man of the village, if he wished to avoid much opposition and perhaps have the neighboring Eng- lish garrison about his ears. He set about "interviewing" the chief at once, which resulted in a somewhat lighter A WONDER WORKER. 47 purse and an arrangement to meet the two clever jugglers at the chief's bungalow that evening as soon as the moon had risen. When the moon was flooding the landscape with a soft, hazy light, touching with silver every palm leaf, and beautifying the daylight unsightliness of the village, the American agent went to the bungalow of the village chief. He paid little attention to the exquisite saffron hues on the western horizon, or to the black wall of night in the east, or to the moon itself, which appears so near the earth in these regions. His mind was too full of the project of securing ''attractions" for American pleasure-seekers to give much attention to the charms of nature. "Will the Sahib be pleased to enter ?" said a soft-voiced coolie, as the Westerner neared the chief's house. "I will that," he replied emphatically. "Just tell your boss that Peter Jenkinson has arrived." The servant bowed and went into the house, reappear- ing an instant later. "The Sahib will be pleased to follow. The master waits." Mr. Jenkinson was shown into a large, rather low room, decorated with Indian art muslin. On the walls were ornaments of shields, spears, and long guns. Here and there on the bare floor of polished wood were stretched handsome tiger skins. Three piles of cushions were arranged on a low platform at one end of the room. Immediately in front of the platform stood the ever ready narghiles, or pipes, with their ivory mouthpieces and long, flexible coils, resemb- ling cobras ready to spring. Za, the village chief, and the wonderful magician rose 48 A WONDER WORKER. as Mr. Jenkinson entered. In true Oriental style they made profound salaams. The room was dimly lighted by an antique lamp sus- pended by a silver chain, and fed by an aromatic oil which produced a pleasing odor similar to the perfume of frank- incense. When the three were seated on the divan, the old man sounded a small silver gong by his side. Servants ap- peared from behind the arras at certain points around the room. One brought cooled fruit, another coffee in tiny cups, a third a decanter of ice-cool water and a fourth brought cocoa-palm arrack. A fifth servant, who appeared to be a kind of steward, stationed himself in the middle of the room, watching the others arrange the refreshments on a low table not more than a foot high, which they placed immediately in front of the visitor. At a given signal from the steward a servant appeared, carrying what seemed to the American guest to be the top part of a cone of white sugar, but which he found on closer inspection to be a white, sweet paste liberally sprinkled with peeled almonds. The well-trained coolies moved noiselessly, with cat-like grace and ease. Having fulfilled their duties they stood motionless as statues around the walls, until at a given sig- nal from the steward they disappeared as suddenly and as noiselessly as they had entered. The aged servant awaited a signal from his master. A slight wave of the hand by the chief indicated that he, too, was dismissed. As soon as the refreshments had been partaken of, Mr. Peter Jenkinson broached the subject then nearest to his heart. "Would Chudwalla, the great conjurer, be willing to A WONDER WORKER. 49 come to the United States, and bring his assistant with him? What were his terms? For how long would he con- sent to remain there? What would he consider good terms ?" These and many more questions Jenkinson asked. It was soon found there was no indisposition on the part of the clever magician to come to an agreement. Chudwalla, however, insisted upon one peculiar stipulation. Every fourth week he would not perform in public. He must have one week in each month, in which to do as he wished and go where he pleased. Mr. Jenkinson knew what his "drawing" power in the States would be. He therefore saw with regret that he would not be as lucrative to the syndicate, by just one-fourth, as he had anticipated. After the arrangements had been finally settled, and the arrack and coffee partaken of, Za, .the chief, remarked: "The Sahib knows not the real reason why I have urged Chudwalla to accept his proposal." Mr. Jenkinson smiled knowingly, remarking that he had a pretty good notion. "Ah ! the Sahib mistakes. If he will but listen I will tell the real reason." "Fire away, then, Mr. Za. These soft cushions, pro- viding my cheroots do not give out, are just the things on which to listen to a good yarn," and he lay back luxu- riously and let the blue smoke curl lazily from his lips. "Shall be glad to hear the whole shooting-match !" "The Sahib speaks many words in a strange tongue." "Great spooks, no ! That's United States." "Ah ! the great people speak in strange ways. It is not like the English tongue which I have learned in my old age." 50 A WONDER WORKER. "By the woolly horse of Barnum, I guess not! Why, we beat the Britishers in tongue-wagging every time. Man alive ! we can keep our words locked up in a box and use them when we want them without the trouble of speaking." Za threw his palms outward as a sign of his utter inability to comprehend such marvels. "The Sahib is amusing himself at our expense," he said. "Don't you believe it, old gentleman ; that's no fairy story. In our country we think nothing of talking to one another five hundred miles away." "Ah! now I am sure that your worship is talking for amusement, for he means that men talk to each other by means of scrolls." "Not a bit of it. We hear each other's voices." "Wonderful!" "Well, I guess 'tis kind o' wonderful, come to think of it. The fact is we have in our country the greatest kind of wizard the world ever saw. The things he does beat Chudwalla's all hollow." "Beats mine?" said Chudwalla. "I should like to see him." "All right. As soon as we get to New York we will go over to New Jersey and leave our cards. But what's your yarn, chief? Let's hear your story." THE HINDU' 8 STORY. 51 CHAPTER VI. THE HINDU'S STORY ''You saw the ruins of a temple of Brahma on the hill behind Chudwalla's tent this afternoon," began Za, as he stroked his long silver beard reflectively. "My story has much to do with that place, which was once one of the most sacred shrines in Upper India. "I was not always as you see me now, the petty chief of this village of Chour, which, as you know, lies at the base of a spur of the Himalaya mountains, and is about forty miles from Simla. "I was once a Rajah of considerable importance, and Purkundee, Seran, Loodheana, Sirbind, and other towns in the Seik states under British protection, held me in great respect or paid tribute to me. "The reason of my prosperity was the possession of a talisman, which had been handed down from father to son in our tribe for generations. This talisman was a won- derfully yellow diamond. It was so peculiar and so brilliant that merchants who came from afar offered me large sums if I would but sell it. "It was so famous a jewel that it was known through- out Hindustan by the name of 'The Eye of Brahma.' Be- sides its special brilliancy the diamond possessed many other remarkable qualities. People who gazed at it long became transfixed to the place, and were unable to con- ceal any secret which others might demand of them. It c 62 TEE HINDU'S STORY. application was said to cure the bite of most venomous snakes. In addition to all this it brought the most unlimited good-fortune to the possessor. To it was at- tributed the power of curing any form of sickness from which any member of the family who owned it was suffer- ing. "You may be sure I guarded such a treasure with the utmost caution. One day some Brahmins of the temple of Chour came to me with a proposition. Would I allow the Eye of Brahma to be kept in the temple? It would very much increase their revenues if this were permitted. I did not wish to part with the precious talis- man, but they persuaded me that by placing it in the temple it would be considered as still in my possession and I could always have some one of my own household to safeguard it. I still held out. The priest then offered to give me one-third of all the offerings that were made by Hindu pilgrims. Under these conditions I consented. The Eye of Brahma was placed in the forehead of the statue of Brahma. "The Eye of Brahma made the temple of Chour the most famous shrine in all India. Thousands upon thou- sands of pilgrims came yearly to this temple. I grew wealthier every year." "Kind o' struck a bonanza, eh ?" remarked the American. "I do not know whit the Sahib means, but I know that everything prospered with me, so that the English at Lahore in the Punjaub to the north of us, and at Delhi to the south, looked at me askance and thought that I was becoming too powerful a native chief. "Whether the events I am about to relate were insti- gated by the English I do not know, but in the light of THE HINDU'S STORY. 53 subsequent events I have every reason for believing they were. "One year a great pilgrimage was announced to the temple of Chour for the last week in June. For days before the event hundreds of people had arrived and pitched their black, goat-hair tents through all the low- lands around the temple hill. "On the night of the pilgrimage I had taken home, as my share of the temple profits a larger bag of coins than I had ever done before. As I was going along from the hill to my house I passed a great many men who were prowling about, and who appeared to be watching me. Every tree and shrub seemed, that night, to be alive with them. They were hiding in every dark corner. I reached my house, however, unmolested, and put my money in the large chest where I kept my wealth. "There were strange and ominous signs of some coming trouble. I became anxious for the safety of my talisman, although I remembered that Chudwalla our friend here, then a member of my household was guarding it night and day in the temple. "As soon as possible I returned to the temple. I had scarcely entered the private door of the priests when I heard the alarming sounds of an attack on the big doors. Heavy beams were used to break them down. Huge rocks were hurled. At length they gave way. Hundreds of swarthy Hindus rushed into the edifice. The keepers of the temple tried hard to prevent the pillage. I was attacked and left senseless on the floor. Chudwalla was thought to be dead from the injuries he received. "When I recovered consciousness my diamond was gone. Weak and bleeding I crawled down the hill to my 54 THE HINDU'S STORY. house. It was in flames. My treasure chest had been rifled. The savings of years had been stolen. My ser- vants had fled in terror. "Weak as I was from the injuries I had received, I col- lected my tribesmen. Before daylight we set off in haste toward Patialah with the intentions of overtaking the marauders if possible, and of compelling restitution of the jeweL" "A regular Donnybrook, eh?" again interrupted Mr. Jenkinson. "I understand not the term, Sahib, but we captured the chief of the Patialah tribe and held him prisoner. Then the British authorities interfered and we w r ere all com- pelled to travel down the Dooah canal, a distance of nearly two hundred miles, to Delhi, to have the case tried accord- ing to the slow fashion of English law. The judge ordered the return of my wonderful diamond. I was overjoyed. "When the officers began to put the sentence into exe- cution, alas! my talisman was nowhere to be found. It had as completely disappeared as if it had never existed. A year later some of my tribe traced it to London, but after that we lost all trace of it completely. "And you expect Chudwalla to find that bit of char- coal for you in the United States !*' exclaimed Jenkinson, now thoroughly interested. "Don't forget that the United States is a terrible big place." "Wait, Sahib, and you shall hear my reasons for so hop- ing. I consulted a member of the Holy Brotherhood, the monk Attra, who is an adept of our esoteric Brahminism. He has prophesied that unless I send some one in search of my talisman, who has seen the Eye of Brahma, and was present when the temple was pillaged, I shall never recover THE HINDU'S 8TOR7. 55 it. or my fortunes. It has been my fate to long and wait for years, for this person. To-day I have found the favored one in the great magician, for I have discovered that he is the Chudwalla that formerly guarded my precious treasure." "Well, I do declare!" said the agent, "if you Hindus don't beat just everything. Do you mean to say. stranger, that you place reliance on such a story? Well, well! If I ever ! Dear me ! Well, well ! Strikes me, partner, that a Xew York newsboy would have a fine sight better chance to get that back for you than our friend, the conjurer, here. By the way, what makes you think the jewel is in my country?" "The American Sahib must know," replied the old chieftain, "that the great pundit, Attra, has often projected his astral form into the land of the fresh-water seas, and has more than once seen the Eye of Brahma in that land where no thirst can come." Mr. Peter Jenkinson turned and looked sharply into the face of the chief, who, he imagined, was quizzing him. Seeing only the most perfect credulity there, amusement began to take the place of suspicion, although he recog- nized there was indeed something pathetic in the old man's sorrow for his losses. "Unfortunately," continued Za, "Attra has been unable to exactly locate the diamond. When his astral form his other self reunites itself with his own body, in some strange manner, his memory loses all consciousness of the place where he has seen the Eye." "Look here, old man," said the practical Yankee, "all this is undoubtedly a 'fake/ You tell Mr. Attra so, with my compliments, when you see him again." And the buyer 66 THE HINDU'S STORY. of elephants leaned back on the soft cushions, with his hands behind his head, and the right foot resting on the left knee, the picture of luxurious rest and self-confidence. "I am sure the guest of Za does not wish to insult his host," said the chief, with a dignity which surprised and checked the agent. "Pardon me, partner ; no offense, you know." "If the Sahib is not convinced that I speak truly," con- tinued the chief, with an impressive native dignity, "I shall be pleased to show him a few wonders. I, myself, have reached to no small attainment in Brahminical mys- teries, although I cannot control the powers of nature in any such degree as the wonderful Attra." "All right, old man; go ahead. I shall be delighted to see some more monkey tricks, but I don't expect they will beat Chudwalla's anyway." Za clapped his hands. The old coolie appeared from behind the arras where he had heard all that had passed. He knew what his master wanted. He placed a brass tripod of equisite workmanship in the center of the room, about fifteen feet away from the low refreshment table at the foot of the divan. The tripod was an excellent speci- men of Indian handicraft, representing three wonderfully wrought and lifelike-looking snakes, whose heads were on the ground, and whose undulating bodies were so arranged .that the three tails supported a curiously wrought brass dish. Below the dish was a shelf on which was a lighted spirit-lamp, which had already well-heated the dish above it. At a signal from Za, the servant placed some pieces of sandalwood on the dish, and over them scattered a white powder. He then retired as noiselessly as he had entered. THE HINDU'S 8TOKY. 57 Very soon a faint, white smoke rose from the dish. It resembled the meadow reek on a warm summer night. A delicious, soft, languorous odor began to be perceived by the American searcher for curiosities. He enjoyed the delicate perfume. He imagined himself reclining on rose- colored clouds, seeing in the mist before him the most beautiful of landscapes, embroidered by the fairest of earth's flowers. To his imagination, singing-birds filled the air with melody, and he pictured to himself, in the thin vapor, that most delightful of all things in a hot country a cascade of cool, limpid water. Jenkinson propped his 'head with a pillow and looked fixedly at the tripod. Those spiral folds of the brass snakes were certainly moving and writhing! The brazier now sent up a white column of perfumed smoke, completely hiding the light of the single lamp above. It filled the distant part of the room and hid the silken arras. Za, sitting on the left of the American, began to grow rigid. Stretching out his long thin arm, with stiffened forefinger, he pointed to the white cloud. "Look !" "Who is it?" asked the agent in an awed whisper. "Attra of the Holy Brotherhood !" What did Jenkinson see, or at least, what did he ever after declare he saw? In the center of the white vapor, now massed in the far part of the room, he discovered the faint, indistinct outlines of a human figure. Gradually it grew more dis- tinct, and he saw the tall form of a Brahmin mendicant priest clad in a long, yellow robe, cinctured about the waist, from which was suspended a string of prayer stones. 58 THE HINDU'S STORY. He held in his hand an empty wooden rice bowl. His eyebrows were shaven and the finger nails were dyed black. His eyes had the deep, cavernous look of a Brahminical mystic. The figure appeared about three feet above the ground. The agent was much interested, arid, perhaps, not a little startled. He was about to ask Chudwalla whether he could not reproduce this illusion when he came to America, when Za made a peremptory gesture for silence by putting his finger to his lips. "Look again, Sahib." Once more Jenkinson turned his eyes in the direction of the white vapor. Looking intently at the still visible figure of Attra, he discovered at his side the faint out- lines of another person. In a short time the filmy figure had assumed definite shape. Jenkinson was intensely sur- prised, for in the mist he saw himself. His own face and features ; his soft felt hat, well back on his head, standing collar, cutaway coat, and even his high pants and low shoes. He saw a perfect picture of himself. The vision even went into details, and he perceived himself in his usual attitude, his hands in his pants' pockets, with the ever-ready cheroot in his mouth. The agent sat with wide-open mouth, staring intently at the vision of himself. For once in his life he had seen something which his practical, business mind could not account for which he could not price or estimate. "Well, I do declare! Well, I do declare!" -fie repeated time and again. Chudwalla and Za smiled with satisfaction. They had, at least, shown their visitor something the secret of which he did not pretend to fathom. THE HINDU'S STORY. 59 The apparition, which had lasted for the space of about ninety seconds, now began to fade. Smoke had ceased to ascend from the metal dish. In two minutes the room was clear of the heavily perfumed vapor. "The American Sahib will give us credit for being able to accomplish some wonders," said the now pleased old man. "You may stake your last dollar on that," remarked Jenkinson, as he rose to go. "Well, then, Chudwalla, 1 meet you at the P. & O. steamers' docks in Bombay on the tenth of next month." Chudwalla bowed assent. "I have one word to add to my story," said Za, as he led his guest to the veranda of his bungalow. "Should the present holder of the precious Eye of Brahma, when dis- covered, be found to be an honest man and willing to return to me what is my own and which the English' court at Delhi has declared to be my own, I will, for his honesty, give him or his son, five hundred acres of the richest land here around Chour." "I tell you what it is, my friend," replied the agent: "it is my belief that you will never have the occasion to part with your land, although it is Peter Jenkinson who wishes you luck in your search. Put it there old man." As he again shook hands with the old chieftain, he asked one more question. "Say, squire, just tell me now, won't you, how those figures appeared in or on that smoke ? I am sure it beats any other trick I have ever seen in any part of the world." The Hindu stroked his long silvery beard and smiled, but remained silent. And so Mr. Jenkinson never learned the mystery. Whether he had seen the astral form of 60 MR. H1LLSON LEAVES. which there is so much talk, or a vision, or whether his own brain had been over-excited so that he imagined he had seen things that had no reality, he is unable to determine to this day. As he walked to his lodging-place, he began to think over the events of the evening. "Five hundred acres, eh ! poor old man ! What strange fancies and delusions there are in the world ! Guess he'll keep his land for many a year to come. Great Scott, five hundred ! Why, the railroad will be running from Lahore and Simla to Delhi in a year or two right through this valley. There would be money in land then. I do declare, when I get back to the United States if I am not going to have a hunt for that stone myself. It's queer if Peter Jenkinson don't get some trace of it." CHAPTER VII. MR. HILLSON LEAVES. ONE of the pleasures of our young tnends on returning to college as members of the graduating class, was to find a cosy class-room ready for them. Mr. Hillson had thought long about doing something for the boys whom he was about to leave. He wished to make a special parting gift, by which they would remember him. He was at a loss what to do. He had thought of adding something to the gymnasium, but both it and the game- rooms were abundantly stocked with everything necessary and useful for all indoor exercise or amusement. Then he thought of purchasing some sets of favorite authors for MR. HILLSON LEAVES. 61 the boys' library, but he relinquished that idea. None that were really valuable were wanting. Finally he hit upon the plan of furnishing the class-room of the Phil- osophers in as comfortable a manner as was consistent with the good hard study which was expected from the graduating class. He procured a fine ornamental swing- lamp, some lace curtains, three or four steel engravings of pictures by great masters. The old and whittled desks were removed and each Philosopher was provided with a private desk and a very comfortable chair. The desk and platform of the professor were taken away, and a long green-covered table substituted ; at the head of which a very comfortable arm-chair was provided for the profes- sors who were to introduce these boys to the mysteries of logic, ontology, psychology, natural theology, and Cath- olic ethics. Perhaps my readers will be inclined to say that the boys deserved such a room if they had to study such hard sub- jects as those just named. Well, let them wait until they arrive at the last stage in their college career and they will find this formidable array of subjects to be not quite so formidable as they appear on paper. Our young friends did not find them so difficult after they had once become used to the terms, and had learned how to "use their tools" as it were. But of this we shall speak later. On the day following their arrival, accompanied by Mr. Shalford, the members of the Philosophy class were taken by Mr. Hillson to their class-room. As he unlocked the door and told the boys to enter, he was amply repaid for all the trouble he had taken by wit- nessing their surprise and delight. "This is glorious," said Stapleton. "Who did it all?" 62 MR. HILLSON LEAVES. "Splendid!" "Fine!" "Grand!" "Great!" was the chorus of admiration from the delighted boys. "Who did it all ?" again asked Frank Stapleton. Mr. Hillson was silent. "I'll tell you who did it," said Mr. Shalford; "there's the culprit" pointing to the retiring prefect, who, the boys afterward declared, actually blushed. "He is the kind, thoughtful man who can never do enough for you boys. I do not believe there is a Philosophy class-room in any college in the country equal to this." "I don't believe there is, sir," said Hunter. "And you must show your appreciation of Mr. Hillson's kindness, not only by taking care of these fine desks and chairs here, but also while you have things very comfort- able, not to waste your time in idleness. Believe me, boys, your semi-annual examinations come terribly soon. I know they did for me when I was a boy," he added, laugh- ingly. "You will not be much overlooked this year," he con- tinued ; "you will be left considerably alone. You will do your studying here, so you are free from all study-hall routine. I need hardly say that Mr. Hillson has procured you that privilege, and it is my opinion that he is over- kind, over-indulgent, and of course, is spoiling all of you yes, spoiling all of you." The laughing twinkle in his eyes belied his words. "No, no, no, no," came the chorus in earnest protest. They scarcely knew whether Mr. Shalford meant what he said. "Well, I have my doubts. Yes, I have my doubts, but time will tell. But, seriously, boys, your position is a responsible one in the college. You are the highest class. MR. HTLLSON LEAVES, 63 All the boys look up to you. The moral tone of St. Cuth- bert's depends largely on you ten boys. "At Mr. Hillson's earnest solicitation I put no obstacle in the way of his plans for your comfort. You have now to show your appreciation by acting honorably and in a manly way throughout the whole year. I am sure it would wound Mr. Hillson very much if he were to learn that you had lost, by any bad conduct on your part, a privilege he had great difficulty in obtaining for you, "and I must candidly confess although I do not believe those wings will sprout this year I must confess, that I do not antici- pate any trouble from you." "Don't you fear for us, Mr. Shalford," said Claude Winters. "I'll keep these fellows straight you'll see." At which remark all the rest burst out laughing. "And we, sir, will constitute ourselves a committee of the whole to look after the little man in long pants," re- marked Selby. "Oh ! I'll pay you for that when I get you alone," said Claude. "Well, good-by, boys," said Mr. Shalford. "I'll leave you for a last talk with Mr. Hillson. Oh, I forgot one thing, which I may as well state now and then everything will be understood between us. This room is open to you at all times, but it is not free to any boy, big or small, who does not belong to the Philosophy class, nor can any one come here without having first obtained my permis- sion. Please, let this be well understood. Is it all clear, boys? Everything clear?" They all answered that they understood the regulations fully. "Well, then, I leave you now. I'm very busy. I leave 64 MR. HILLSON LEAVES. Mr. Hillson to your tender mercies, ha, ha!" and he was gone. It was a pleasant time, that next half hour. It was never eradicated from the memory of several of the boys present. At first there was a little restraint on the part of the boys. All wanted to say something suitable, and no one seemed able to think of the right thing. The one thought predominated. They were about to lose their true and tried friend. Mr. Hillson, in his tactful way, came to the rescue. He became reminiscent, going over all the years he had spent at St. Cuthbert's. He remembered these strong, big, full- grown boys when they first came, little, timid fellows in the small division. He recalled this famous hand-ball game, that celebrated baseball victory, or that long day's rabbit- hunting. He remembered them on the day when this almost iden- tical group, four years ago, came over to the large yard. He recalled the various events of interest, year by year, until they were surprised by the accuracy of a memory, which could bring up details of events long since forgotten by themselves. Finally, in his chatty way, he went over the principal events of the previous year. He touched upon the mad freak of the boys at the haunted mill, and of Hun- ter's subsequent illness. He brought back to their memory how Hunter had suffered mental tortures afterward through the slanders of Finch and Buckley, of the part the now changed, but then misguided Jones had played in that miserable affair, and how everything was event- ually righted. He enquired whether those lines were ever recited for the attempted trial of the Testy Tailor for the murder of MR. HILL SON LEAVES. 65 the living witness, who testified that he was murdered. The catching of the thief and his expulsion the visit to Rosecroft manor and the baptizing of the dying man on the hillside last year, were all recalled with much more fullness of detail than recorded in a former volume, and from each event he drew some good lesson, which tended to form character, admonish, or give encouragement. But Mr. Hillson was at his best when giving these boys he loved so much some good advice for the future advice which, if followed, would enable them to avoid the snares and pitfalls of a great college, where all sorts of charac- ters and dispositions must necessarily meet and have their influence for good or ill on one another. It would be impossible to reproduce his words. Pen and ink will not convey the glance of the eye, or record the earnest, loving tones of the spoken words. Cold type would be but a poor medium by which to convey to the reader a notion of the respect and love in which these boys held their former teacher and prefect. He spoke earnestly and in a heartful way to hearts that were full also; full of deep feeling and of good resolve and noble purpose. All he said fell apparently on good soil, which he himself had taken years to prepare. After having spoken seriously for some time, he as- sumed a lighter vein. He did not want the strain to be too great. "And now, boys, I want to say a word about your study of philosophy. Work hard. Be united, and when the time comes for having circles (not wheels. Claude,) try earnestly to put each other in the sack !" All this was, as yet, worse than Greek to the boys. He continued : 66 MR. HILL SON LEAVES. "Master well your terms. They are your instruments of mental warfare. Always argue in syllogistic form. How is this for a syllogism, Claude? 'Either it rains, or it does not rain. But it does not rain ; therefore, it rains' ?" and Mr. Hillson laughed aloud at the boy's perplexity. As yet it was too much for him. None of them, at that stage, could detect the evident sophism. "Never mind, Claude. Wonderful wisdom will come to you by and by. Don't be in a hurry. And now, boys, as I have only half an hour left before the train starts, and as I have to say good-by to several members of the faculty, I must leave you with one word : Consider well, this year, what your calling in life is to be. Choose well, but pray much before you choose. Some people say Catholic col- leges are instituted for the purpose of securing young men for the priesthood. This is not true. A Catholic college will foster a vocation if a boy has one, but it cannot give it. A vocation to the sacred ministry is a gift of God. If any of you feel that you have a vocation to the sacred ministry, in the name of God, do not neglect it, but guard it as you would the most precious jewel you could possess. Among the thousands of priests who are engaged in paro- chial work there is scarcely one who does not do two men's work, and often more. It is as true to-day as ever that the harvest is great, but the laborers are few. And, boys, do not sneer and think the less of those rural priests be- cause their worn coat may be shiny at the collar, or the knees of their pants are over-smooth. They are the heroes and noblemen of the Church in this country, who, being refined, educated, polished, give up every convenience of life for souls. Oh, I could " But he stopped short and hastily looked at his watch. MR. HILLSON LEAVES. 67 "Really, my dear boys, I could say a great deal about these grand characters, but I have not time. Now, may God bless you. May Almighty God bless you. I, I will pray for you always. Good-by, good-by !" The young fellows crowded around him with choking hearts. Long were the hand-clasps, mostly in silence. Full hearts would not trust trembling lips to speak. "Good-by, good-by, sir," was about all any one trusted himself to utter. The pity of it, that when our hearts are fullest our words are weakest. Brief indeed were the words they used, but they were eloquent of mutual love and esteem, mutual well-wishings, and mutual regrets at parting. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, but there are times, also, when the heart is so abundantly filled with solemn emotion that words are useless and almost a sacrilege. More than one big tear rolled down from Mr. Hillson's eyes. At last the hand-shaking was done. Once more the loved prefect said, "Good-by, boys," but no one would trust himself to speak. So in silence Mr. Hillson left the room. Big Frank Stapleton went to the window, and by some unaccountably sudden cold in the head, was busy blowing his nose. Several of the others tried hard to look uncon- cernedly out of the windows and failed miserably, while others sat in more or less disconsolate attitudes at their desks or on the table. "Say, boys, there's the carriage ! The idea of us staying here, and hot seeing him off !" "Why, of course ! What are we thinking about ?" said Stapleton. The tension of the emotion was thus broken. The boys, a moment before so affected by the parting from 68 A MOTHER'S MEMORY. their friend, were now all animation. Rushing downstairs to the yard, they soon collected all the boys at the front entrance to the college. After a few minutes the front door was opened and the venerable President appeared, warmly shaking Mr. Hillson's hand. They both stepped outside and then the late prefect saw the whole college gathered in front of the steps. For a moment he appeared about to withdraw from the impending ovation. The President saw the motion and laughingly pushed him forward. This action the boys took as a sanction for all they should do. Cheer upon cheer rent the air. Hats and caps were tossed and the enthusiasm seemed to know no bounds. Mr. Hillson was reaping the rewards of faith- ful service, and of thousands of kindly actions. The older boys noticed with satisfaction that none cheered more loudly nor longer nor lustier than their new prefect, Mr. Shalford. CHAPTER VIII. A MOTHER'S MEMORY. "LooK at George McLeod, fellows ; doesn't he seem to be badly in the dumps ?" said Rob Jones to a group of boys near the grand stand on the baseball field. "He certainly does look as if something were the mat- ter with him," remarked Ambrose Bracebridge. "Haven't you heard about the fuss he got into on 'first day' ?" asked Fred Nash, who was near by, waiting to take his turn at the bat in a scratch game of ball. A MOTHER'S MEMORY. 69 "No; what's the matter?" asked several. "I can't tell you now there! that fellow is out. I'll tell you what I know when I fan out," and the speaker went toward the home-plate. The little group, including Howard Hunter and Claude Winters, watched McLeod as he slowly walked alone along the mile track which skirted the diamond. The boy looked sad and disheartened. His cap was down over his eyes, his hands in his pockets. He appeared to be in some great trouble. "It's a pity to see that jolly fellow in trouble," said Rob Jones. "I wonder what it can be. He is, if I mistake not, a sodalist, and even a minor officer, censor or something of that sort. I wonder what is the matter with him." "I'm surprised you fellows haven't heard about the scrape he got into," said Nash, who had promptly fanned out according to his own predictions, "but as you live so much in your furnished apartments you Philosophers of course you don't hear half that is going on in the yards." "Humph ! I'd like to know who stays more in 'Hillson's parlor' than you do, Nash," said Winters. "But anyway, tell us all about McLeod, there's a good fellow." "It is pretty serious, I believe," said Nash. "He came here this year a day ahead of time." "That wouldn't make him so blue " interrupted Winters. "Just wait, can't you, for what I have to say. He came ahead of time, as I say, and was allowed to go where he liked until the crowd came. Well, in the morning of your arrival he went into town and came back acting very strangely. Father Lovelace saw him and demanded an explanation, which he refused to give there was some trouble. That's all I know." 70 A MOTHER'S MEMORY. "Pshaw ! You are a great story-teller ! That doesn't explain much," said Winters. "Well, if you want further information, you had better go and ask Mr. Silverton, the division prefect. I've told you all I know." Winters did not seek the division prefect, nevertheless Mr. Silverton was puzzled. Rarely had he met a boy that he could not manage. There was a harshness and an un- manageableness about McLeod he could not understand. The lad's character was an enigma to him, and it was not for two or three weeks after the above conversation had oc- curred that he discovered the key. George was a bright, intelligent, and generally well-behaved boy. He was always well and neatly dressed. He had a fine clear skin and well-cut features. Owing to somewhat weak sight, he wore eye-glasses. He was thirteen years old and he had been at St. Cuthbert's one year. Notwithstanding his really prepossessing appearance there was evidence of a hardness, amounting almost to cynicism in the boy's character, which caused no little anxiety at home and at college. His father was wealthy, to a large extent over-indul- gent, and had allowed George to have his own way. He had permitted him to attend a public school in a fashion- able locality for two years. Perceiving, at length, that his character was not being developed in the right direction, Mr. McLeod had sent him to St. Cuthbert's, where, although a big boy for his age, he was placed under the care of Mr. Silverton in the junior division. Upon his arrival the newcomer was placed in the Third Academic class, where he was to begin the study of Latin. It was soon evident that the new scholar was hard to man- A MOTHER'S MEMORY. 71 age. After the novelty of being at a new school and among a set of boys who were strangers to him had worn off, George McLeod began to give trouble. Very often the teacher sent him from the class-room to the prefect of studies for punishment for some grave misdemeanor. Time and time again it was found that the youngster, in- stead of going to the office of that dread functionary, had quietly slipped out of the yard and spent the hour on his back watching the clouds, under the trees in the blue grass. Mr. Silverton was not a believer in the doctrine of total depravity. He had the happy faculty of finding out and cultivating the best side of a boy's character. He studied each boy. Precisely because of the dangerous tendencies already more or less developed in this case, he made an especial study of George McLeod. "I do not like the boy's hardness of face, nor that frequent cynical shrug of the shoulder, especially in one so young," the prefect said to his assistant ; "but there is one hope left. The boy, this year, has joined the First Communion class. It is quite late for him, but you know he has been to a public school for some time. I suppose his father was careless about the matter. I hope his First Communion will solve the difficulty." "I am told, George, that you have joined the First Com- munion class," he said, as the boy came up. "Yes, sir." "That's good. Now we may hope for an improvement, eh?" The boy was silent. He would make no promise. Sev- eral weeks passed from the time of Nash's remarks on the ball-field and there appeared little difference in George's 72 A MOTHER'S MEMORY. conduct. As the time for the great event approached, Mr. Silverton spoke earnestly to the boy. He ended by saying : "Now listen, George. You must know that it is simply impossible for you to go on in this way and to think you will be allowed to make your First Communion." The warning had a good effect. For several days his professor and Mr. Silverton saw, or at least they thought they saw, an improvement. Giving the boy every benefit of every doubt, as well as relying on the effects which the First Communion would produce, the President decided to allow McLeod to make it with the rest of the class. A holiday was granted to the First Communion class on the Monday following, the boys being permitted to attend an early Mass, in order to spend a long day in the woods. On the Tuesday morning, the day after the holiday, during the students' Mass, Mr. Silverton was very much surprised to see George McLeod and his friend Bruce Goodwin engage in an animated whispered conversation during the whole time of Mass, interspersed not infre- quently with snickering and suppressed giggling. Not wishing to publicly humiliate a boy so soon after his First Communion by making him stand out in the aisle for the rest of the Mass, the prefect caught George's eye, and by a glance conveyed the unspoken reproof. The effect was instantaneous, but transitory. The whispering was resumed almost immediately. "Wait for me outside," said Mr. Silverton, as the two delinquents were leaving the chapel. The boys remained in the yard. Bruce Goodwin touched his hat and looked ashamed and sheepish as the prefect came up to him. A MOTHER'S MEMORY. 73 George McLeod stood with his hands behind his back, with that detestable half-leer on his face, so incongruous in one so young. "I am very sorry, George, to see such conduct at Mass, so soon after the great event of last Sunday, too. What does it all mean ?" "What's the matter, sir?" "Matter ! You know well enough to what I refer your conduct at Mass this morning. Is this the way a First Communicant should act?" "You didn't say anything "No, because I did not want to disgrace you. I wanted to save you the shame of being publicly punished in chapel so soon after the great event of your life. As it is, those who saw you are much shocked." The curl on the boy's lips became harder. There was a nasty gray look in his eyes. Mr. Silverton sighed as he saw his words had little effect. "Last Sunday," he continued, "should have been, and was, a turning-point in your life. Before that time you were considered to be more or less only a little animal, moved by instinct rather than reason. When one has made his First Communion he must begin to think to allow his reason to control his actions. He is no longer irresponsible. If you were ignorant this morning at Mass there might have been some excuse, but you are suffi- ciently instructed to know that during the Holy Sacrifice, Jesus Christ is present on the altar. You know this, do you not?" "Yes, sir." "Well, then, you deserve punishment for your irrever- ence ; so, after breakfast, both of you will bring your Latin 74 A MOTHER'S MEMOR7. grammars. George, you will stand at that post there, and, Bruce, you take the second one." The prefect told them to learn a table of declensions and decline a number of adjectives, having found out they were behind their class in the perfect knowledge of these. During the day Mr. Silverton noticed that McLeod had not attempted to learn his penance, but for the most part of the time had stood literally "at his post" with his book defiantly closed and under his arm. Bruce Goodwin had made, at least, an attempt to learn something. After class, in the morning, George followed his usual tactics. Of course, he spent the usual half-holiday of Tuesday in the yard. Wednesday passed in the same manner. Thursday half-holiday approached, yet the boy had made no prog- ress. The prefect began to fear it was a case of obstinate refusal, which would probably cut short his college career. Having determined to take plenty of time before acting, he waited until Friday. During the recess on that day, which was a wet day, George was stationed in the corridor, having for company his unwelcome Latin grammar. Much to his regret, the prefect noticed all the time on the face of McLeod that cold, hard, obstinate sneer, which gave such little hope of a change of sentiment. In the evening before study time, Mr. Silverton spoke to the boy. "Well, George, do you know any of your penance ?" "No." "What's that?" "No sir." "Do you mean to learn it ?" George merely raised his chin and shrugged his shoul- ders. A MOTHER'S MEMORY. 75 "What does that mean? You do not think I am trying to be revenged on you ?" "No, sir," came the answer, quickly. "You know what your penance was given for?" "For cutting up during Mass." "Cutting up, as you call it yes, that was it. Do you not think the penance was well deserved?" "I don't know that I did much " and the young and withal handsome face, looked more defiant than ever. "Oh, George, George ! this from a well-instructed boy who has just made his First Communion! You don't know that you did much ! And yet you behaved in that manner before the Blessed Sacrament !" He paused. McLeod merely gave another shrug of his shoulders. "But think, my lad, think of the kind of conduct you are guilty of. And then, what would you think of your- self if your mother were to see all this?" Suddenly there came a change which fairly electrified the prefect a scene such as but few men engaged in edu- cational pursuits see once in their lives. Without a moment's warning the little fellow burst into a loud passion of sobs and tears. Tears flowed in streams down his cheeks. He hid his face in his hands, giving way to a perfect abandon of grief. "Oh, oh, for her sake, don't mention her ! Perhaps you don't know, but she is dead dead and I can't bear any one to mention her name don't don't don't !" Mr. Silverton was unwontedly affected. Had the cir- cumstances been different he probably would have mingled his tears of sympathy with those of the weeping boy, for the more or less uncongenial work of the disciplinarian 76 A MOTHER'S MEMORY. had not dried up within him the well-spring of a warm heart. He saw, with joy, that he had struck the right note by which he could reach the boy and touch his better nature. He saw, also, that now he had an instrument in his hands with which he could break through the crust of coldness and apparent cynicism, which, after all, could be only very superficial in one so young. "Oh, don't mention her, sir ; I can't stand it !" continued McLeod, between his now really pitiful sobs. "Come, come, my boy; this is only sentiment after all. I am aware that your mother is dead, and, as we both be- lieve, now in heaven. Why should that prevent us speak- ing of her?" "No, no, no, no, don't ! I can't bear it !" "But still I insist. Your grief shows how much you love her. Well, then, show your love for her by doing what is right and what you know would please her were she here show her that you love her still by doing your duty now." There was a suddeji pause in the sobbing while the boy looked straight into the prefect's face. "I never looked at it in that way !" "That's the best way to look at it, my child. Love con- sists more in actions than in words." Eagerly the boy snatched the book from the window- sill, and, even while drying his eyes with his coat-sleeve, began in earnest to learn the lesson. Mr. Silverton stood watching the now transformed boy, who sobbed at intervals the last soughs of the storm that was passed from the excess of his recent strong emotion. And that face ! All the hard lines were gone out of it. A MOTHER'S MEMORY. 77 Once more it looked natural in its young, innocent beauty. The enthusiastic trainer of youth thanked the Sacred Heart for the victory, for he knew the hard lines in the face, the sneer, the incipient "toughness" of character had gone forever melted out of the little fellow's nature by the alchemy of love's tears. Mr. Silverton was on the point of forgiving the boy his penance, but his experience told him that would be folly. With a few kind words he left George McLeod in the corridor, now hard and earnestly studying his task. Com- ing back within an hour the prefect asked : "Well, George, do you know any of the lesson yet?" Without answering, the boy simply offered him the book, beginning at once to repeat. Three or four nouns were well learned. It was evident there had been an honest effort to do something. "Very good ; that's a good start. At this rate you will soon be able to decline the last adjective on your list. To-night you must try to learn as much of your penance as you can. We will get it off our hands as soon as may be." On Saturday morning the back of the penance was broken. What was better, George McLeod was himself again. All his naturally open, ingenuous nature was bud- ding out afresh. Poor boy ! Deprived of a mother's gentle care when he needed it most, for three years he had kept her sacred memory green in his heart. This, in spite of untoward circumstances, had safeguarded him. Although he had acquired a certain exterior un-Catholic demeanor, yet the memory of her love and her training had had their effect. Beneath all it had kept the young heart fresh. What 78 A MOTHER'S MEMORY. may not a mother's love accomplish? How foolish the boy who neglects it ! After class on Saturday afternoon, the boy came to the prefect. He respectfully touched his cap, saying: "Mr. Silverton, I have a great favor to ask." "Well, George, what can I do for you ?" "The President, who had our First Communion class, told us that we should go to Holy Communion on the Sunday after our First Communion, for our parents. He asked us to remember him, as well." "Yes?" "Now, sir, if I go to Holy Communion to-morrow, I shall have to go to confession now. Would you, therefore, excuse me my penance for to-night ? I think I shall finish it by Monday." "Certainly, I'll do that. So you are going to Holy Communion again to-morrow ? Then let me recommend to you a very special intention. Fervently ask our divine Lord, when you receive Him, to give you the grace to behave always with proper reverence at Mass and Bene- diction, and, in fact, every time you enter a church where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved. Ask it not only for the present, but that it may remain with you for your whole life. Did you ever observe, George, how very few men are really reverential toward the Blessed Sacrament and yet their case is not like yours, arising from boy- ish thoughtlessness, but from a kind of criminal negli- gence. And, of course, I would not object if you were to remember me also in your Holy Communion to-morrow." "Why, sure, sir; I'll remember you and pray ever so hard for you, too." The penance was finished on the Monday. The boy was A. MOTHER'S MEMORY. 79 a changed boy. There now existed a perfect understanding between him and Mr. Silverton. Many and beautiful were the talks these two afterward had about the dear de- parted mother. Many were the lasting lessons young George McLeod learned from the enthusiastic prefect, who in turn learned not a few things while studying the child. "How came you to mention her, sir?" asked McLeod about a month after Nash had seen him so despondent on the ball-field. "I really do not know, my boy," was the answer. "Her" always meant George's mother to these two. "No one, not even my father, ever speaks of her to me, but I have thought of her night and day. You were the only one who ever mentioned her. When you did, I felt you had conquered me, and that night when I went to bed I loved you and felt that I would do anything for you. How was it you came to mention her, sir ?" "As I say, I really do not know. I had thought of nearly everything likely to touch you and get you out of that ugly humor. It must have been the grace which you had merited by your First Communion that caused me to say the right thing just at the right time." "I'll tell you what I think it was," said the boy with that candor and confidence which are found nowhere in such perfection between pupils and teachers as in Catholic col- leges. "I don't believe it was I, nor do I believe it was you, but I believe it was mamma praying for me in heaven. I have never forgotten her and I am sure she has never forgotten me." "Doubtless you are quite correct." 80 HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. CHAPTER IX. HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. ABOUT two weeks after the term had started, and when everything was quietly dropping into the regular routine of study, of class, and of play; when the professors had become fairly acquainted with the newcomers in each class, and when the prefect had almost sufficient time to learn the tendencies and idiosyncrasies of the boys when in the yards, or field, or on the track there came to the col- lege a new boy. Now, there is nothing remarkable nor, perhaps, worth recording in the fact that a boy came two weeks late, especially as it was the custom at St. Cuthbert's to receive boys at any time during the first term. But this particular boy had some peculiar characteristics which for some time after his advent, made him a somewhat conspicuous per- sonage. He came on the last day of September, and was immediately ushered into the President's office. That functionary gave him a grave but kindly welcome to St. Cuthbert's. The boy was evidently displeased with his new surroundings. "What is your name?" asked the Father. "Dear me, don't you know my name, Father? Why, Father Holloway, in our village, wrote to you to say I was coming." "Indeed !" said the Rector, amused ; "and how am I to know whether you are the boy of whom he wrote unless you tell me who you are ?" HOW GR&Y TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. 81 "My name is Gray John Philip Watkins Gray. The VVatkins are great people where I come from own most of the land thereabouts, and father's a justice of the peace, too." "Indeed !" said the priest, still very much amused, but not at all impressed by the personage before him, nor by his gratuitous information, "and may I ask how far John Philip Watson Gray is advanced in his studies ?" "Watkins, Father, not Watson, if you please. Every- body knows the Watkinses and the Grays where I come from." "Very likely, my boy, most likely. But what do you know ? How far advanced are you in studies ?" "Head of the school, Father, there. First in sums, and in g'ography, and there ain't a boy in the place that can down me at a spellin' bee." "Humph! I notice you haven't given much attention to grammar." "Oh, lots. I know all the parts of speech and can parse every word in the Fifth Reader. I'm wide-awake, I am, Father, and there are very few who can get ahead of me, sure's you're livin'." The President gave the boy a searching glance. He took Father Holloway's letter from a pigeon-hole in his desk, and deliberately read it, making some audible com- ments as he did so. "Yes, doubtless, a good boy a little heady not a doubt about that will buy his experience certainly, and perhaps dearly untutored, crude, inexperienced quite right, quite right." Then he read in silence for some time, paying not the slightest attention to the boy. It was Gray's first lesson. 82 HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. He stood there awkward and blushing, feeling exceedingly small. Perhaps for the first time since he had entered his teens he did not know what to do with his hands. Made much of at home, the best, or at least the biggest boy in the village school, he had imagined he was the cen- tral sun of his own little universe. At home, he was so. Now, for the first time, he was away from home, and in the presence of the head of the college, he did not feel half so important a person as he did when he left his father's house, his sisters waving their sun-bonnets, and his father's hired hands their caps as he rode off in triumph. His brief hour of triumph and importance was over. He would not care for his sisters to see him just now standing first on one leg and then on another, twirling his hat in as approved a fashion as the smallest boy in the small boy's yard could have done. The kindly old President regarded him with an amused twinkle in his eye. How many of just such boys had he seen in his long career! He could have told that boy what his experience would be at St. Cuthbert's for the next six months with unerring accuracy. He merely said: "Father Holloway's letter about you is, in the main, quite satisfactory." Gray's self-esteem began to return. The only man whom he really feared although he respected him, too was his parish priest. He began to hold up his head again. "Can I go, then, Father?" "Yes, I hope you will be happy here. Study hard. Remember, your father goes to a considerable expense to send you here." "Oh, my father's well off. He has seven hundred acres of land, and the Watkinses " HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. 83 "That's not the question, boy," said the President, sternly. "Your father has not money to throw away on a worthless son who idles away his time." Changing his tone he added : "But it is not fair to suppose you will do this. Be a good boy and you will get along. Come and see me when- ever you like." The boy turned to go. "Wait one minute, Gray. This is the first time you have ever been among a large crowd of boys. You will prob- ably find some who are fond of practical jokes. Beware of them. Be on your guard. Sometimes these jokes lead to unpleasant consequences." "Don't fear for me, Father," answered the boy. "I would like to see any fellow who could catch me. I'm wide-awake, I am. I know a thing or two." The President merely smiled. With a wave of the hand he dismissed him. The first person Gray met in the yard was Mr. Shalford. "New boy, eh ? Glad to see you. Hope you'll soon feel at home. What class? Third Commercial, eh? Very good. If you want to get along you have to work hard and keep the rules. If you don't do the first why, home you go, and if you don't do the second well, there's trouble, see?" "I guess I know all about that, sir." "Glad you do ; glad you do." "The head of this institution told me just about the same thing. Guess you people are mighty strong on these points." "Pretty strong, I assure you." By this time Mr. Shalford had seen through the boy 84 HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. fairly well. He, too, most probably saw what was in store for him. "By the way, what's your name?" "John Philip Watkins Gray." "Phew! Say, you had better drop half that here. I advise you to do so. It's too big to carry around here. Better call yourself Gray, or John Gray. You must excuse me. I could never think of all those names. Life's too short." "But the Watkinses are big people at home. They own nearly all the land in " "Of course, of course. But, my dear boy, don't you see, the boys here won't care one red herring about that, and they'll make no end of jokes on you, see? Look here, Gray, better look out for tricks. Some of the boys might consider you a good subject for experimentation." "That's just what the boss said." "Who?" "I mean the head man here. What do you call him the President. That's just what he said, but I guess I can take care of myself well enough." "Glad to hear you say so, but if anything happens, please do not say I did not warn you. Hello ! here come the boys from the class-rooms. Clavering, show this boy around and introduce him to some of the Commercial boys ?" It took, as the boys say, "no time at all" for them to discover all the good as well as the bad traits of Gray. Boys are quick to learn one's foibles. The very first even- ing in the study-hall, an opportunity occurred by which those near him could test Gray's capacity of taking care of himself. It happened that the electric bulb just over Gray's desk was dark. HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. 85 "Let's see what he will do," whispered a boy to his neighbor. Then turning to Gray he said : "Say, sonny, here's a match; just light up that bulb, will you ?" - The boy who "could take care of himself" struck the match on the sole of his shoe and held it up to the bulb while he peered and peered for a hole into which to insert the burning piece of wood. He knew nothing of using the key to turn on the current. He stood there puzzled until the match burned his fingers. There was a general titter through the study-hall. The professor who was keeping studies walked up to the boy and whispered: "Sit down ; go on with your work," and then turned on the current. Secretly, during that hour of study, a note travelled to almost every desk bearing the following legend : "Question. What color is Gray? Answer. Green." Innumerable were the tricks and jokes played on him during the recesses between the evening study-hours. One night during this time it had been arranged that Dick Clavering, Roy Henning and Shiller were to induce Gray to go to the game-room. With pretended secrecy they were to engage in a game of cards. As soon as they saw their plan would work, Fred Nash ran up to the sacristy and secured a server's cassock and a black beretta. The others in the plan were to be sure to have the light in the game-room turned only moderately high. They were to pretend there was great extremely great danger of being caught. They were to impress upon Gray the necessity of caution, and to tell him that Mr. Shalford was simply "death" on card-playing, especially in the 86 nOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. game-room, and more especially during recess at night, and then to dare Gray to run all risks. "He bites; in fact, he has swallowed the bait whole," whispered Shiller to Nash. Nash gave himself plenty of time to put on the soutane in the dark passage outside the game-room. It was arranged that Gray was to be seated with his back to the door. A loud cough from one of the players was to be the signal for Nash to make his quasi- prefectorial raid. Nash was not well known to Gray. "Who said Gray was afraid?" said Clavering. as he shuffled the cards. "You may just bet I'm afraid of nothing in this place," boasted John Philip Watkins Gray. "Old Shalford cairt catch me in a hurry." "Not even on electric lights," remarked Shiller, mis- chievously. "Oh, give us a rest on that. How is a fellow to know everything ?" "Of course he isn't, and doesn't," answered Clavering, but Gray did not perceive the thrust. "But, my gracious, if Shalford should catch us! Phew! No more conduct cards for the rest of the year. No more baseball nor football for any of us. Not allowed to go to any of the Christmas plays. In jug for three months, and perhaps expulsion would be the least he would give us." Gray, not perceiving the exaggeration, began to realize in some degree what he considered the danger of his posi- tion. The consequence was that there was a little paleness around his lips and his hand was not perfectly steady as he held his cards. Secretly he wished himself out of it. What would Father Holloway say if he were sent home! BOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. 87 "Then, card-playing here," continued Clavering, relent- lessly, "may be punished by corporal punishment in fact a sound thrashing from Father Lovelace or his deputy." Beads of perspiration stood out on Gray's forehead. He felt uncomfortably warm under the collar. His hand be- came more unsteady. Just then Clavering coughed loudly two or three times. "Cave! You'll give us away with your cough," said Shiller. "Look out ! Here's some one coming," as he heard the door knob squeak. Suddenly the bogus prefect opened the door and stood behind Gray's chair. "What is this?" said Nash, in a well-disguised voice. "Cards! Why will you boys get into trouble? What do you mean by this conduct, Gray?" "I I didn't mean I" "Nonsense. You did mean, or you wouldn't be here. Mr. Shalford or the President may send you boys home for this. I'll do what I can to prevent that. You three boys bring your Latin text-book to me to-morrow morn- ing before breakfast. You, Gray, will write out 'I will not play cards any more,' five hundred times and give the lines to me before nine o'clock." The imitation prefect then left the room in a hurry, shouting in the passage to some imaginary boys : "Make less noise there, you boys ; make less noise." "I guess we are in for it now," said Clavering, with a very long face, which he assumed to perfection. "Will he send us home ?" asked the frightened Gray. "It is most probable he will not, at least, if your lines are done by half past eight," answered Shiller. "I should recommend you to get at them at once. Don't let the study-keeper catch you writing them next hour, for if 83 HOW ORA? TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. he does he will double them, and then you couldn't save us." During last recess that night, and even before Mass the next morning, and then after breakfast, steadily until about twenty minutes to nine did Gray work at those lines. "They are done in time, anyway," he said, at length. Carrying seven or eight large sheets of paper closely written on both sides he went to find Mr. Shalford. "They are done in time, sir," said the unconscious dupe who could take care of himself. It was a curious coin- cidence that Henning, Shiller, and Clavering should just at that moment be on the spot. "Dear me ! What's this, what's this ?" "The penance, sir ; and I hope you won't send us home this time." "Send you home ! Why " but his eye caught the first line, "I won't play cards any more," and he checked him- self. "Umph ! Who gave you this penance ?" "The tall prefect. I don't know his name, sir. He caught us last night." "The tall prefect? Was it the second prefect in this yard ? See, he stands over there, look." "No, sir ; not he." "Was it Mr. Silverton?" "No, sir." "Nor the other prefect of the junior division?" "No, sir; I know him, too. It was one I don't know. What is his name, Clavering?" Clavering was conveniently deaf just at that moment "And I hope, sir, we shall not be thrashed." This was too much for the three conspirators. They HOW GRAY TOOK CARE OF HIMSELF. 89 burst into loud laughter and scattered across the yard, as they held their sides. Then Mr. Shalford understood. ''Gray." "Yes, sir." "Didn't you assure me that you could take care of yourself?" "Yes, sir." "Do you think you can ?" "Yes, sir," came the response promptly. "Then let me tell you you can do no such thing. See that group of boys over there all laughing ? You may rest assured that you will find the supposed prefect among them. They have fooled you most egregiously." "You don't say," said the astonished Gray. "But he who caught me wore a cassock like yours." "You dear simpleton ! Do not the boys who serve Mass wear cassocks, and are there not dozens of them in the sacristy ? Go and tell those boys I want them." The four boys came,, not knowing exactly what to expect. "That was good, more or less, but listen. Don't do it again." The boys understood thoroughly. "I guess the joke was on me, boys. Come, let's go to the store and get some candies." The boys liked the way their dupe took the fooling, but John Philip Watkins Gray was not yet completely cured. Some boys require more experience than others. Gray required a great deal. 90 CLAUDE'S LETTER. CHAPTER X. CLAUDE'S LETTER. THE letter which Claude Winters wrote to his father describing the sudden disappearance of his brother on the day of his arrival at St. Cuthbert's and the mysterious way he was discovered in the Bishop's room, remained unan- swered for more than two weeks. He, as well as Ernest, had received letters from their mother and from their sister Laura in the meantime, but no mention was made of Claude's first letter, nor had Mr. Winters written a line. Thinking it somewhat strange that he should receive no word from his father, ten days after the first letter Claude sent off another, again stating all the circumstances of the disappearance and return of his brother. After dinner, on the day following the successful ruse played on Gray, the boys were, as usual, clustered around the prefect at mail-time. They stood in a solid mass, resembling a swarm of bees resting after a long flight. The distribution of the mail at college is an anxious five minutes to every boy. Eager eyes watch the big handful as it grows smaller and smaller. The lucky recipients of letters saunter off with a contented smile. The less fortu- nate ones more slowly disperse. Claude was lucky to-day. At a glance he recognized the handwriting to be that of his father. It did not take Claude long to cross the yard. Up three steps at a time CLAUDE'S LETTER. 91 he rushed like a tornado into the Philosophy class-room, and to his own desk. "Not at home for half an hour, gentlemen." The others understood. The expression was a conven- tion used when any one of the class wished particularly to be let alone. Winters tore open the letter in his usual impetuous manner, hurriedly gave a glance at the con- tents and then read more slowly. There was news from all. Mamma was poorly. Laura was not very bright. The writer believed she was pining for her little brother Ernest, but she would soon get over being without him. The parrot talked as well as ever. The cat was getting fatter and lazier than ever, etc., etc., etc., All these and many more similar items Claude read hurriedly. Ah! here, at last, was the matter of real interest to him. "The disappearance of Ernie, which you speak of in your letter, puzzles me very much. Except for one or two reasons, which I cannot mention at present, I should be inclined to laugh at the occurrence, and say that your brother had wandered up to town alone and then back again, and entering the first room he came to, had fallen asleep at once and dreamed all you tell me in your letter. You know Ernie must have been very tirec.1 with his long journey. "However, for reasons at which T have hinted, I attach much more importance to this event than I tan at present explain to you. When your mother read your letter at breakfast that morning, she was much disturbed. Upon inquiring why she should be so strangely affected, she replied that as near as she could tell it was just at the 92 CLAUDE'S LETTER. ,