STOVER AT YALE 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 BY 
 OWEN JOHNSON 
 
 Author of " The* Varmint," " The Tennessee Shad," etc. 
 
 WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS IN BLACK-AND-WHITE BY 
 
 FREDERICK R. GRUGER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
- 7.2. 
 
 Copyright, /p/7, by 
 
 THE S. S. MCCLURE Co. 
 
 Copyright, IQII, igia, by 
 
 THE MCCLURE PUBLICATIONS, INC. 
 
 Copyright, igia, by 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign 
 languages^ including the Scandinavian 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 r..** 
 
 April, igia 
 
Si 
 
 M/VIVJ 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Together they went choking through the crowd " . 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 :t Hello, said Rogers quiet voice. Well, what do 
 
 you want ? 20 
 
 " I come not to stultify myself in the fumes of li 
 quor, but to do you good " 90 
 
 "The period of duns set in, and the house became a 
 
 place of mystery and signals" 202 
 
 "Oh, father and mother pay all the bills, and we have 
 
 all the fun" 230 
 
 Life s real to those fellows; they re fighting for 
 
 something " 254 
 
 "Regan was his one friend" 286 
 
 " Curse the man who invented fish-house punch " . 292 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 DINK STOVER, freshman, chose his seat in the 
 afternoon express that would soon be rushing him 
 to New Haven and his first glimpse of Yale University. 
 He leisurely divested himself of his trim overcoat, folding 
 it in exact creases and laying it gingerly across the back 
 of his seat; stowed his traveling-bag; smoothed his hair 
 with a masked movement of his gloved hand; pulled 
 down a buckskin vest, opening the lower button; re 
 moved his gloves and folded them in his breast pocket, 
 while with the same gesture a careful forefinger, unper- 
 ceived, assured itself that his lilac silk necktie was in 
 snug contact with the high collar whose points, painfully 
 but in perfect style, attacked his chin. Then, settling, 
 not flopping, down, he completed his preparations for the 
 journey by raising the sharp crease of the trousers one 
 inch over each knee a legendary precaution which in 
 youth is believed to prevent vulgar bagging. Each move 
 ment was executed without haste or embarrassment, but 
 leisurely, with the deliberate savoir-faire of the complete 
 man of the world he had become at the terrific age of 
 eighteen. 
 
 In front of him spasmodic freshmen arrived, strug 
 gling from their overcoats in embarrassed plunges that 
 threatened to leave them publicly in their shirt sleeves. 
 
 1 
 
;$;;:: ; /STOVER AT YALE 
 
 That they imputed to him the superior dignity of an upper 
 classman was pleasurably evident to Stover from their 
 covert respectful glances. He himself felt conscious of 
 a dividing-line. He, too, was a freshman, and yet not 
 of them. 
 
 He had just ended three years at Lawrenceville, where 
 from a ridiculous beginning he had fought his way to 
 the captaincy of the football eleven and the vice-presi 
 dency of the school. He had been the big man in a big 
 school, and the sovereign responsibilities of that anointed 
 position had been, of course, such that he no longer felt 
 himself a free agent. He had been of the chosen, and 
 not all at once could he divest himself of the idea that 
 his slightest action had a certain public importance. 
 His walk had been studiously imitated by twenty shuf 
 fling striplings. His hair, parted on the side, had caused 
 a revolution among the brushes and stirred up innumer 
 able indignant cowlicks. His tricks of speech, his favor 
 ite exclamations, had become at once lip-currency. At 
 that time golf and golf-trousers were things of unthink 
 able daring. He had given his approval, appeared in the 
 baggy breeches, and at once the ban on bloomers had 
 been lifted and the Circle had swarmed with the gro- 
 tesqueries of variegated legs for the first time boldly 
 revealed. He had stood between the school and its 
 tyrants. He had arrayed himself in circumstantial attire 
 boiled shirt, high collar, and carefully dusted derby 
 and appeared before the faculty with solemn, responsible 
 face no less than three separate times, to voice the protest 
 of four hundred future American citizens : first, at the 
 insidious and alarming repetition of an abhorrent article 
 of winter food known as scrag-birds and sinkers ; second, 
 to urge the overwhelming necessity of a second sleighing 
 holiday; and, third and most important, firmly to assure 
 
STOVER AT YALE 3 
 
 the powers that be that the school viewed with indigna 
 tion and would resist to despair the sudden increase of 
 the already staggering burden of the curriculum. 
 
 The middle-aged faculty had listened gravely to the 
 grave expounder of such grave demands, had promised 
 reform and regulation in the matter of the sinkers, 
 granted the holiday, and insufficiently modified the brutal 
 attempt at injecting into the uneager youthful mind a 
 little more of the inconsequential customs of the Greeks 
 and Romans. 
 
 The Doctor had honored him with his confidence, con 
 sulted him on several intimate matters of school disci 
 pline in fact, most undoubtedly had rather leaned 
 upon him. As he looked back upon the last year at 
 Lawrenceville, he could not help feeling a certain whole 
 some, pleasant satisfaction. He had held up an honest 
 standard, he had played hard but square, disdained petty 
 offenses, seen to the rigorous bringing up of the younger 
 boys, and, as men of property must lend their support 
 to the church, he had even publicly advised a moderate 
 attention to the long classic route which leads to college. 
 He had been the big man in the big school; what new 
 opportunity lay before him? 
 
 In the seat ahead two of his class were exchanging 
 delighted conjectures, and their conversation, coming to 
 his ears clearly through the entangled murmur of the 
 car, began to interest him. 
 
 " I say, Schley, you were Hotchkiss, weren t you ? " 
 
 " Eight mortal years." 
 
 " Got a good crowd ? " 
 
 " No wonder-workers, but a couple of good men for 
 the line. What s your Andover crowd like ? " 
 
 " We had a daisy bunch, but some of the pearls have 
 been side-tracked to Princeton and Harvard." 
 
4 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 "Bought up, eh?" 
 
 " Sure," said the speaker, with the profoundest con 
 viction. 
 
 " Big chance, McNab, for the eleven this year," said 
 Schley, in a thin, anemic, authoritative sort of way. 
 "Play football yourself?" 
 
 " Sure if any one will kick me," said McNab, who 
 in fact had a sort of roly-poly resemblance to the neces 
 sary pigskin. " Lord, I m no strength-breaker. I m a 
 funny man, side-splitting joker, regular cut-up didos 
 and all that sort of thing. What are you out for?" 
 
 " A good time first, last, and always." 
 
 "Am I? Just ask me!" said McNab explosively; 
 and in a justly aggrieved tone he added : " Lord, haven t 
 I slaved like a mule ten years to get there ! I don t know 
 how long it ll last, but while it does it will be a lulu ! " 
 
 " My old dad gave me a moral lecture." 
 
 " Sure. Opportunity character beauty of the 
 classics hope to be proud of my son you re a man 
 now " 
 
 " That s it." 
 
 " Sure thing. Lord, we ll be doing the same twenty- 
 five years from now," said McNab, who thus logically 
 and to his own satisfaction disposed of this fallacy. He 
 added generously, however, with a wave of his hand: 
 "A father ought to talk that way the right thing 
 wouldn t care a flip of a mule s tail for my dad if he 
 didn t. And say, by gravy, he sort of got me, too 
 damned impressive ! " 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " Honor bright." A flicker of reminiscent convictions 
 passed over McNab s frolicking face. " Yes, and I made 
 a lot of resolutions, too good resolutions." 
 
 "Come off!" 
 
STOVER AT YALE 5 
 
 " Well, that was day before yesterday/ 
 
 The train started with a sudden crunching. A curi 
 ous, excited thrill possessed Stover. He had embarked, 
 and the quick plunge into the darkness of the long tunnel 
 had, to his keenly sentimental imagination, something of 
 the dark transition from one world into another. Be 
 hind was the known and the accomplished; ahead the 
 coming of man s estate and man s freedom. He was his 
 own master at last, free to go and to come, free to ven 
 ture and to experience, free to know that strange, 
 guarded mystery life and free, knowing it, to choose 
 from among it many ways. 
 
 And yet, he felt no lack of preparation. Looking 
 back, he could honestly say to himself that where a year 
 ago he had seen darkly now all was clear. He had found 
 himself. He had gambled. He had consumed surrepti 
 tiously at midnight a sufficient quantity of sickening beer. 
 He had consorted with men of uncontrollable passions 
 and gone his steady path. He had loved, hopelessly, 
 madly, with all the intensity and honesty of which he 
 was capable, a woman a slightly older woman who 
 had played with the fragile wings of his boy s illusion 
 and left them wounded ; he had fought down that weak 
 ness and learned to look on a soft cheek and challenging 
 eye with the calm, amused control of a man, who in 
 vincibly henceforth would cast his life among men. 
 There was not much knowledge of life, if any, that could 
 come to him. He did not proclaim it, but quietly, as a 
 great conviction, heritage of sorrow and smashing dis- 
 illusionments, he knew it was so. He knew it all he 
 was a man ; and this would give him an advantage among 
 his younger fellows in the free struggle for leadership 
 that was now opening to his joyful combative nature. 
 
 " It ll be a good fight, and I ll win," he said to himself, 
 
6 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 and his crossed arms tightened with a quick, savage con 
 traction, as if the idea were something that could be 
 pursued, tackled, and thrown headlong to the ground. 
 
 " There s a couple of fellows from Lawrenceville com 
 ing up," said a voice from a seat behind him. " Mc 
 Carthy and Stover, they say, are quite wonders." 
 
 " I ve heard of Stover; end, wasn t he?" 
 
 " Yes ; and the team s going to need ends badly." 
 
 It was the first time he had heard his name published 
 abroad. He sat erect, drawing up one knee and locking 
 his hands over it in a strained clasp. Suddenly the 
 swimming vista of the smoky cars disappeared, rolling 
 up into the tense, crowded, banked arena, with white 
 splotches of human faces, climbing like daisy fields that 
 moved restlessly, nervously stirred by the same expectant 
 tensity with which he stood on the open field waiting for 
 his chance to come. 
 
 " I like a fight a good fight," he said to himself, 
 drawing in his breath ; and the wish seemed but a simple 
 one, the call for the joyful shock of bodies in fair combat. 
 And life was nothing else a battle in the open where 
 courage and a thinking mind must win. 
 
 " I ll bet we get a lot of fruits," said Schley s rather 
 calculating voice. 
 
 " Oh, some of them aren t half bad." 
 
 "Think so?" 
 
 " I say, what do you know about this society game ? " 
 
 " Look out." 
 
 "What s matter?" 
 
 "You chump, you never know who s around you." 
 As he spoke, Schley sent an uneasy glance back toward 
 Stover, and, dropping his voice, continued : " You don t 
 talk about such things." 
 
 "Well, I m not shouting it out," said McNab, who 
 
STOVER AT YALE 7 
 
 looked at his more sophisticated companion with a little 
 growing antagonism. " What are you scared about ? " 
 
 " It s the class ahead of you that counts," said Schley 
 hurriedly, " the sophomore and senior societies ; the 
 junior fraternities don t count; if you re in a sophomore 
 you always go into them." 
 
 " Never heard of the sophomore societies," said Mc- 
 Nab, in a maliciously higher tone. " Elucidate some 
 what." 
 
 " There are three : He Boule, Eta Phi, and Kappa 
 Psi," said Schley, with another uneasy, squirming glance 
 back at Stover. " They re secret as the deuce ; seven 
 teen men in each make one and you re in line for a 
 senior." 
 
 " How the deuce did you get on to all this ? " 
 
 " Oh, I ve been coached up." 
 
 Something in the nascent sophistication of Schley dis 
 pleased Stover. He ceased to listen, occupying himself 
 with an interested examination of the figures who passed 
 from time to time in the aisle, in search of returning 
 friends. The type was clearly defined; alert, clean-cut, 
 self-confident, dressed on certain general divisions, affect 
 ing the same style of correct hat and collar, with, as 
 distinguishing features, a certain boyish exuberance and 
 a distinct nervous energy. 
 
 At this moment an abrupt resonant voice said at his 
 side: 
 
 " Got a bit of room left beside you? " 
 
 Stover shifted his coat, saying : 
 
 " Certainly ; come on in." 
 
 He saw a man of twenty-two or -three, with the head 
 and shoulders of a bison, sandy hair, with a clear, blue, 
 steady glance, heavy hands, and a face already set in 
 the mold of stern purpose. He stood a moment, holding 
 
S STOVERATYALE 
 
 a decrepit handbag stuffed to the danger point, hesitating 
 whether to stow it in the rack above, and then said : 
 
 " Guess I won t risk it. That s my trunk. I ll tuck 
 it in here." He settled in the vacant seat, saying: 
 " What are you an upper classman? " 
 
 Something like a spasm passed over the well-ironed 
 shoulders of Schley in front. 
 
 " No, I m not," said Stover, and, extending his hand, 
 he said : " I guess we re classmates. My name s 
 Stover." 
 
 " My name s Regan Tom Regan. Glad to know 
 you. I m. sorry you re not an upper classman, though." 
 
 " Why so ? " said Stover. 
 
 " I wanted to get a few pointers," said Regan, in a 
 matter-of-fact way. " I m working my way through and 
 I want to know the ropes." 
 
 " I wish I knew," said Stover, with instinctive liking 
 for the blunt elemental force beside him. " What are 
 you going to try ? " 
 
 " Anything waiting, to start in with." He gave him 
 a quick glance. " That s not your trouble, is it ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " It s a glorious feeling, to be going up, I tell you" 
 said Regan, with a sudden lighting up of his rugged 
 features. " Can hardly believe it. I ve been up against 
 those infernal examinations six times, and I d have gone 
 up against them six more but I d down them." 
 
 " Where did you come from? " 
 
 " Pretty much everywhere. Des Moines, Iowa, at the 
 last." 
 
 " It s a pretty fine college," said Stover, with a new 
 thrill. 
 
 " It s a college where you stand on your own feet, all 
 square to the wind," said Regan, with conviction. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 9 
 
 "That s what got me. It s worth everything to get 
 here." 
 
 " You re right." 
 
 " I wonder if I could get hold of some upper class 
 man," said Regan uneasily. 
 
 That this natural desire should be the most unnatural 
 in the world was already clear to Stover; only, some 
 how, he did not like to look into Regan s eyes and make 
 him understand. 
 
 " How are you, Stover ? Glad to see you." 
 
 Dink, looking up, beheld the erect figure and well- 
 mannered carriage of Le Baron, a sophomore, already a 
 leader of his class, whom he had met during the summer. 
 In the clean-cut features and naturally modulated voice 
 there was a certain finely aristocratic quality that won 
 rather than provoked. 
 
 Stover was on his feet at once, a little embarrassed 
 despite himself, answering hurriedly the questions ad 
 dressed to him. 
 
 " Get your room over in York Street ? Good. You re 
 in a good crowd. You look a little heavier. In good 
 shape ? Your class will have to help us out on the eleven 
 this year." 
 
 Stover introduced Regan. Le Baron at once was 
 sympathetic, gave many hints, recommended certain peo 
 ple to see, and smilingly offered his services. 
 
 " Come around any time ; I ll put you in touch with 
 several men that will be of use to you. Get out for the 
 team right off that ll make you friends." Then, turn 
 ing to Stover, he added, with just a shade of difference 
 in his tone : " I was looking for you particularly. I 
 want you to dine with me to-night. I ll be around about 
 seven. Awfully glad you re here. At seven." 
 
 He passed on, giving his hand to the right and left. 
 
10 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Stover felt as if he had received the accolade. Schley 
 ahead was squirmingly impressed; one or two heads 
 across the aisle turned in his direction, wondering who 
 could be the freshman whom Le Baron so particularly 
 took under his protection. 
 
 " Isn t he a king ? " he said enthusiastically to Regan, 
 with just a pardonable pleasure in his exuberance. " He 
 made the crew last year probably be captain; sub- 
 tackle on the eleven. I played against him two years ago 
 when he was at Andover. Isn t he a king, though ! " 
 
 " I don t know/ said Regan, with a drawing of his 
 lips. 
 
 Stover was astounded. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Don t know." 
 
 "What s wrong?" 
 
 " Hard to tell. He sizes up for a man all right, but 
 I don t think we d agree on some things." 
 
 The incident momentarily halted the conversation. 
 Stover w r as a little irritated at what seemed to him his 
 companion s over-sensitiveness. Le Baron had been 
 more than kind in his proffer of help. He was at a loss 
 to understand why Regan should not see him through 
 his eyes. 
 
 " You think I m finicky," said Regan, breaking the 
 silence. 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Stover frankly. 
 
 " I guess you and I ll understand each other," said 
 Regan, approving of his directness. " Perhaps I am 
 wrong. But, boy, this place means a great deal to me, 
 and the men that are in it and lead it." 
 
 " It s the one place where money makes no difference," 
 said Stover, with a flash " where you stand for what 
 you are." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Regan turned to him. 
 
 " I ve fought to get here, and I ll have a fight to stay. 
 It means something to me." 
 
 The train began to slacken in the New Haven station. 
 They swarmed out on to the platform amid the return 
 ing gleeful crowd, crossing and intercrossing, caught up 
 in the hubbub of shouted recognition. 
 
 "Hello, Stuffy!" 
 
 "There s Stuffy Davis!" 
 
 " Hello, boys." 
 
 " Oh, Jim Thompson, have we your eye ? " 
 
 " Come on." 
 
 " Get the crowd together." 
 
 " All into a hack." 
 
 "Back again, Bill!" 
 
 " Join you later. I ve got a freshman." 
 
 "Where you rooming?" 
 
 " See you at Mory s." 
 
 Buffeted by the crowd they made their way across the 
 depot to the street. 
 
 " I m going to hoof it," said Regan, extending his 
 hand. " Glad to have met you. I ll drop in on you 
 soon." 
 
 Stover watched him go stalwartly through the crowd, 
 his bag under one arm, his soft hat set a little at defiance, 
 looking neither to the right nor left. 
 
 "Why the deuce did he say that about Le Baron?" 
 he thought, with a feeling of irritation. 
 
 Then, obeying an impulse, he signaled an expressman, 
 consigned his bag, and made his way on foot, dodging in 
 and out of the rapidly filled hacks, where upper classmen 
 sat four on the seat, hugging one another with bearlike 
 hugs. 
 
 " Eh, freshman, take off that hat ! " 
 
12 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 He removed his derby immediately, bowing to a 
 hilarious crowd, who rocked ahead shouting back unin 
 telligible gibes at him. 
 
 Others were clinging to car steps and straps. 
 
 "Hello, Dink!" 
 
 Some one had called him but he could not discover 
 who. He swung down the crowded street to the heart 
 of the city in the rapid dropping of the twilight. There 
 was a dampness underfoot that sent to him long, waver 
 ing reflections from early street-lamps. The jumble of 
 the city was in his ears, the hazy, crowded panorama in 
 his eyes, at his side the passing contact of strangers. 
 Everything was multiplied, complex, submerging his in 
 dividuality. 
 
 But this feeling of multitude did not depress him. 
 He had come to conquer, and zest was in his step and 
 alertness in his glance. Out of the churning of the 
 crowd he passed into the clear sweep of the city Com 
 mon, and, looking up through the mist, for the first time 
 beheld the battlements of the college awaiting him ahead, 
 lost in the hazy elms. 
 
 Across the quiet reaches of the Common he went 
 slowly, incredibly, toward these strange shapes in brick 
 and stone. The evening mist had settled. They were 
 things undefined and mysterious, things as real as the 
 things of his dreams. He passed on through the portals 
 of Phelps Hall, hearing above his head for the first time 
 the echoes of his own footsteps against the resounding 
 vault. 
 
 Behind him remained the city, suddenly hushed. He 
 was on the campus, the Brick Row at his left; in the 
 distance the crowded line of the fence, the fence where 
 he later should sit in joyful conclave. Somewhere there 
 in the great protecting embrace of these walls were the 
 
STOVER AT YALE la 
 
 * 
 
 friends that should be his, that should pass with himr 
 through those wonderful years of happiness and good 
 fellowship that were coming. 
 
 " And this is it this is Yale," he said reverently, with 
 a little tightening of the breath. 
 
 They had begun at last the happy, care-free years 
 that every one proclaimed. Four glorious years, good 
 times, good fellows, and a free and open fight to be 
 among the leaders and leave a name on the roll of fame. 
 Only four years, and then the world with its perplexities 
 and grinding trials. 
 
 "Four years," he said softly. "The best, the hap- 
 " piest I ll ever know ! Nothing will ever be like them 
 nothing ! " 
 
 And, carried away with the confident joy of it, he went 
 toward his house, shoulders squared, with the step of a 
 d Artagnan and a song sounding in his ears. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 HE found the house in York Street, a low, white 
 washed frame building, luminous under the black 
 canopy of the overtowering elms. At the door there 
 was a little resistance and a guarded voice cried : 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " I want to get in." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Because I want to." 
 
 " Very sorry," said McNab s rather squeaky voice 
 " most particular sorry ; but this house is infected with 
 yellow fever and the rickets, and we wouldn t for the 
 world share it with the sophomore class oh, no ! " 
 
 A light began to dawn over Stover. 
 
 " I m rooming here," he said. 
 
 " What s your name and general style of beauty ? " 
 
 " Stover, and I ve got a twitching foot." 
 
 " Why didn t you say so ? " said McNab, who then ad 
 mitted him. " Pardon me. The sophomores are getting 
 so fidgety, you know, hopping all up and down. My 
 name s McNab German extraction. Came up on the 
 train, ahead of you thought you were a sophomore, 
 you put on such a beautiful side. Here, put on that 
 chain." 
 
 ^Hazing?" 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed. Just a few members of the weak 
 ling class above us might get too fond of us; just must 
 
 14 
 
STOVERATYALE 15 
 
 see us welcome to Yale and all that sort of thing. I 
 hate sentimental exhibitions, don t you ? " 
 
 " Is McCarthy here ? " said Stover, laughing. 
 
 " Your wife is waiting for you most anxiously." 
 
 "Hello, is that Dink?" called down McCarthy s ex 
 uberant voice at this moment. 
 
 Stover went up the stairs like a terrier, answering the 
 joyful whoop with a w r ar-cry of his own. The next mo 
 ment he and McCarthy were pummeling each other, 
 wrestling about the room, to the dire danger of furniture 
 and crockery. When this sentimental moment had ex 
 hausted itself physically, McCarthy bore him to the back 
 of the house, saying : 
 
 " We don t want to show our light in front just yet. 
 We ve got a corking lot in the house best of the An- 
 dover crowd. Come on; I ll introduce you. You re 
 member Hunter, who played against me at tackle ? He s 
 here." 
 
 There were half a dozen loitering on the window-seat 
 and beds in the pipe-ridden room. 
 
 Hunter, in shirt sleeves, sorting the contents of his 
 trunk, came forward at once. 
 
 " Hello, Stover, how are you ? " 
 
 "How are you?" 
 
 No sooner did their hands clasp than a change came to 
 Dink. He was face to face with the big man of the An- 
 dover crowd, measuring him and being measured. The 
 sudden burst of boyish affection that had sent him into 
 McCarthy s arms was gone. This man could not help 
 but be a leader in the class. He was older than the rest, 
 but how much it would have been hard to say. v He 
 examined, analyzed, and deliberated. He knew what lay 
 before him. He would make no mistakes. He was car- 
 
16 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 ried away by no sentimental enthusiasm. Everything 
 about him was reserved his cordiality, the quiet grip of 
 his hand, the smile of welcome, and the undecipherable 
 estimate in his eyes. 
 
 " Will you follow me or shall I follow you ? " each 
 seemed to say in the first contact, which was a challenge. 
 
 " How are you ? " said Stover, shaking hands with some 
 one else ; and the tone was the tone of Hunter. 
 
 There were three others in the room : Hunter s room 
 mate, Stone, a smiling, tall, good-looking fellow who 
 shook his hand an extra period ; Saunders, silent, retired 
 behind his spectacles ; and Logan, who roomed with Mc- 
 Nab, who sunk his shoulders as he shook hands and 
 looked into Stover s eyes intensely as he said, "Awful 
 glad; awful glad to know you." 
 
 "Have a pipe cigarette anything?" said Hunter 
 over his shoulder, from the trunk to which he had re 
 turned. 
 
 " No, thanks." 
 
 "Started training?" 
 
 " Sort of." 
 
 " Take a chair and make yourself at home," said 
 Hunter warmly, but without turning. 
 
 The talk was immediately of what each was going to 
 do. Stone was out for the glee club, already planning 
 to take singing lessons in the contest for the leadership, 
 three years off. Saunders was to start for the News. 
 Logan had made drawings during the summer and was 
 out for the Record. Hunter was trying for his class 
 team and the crew. Only McNab was defiant. 
 
 " None of that for me," he said, on his back, legs in 
 the air, blowing rings against the ceiling. " I m for a 
 good time, the best in life. It may be a short one, but 
 it ll be a lulu!" 
 
STOVERATYALE 17 
 
 " You ll be out heeling the Record, Dopey, inside of a 
 month," said Hunter quietly. 
 
 " Never, by the Great Horned Spoon never ! " 
 
 " And you ll get a tutor, Dopey, and stay with us." 
 
 " Never ! I came to love and to be loved. I m a 
 lovely thing; that s sufficient," said McNab, with a 
 grimace to his elfish face. " I will not be harnessed up. 
 I will not heel." 
 
 " Yes, you will." 
 
 Hunter s tone had not varied. Stover, studying him, 
 wondered if he had marked out the route of Stone, 
 Saunders, and Logan, just as he felt that McNab would 
 sooner or later conform to the will of the man who had 
 determined to succeed himself and make his own crowd 
 succeed. 
 
 Reynolds, a sophomore, an old Andover man, dropped 
 in. Again it was but question of the same challenge, 
 addressed to each : 
 
 " What are you trying for ? " 
 
 The arrival of the sophomore, who installed himself 
 in easy majesty in the arm-chair and addressed his ques 
 tions with a quick, analytical staccato, produced some 
 what the effect of a suddenly opened window. Even 
 McNab was unwillingly impressed, and Hunter, closing 
 the trunk, allowed the conversation to be guided by Rey 
 nolds initiative. 
 
 He was a fiery, alert, rather undersized fellow, who 
 had been the first in his class to make the News, and was 
 supposed to be in line for that all-important chairman 
 ship. 
 
 Inside of five minutes he had gone through the pos 
 sibilities of each man, advising briefly in a quick, busi 
 nesslike manner. To Stover he seemed symbolic of the 
 rarefied contending nervousness of the place, a person- 
 
18 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 ality that suddenly threw open to him all the nervous 
 panorama of the struggle for position which had already 
 begun. 
 
 On top of which there arrived Rogers, a junior, 
 good-natured, popular, important. At once, to Stover s 
 amused surprise, the role/was reversed. Reynolds, from 
 the enthroned autocrat, became the respectful audience, 
 answered a few questions, and found a quick opportunity 
 to leave. 
 
 " Let s go in front and have a little fun," said 
 Rogers. 
 
 Somewhat perplexed, Stover led the way to their room. 
 
 " Light up," said Rogers, with a chuckle. " There s a 
 sophomore bunch outside just ready to tumble." 
 
 Rogers presence brought back a certain ease; they 
 were no longer on inspection, and even in his manner 
 was a more open cordiality than he had showed toward 
 Reynolds. That under all this was some graduated sys 
 tem of authority Stover was slowly perceiving, when all 
 at once from the street there rose a shout : 
 
 " Turn down that light ! " 
 
 " Freshmen, turn down that light ! " 
 
 " Turn it down slowly," said Rogers, with a gesture 
 to McNab. 
 
 " Faster!" 
 
 " All the way down ! " 
 
 " Turn it up suddenly," said Rogers. 
 
 An angry swelling protest arose : 
 
 " Turn that down ! " 
 
 " You freshmen ! " 
 
 " Turn it down ! " 
 
 " The freshest of the fresh ! " 
 
 " Here, let me work em up," said Rogers, going to the 
 gas-jet. 
 
STOVERATYALE 19 
 
 Under his tantalizing manipulation the noise outside 
 grew to the proportions of a riot. 
 
 " Come on and get the bloody freshmen ! " 
 
 " Ride em on a rail ! " 
 
 " Say, are we going to stand for this ? " 
 
 " Down with that light ! " 
 
 " Let s run em out ! " 
 
 "Break in the door!" 
 
 " Out with the freshman! " 
 
 Below came a sudden rush of feet. Rogers, abandon 
 ing the gas-jet, draped himself nonchalantly on the couch 
 that faced the door. 
 
 " Well, here comes the shindy," thought Stover, with 
 a joyful tensity in every muscle. 
 
 The hubbub stormed up the hall, shot open the door, 
 and choked the passage with the suddenly revealed fury 
 of angry faces. 
 
 "Hello," said Rogers quiet voice. "Well, what do 
 you want?" 
 
 No sooner had the barbaric front ranks beheld the 
 languid, slightly annoyed junior than the fury of battle 
 vanished like a flurry of wind across the water. From 
 behind the more concealed began to murmur : 
 
 "Oh, beans!" 
 
 "A lemon!" 
 
 "Rubber!" 
 
 " Sold ! " 
 
 "Well, what is it?" said Rogers sharply, sending a 
 terrific frown at the sheepish leaders. 
 
 At this curt reminder there was a shifting movement 
 in the rear, which rapidly communicated itself to the 
 stammering, apologetic front ranks; the door was closed 
 in ludicrous haste, and down the stairs resounded the 
 stampede of the baffled host. 
 
20 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " My, they are a fierce lot, these man-eating soph 
 omores, aren t they ? " said Rogers, giving way to his 
 laughter. And then, a little apologetically, but with a 
 certain twinkle of humor, he added : " Don t worry, 
 boys ; there was no one in that crowd who ll do you any 
 harm. However, I might just as well chaperon you to 
 your eating-joint." 
 
 " Le Baron is going to take me out with him," said 
 Stover, as they rose to go. 
 
 " Hugh Le Baron ? " said Rogers, with a new interest. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I didn t get your name." 
 
 " Stover." 
 
 " Oh ! Captain down at Lawrenceville, weren t you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, wish you good luck," said Rogers, with a 
 more appraising eye. " You ve got an opening this 
 year. Drop in and see me sometime, will you ?\ I mean 
 it." 
 
 " See you later, Stover," said Hunter, resting his hand 
 on his shoulder with a little friendly touch. 
 
 " Bully you re with us," said Stone. 
 
 " Come in and chin a little later," said Logan. 
 
 Saunders gave him a duck of the head, with uncon 
 cealed admiration in his embarrassed manner. 
 
 McCarthy went with them. Stover, left alone, meas 
 ured the length of the room, smiling to himself. It was 
 all quite amusing, especially when his was the fixed point 
 of view. 
 
 In a few moments Le Baron arrived. Together they 
 went across the campus, now swarming like ant runs. 
 At every step Le Baron was halted by a greeting. 
 Recognition was in the air, turbulent, boyish, exagger 
 ated, rising to the pitch of a scream or accomplished in 
 
STOVERATYALE 21 
 
 a bear dance; and through it all was the same vibrant, 
 minor note of the ceaseless activity. 
 
 It was the air Stover loved. He waited respectfully, 
 while Le Baron shook a score of hands, impatient for the 
 moment to begin and the opportunity to have his name 
 told from lip to lip. 
 
 " I m going to be captain at Yale," he said to himself, 
 with a sudden fantastic, grandiloquent fury. " I will if 
 it s in me." 
 
 "We ll run down to Heub s," said Le Baron, free at 
 last, " get a good last meal before going into training. 
 You look in pretty fit shape." 
 
 " I ve kept so all summer." 
 
 " Who s over in your house ? " 
 
 Stover named them. 
 
 " They weren t my crowd at Andover, but they re good 
 fellows," said Le Baron, listening critically. " Hunter 
 especially. Here we are." 
 
 A minute later they had found a table in the restaurant 
 crowded with upper classmen, and Le Baron was glan 
 cing down the menu. 
 
 " An oyster cocktail, a planked steak rare ; order the 
 rest later." He turned to Stover. " Guess we d better 
 cut out the drinks. We ll stand the gaff better to-mor 
 row." 
 
 There was in his voice a quiet possession, as if he had 
 already assumed the reins of Stover s career. 
 
 " Are you out for the eleven again ? " said Stover re 
 spectfully. 
 
 " Yes. I ll never do any better than a sub, but that s 
 what counts. We re up against an awfully stiff proposi 
 tion this year. The team s got to be built out of nothing. 
 There s Dana, the captain, now, over at the table in the 
 corner." 
 
8 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Where? " said Stover, fired at the thought. 
 
 Le Baron pointed out the table, detailing to him the 
 names of some of the coaches who were grouped there. 
 
 When Stover had dared to gaze for the first time on 
 the face of the majestic leader, he experienced a certain 
 shock. The group of past heroes about him were laugh 
 ing, exchanging reminiscences of past combats ; but the 
 face of Dana was set in seriousness, too sensitive to the 
 responsibility that lay heavier than the honor on his 
 young shoulders. Stover had not thought of his leader 
 so. 
 
 " I guess it s going to be a bad season," he said. 
 
 " Yes ; we may have to take our medicine this year." 
 
 Several friends of Le Baron s stopped to shake hands, 
 greeting Stover always with that appraising glance which 
 had amused him in Reynolds who had first sat in inquisi 
 tion. 
 
 He began to be conscious of an ever-widening gulf 
 separating him and Le Baron, imposed by all the subtle, 
 still uncomprehended incidents of the night, which grad 
 ually made him see that he had found, not a friend, but 
 a protector. A certain natural impulsiveness left him; 
 he answered in short sentences, resenting a little this 
 sudden, not yet defined sense of subjection. 
 
 But the hum of diners was about him, the unknown 
 intoxication of lights, the prevailing note of joy, the free 
 concourse of men, the vibrant note of good fellowship, 
 good cheer, and the eager seizing of the zest of the hour. 
 The men he saw were the men who had succeeded a 
 success which unmistakably surrounded them. He, too, 
 wished for success acutely, almost with a throbbing, 
 gluttonous feeling, sitting there unknown. 
 
 All at once Dana, passing across the room, stopped for 
 a handshake and a word of greeting to Le Baron. 
 
STOVERATYALE 23 
 
 / 
 
 Stover was introduced, rising precipitately, to the immi 
 nent danger of his plate. 
 
 " Stover from Lawrenceville ? " said Dana. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The captain s eye measured him carefully, taking in the 
 wiry, spare frame, the heavy shoulders, and the nervous 
 hands, and then stayed on the clean-cut jaw, the direct 
 blue glance, and the rebellious rise of sandy hair. 
 
 " End, of course," he said at last. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "About a hundred and fifty-four?" 
 
 " One hundred and fifty, sir, stripped." 
 
 "Ever played in the back field?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Report with the varsity squad to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " There s a type of man we re proud of," said Le 
 Baron. " Came here from Exeter, waited at Commons 
 first two years; every one likes him. He has a tough 
 proposition here this year, though supposing we dig 
 out." 
 
 In the room the laughter was rising, and all the little 
 nervous noises of the clash of plate and cutlery. Stover 
 would have liked to stay, to yield to the contagion, to 
 watch with eager eyes the opposite types, all under the 
 careless spell of the beginning year. 
 
 The city was black about them as they stepped forth, 
 the giant elms flattened overhead against the blurred 
 mists of the night, like curious water weeds seen from 
 below. 
 
 They went in silence directly toward the campus. 
 Once or twice Le Baron started to speak and then 
 stopped. At length he said : 
 
 " Come this way." 
 
24 STOVERATYALE 
 
 They passed by Osborne Hall, and the Brick Row with 
 the choked display of the Coop below, and, crossing to the 
 dark mass of the Old Library, sat down on the steps. 
 
 Before Stover stretched all the lighted panorama of 
 the college and the multiplied strewn lights against the 
 mysteries of stone and brick lights that drew him to 
 the quiet places of a hundred growing existencies af 
 fected him like the lights of the crowded restaurant and. 
 the misty reflections of the glassy streets. It was the 
 night, the mysterious night that suddenly had come into 
 his boyish knowledge. 
 
 It was immense, unfathomable this spectacle of a 
 massed multitude. It was all confounded, stirring, 
 ceaseless, feverish in its brilliant gaiety, fleeting, transi 
 tory, mocking. It was of the stage, theatric. It brought 
 theatric emotions, too keenly sensitized, too sharply 
 overwhelming. He wished to flee from it in despair of 
 ever conquering, as he wished to conquer, this world of 
 stirring ambitions and shadowy and fleeting years. 
 
 " I m going to do for you," said Le Baron s voice, 
 breaking the charm " I m going to do what some one 
 did for me when I came here last year." 
 
 He paused a moment, a little, too, under the spell of the 
 night, perhaps, seeking how best to choose his words. 
 
 " It is a queer place you re coming into, and many men 
 fail for not understanding it in time. I m going to tell 
 you a few things." 
 
 Again he stopped. Stover, waiting, heard across from 
 the blazing sides of Farnam a piano s thin, rushing 
 notes. Nearer, from some window unseen, a mandolin 
 was quavering. Voices, calling, mingled in softened 
 confusion. 
 
 " Oh, Charley Bangs stick out your head." 
 
 " We want Billy Brown." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 "Hello, there!" 
 
 "Tubby, this way!" 
 
 Then this community of faint sounds was lost as, from 
 the fence, a shapeless mass beyond began to send its 
 song towards him. 
 
 " When freshmen first we came to Yale 
 Fol-de-rol-de-rol-rol-rol. 
 Examinations made us pale 
 Fol-de-rol-de-rol-rol-rol" 
 
 " What do you know about the society system here ? " 
 said Le Baron abruptly. 
 
 " Why, I know there are three senior societies : 
 Skull and Bones, Keys, Wolf s-Head but I guess that s 
 all I do know." 
 
 " You ll hear a good deal of talk inside the college, 
 and out of it, too, about the system. It has its faults. 
 But it s the best system there is, and it makes Yale what 
 it is to-day. It makes fellows get out and work ; it gives 
 them ambitions, stops loafing and going to seed, and 
 keeps a pretty good, clean, temperate atmosphere about 
 the place." 
 
 " I know nothing at all about it," said Stover, per 
 plexed. 
 
 " The seniors have fifteen in each ; they give out their 
 elections end of junior year, end of May. That s what 
 we re all working for." 
 
 " Already ? " said Stover involuntarily. 
 
 " There are fellows in your class," said Le Baron, 
 " who ve been working all summer, so as to get ahead in 
 the competition for the Lit or the Record, or to make 
 the leader of the glee club fellows, of course, who 
 know." 
 
26 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " But that s three years off." 
 
 " Yes, it s three years off," said Le Baron quietly. 
 " Then there are the junior fraternities ; but they re 
 large, and at present don t count much, except you have 
 to make them. Then there are what are called sopho 
 more societies." He hesitated a moment. " They are 
 very important." 
 
 " Do you belong ? " asked Stover innocently. 
 
 " Yes," said Le Baron, after another hesitation. " Of 
 course, we don t discuss our societies here. Others will 
 tell you about them. But here s where your first test will 
 come in." 
 
 Then came another lull. Stover, troubled, frowning, 
 sat staring at the brilliant windows across which passed, 
 from time to time, a sudden shadow. The groups at the 
 fence were singing a football song, with a marching 
 swing to it, that had so often caught up his loyal soul 
 as he had sat shivering in the grand-stand for the game 
 to begin. It was not all so simple no, not at all simple. 
 It wasn t as he had thought. It was complex, a little 
 disturbing. 
 
 " This college is made up of all sorts of elements," said 
 Le Baron, at last. " And it is not easy to run it. Now, 
 in every class there are just a small number of fellows 
 who are able to do it and who will do it. They form 
 the real crowd. All the rest don t count. Now, Stover, 
 you re going to have a chance at something big on the 
 football side; but that is not all. You might make cap 
 tain of the eleven and miss out on a senior election. 
 You re going to be judged by you. friends, and it is just 
 as easy to know the right crowd as the wrong." 
 
 " What do you mean by the right crowd? " said Stover, 
 conscious of just a little antagonism. 
 
 " The right crowd ? " said Le Baron, a little perplexed 
 
STOVERATYALE 27 
 
 to define so simple a thing. " Why, the crowd that is do 
 ing things, working for Yale; the crowd " 
 
 " That the class ahead picks out to lead us/ said Stover 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Yes," said Le Baron frankly ; " and it won t be a 
 bad judgment. Money alone won t land a man in it, 
 and there ll be some in it who work their way through 
 college. On the whole, it s about the crowd you ll want 
 to know all through life." 
 
 " I see," said Stover. His clasp tightened over his 
 knees, and he was conscious of a certain growing un 
 comfortable sensation. He liked Le Baron he had 
 looked up to him, in a way. Of course, it was all said 
 in kindness, and yet 
 
 " I m frankly aristocratic in my point of view " he 
 heard the well-modulated voice continue " and what I 
 say others think. I m older than most of my class, and 
 I ve seen a good deal of the world at home and abroad. 
 You may think the world begins outside of college. It 
 doesn t; it begins right here. You want to make the 
 friends that will help you along, here and outside. Don t 
 lose sight of your opportunities, and be careful how you 
 choose. 
 
 " Now, by that I mean don t make your friends too 
 quickly. Get to know the different crowds, but don t 
 fasten to individuals until you see how things work out. 
 This rather surprises you, doesn t it? Perhaps you don t 
 like it." 
 
 " It does sort of surprise me," said Stover, who did 
 not answer what he meant. 
 
 " Stover," said Le Laron, resting a hand on his knee, 
 "I like you. I liked you from the first time we lined up 
 in that Andover-Lawrenceville game. You ve got the 
 stuff in you to make the sort of leader we need at Yale. 
 
28 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 That s why I m trying to make you see this thing as it is. 
 You come from a school that doesn t send many fellows 
 here. You haven t the fellows ahead pulling for you, the 
 way the other crowds have. I don t want you to make 
 any mistake. Remember, you re going to be watched 
 from now on." 
 
 " Watched ? " said Stover, frowning. 
 
 " Yes ; everything you do, everything you say that s 
 how you ll be judged. That s why I m telling you these 
 things." 
 
 " I appreciate it," said Stover, but without enthusiasm. 
 
 " Now, you ve got a chance to make good on the 
 eleven this year. If you do, you stand in line for the 
 captaincy senior year. It lies with you to be one of 
 the big men in the class. And this is the way to do it : 
 get to know every one in the class right off." 
 
 " What ! " said Stover, genuinely surprised. 
 
 " I mean, bow to every one ; call them by name : but 
 hold yourself apart," said Le Baron. " Make fellows 
 come to you. Don t talk too much. Hold yourself in. 
 Keep out of the crowd that is out booze-fighting or, 
 when you re with them, keep your head. There are a 
 lot of fellows here, with friends ahead of them, who can 
 cut loose a certain amount; but it s dangerous. If you 
 want to make what you ought to make of yourself, 
 Stover, you ve got to prove yourself ; you ve got to keep 
 yourself well in hand." 
 
 Stover suddenly comprehended that Le Baron was ex 
 posing his own theory, that he, prospective captain of 
 the crew, was imposing on himself. 
 
 " Don t ticket yourself for drinking." 
 
 "I won t." 
 
 " Or get known for gambling oh, I m not preaching 
 a moral lesson ; only, what you do, do quietly." 
 
STOVERATYALE 29 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 " And another thing : no fooling around women ; that 
 isn t done here that ll queer you absolutely." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Now, you ve got to do a certain amount of studying 
 here. Better do it the first year and get in with the 
 faculty." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " There it is," said Le Baron, suddenly extending his 
 hand toward the lighted college. " Isn t it worth work 
 ing for to win out in the end ? And, Stover, it s easy 
 enough when you know how. Play the game as others 
 are playing it. It s a big game, and it ll follow you all 
 through life. There it is ; it s up to you. Keep your head 
 clear and see straight." 
 
 The gesture of Le Baron, "half seen in the darkness, 
 brought a strange trouble to Stover. It was as if, at the 
 height of the eager confidence of his youth, some one 
 had whispered in his ear and a shadowy hand had held 
 before his eyes a gigantic temptation. 
 
 "Are there any questions you want to ask me?" said 
 Le Baron, with a new feeling of affection toward the un 
 protected freshman whom he had so generously advised. 
 
 " No." 
 
 They sat silently. And all at once, as Stover gazed, 
 from the high, misty walls and the elm-tops confounded 
 in the night, a monstrous hand seemed to stretch down, 
 impending over him, and the care-free windows sud 
 denly to be transformed into myriad eyes, set on him in 
 inquisition eyes that henceforth indefatigably, re 
 morselessly would follow him. 
 
 And with it something snapped, something fragile 
 the unconscious, simple democracy of boyhood. And, as 
 it went, it went forever. This was the world rushing in, 
 
30 STOVERATYALE 
 
 dividing the hosts. This was the parting of the ways. 
 The standards of judgment were the world s. It was 
 not what he had thought. It was no longer the simple 
 struggle. It was complex, disturbing, incomprehensible. 
 To win he would have to change. 
 
 " It s been good of you to tell me all this," he said, 
 giving his hand to Le Baron, and the words sounded hol 
 low. 
 
 " Think over what I ve said to you." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " A man is known by his friends ; remember that, 
 Stover, if you don t anything else ! " 
 
 " It s awfully good of you." 
 
 " I like you, Dink," said Le Baron, shaking hands 
 warmly ; " now you know the game, go in and win." 
 
 " It s awfully good of you," said Stover aimlessly. 
 He stood watching Le Baron s strong, aristocratic figure 
 go swinging across the dim campus in a straight, undevia- 
 ting, well-calculated path. 
 
 " It s awfully good of him," he said mechanically, 
 " awfully good. What a wonder he is ! " 
 
 And yet, and yet, he could not define the new feeling 
 he was but barely conscious of it; was it rebellion 
 or was it a lurking disappointment? 
 
 He stood alone, looking at the new world. It was no 
 longer the world of the honest day. It was brilliant, 
 fascinating, alluring, awakening strange, poignant emo 
 tions but it was another world, and the way to it had 
 just been shown him. 
 
 He turned abruptly and went toward his room, 
 troubled, wondering why he was so troubled, vainly seek 
 ing the reason, knowing not that it lay in the destruction 
 of a fragile thing his first illusion. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 TpOUGH McCARTHY was in the communal rooms, 
 -*- busily delving into the recesses of a circus trunk, 
 from which, from time to time, he emerged with the loot 
 of the combined McCarthy family. 
 
 " Dink, my boy, cast your eye over my burglaries. 
 Look at them. Aren t they lovely, aren t they fluffy 
 and sweet? I don t know what half of em are, but 
 won t they decorate the room ? And every one, pon my 
 honor, the gift of a peach who loves me! The whole 
 family was watching, but I got em out right under their 
 noses. Well, why not cheer me ! " 
 
 He deposited on the floor a fragrant pile of assorted 
 embroideries, table-covers, lace pincushions, and filmy 
 mysteries purloined from feminine dressing-tables, which 
 he rapidly proceeded to distribute about the room accord 
 ing to his advanced theories on decoration, which con 
 sisted in crowding the corners, draping the gas-jets, and 
 clothing the picture-frames. 
 
 Stover sat silently, out of the mood. 
 
 " Here s three new scalps," continued McCarthy, 
 producing some cushions. " Had to vow eternal love, 
 and keep the dear girls separated a blonde and two 
 brunettes but I got the pillows, my boy, I got em. 
 And now sit back and hold on." 
 
 He made a third trip to the trunk, unaware of Stover s 
 distracted mood, and came back chuckling, his arms 
 heaped with photographs to his chin. 
 
 31 
 
32 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " One thousand and one Caucasian beauties, the pride 
 of every State, the only girls who ever loved me. Look 
 at em!" 
 
 He distributed a score of photographs, mustering them 
 on the mantelpiece, pinning them to the already sus 
 pended flags, massing them in circles, ranging them in 
 crosses and ascending files, and announced: 
 
 " Finest I could gather in. Only know a third of em, 
 but the sisters know the rest. Isn t it a beauty parlor? 
 Why, it ll make that blond warbler Stone, downstairs, 
 feel like an amateur canary." Suddenly aware of 
 Stover s opposite mood, he stopped. " What the deuce 
 is the matter?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " You look solemn as an owl." 
 
 " I didn t know it." 
 
 "Well, how did you like Le Baron?" 
 
 " He s a corker ! " said Stover militantly. 
 
 " I ve been arranging about an eating- joint." 
 
 "You have?" 
 
 " We re in with a whole bunch of fellows. Gimbel, 
 an Andover chap, is running it. Five dollars a week. 
 We can see if we can stand it." 
 
 "Tough, go slow." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 Stover hesitated, looking at McCarthy s puzzled ex 
 pression, and, looking, there seemed to be ten years 
 experience dividing them. 
 
 " Oh, I only mean we want to pick our friends care 
 fully," he said at length. 
 
 " What difference does it make where we eat ? " 
 
 "Well, it does." 
 
 " Oh, of course we want to enjoy ourselves." 
 
 Stover saw he did not understand and somehow, feel- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 33 
 
 ing all the exuberant enthusiasm that actuated him, he 
 hesitated to continue the explanation. 
 
 " By George, Dink," continued McCarthy comically 
 solicitous of his scheme of decoration, " is there anything 
 like the air of this place? You can t resist it, can you? 
 Every one s out working for something. By George, I 
 hope I can make good ! " 
 
 " You will," said Stover. And in his mind was already 
 something of the paternal protection that he had sur 
 prised in Hunter, the big man of the Andover crowd. 
 
 " If I m to do anything at football I ve got to put on a 
 deuce of a lot of weight," said McCarthy a little discon 
 solately. " Guess my best chance is at baseball." 
 
 " The main thing, Tough, is to get out and try for 
 everything," said Stover wisely. " Show you re a worker 
 and it s going to count." 
 
 " That s good advice who put it into your head ? " 
 
 " Le Baron talked over a good many things with me," 
 said Stover slowly. " He gave me a great many 
 pointers. That s why I said go slow we want to get 
 with the right crowd." 
 
 " The right crowd ? " said McCarthy, wheeling about 
 and staring at his room-mate. " What the :>:uce are you 
 talking about, Dink ? Do you mean to say any one cares 
 who in the blankety-blank we eat with ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What! Who the deuce s business is it to meddle 
 in my affairs? Right crowd and wrong crowd 
 there s only one crowd, and each man s as good as the 
 other. That s the way I look at it." He stopped, 
 amazed, looking over at Stover. " Why, Dink, I never 
 expected you to stand for the right and wrong crowd 
 idea." 
 
 " I don t mean it the way you do," said Stover lamely 
 
34. STOVERATYALE 
 
 for he was trying to argue with himself. " We re 
 trying to do something here, aren t we not just loaf 
 through? Well, we want to be with the crowd that s 
 doing things." 
 
 " Oh, if you mean it that way," said McCarthy 
 dubiously, " that s different. I ve been filled up for the 
 last hour with nothing but society piffle by a measly- faced 
 runt just out of the nursery called Schley. Skull and 
 Bones Locks and Keys Wolf s-Head gold bugs, 
 hobgoblins, toe the line, heel the right crowd, mind your 
 p s and q s, don t call your soul your own, don t look at a 
 society house, don t for heaven s sake look at a pin in a 
 necktie, never say bones or f ee-fie-f o-f um out loud 
 
 never oh, rats, what bosh ! " 
 
 " Schley is an odious little toad," said Stover evasively. 
 A little vain of his new knowledge and the destiny be 
 fore him, he looked at the budding McCarthy with some 
 what the anxiety of a mother hen, and said with great 
 solemnity : " Don t go off half cock, old fellow." 
 
 "What! Have you fallen for the bugaboo?" 
 
 " My dear Tough," said Stover, with a little gorgeous- 
 ness, " don t commit yourself until you know the whole 
 business. You like the feeling here, don t you the 
 way every one is out working for something? " 
 
 " You bet I do." 
 
 " Well, it s the society system that does it." 
 
 " Come off." 
 
 " Wait and see." 
 
 " But what in the name of my aunt s cat s pants," said 
 McCarthy, unwilling to relinquish the red rag, " what in 
 the name of common sense is the holy sacred secret, that 
 it can t be looked at, talked about, or touched ? " 
 
 " Don t be a galoot, Tough," said Stover, in a superior 
 way ; " don t be a frantic ass. All that s exaggerated ; 
 
STOVERATYALE 35 
 
 only little jack-asses like Schley are frightened by it. 
 The real side, the serious side, is that the system is built 
 up for the fellows who are going to do something for 
 Yale. Now, just wait until you get your eyes open be 
 fore you go shooting up the place." 
 
 But, as he stood in his own bedroom, with no Tough 
 McCarthy to instruct and patronize, alone at his win 
 dow, looking out at the sputtering arc lights with their 
 splotchy regions of light and the busy windows of Pier- 
 son Hall across the way, listening to the chapel sending 
 forth its quarter hour over the half-divined campus he 
 was not quite so confident of all he had proclaimed. 
 
 " It s different different from school," he said to 
 himself half apologetically. " It can t be the same as 
 school. It s got to be organized differently. It s the 
 same everywhere." 
 
 He went to bed, to sleep badly, restless and uncon 
 vinced, a stranger in strange places, staring at the flicker 
 ing glare of the arc light against the window-panes, that 
 light as unreal in comparison with the frank sunlight as 
 the sudden bewildering introduction to the new, com 
 plex life was different from the direct and rugged sim 
 plicity of the unconscious democracy of school that had 
 gone. 
 
 He awoke with a start, to find McCarthy and Dopey 
 McNab, in striped pajamas, solicitously occupied in ap 
 plying a lather to his bare feet. He sprang up with all 
 the old zest, and, a free scrimmage taking place, wreaked 
 satisfactory vengeance on the intruders. 
 
 " Hang you, Stover," said McNab weakly, " if you d 
 snored another minute I d have won my dollar from Mc 
 Carthy. If you want to be friends, nothing like being 
 friendly, is there? Come on down to my rooms, we ve 
 got eggs and coffee right on tap. It s a bore going down 
 
36 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 to the joint. To-morrow we ll all be slaves of the alarm 
 clock again. Hang compulsory chapel." 
 
 They breakfasted hilariously under McNab s irresist 
 ible good humor. When at last Stover sauntered out 
 to reconnoiter in company with McCarthy, a great change 
 had come. The emotions of the night, the restless re 
 belliousness, had lost all their acuteness and seemed only a 
 blurred memory. The college of the day was a different 
 thing. 
 
 The late arrivals were swarming in carriages, or on 
 top of heaped express-wagons, just as the school used 
 to surge hilariously back. The windows were open, 
 crowded with eager heads; the street corners clustered 
 with swiftly assembling groups, sophomores almost en 
 tirely, past whom isolated, self-conscious freshmen went 
 with averted gaze, to the occasional accompaniment of 
 a whistled freshman march. Despite himself, Stover be 
 gan to feel a little tightening in the shoulders, a little 
 uncertainty in the swing of his walk, and something in 
 his back seemed uneasily conscious of the concentrated 
 attack of superior eyes. 
 
 They entered the campus, now the campus of the busy 
 day. Across by the chapel, the fence was hidden under 
 continually arriving groups of upper classmen, streaming 
 to it in threes and fours in muscular enthusiasm. There 
 was no division there. Gradually the troubled percep 
 tions of the night before faded from Stover s conscious 
 ness. The light he saw was the clear noon of the day, 
 and the air that filled his lungs the atmosphere of life 
 and ambition. 
 
 At every step, runners for eating-houses, steam 
 laundries, and tailors thrust cards in their hands, coaxing 
 for orders. Every tree seemed plastered with notices of 
 the awakening year, summons to trials for the musical 
 
STOVER AT YALE 37 
 
 organizations and the glee club, offers to tutor, announce 
 ments of coming competitions, calls for candidates to a 
 dozen activities. 
 
 "Hello, Dink, old boy!" 
 
 They looked up to behold Charley De Soto, junior over 
 in the Sheffield Scientific School, bearing down upon 
 them. 
 
 " Hello, Tough, glad to see you up here ! " 
 
 De Soto had been at Lawrenceville with them, a com 
 rade of the eleven, now prospective quarter-back for the 
 coming season. 
 
 " You ve put on weight, Dink," he said with critical ap 
 proval. " You ve got a bully chance this year. Are you 
 reporting this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Captain Dana asked me to come out for the varsity." 
 
 " I talked to him about you." 
 
 He asked a dozen questions, invited them over to see 
 him, and was off. 
 
 They elbowed their way into the Coop to make their 
 purchases. The first issue of the News was already on 
 sale, with its notices and its appeals. 
 
 They went out and past Vanderbilt toward their eat 
 ing-joint. Off the campus, directly at the end of their 
 path, a shape more like a monstrous shadow than a build 
 ing rose up, solid, ivy-covered, blind, with great, prison- 
 like doors, heavily padlocked. 
 
 " Fee-fi-fo-fum," said McCarthy. 
 
 " Which is it ? " said Stover, in a different tone. 
 
 " Skull and Bones, of course," said McCarthy de 
 fiantly. " Look at it under your eyelids, quick ; don t 
 let any one see you." 
 
 Stover, without hearing him, gazed ahead, impressed 
 despite himself. There it was, the symbol and the em 
 bodiment of all the subtle forces that had been disclosed 
 
38 STOVERATYALE 
 
 to him, the force that had stood amid the passing classes, 
 imposing its authority unquestioned, waiting at the end 
 of the long journey to give or withhold the final coveted 
 success. 
 
 "Will I make it will I ever make it?" he said to 
 himself, drawing a long breath. " To be one of fifteen 
 only fifteen!" 
 
 " It is a scary sort of looking old place," said Mc 
 Carthy. " They certainly have dressed it up for the 
 part." 
 
 Still Stover did not reply. The dark, weighty, mas 
 sive silhouette had somehow entered his imagination, 
 never to be shaken off, to range itself wherever he went in 
 the shadowy background of his dreams. 
 
 " It stands for democracy, Tough," he said, as they 
 turned toward Chapel Street, and there was in his voice 
 a certain emotion he couldn t control. " And I guess 
 the mistakes it makes are pretty honest ones." 
 
 " Perhaps," said McCarthy stubbornly. " But why all 
 this mumbo-jumbo business?" 
 
 "It doesn t affect you, does it?" 
 
 " The trouble is, it does," said McCarthy, with a laugh. 
 " Do you know what I ought to do ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Go right up and sit on the steps of the bloomin old 
 thing and eat a bag of cream-puffs." 
 
 Stover exploded with laughter. 
 
 " What the deuce would be the sense in that, you old 
 anarchist ? " 
 
 " To prove to my own satisfaction that I m a man." 
 
 " Do you mean it?" said Stover, half laughing. 
 
 McCarthy scratched his head with one of the old 
 boyish, comical gestures Stover knew so well. 
 
 " Well, perhaps I mean more than I think/ he said, 
 
STOVER AT YALE 39 
 
 grinning. " In another month I may get it as bad as that 
 little uselessness Schley. By the way, he wants us over 
 at his eating-joint." 
 
 "He does?" 
 
 " He s a horsefly sort of a cuss. You ll see, he ll 
 fasten on to you just as soon as he thinks it worth while. 
 Here we are." 
 
 They pressed their way, saluted with the imperious 
 rattle of knives and plates, through three or four rooms, 
 blue-gray with smoke, and found a vacant table in a far 
 corner. A certain reserve was still prevalent in the noisy 
 throng, which had not yet been welded together. Im 
 mediately a thin, wiry fellow, neatly dressed, hair 
 plastered, affable and brimming over with energy, rose 
 and pumped McCarthy s hand, slapping him effusively on 
 the back. 
 
 " Bully ! Glad to see you. This is Stover, of course. 
 I m Gimbel Ray Gimbel; you don t know me, but I 
 know you. Seen entirely too much of you on the wrong 
 side of the field in the Andover-Lawrenceville game." 
 
 " How are you, Gimbel ? " said Stover, not disliking 
 the flattery, though perceiving it. 
 
 " We were greatly worried about you," said Gimbel 
 directly, and with a sudden important seriousness. 
 " There was a rumor around you had switched to Prince 
 ton." 
 
 " Oh, no." 
 
 " Well, we re certainly glad you didn t." Looking him 
 straight in the face, he said with conviction : " You ll be 
 captain here." 
 
 " I m not worrying about that just at present," said 
 Stover, amused. 
 
 "All right; that s my prophecy. I ll be back in a 
 second." 
 
40 STOVERATYALE 
 
 He departed hastily, to welcome new arrivals with 
 convulsive grip and rolling urbanity, passing like a doc 
 tor on his hospital rounds. 
 
 " Who s Gimbel ? " said Stover, wondering, as he 
 watched him, what new force he represented. 
 
 " Hurdler up at Andover, I believe." 
 
 In a moment Gimbel was back, engaging them in eager 
 conclave. 
 
 " See here, there s a combination being gotten up," 
 he said impersonally, " a sort of slate for our class foot 
 ball managers, and I want to get you fellows interested. 
 Hotchkiss and St. Paul are going in together, and we 
 want to organize the other schools. How many fellows 
 are up from Lawrenceville ? " 
 
 " About fifteen." 
 
 " We ve got a corking good man from Andover not in 
 any of the crowds up there, and a lot of us want to give 
 him a good start. I ll have you meet him to-night at 
 supper. If you fellows weren t out for football, we d 
 put one of you up for secretary and treasurer. You can 
 name him if you want. I ve got a hundred votes already, 
 and we re putting through a deal with a Sheff crowd for 
 vice-president that will give us thirty or forty more. Our 
 man s Hicks Frank Hicks the best in the world. 
 Say a good word for him, will you, wherever you can. 
 See you to-night." 
 
 He was off to another table, where he was soon in 
 animated conversation. 
 
 " Don t mix up in it," said Stover quietly. 
 
 "Why not?" said McCarthy. "A good old political 
 shindig s lots of fun." 
 
 "Wait until we understand the game," said Stover, 
 remembering Le Baron s advice not to commit himself 
 to any crowd. 
 
STOVER AH KALE 41 
 
 " But it would be such a lark/ 
 
 Dink did not reply. Instead he was carefully studying 
 the many types that crowded before his eyes. They 
 ranged from the New Yorker, extra spick-and-span for 
 his arrival, lost and ill at ease, speaking to no one; to 
 older men in jerseys and sweaters, unshaven often, lolling 
 back in their chairs, concerned with no one, talking with 
 all. 
 
 The waiters were of his own class, who presently 
 brought their plates to the tables they served and sat down 
 without embarrassment. It was a heterogeneous assem 
 bly, with a preponderance of quiet, serious types, men to 
 whom the financial problem was serious and college an 
 opportunity to fit themselves for the grinding combat of 
 life. Others were raw, decidedly without experience, 
 opinionated, carrying on their shoulders a chip of some 
 what bumptious pride. The talk was all of the doings 
 of the night before, when several had fallen into the 
 hands of mischief-bent sophomores. 
 
 " They caught Flanders down York Street and made 
 him roll a peanut up to Billy s." 
 
 " Yes, and the darned fool hadn t sense enough to grin 
 and bear it." 
 
 " So they gave him a beer shampoo." 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 " A beer shampoo." 
 
 " Did you hear about Regan ? " 
 
 "Who s Regan?" 
 
 " He s a thundering big coal-heaver from out the 
 woolly West." 
 
 " Oh, the fellow that started to scrap." 
 
 " That s the man." 
 
 " Give us the story, Buck." 
 
 " They had me up, doing some of my foolish stunts," 
 
42 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 said a fellow with a great moon of a face, little twinkling 
 eyes, and a grotesque nose that sprang forth like a jagged 
 promontory, " when, all at once, this elephant of a Regan 
 saunters in coolly to see what s doing." 
 
 " Didn t know any better, eh? " 
 
 " Didn t know a thing. Well, no sooner did the sophs 
 spot him than they set up a yell: 
 
 " Who are you? 
 
 " Tom Regan/ 
 
 " What s your class? 
 
 " Freshman/ 
 
 " What in the blankety-blank are you doing here ? 
 
 " Lookin on/ 
 
 " With that, of course, they began just leaping up and 
 down for joy, hugging one another ; and a couple of them 
 started in to tackle the old locomotive. The fellow, 
 who s as strong as an ox, just gives a cough and a sneeze, 
 scatters a few little sophs on the floor, and in a twinkling 
 is in the corner, barricaded behind a table, looking as big 
 as a house. 
 
 Tom, look out ; they re going to shampoo you, 
 says I. 
 
 " Is it all right ? he says, with a grin. 
 
 " It s etiquette, says I. 
 
 " Come on, then, says he very affably, and he strips 
 off his coat and tosses it across the room, saying, It s 
 my only one ; look out for it/ 
 
 " Well, when the sophs saw him standing there, licking 
 his chops, arms as big as hams, they sort of stopped and 
 scratched their heads." 
 
 " I bet they did ! " cried a couple. 
 
 " They didn t particularly like the prospect ; but they 
 were game, especially a little bantam of a rooster called 
 Waring, who d been putting us through our stunts. 
 
STOVERATYALE 43 
 
 " I m going in after that bug myself, said he, with a 
 yelp. Come on ! 
 
 "Well, what happened, Buck?" 
 
 " Did they give it to him? " 
 
 " About fifteen minutes after the bouncers had swept 
 us into the street with the rest of the debris, as the French 
 say," said the speaker, with a far-off, reflective look, 
 " one dozen of the happiest-looking sophs you ever saw 
 went reeling back to the campus. They were torn and 
 scratched, pummeled, bruised and bleeding, soaked from 
 head to foot, shot to pieces, smeared with paint, not a 
 button left or a necktie but they were happy ! " 
 
 "Why happy?" 
 
 " They had given Regan the shampoo." 
 
 Stover and McCarthy rose and made their way out 
 past the group where Buck Waters, enthroned already as 
 a natural leader, was tuning up the crowd. 
 
 " I came up in the train with Regan," said Stover, 
 thrilling a little at the recital. " Cracky ! I wish I d 
 seen the scrap." 
 
 " We ll call him out to-night for the wrestling," said 
 McCarthy. 
 
 " He s a queer, plunging sort of animal," said Stover 
 reflectively. " I wonder if he ll ever do anything up 
 here?" 
 
 Saunders, riding past on a bicycle, pad protruding from 
 his pocket, slowed up with a cordial hail : 
 
 " Howdy ! I m heeling the News. If you get any 
 stories, pass them on to me. Thought you fellows were 
 down at our joint. Where the deuce are you fellows 
 grubbing ? " 
 
 " We dropped into a place one of your Andover crowd s 
 runnin ." 
 
 "Who s that?" 
 
44 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Fellow called Gimbel." 
 
 Saunders rode on a bit, wheeled, came slowly back, 
 resting his hand on Stover s shoulder. 
 
 " Look here," he said, frowning a little. " Gimbel s a 
 good sort, clever and all that ; but look here you re not 
 decided, are you ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Because we ve been counting you fellows in with us. 
 We ve got a corking crowd, about twenty, and a nice, 
 quiet place." He hesitated, choosing his words care 
 fully : " I think you ll find the crowd congenial." 
 
 " When do you start in ? " said Stover. 
 
 " To-morrow. Are you with us ? " 
 
 " Glad to come." 
 
 " Bully ! " He made a movement to start, and then 
 added suddenly : " I say, fellows, of course you re not 
 on to a good many games here, but don t get roped into 
 any politics. It ll queer you quicker than anything else. 
 You don t mind my giving you a tip ? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Stover, smiling a little as he won 
 dered what distinction Saunders made to himself between 
 politics and politics. 
 
 " Ta-ta, then perfectly bully you re with us. I m 
 off on this infernal News game half a year s grind 
 from twelve to ten at night lovely, eh, when the snow 
 and slush come?" 
 
 He sped on, and they went up to the rooms. 
 
 " I thought we d better change," said Stover. 
 
 " This place is loaded up with wires live wires," said 
 McCarthy, scratching his head. " Well, go ahead, if you 
 want to." 
 
 " Well, you see we re all in the same house ; it s 
 more sociable." 
 
 " Oh, of course." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 45 
 
 " And then, it ll be quieter." 
 
 " Yes, it ll be quieter." 
 
 A little constraint came to them. They went to their 
 rooms silently, each aware that something had come into 
 their comradeship which sooner or later would have to 
 be met with frankness. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 STOVER had never been on the Yale field except 
 through the multitudinous paths of his imagination. 
 Huddled in the car crowded with candidates, he waited 
 the first glimpse as Columbus questioned the sky or De 
 Soto sought the sea. Three cars, filled with veterans 
 and upper classmen, were ahead of him. He was among 
 a score of sophomores, members of third and fourth 
 squads, and a few of his own class with prep school repu 
 tations who sat silently, nervously overhauling their suits, 
 adjusting buckles and shoe-laces, swollen to grotesque 
 proportions under knotted sweaters and padded jerseys. 
 
 The trolley swung over a short bridge, and, climbing 
 a hill, came to a slow stop. In an instant he was out, 
 sweeping on at a dog-trot in the midst of the undulating, 
 brawny pack. In front a thing of air and wood 
 rose the climbing network of empty stands. Then, as 
 they swept underneath, the field lay waiting, and at the 
 end two thin, straight lines and a cross-bar. No longer 
 were the stands empty or the breeze devoid of song and 
 cheers. The goal was his the goal of Yale and, un 
 derfoot at last, the field more real to him than Waterloo 
 or Gettysburg! 
 
 He camped down, one among a hundred, oblivious of 
 his companions, hands locked over his knees, his glance 
 strained down the field to where, against the blue sweater 
 of a veteran, a magic Y was shining white. For a mo 
 ment he felt a plunging despair he was but one among 
 so many. The whole country seemed congregated there 
 
 46 
 
STOVERATYALE 47 
 
 in competition. Others seemed to overtop him, to be 
 built of bone and muscle beyond his strength. He felt a 
 desire to shrink back and steal away unperceived, as he 
 had that awful moment when, on his first test at school, 
 he had been told that he must stand up and fill the place 
 of a better man. 
 
 Then he was on his feet, in obedience to a shouted com 
 mand, journeying up the field to where beyond the stands 
 a tackling dummy on loose pulleys swung like a great 
 scarecrow. 
 
 " Here, now, get some action into this," said a fiery 
 little coach, Tompkins, quarter-back a dozen seasons be 
 fore. " Line up. Get some snap to it. First man. 
 Hard hit it hard!" 
 
 The first three heavy linesmen, still soft and short 
 of breath made lumbering, slipping attempts. 
 
 Tompkins was in a blaze of fury. 
 
 " Hold up ! What do you think this is ? I didn t ask 
 you to hug your grandmother; I told you to tackle that 
 dummy! Hit it hard break it in two! If you can t 
 tackle, we don t want you around. Tackle to throw your 
 man back! Tackle as if the whole game depended on 
 it. Come on, now. Next man. Jump at it! Rotten! 
 Rotten! Oh, squeeze it. Don t try to butt it over 
 you re not a goat ! Half the game s the tackling ! Next 
 man. Oh, girls girls ! What is this bunch, anyhow 
 a young ladies seminary ? Here ! Stop stop ! You re 
 up at Yale now. I ll show you how we tackle ! " 
 
 Heedless of his street clothes, of the grotesqueness of 
 the thing, of all else but the savage spark he was trying 
 to communicate, he went rushing into the dummy with a 
 headlong plunge that shook the ropes. 
 
 He was up in a moment, forgetting the dust that clung 
 to him, shouting in his shrill voice: 
 
48 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Come on, now, bang into it ! Yes, but hold on to it ! 
 Squeeze it. Better more snap there! Get out the 
 way! Come on! Rotten! Take that again on the 
 jump ! " 
 
 Stover suddenly felt the inflaming seriousness of Yale, 
 the spirit that animated the field. Everything was in 
 deadly earnest; the thing of rags swinging grotesquely 
 was as important as the tackle that on a championship 
 field stood between defeat and victory. 
 
 His turn came. He shot forward, left the turf in a 
 clean dive, caught the dummy at the knees, and shook the 
 ground with the savageness of his tackle. 
 
 " Out of the way, quick next man ! " cried the driv 
 ing voice. 
 
 There was not a word of praise for what he knew had 
 been a perfect tackle. A second and a third time he flung 
 himself heedlessly at the swinging figure, in a desperate 
 attempt to win the withheld word of approbation. 
 
 " He might at least have grunted," he said to himself, 
 tumbling to his feet, " the little tyrant." 
 
 In a moment Tompkins, without relaxing a jot of his 
 nervous driving, had them spread over the field, flinging 
 themselves on a dozen elusive footballs, while always his 
 voice, unsatisfied, propelling, drove them : 
 
 " Faster, faster ! Get into it let go yourselves. 
 Throw yourself at it. Oh, hard, harder ! " 
 
 Ten minutes of practise starts under his leash, and they 
 ended, enveloped in steam, lungs shaken with quick, 
 convulsive breaths. 
 
 " Enough for to-day. Back to the gymnasium on the 
 trot; run off some of that fatty degeneration. Here, 
 youngster, a word with you." 
 
 Stover stepped forward. 
 
 "What s your name?" 
 
STOVERATYALE 49 
 
 " Stover/* 
 
 To his profound disappointment, Tompkins did not 
 recognize that illustrious name. 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 " Lawrenceville. Played end. * 
 
 Tompkins looked him over, a little grimly. " Oh, yes ; 
 I ve heard something about you. Look here, ever do any 
 punting?" 
 
 " Some, but only because I had to. I m no good at it." 
 
 " Let s see what you can do." 
 
 Stover caught the ball tossed and put all his strength 
 into a kick that went high but short. 
 
 " Try another." 
 
 The second and third attempts were no better. 
 
 " Well, that s pretty punk," said Tompkins. " Dana 
 wants to give you a try on the second. Run over now 
 and report. Oh, Stover ! " 
 
 Dink halted, to see Tompkins caustic scrutiny fixed 
 on him. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Stover, just one word for your good. You come up 
 with a big prep school reputation. Don t make an ass 
 of yourself. Understand; don t get a swelled head. 
 That s all." 
 
 " Precious little danger of that here," said Dink a little 
 rebelliously to himself, as he jogged over to the benches 
 where the varsity subs were camped. Le Baron waved 
 him a recognition, but no more. It was as if the gesture 
 meant : 
 
 " I ve started you. Now stand on your own feet. 
 Don t look to me for help." 
 
 For the rest of the practise he sat huddled in his 
 sweater, waiting expectantly as each time Captain Dana 
 passed down the line, calling out the candidates for trials 
 
50 STOVERATYALE 
 
 in the brief scrimmages that took place. The afternoon 
 ended without an opportunity coming to him, and he 
 jogged home, in the midst of the puffing crowd, with a 
 sudden feeling of his own unimportance. 
 
 He had barely time to get his shower, and run into the 
 almost deserted eating club for a quick supper, when 
 Gimbel appeared, crying: 
 
 " I say, Stover, bolt the grub and hoof it. We assem 
 ble over by Osborne." 
 
 " Where s the wrestling?" 
 
 " Don t know. Some vacant lot. Ever do any ? " 
 
 " Don t know a thing about it." 
 
 " We re going to call out a chap called Robinson from 
 St. Paul s, Garden City, for the lightweight, and Regan 
 for the heavy," said Gimbel, who, of course, had been 
 busy during the afternoon. " Thought of you for the 
 middleweight." 
 
 " Lord ! get some one who knows the game," said 
 Stover, following him out. 
 
 " Have you thought of any one you d like to run for 
 secretary and treasurer ? " said Gimbel, locking arms in a 
 cordial way. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I ve got the whole thing organized sure as a steel 
 trap." 
 
 " You haven t lost any time," said Stover, smiling. 
 
 "That s right heaps of fun." 
 
 " What are you going to run for ? " said Stover, look 
 ing at him. 
 
 " I ? Nothing now. Fence orator, perhaps, later," 
 said Gimbel frankly. " It s the fun of the game interests 
 me the organizing, pulling wires, all that sort of thing. 
 I m going to have a lot of fun here." 
 
 " Look here, Gimbel," said Stover, yielding to a sudden 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 appreciation of the other s openness. " Isn t this sort of 
 thing going to get a lot of fellows down on you ? " 
 
 " Queer me ? " said Gimbel, laughing. 
 
 The word was still new to Stover, who showed his per 
 plexity. 
 
 " That s a great word," added his companion. " You ll 
 hear a lot of it before you get through. It s a sort of 
 college bug that multiplies rapidly. Will politics queer 
 me keep me out of societies? Probably; but then, I 
 couldn t make em anyway. So I m going to have my 
 fun. And I ll tell you now, Stover, I m going to get a 
 good deal more out of my college career than a lot of you 
 fellows." 
 
 "Why include me?" 
 
 " Well, Stover, you re going to make a sophomore so 
 ciety, and go sailing along." 
 
 " Oh, I don t know." 
 
 " Yes, you do. We don t object to such men as you, 
 who have the right. It s the lame ducks we object to." 
 
 " Lame ducks ? " said Stover, puzzled as well as sur 
 prised at this spokesman of an unsuspected proletariat 
 opposition. 
 
 " Lame ducks is the word : the fellows who would 
 never make a society if it weren t for pulls, for the men 
 ahead the cripples that all you big men will be trying 
 to bolster up and carry along with you into a senior 
 society." 
 
 " I m not on to a good deal of this," said Stover, puz 
 zled. 
 
 " I know you re not. Look here." Gimbel, releasing 
 his arm, faced him suddenly. " You think I m a politi 
 cian out to get something for myself." 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " Well, I am I m frank about it. There s a whole 
 
52 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 mass of us here who are going to fight the sophomore 
 society system tooth and nail, and I m with them. When 
 you re in the soph crowd you mightn t like what I m say 
 ing, and then again you may come around to our way of 
 thinking. However, I want you to know that I m hiding 
 nothing that I m fighting in the open. We may be on 
 opposite sides, but I guess we can shake hands. How 
 about it?" 
 
 " I guess we can always do that," said Stover, giving 
 his hand. The man puzzled him. Was his frankness 
 deep or a diplomatic assumption? 
 
 " And now let s have no pretenses," continued Gimbel, 
 on the same line, with a quick analytical glance. " You re 
 going with your crowd; better join one of their eating- 
 joints." 
 
 Stover was genuinely surprised. 
 
 " Have you already arranged it ? " said Gimbel, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 " Gimbel," said Stover directly, " I m not quite sure 
 about you." 
 
 " You don t know whether I m a faker or not." 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Stover, I m a politician," said Gimbel frankly. " I m 
 out for a big fight. I know the game here. I wouldn t 
 talk to every one as I talk to you. I want you to under 
 stand me more, I want you to like me. And I feel 
 with you that the only way is to be absolutely honest. 
 You see, I m a politician," he said, with a laugh. " I ve 
 learned how to meet different men. Sometime I m going 
 to talk over things with you seriously. Here we are 
 now. I ve got a bunch of fellows to see. McCarthy s 
 probably looking for you. Don t make up your mind in 
 a hurry about me or about a good many things here. 
 Ta-ta!" 
 
STOVERATYALE 53 
 
 Stover watched him go gaily into the crowd, distribu 
 ting bluff, vociferous welcomes, hilariously acclaimed. 
 The man was new, represented a new element, a strange, 
 dimly perceived, rebellious mass, with ideas that intruded 
 themselves ungratefully on his waking vision. 
 
 " Is he sincere? " he said to himself a question that 
 he was to apply a hundred times in the life that was be 
 ginning. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HELLO, there, Stover ! " 
 " Stover, over here ! " 
 
 " Oh, Dink Stover, this way ! " 
 
 Over the bared heads of the bobbing, shifting crowd 
 he saw Hunter and McCarthy waving to him. He made 
 his way through the strange assorted mass of freshmen 
 to his friends, where already, instinctively, a certain 
 picked element had coalesced. A dozen fellows, clean- 
 cut, steady of head and eye, carrying a certain unmistak 
 able, quiet assurance, came about him, gripping him 
 warmly, welcoming him into the little knot with cordial 
 acknowledgment. He felt the tribute, and he liked it. 
 They were of his own kind, his friends to be, now and 
 in the long reaches of life. 
 
 "Fall in, fall in!" 
 
 Ahead of them, the upper classes were already in rank. 
 Behind, the freshmen, unorganized, distrustful, were be 
 ing driven into lines of eight and ten by seniors, pipe 
 in mouth, authoritative, quiet, fearfully enveloped in dig 
 nity. Cheers began to sound ahead, the familiar brek-e- 
 kek-kex with the class numeral at the end. A cry went 
 up: 
 
 " Here, we must have a cheer." 
 
 " Give us a cheer." 
 
 " Start her up." 
 
 " Lead a cheer, some one." 
 
 " Lead a cheer, Hunter." 
 
 " Lead the cheer, Gimbel." 
 
 54 
 
STOVERATYALE 55 
 
 " Lead the cheer, Stover." 
 
 " Come on, Stover ! " 
 
 A dozen voices took up his name. He caught the in 
 fection. Without hesitating, he stepped by Hunter, who 
 was hesitating, and cried: 
 
 " Now, fellows, all together the first cheer for the 
 class ! Are you ready ? Let her rip ! " 
 
 The cheer, gathering momentum, went crashing above 
 the noises of the street. The college burst into a mighty 
 shout of acclaim another class was born! 
 
 Suddenly ahead the dancing lights of the senior torches 
 began to undulate. Through the mass a hoarse roar 
 went rushing, and a sudden muscular tension. 
 
 " Grab hold of me." 
 
 " Catch my arm." 
 
 " Grip tight." 
 
 " Get in line." 
 
 " Move up." 
 
 " Get the swing." 
 
 Stover found himself, arms locked over one another s 
 shoulders, between Schley, who had somehow kept per 
 sistently near him, and a powerful, smiling, blond-haired 
 fellow who shouted to him : 
 
 "My name s Hunger ford Joe Hunger ford. Glad 
 to know you. Down from Groton." 
 
 It was a name known across the world for power in 
 finance, and the arm about Stover s shoulder was taut 
 with the same sentimental rush of emotion. 
 
 Down the moving line suddenly came surging the 
 chant : 
 
 " Chi Rho Omega Lambda Chi! 
 We meet to-night to celebrate 
 The Omega Lambda Chi!" 
 
56 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Grotesquely, lumberingly, tripping and confused, they 
 tried to imitate the forward classes, who were surging in 
 the billowy rhythm of the elusive serpentine dance. 
 
 " How the deuce do they do it? " 
 
 " Get a skip to it, you ice-wagons." 
 
 " All to the left, now." 
 
 " No, to the right." 
 
 Gradually they found themselves; hoarse, laughing, 
 struggling, sweeping inconsequentially on behind the 
 singing, cheering college. 
 
 Before Dink knew it, the line had broken with a rush, 
 and he was carried, struggling and pushing, into a vacant 
 lot, where all at once, out of the tumult and the riot, a 
 circle opened and spread under his eyes. 
 
 Seniors in varsity sweaters, with brief authoritative 
 gestures, forced back the crowd, stationed the fretful 
 lights, commanding and directing : 
 
 " First row, sit down." 
 
 " Down in front, there." 
 
 " Kneel behind." 
 
 " Freshmen over here." 
 
 " Get a move on ! " 
 
 " Stop that shoving." 
 
 "How s the space, Cap?" 
 
 In the center, Captain Dana waited with an appraising 
 eye. 
 
 " All right. Call out the lightweights." 
 
 Almost immediately, from the opposite sophomores, 
 came a unanimous shout: 
 
 " Farquahar ! Dick Farquahar ! " 
 
 "Come on, Dick!" 
 
 "Get in the ring!" 
 
 Out into the ring stepped an agile, nervous figure, 
 acclaimed by all his class. 
 
STOVERATYALE 57 
 
 " A cheer for Farquahar, fellows ! " 
 
 " One, two, three ! " 
 
 "Farquahar!" 
 
 " Candidate from the freshman class ! " 
 
 " Candidate ! " 
 
 " Robinson ! " 
 
 "Teddy Robinson!" 
 
 "Harris!" 
 
 " No, Robinson Robinson ! " 
 
 Gimbel s voice dominated the outcry. There was a 
 surging, and then a splitting of the crowd, and Robinson 
 was slung into the ring. 
 
 In the midst of contending cheers, the antagonists 
 stripped to the belt and stood forth to shake hands, their 
 bared torsos shining in high lights against the mingled 
 shadows of the audience. 
 
 The two, equally matched in skill, went tumbling and 
 whirling over the matted sod, twisting and flopping, until 
 by a sudden hold Robinson caught his adversary in a half 
 nelson and for the brief part of a second had the two 
 shoulders touching the ground. The second round like 
 wise went to the freshman, who was triumphant after a 
 struggle of twenty minutes. 
 
 " Middleweights ! " 
 
 " Candidate from the sophomore class ! " 
 
 " Candidate from the freshman ! " 
 
 "Fisher!" 
 
 "Denny Fisher!" 
 
 The sophomore stepped forth, tall, angular, well knit. 
 Among the freshmen a division of opinion arose : 
 
 " Say, Andover, who ve you got ? " 
 
 " Any one from Hotchkiss ? " 
 
 " What s the matter with French? " 
 
 " He doesn t know a thing about wrestling." 
 
58 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 "How about Doc White?" 
 
 " Not heavy enough." 
 
 The seniors began to be impatient. 
 
 " Hurry up, now, freshmen, hurry up ! " 
 
 " Produce something ! " 
 
 Still a hopeless indecision prevailed. 
 
 " I don t know any one." 
 
 " Jack s too heavy." 
 
 " Say, you Hill School fellows, haven t you got some 
 one?" 
 
 " Some one s got to go out." 
 
 The sophomores, seizing the advantage, began to gibe 
 at them: 
 
 " Don t be afraid, freshmen ! " 
 
 " We won t hurt you." 
 
 " We ll let you down easy." 
 
 "Take it by default." 
 
 " Call time on them." 
 
 " I don t know a thing about it," said Stover, between 
 his teeth, to Hungerford, his hands twitching impatiently, 
 his glance fixed hungrily on the provokingly amused face 
 of the sophomore champion. 
 
 " I m too heavy or I d go." 
 
 " I ve a mind to go, all the same." 
 
 McCarthy, who knew his impulses of old, seized him 
 by the arm. 
 
 " Don t get excited, Dink, old boy ; you don t know 
 anything about wrestling." 
 
 " No, but I can scrap ! " 
 
 The outcry became an uproar : 
 
 " Quitters ! " 
 
 " Fraid cats!" 
 
 " Poor little freshmen ! " 
 
 " They re in a funk." 
 
STOVERATYALE 59 
 
 "By George, I can t stand that," said Stover, setting 
 his teeth, the old love of combat sweeping over him. 
 " I m going to have a chance at that duck myself ! " 
 
 He thrust his Way forward, shaking off McCarthy s 
 hold, stepped over the reclining front ranks, and, spring 
 ing into the ring, faced Dana. 
 
 " I m no wrestler, sir, but if there s no one else I ll 
 have a try at it." 
 
 There was a sudden hush, and then a chorus : 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "Who s that fellow?" 
 
 "What s his name?" 
 
 " Oh, freshmen, who s your candidate ? " 
 
 "Stover!" 
 
 " Stover, a football man ! " 
 
 " Fellow from Lawrenceville ! " 
 
 The seniors had him over in a corner, stripping him, 
 talking excitedly. 
 
 " Say, Stover, what do you know about it ? " 
 
 " Not a thing." 
 
 " Then go in and attack." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 " Don t wait for him." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " He s a clever wrestler, but you can get his nerve." 
 
 "His nerve?" 
 
 " Keep off the ground." 
 
 " Off the ground, yes." 
 
 " Go right in ; right at him ; tackle him hard ; shake 
 him up." 
 
 " All right," he said, for the tenth time. He had heard 
 nothing that had been said. He was standing erect, look 
 ing in a dazed way at the hundreds of eyes that were 
 dancing about him in the living, breathing pit in which 
 
60 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 he stood. He heard a jumble of roars and cheers, and 
 one clear cry, McCarthy crying: 
 
 "Good old Dink!" 
 
 Some one was rolling up his trousers to the knee; 
 some one was flinging a sweater over his bared back; 
 some one was whispering in his ear : 
 
 " Get right to him. Go for him don t wait ! " 
 
 " Already, there," said Captain Dana s quiet, matter- 
 of-fact voice. 
 
 " Already, here." 
 
 "Shake hands!" 
 
 The night air swept over him with a sudden chill as 
 the sweaters were pulled away. He went forth while 
 Dana ran over the rules and regulations, which he did not 
 understand at all. He stood then about five feet ten, 
 in perfect condition, every muscle clearly outlined against 
 the wiry, spare Yankee frame, shoulders and the sinews 
 of his arms extraordinarily developed. From the mo 
 ment he had stepped out, his eyes had never left Fisher s. 
 Combat transformed his features, sending all the color 
 from his face, narrowing the eyes, and drawing tense the 
 lips. Combat was with him always an overmastering 
 rage in the leash of a cold, nervous, pulsating logic, which 
 by the very force of its passion gave to his expression an 
 almost dispassionate cruelty a look not easy to meet, 
 that somehow, on the instant, impressed itself on the 
 crowd with the terrific seriousness of the will behind. 
 
 " Wiry devil." 
 
 " Good shoulders." 
 
 " Great fighting face, eh ? " 
 
 " Scrapper, all right." 
 
 " I ll bet he is." 
 
 " Shake hands ! " 
 
 Stover caught the other s hand, looked into his eyes, 
 
STOVERATYALE 61 
 
 read something there that told him, science aside, that he 
 was the other s master; and suddenly, rushing forward, 
 he caught him about the knees and, lifting him bodily in 
 the air, hurled him through the circle in a terrific tackle. 
 
 The onslaught was so sudden that Fisher, unable to 
 guard himself, went down with a crash, the fall broken 
 by the bodies of the spectators. 
 
 A roar, half laughter, half hysteria, went up. 
 
 " Go for him ! " 
 
 " Good boy, Stover ! " 
 
 " Chew him up ! " 
 
 " Is he a scrapper ! " 
 
 "Say, this is a fight!" 
 
 " Wow ! " 
 
 Dana, clapping them on the shoulders, brought them 
 back to the center of the ring and restored them to the 
 position in which they had fallen. Fisher, plainly shaken 
 up, immediately worked himself into a defensive posi 
 tion, recovering his breath, while Stover frantically 
 sought some instinctive hold with which to turn him 
 over. 
 
 Suddenly an arm shot out, caught his head in chancery, 
 and before he knew it he was underneath and the weight 
 of Fisher s body was above, pressing him down. He 
 staggered to his feet in a fury, maddened, unreasoning, 
 and went down again, always with the dead weight above 
 him. 
 
 "Here, that won t do/ he said to himself savagely, 
 recovering his clarity of vision; " I mustn t lose strength." 
 
 All at once, before he knew how it had been done, 
 Fisher s arm was under his, cutting over his neck, and 
 slowly but irresistibly his shoulders were turning toward 
 the fatal touch. Every one was up, shouting: 
 
 "Turn him over!" 
 
62 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Finish him up ! " 
 
 "Hold out, freshman!" 
 
 "Hold out!" 
 
 "Flop over!" 
 
 "Don t give in!" 
 
 "Stick it out!" 
 
 With a sudden expenditure of strength, he checked the 
 turning movement, desperately striving against the cruel 
 hold. 
 
 "Good boy, Stover!" 
 
 "That s the stuff!" 
 
 " Show your grit ! " 
 
 "Holdout!" 
 
 " Show your nerve ! " 
 
 In a second he had reasoned it out. He was caught 
 he knew it. He could resist three minutes, five min 
 utes, slowly sinking against his ebbing strength, fran 
 tically cheered for a spectacular resistance and then 
 what? If he had a chance, it was in preserving every 
 ounce of his strength for the coming rounds. 
 
 " All right ; you ve got me this time," he said coldly, 
 and, relaxing, let his shoulders drop. 
 
 Dana s hand fell stingingly on him, announcing the 
 fall. He rose amid an angry chorus: 
 
 "What the deuce!" 
 
 " Say, I don t stand for that!" 
 
 " Thought he was game." 
 
 " Game nothing ! " 
 
 ff Lost his nerve." 
 
 " Sure he did." 
 
 " Well, I ll be damned." 
 
 " A quitter a rank quitter ! " 
 
 He walked to his seconds, angry at the misunderstand 
 ing. 
 
STOVERATYALE 63 
 
 " Here, I know what I m doing," he said in short, 
 quick breaths, forgetting that he, a freshman, was ad 
 dressing the lords of creation. He was a captain again, 
 his own captain, conducting his own battle. " I ll get 
 him yet. Rub up this shoulder, quick." 
 
 " Keep off the ground," said one mentor. 
 
 " You bet I will." 
 
 " Why the deuce did you give in so easily ? " 
 
 " Because there are two more rounds, and I m going 
 to use my head hang it ! " 
 
 " He s right, too," said the first senior, rubbing him 
 fiercely with the towel. " Now, sport, don t monkey with 
 him until you ve jarred him up a couple of times! " 
 
 " That s what I m going to do ! " 
 
 " Time ! " cried the voice of Dana. 
 
 This time he retreated slowly, drawing Fisher unwarily 
 toward his edge of the ring, and then suddenly, as the 
 sophomore lunged at him, shot forward again, in a tackle 
 just below the waist, raised him clear off the ground, 
 spun him around, and, putting all his force into his back 
 as a wood-chopper, swings an ax, brought him down 
 crashing, clear across the ring. It was a fearful tackle, 
 executed with every savage ounce of rage within him, the 
 force of which momentarily stunned him. Fisher, groggy 
 under the bruising impact, barely had time to turn on his 
 stomach before Stover was upon him. 
 
 Dink immediately sprang up and back, waiting in the 
 center of the ring. The sophomore, too dazed to reason 
 clearly, yielding only to his anger at the sudden reversal, 
 foolishly struggled to his feet and came staggering to 
 ward him. A second time Stover threw all his dynamic 
 strength into another crashing tackle. This time Fisher 
 went over on his back with a thump, and, though he 
 turned instinctively, both shoulders had landed squarely 
 
64 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 on the turf, and, despite his frantic protests, a roar went 
 up as Dana allotted the fall to Stover. 
 
 This time, as he went to his corner, it was amid 
 pandemonium : 
 
 " You re a corker, freshman ! " 
 
 "Oh, you bulldog!" 
 
 " Tear him up ! " 
 
 "You re the stuff!" 
 
 " Good head, freshman ! " 
 
 " Good brain-work ! " 
 
 Several upper classmen came hurriedly over to his cor 
 ner, slapping him on the back, volunteering advice. 
 
 " Clear out," said his mentor proudly. " This rooster 
 can take care of himself." 
 
 Fisher came up for the third round, visibly groggy and 
 shaken by the force of the tackles he had received, but 
 game. Twice Stover, watching his chance, dove under 
 the groping hands and flung him savagely to the ground. 
 Once Fisher caught him, as they lay on the ground, in 
 a hold that might have been decisive earlier in the match. 
 As it was, Stover felt with a swift horror the arm slip 
 ping under his arm, half gripping his neck. The wet heat 
 of the antagonistic body over his inflamed all the brute 
 in him. The strength was now his. He tore himself 
 free, scrambled to his feet, and hurled Fisher a last time 
 clean through into the scattering crowd, where he lay 
 stunned, too weak to resist the viselike hands that forced 
 his shoulders to the ground. 
 
 Dana hauled Stover to his feet, a little groggy. 
 
 " Some tackling, freshman ! Bout s yours ! Call out 
 the heavyweights ! " 
 
 Scarcely realizing that it was his captain who had 
 spoken, Dink stood staring down at Fisher, white and 
 conquered, struggling to his feet in the grip of friends. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 65 
 
 " I say, Fisher," he said impulsively, " I hope I didn t 
 shake you up too much. I saw red ; I didn t know what I 
 was doing." 
 
 " You did me all right," said the sophomore, giving 
 his hand. " That tackle of yours would break a horse 
 in two. Shake ! " 
 
 " Thank you," said Stover, flustered and almost 
 ashamed before the other s perfect sportsmanship. 
 " Thank you very much, sir ! " 
 
 He went to his corner, smothered under frantic slaps 
 and embraces, hearing his name resounding again and 
 again on the thunders of his classmates. The bout had 
 been spectacular; every one was asking who he was. 
 
 " Stover, eh, of Lawrenceville ! " 
 
 " Gee, what a fierce tackier ! " 
 
 " Ridiculous for Fisher to be beaten ! " 
 
 "Oh, is it? How d you like to get a fall like that? 
 
 " Played end." 
 
 " Captain at Lawrenceville." 
 
 " He ought to be a wonder." 
 
 " Say, did you see the face he got on him? " 
 
 " Enough to scare you to death." 
 
 " It got Fisher, all right." 
 
 While he was being rubbed down and having his 
 clothes thrust upon him, shivering in every tense muscle, 
 which, now the issue was decided, seemed to have broken 
 from his control, suddenly a hand gripped his, and, look 
 ing up, he saw the face of Tompkins, ablaze with the fire 
 of the professional spectator. 
 
 " I m not shaking hands on your brutal old tackling," 
 he said, with a look that belied his words. " It s the 
 other thing the losing the first fall. Good brain-work, 
 boy ; that s what ll count in football." 
 
 The grip of the veteran cut into his hand; in Tomp- 
 
66 STOVERATYALE 
 
 kins s face also was a reminiscent flash of the fighting face 
 that somehow, in any test, wins half the battle. 
 
 The third bout went to the sophomores, Regan, the 
 choice of the class, being nowhere to be found. But the 
 victory was with the freshmen, who, knit suddenly to 
 gether by the consciousness of a power to rise to emergen 
 cies, carried home the candidates in triumph. 
 
 McCarthy, with his arms around Stover as he had done 
 in the old school days after a grueling football contest, 
 bore Dink up to their rooms with joyful, bearlike hugs. 
 Other hands were on him, wafting him up the stairs as 
 though riding a gale. 
 
 " Here, let me down will you, you galoots ! " he cried 
 vainly from time to time. 
 
 Hilariously they carried him into the room and dumped 
 him down. Other freshmen, following, came to him, 
 shaking his hand, pounding him on the back. 
 
 "Good boy, Stover!" 
 
 " What s the use of wrestling, anyhow ? " 
 
 "You re it!" 
 
 " We re all for you ! " 
 
 " The old sophomores thought they had it cinched." 
 
 "Three cheers for Dink Stover!" 
 
 " One more ! " 
 
 "And again!" 
 
 "Yippi!" 
 
 McCarthy, doubled up with laughter, stood in front 
 of him, gazing hilariously, proudly down. 
 
 " You old Dink, you, what right had you to go out for 
 it?" 
 
 " None at all." 
 
 " How the deuce did you have the nerve ? " 
 
 " How ? " For the first time the question impressed 
 
STOVERATYALE 67 
 
 itself on him. He scratched his head and said simply, 
 unconscious of the wide application of what he said: 
 " Gee ! guess I didn t stop to think how rotten I was." 
 He went to bed, gorgeously happy with the first throb 
 bing, satisfying intoxication of success. The whole 
 world must be concerned with him now. He was no 
 longer unknown; he had emerged, freed himself from 
 the thralling oblivion of the mass. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 STOVER fondly dreamed, that night, of his triumphal 
 appearance on the field the following day, greeted 
 by admiring glances and cordial handshakes, placed at 
 once on the second eleven, watched with new interest by 
 curious coaches, earning an approving word from the 
 captain himself. 
 
 When he did come on the field, embarrassed and re 
 luctantly conscious of his sudden leap to world-wide 
 fame, no one took the slightest notice of him. Tomp- 
 kins did not vouchsafe a word of greeting. To his 
 amazement, Dana again passed him over and left him 
 restless on the bench, chafing for the opportunity that 
 did not come. The second and the third afternoon it 
 was the same the same indifference, the same forgetful- 
 ness. And then he suddenly realized the stern discipline 
 of it all unnecessary and stamping out individuality, 
 it seemed to him at first, but subordinating everything 
 to the one purpose, eliminating the individual factor, 
 demanding absolute subordination to the whole, sub 
 merging everything into the machine that was not a 
 machine only, when once accomplished, but an immense 
 idea of sacrifice and self-abnegation. Directly, clearly 
 visualized, he perceived, for the first time, what he was to 
 perceive in every side of his college career, that a stand 
 ard had been fashioned to which, irresistibly, subtly, 
 he would have to conform ; only here, in the free domain 
 of combat, the standard that imposed itself upon him was 
 something bigger than his own. 
 
 68 
 
STOVERATYALE 69 
 
 Meanwhile the college in all its activities opened be 
 fore him, absorbing him in its routine. The great mass 
 of his comrades to be gradually emerged from the blurred 
 mists of the first day. He began to perceive hundreds 
 of faces, faces that fixed themselves in his memory, rang 
 ing themselves, dividing according to his first impression 
 into sharply defined groups. Fellows sought him out, 
 joined him when he crossed the campus, asked him to 
 drop in. 
 
 In chapel he found himself between Bob Story, a 
 quiet, self-contained, likable fellow, popular from the 
 first from a certain genuine sweetness and charity in his 
 character, son of Judge Story of New Haven, one of the 
 most influential of the older graduates ; and on the other 
 side Swazey, a man of twenty-five or six, of a type that 
 frankly amazed him rough, uncouth, with thick head 
 and neck, rather flat in the face, intrusive, yellowish eyes, 
 under lip overshot, one ear maimed by a scar, badly 
 dressed, badly combed, and badly shod. Belying this 
 cloutish exterior was a quietness of manner and the 
 dreamy vision of a passionate student. Where he came 
 from Stover could not guess, nor by what strange chance 
 of life he had been thrown there. In front of him was 
 the great bulk of Regan, always bent over a book for the 
 last precious moments, coming and going always with the 
 same irresistible steadiness of purpose. He had not been 
 at the wrestling the opening night, he had not been out 
 for football, because his own affairs, his search for work, 
 were to him more important ; and, looking at him, Stover 
 felt that he would never allow anything to divert him 
 from his main purpose in college first, to earn his 
 way, and, second, to educate himself. Stover, with 
 others, had urged him to report for practise, knowing, 
 though not proclaiming it, that there lay the way to 
 
70 STOVERATYALE 
 
 friendships that, once gained, would make easy his prob 
 lem. 
 
 " Not yet, Stover," said Regan, always with the same 
 finality in his tone. " I ve got to see my way clear ; I ve 
 got to know if I can down that infernal Greek and Latin 
 first. If I can, I m coming out." 
 
 " Where do you room ? " said Stover. 
 
 " Oh, out about a mile a sort of rat-hole." 
 
 " I want to drop in on you." 
 
 " Come out sometime." 
 
 " Drop in on me." 
 
 " I m going to." 
 
 " I say, Regan, why don t you see Le Baron ? " 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Why, he might might give you some good tips," 
 said Stover, a little embarrassed. 
 
 " Exactly. Well, I prefer to help myself." 
 
 Stover broke out laughing. 
 
 " You re a fierce old growler ! " 
 
 "I am." 
 
 " I wish you d come around a little and let the fellows 
 know you." 
 
 " That can wait." 
 
 " I say, Regan," said Stover suddenly, " would you 
 mind doing the waiting over at our joint? " 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 " Why, I thought," said Stover, not saying what he 
 had thought, " I thought perhaps you d find it more con 
 venient at Commons." 
 
 " Is that what you really thought ? " said Regan, with 
 a quizzical smile. 
 
 The man s perfect simplicity and unconsciousness im 
 pressed Stover more than all the fetish of enthroned up- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 71 
 
 per classmen ; he was always a little embarrassed before 
 Regan. 
 
 "No," he said frankly, "but, Regan, I would like to 
 have you with us, and I think you d like it." 
 
 "We ll talk it over," said Regan deliberately. "I ll 
 think it over myself. Good-by." 
 
 Stover put out his hand instinctively. Their hands 
 held each other a moment, and their eyes met in open, 
 direct friendship. 
 
 He stood a moment thoughtfully, after they had parted. 
 What he had offered had been offered impulsively. He 
 began to wonder if it would work out without embar 
 rassment in the intimacy of the eating-joint. 
 
 The crowd that they had joined as Gimbel had 
 predicted had taken a long dining-room cheerily 
 lighted, holding one table, around which sixteen ravenous 
 freshmen managed to squeeze in turbulent, impatient 
 clamor. 
 
 Bob Story, Hunter and his crowd, Hungerford and 
 several men from Groton and St. Mark s, Schley and his 
 room-mate Troutman made up a coterie that already had 
 in it the elements of the leadership of the class. 
 
 As he was deliberating, he perceived Joe Hungerford 
 rolling along, with his free and easy slouch, immersed 
 in the faded blue sweater into which he had lazily bolted 
 to make chapel, a cap riding on the exuberant wealth of 
 blond hair. He broached the subject at once: 
 
 " Say, Hungerford, you re the man I want." 
 
 " Fire away." 
 
 Stover detailed his invitation to Regan, concluding: 
 
 " Now, tell me frankly what you think." 
 
 " Have him with us, by all means," said Hungerford 
 impulsively. 
 
72 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Might it not be a little embarrassing? How do you 
 think the other fellows would like it ? " 
 
 " Why, there s only one way to take it," said Hunger- 
 ford directly. " Our crowd s too damned select now to 
 suit me. We need him a darn sight more than he needs 
 us." 
 
 " I knew you d feel that way." 
 
 " By George, that s why I came to Yale. If there are 
 any little squirts in the crowd think differently, a swift 
 kick where it ll do the most good will clear the atmos 
 phere." 
 
 Stover looked at him with impulsive attraction. He 
 was boyish, unspoiled, eager. 
 
 " Now, look here, Dink you don t mind me calling 
 you that, do you ? " continued Hungerford, with a little 
 hesitation. 
 
 " Go ahead." 
 
 " I want you to understand how I feel about things. 
 I ve got about everything in the world to make a con 
 ceited, pompous, useless little ass out of me, and about 
 two hundred people who want to do it. I wish to blazes 
 I was starting where Regan is where my old dad did ; 
 I might do something worth while. Now, I don t want 
 any hungry, boot-licking little pups around me whose 
 bills I am to pay. I want to come in on your scale, and 
 I m mighty glad to get the chance. That s why my al 
 lowance isn t going to be one cent more than yours ; and I 
 want you to know it. Now, as for this fellow Regan 
 he sounds like a man. I tell you what I ll do. I ll fix it 
 up in a shake of a lamb s tail." 
 
 " Question is whether Regan will come," said Stover 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " By George, I ll make him. We ll go right out to 
 gether and put it to him." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 73 
 
 Which they did ; and Regan, yielding to the open cor 
 diality of Hungerford, accepted and promised to change 
 at the end of his week. 
 
 In the second week, having satisfactorily arranged his 
 affairs by what slender margin no one ever knew 
 Regan reported for practise. He had played a little 
 football in the Middle West and, though his knowledge 
 was crude, he learned slowly, and what he learned he 
 never lost. His great strength, and a certain quality 
 which was moral as well as physical, very shortly won 
 him the place of right guard, where with each week he 
 strengthened his hold. 
 
 Regan s introduction at the eating-joint had been 
 achieved without the embarrassment Stover had feared. 
 He came and went with a certain natural dignity that 
 was not assumed, but was inherent in the simplicity of his 
 character. He entered occasionally into the conversation 
 and always, when the others were finished and tarrying 
 over the tobacco, brought his plate to a vacant place and 
 ate his supper; but, that through, though often urged, 
 went his purposeful way, with always that certain solitary 
 quality about him that made approach difficult and had 
 left him friendless. 
 
 On the fourth afternoon of practise, as Stover, re 
 straining the raging impatience within him, resolved that 
 at all costs he would not show the chafing, went to his 
 place on the imprisoning bench, watching with famished 
 eyes the contending lines, Dana, without warning, called 
 from the open field : 
 
 " Stover ! Stover ! Out here ! " 
 
 He jumped up, oblivious of everything but the sudden 
 thumping of his heart and the curious stir in the ranks 
 of the candidates. 
 
74 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Here, leave your sweater," shouted Tompkins, who 
 had repeated the summons. 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 Clumsily entangled in the folds of his sweater, he 
 struggled to emerge. Tompkins, amid a roar of laughter, 
 caught the arms and freed him, grinning at the impetu- 
 ousness with which Stover went scudding out. 
 
 On the way he passed the man he was replacing, re 
 turning rebelliously with a half antagonistic, half appre 
 hensive glance at him. 
 
 " Take left end on the scrub," said Dana, who was 
 not in the line of scrimmage. " Farley, give him the 
 signals." 
 
 The scrub quarter hastily poured into his ears the 
 simple code. He took up his position. The play was 
 momentarily halted by one of the coaches, who was haul 
 ing the center men over the coals. Opposite Stover, 
 Bangs, senior, was standing, legs spread, hands on his 
 hips, looking at him with a look Stover never forgot. 
 For three years he had plugged along his way, doggedly 
 holding his place in the scrubs, patiently waiting for 
 the one opportunity to come. Now, at last, after the 
 years of servitude, standing on the coveted side of the 
 line, suddenly here was a freshman with a big reputation 
 come in the challenge that might destroy all the years 
 of patience and send him back into the oblivion of tfie 
 scrubs. 
 
 Stover understood the appealing fury of the look, 
 even in all the pitilessness of his ambition. Something 
 sharp went through him at the thought of the man for 
 whose position, ruthlessly, fiercely, he was beginning to 
 fight. 
 
 Five or six coaches, always under the direction of 
 
STOVERATYALE 75 
 
 Case, head coach, were moving restlessly about the field, 
 watching for the first rudimentary faults. One or two 
 gave him quick appraising looks. Stover, moving rest 
 lessly back and forth, his eyes on the ground, too con 
 scious of the general curiosity, awaited the moment of 
 action. The discussion around the center ended. 
 
 " Varsity take the ball," called out Dana ; " get into it, 
 every one ! " 
 
 The two lines sprang quickly into position, the coaches, 
 nervous and vociferous, jumping behind the unfortunate 
 objects of their wrath, while the air was filled with 
 shrieked advice and exhortation. 
 
 "On the jump, there, Biggs!" 
 
 " Charge low ! " 
 
 " Oh, get down, get down ! " 
 
 " Break up this play ! " 
 
 " Wake up ! " 
 
 "Smash into it!" 
 
 "Charge!" 
 
 " Now ! " 
 
 " Block that man ! " 
 
 f( Throw him back ! " 
 
 "Get behind!" 
 
 " Push him on ! " 
 
 " Shove him on ! " 
 
 " Get behind and shove ! " 
 
 "Shove!" 
 
 "Shove! Oh, shove!" 
 
 Attack and defense were still crude. The play had 
 gone surging around the opposite end, but in a halting 
 way, the runner impeded by his own interference. 
 Stover, sweeping around at full speed, was able to down 
 the half from behind, just as the interference succeeded 
 
76 STOVERATYALE 
 
 in clearing the way. At once it was a chorus of angry 
 shouts, each coach descending on the particular object 
 of his wrath. 
 
 " Beautiful ! " 
 
 "You re a wonder!" 
 
 " What are you doing, growing to the ground ? " 
 
 "What did I tell you?" 
 
 " Say, interference, is this a walking match ? " 
 
 " Wonderful speed almost got away from the op 
 posite end." 
 
 " Say, Charley, a fast lot of backs we ve got." 
 
 " Line em up ! " 
 
 Two or three plays through the center, struggling and 
 squirming in the old fashion of football, were succeeded 
 by several tries at his side. Stover, besides three years 
 hard drilling, had a natural gift of diagnosis, which, with 
 the savagery of his tackling, made him, even at this 
 period, an unusual end, easily the best of the candidates 
 on the field. He stood on guard, turning inside the at 
 tack, or running along with it and gradually forcing his 
 man out of bounds. At other times he went through the 
 loose interference and caught his man with a solid lunge 
 that was not to be denied. 
 
 The varsity being forced at last to kick, Bangs came 
 out opposite him for that running scrimmage to cover 
 a punt that is the final test of an end. 
 
 Stover, dropping a little behind, confident in his mea 
 sure of the man, caught him with his shoulder on the start, 
 throwing him off balance for a precious moment, and 
 then followed him down the field, worrying him like a 
 sheep-dog pursuing a rebellious member of his flock, and 
 caught him at the last with a quick lunge at the knees that 
 sent him sprawling out of the play. Up on his feet in a 
 minute, Stover went racing after his fullback, in time to 
 
STOVERATYALE 7T 
 
 give the impetus of his weight that sent him over his.* 
 tackle, falling forward. 
 
 " How in blazes did that scrub end get back here ? " 
 shouted out Harden, a coach, a famous end himself. He 
 came up the field with Bangs, grabbing him by the shoul 
 der, gesticulating furiously, his fist flourishing, crying: 
 
 " Here, Dana, give us that play over again ! " 
 
 A second time Bangs sought to elude Stover, goaded on 
 by the taunts of Harden, who accompanied them. 
 Quicker in speed and with a power of instinctive appli 
 cation of his strength, Stover hung to his man, putting 
 him out of the play despite his frantic efforts. 
 
 Harden, furious, railed at him. 
 
 " What ! You let a freshman put you out of the 
 play? Where s your pride? In the name of Heaven do 
 something ! Why, they re laughing at you, Ben, they re 
 giving you the laugh ! " 
 
 Bangs, senior society man, manager of the crew, took 
 the driving and the leash without a protest, knowing 
 though he did that the trouble was beyond him that he 
 was up against a better man. 
 
 Suddenly Harden turned on Stover, who, a little apart, 
 was moving uneasily, feeling profoundly sorry for the 
 tanning Bangs was receiving on his account. 
 
 " Look here, young fellow, you re not playing that 
 right." 
 
 Stover was amazed. 
 
 " What s the first thing you ve got to think about when 
 you follow down your end ? " 
 
 " Keep him out of the play," said Stover. 
 
 "Never!" Harden seized him by the jersey, attack 
 ing with his long expostulating forefinger, just as he had 
 laid down the law to Bangs. " Never ! That s grand 
 stand playing, my boy ; good for you, rotten for the team. 
 
78 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 The one thing you ve got to do first, last, and always, is to 
 know where the ball is and what s happening to it. 
 Understand?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Now you didn t do that. You went down with your 
 eyes on your man only, didn t you ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " You never looked at your back to see if he fumbled, 
 did you?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " And if he had, where d you have been ? If he holds 
 it all right, knock over your end, but if he fumbles you ve 
 got to beat every one to it and recover it. You re one of 
 eleven men, not a newspaper phenomenon get that in 
 your head. You didn t know I was trying you out as 
 well as Bangs. Now let it sink into you. Do you get 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, thank you," said Stover, furious at himself, 
 for if there was one thing that was instinctive in him it 
 was this cardinal quality of following the ball and be 
 ing in every play. 
 
 It was a day of the hardest, trying alike to the nerves 
 of coaches and men, when the teams were driven without 
 a rest, when tempers were strained to the snapping point, 
 in the effort to instil not so much the details of the game 
 as the inflaming spirit of combat. 
 
 It was dusk before the coaches called a halt to the 
 practise and sent them, steaming and panting, aching in 
 every joint, back to the gymnasium for a rub-down. 
 
 Climbing wearily into the car to sink gratefully into a 
 seat, Dink suddenly, to his confusion, found himself by 
 the side of Bangs. 
 
 " Hello," said the senior, looking up with a grin, " I 
 hope every muscle in your body s aching." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 79 
 
 " It certainly is," said Stover, relieved. 
 
 Bangs looked at him a long moment, shook his head, 
 and said: 
 
 " I wish I could drop a ton of brick on you." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I ve plugged away for years, slaved like a nigger at 
 this criminal game, thought I was going to get my chance 
 at last, and now you come along." 
 
 " Oh, I say," said Stover in real confusion. 
 
 " Oh, I ll make you fight for it," said the other, with 
 a snap of his jaws. " But, boy, there s one thing I liked. 
 When that old rhinoceros of a Harden was putting the 
 hooks into me, you never eased up for a second." 
 
 " I knew you d feel that way." 
 
 " If you d done differently I d slaughtered you," said 
 Bangs. " Well, good luck to you ! " 
 
 He smiled, but back of the smile Stover saw the cruel 
 cut of disappointment. 
 
 And this feeling was stronger in him than any feeling 
 of elation as he returned to his rooms, after the late 
 supper. He had never known anything like the fierce 
 ness of that first practise. It was not play with the zest 
 he loved, it was a struggle of ambitions with all the heart 
 ache that lay underneath. He had gone out to play, and 
 suddenly found himself in a school for character, en 
 chained to the discipline of the Caesars, where the test lay 
 in stoicism and the victory was built on the broken hopes 
 of a comrade. 
 
 For the first time, a little appalled, he felt the weight 
 of the seriousness, the deadly seriousness of the Ameri 
 can spirit, which seizes on everything that is competi 
 tion and transforms it, with the savage fanaticism of its 
 race, for success. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 AFTER a week of grueling practise, the first game of 
 the season came like a holiday. Stover was called 
 out after the first few minutes, replacing Bangs, and re 
 mained until the close. He played well, aided by several 
 fortunate opportunities, earning at the last a pat on the 
 back from Dana which sent him home rejoicing. The 
 showing of the team was disappointing, even for that early 
 season. The material was plainly lacking in the line, and 
 at full-back the kicking was lamentably weak. The 
 coaches went off with serious faces ; throughout the col 
 lege assembled on the stands was a spreading premonition 
 of disaster. 
 
 Saturday night was privileged, with the long, grateful 
 Sunday morning sleep ahead. 
 
 " Dink, ahoy ! " shouted McNab s cheerful voice over 
 the banister, as he entered the house. 
 
 " Hello, there ! " 
 
 " How s the boy wonder, the only man-eating Dink in 
 captivity ? " 
 
 " Tired as the deuce." 
 
 " Fine. First rate," said McNab, skipping down. 
 " Forget the past, think only of the bright furniture. 
 We ve got a block of tickets for Poll s Daring-Dazzling- 
 Delightful Vaudeville to-night. You re elected. We ll 
 end up with a game at Reynolds . Seen the Evening 
 Register? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " My boy, you are famous," said McNab, brandishing 
 
 80 
 
STOVERATYALE 81 
 
 a paper. " I m lovelier, but you get the space. Never 
 mind, I ll be arrested soon anything to get in the pa 
 pers ! " 
 
 While McNab s busy tongue ran on, Stover was gaz 
 ing at the account of the game, where, among the second 
 ary headlines, there stared out at him the caption: 
 
 STOVER, A FRESHMAN, PLAYS 
 SENSATIONAL GAME. 
 
 The thing was too incredible. He stood stupidly look 
 ing at it. 
 
 " How do you feel ? " said McNab, taking his pulse pro 
 fessionally. 
 
 There was no answer Stover could give to that first 
 throbbing sensation at seeing his name his own name 
 in print. It left him confused, almost a little fright 
 ened. 
 
 " Why, Dink, you re modest," said the irrepressible 
 McNab; and, throwing open the door, he shouted at the 
 top of his voice : " I say, fellows, come down and see 
 Dink blush." 
 
 A magnificent scrimmage, popularly known as a 
 " rough house," ensued, in which McNab was properly 
 chastised, though not a whit subdued. 
 
 McCarthy arrived late, with the freshman eleven, back 
 from a close contest with a school team. They took a 
 hurried supper, and went down a dozen strong, in jovial 
 marching order. 
 
 The sensations of the theater were still new to Stover, 
 nor had his fortunate eye seen under the make-up or his 
 imagination gone below the laughter. To parade down 
 the aisle, straight as a barber s pole, chin carefully bal 
 anced on the sharp edge of his collar, on the night of his 
 
82 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 first day as end on the Yale varsity, delightfully conscious 
 of his own startling importance, feeling as if he over 
 topped every one in the most public fashion, to be abso 
 lutely blushingly conscious that every one in the theater 
 must, too, be grasping a copy of that night s Evening 
 Register, that every glance had started at his arrival and 
 was following in set admiration, was a memory he was 
 never to forget. His shoulders thrown up a little, just 
 a little in accentuation, as behooved an end with a repu 
 tation for tackling, he found his seat and, dropping down 
 quickly to escape observation, buried himself in his pro 
 gram to appear modest before the burning concentra 
 tion of attention which he was quite sure must now be 
 focused on him. 
 
 " Dobbs and Benzigger, the fellows who smash the 
 dishes by George, that s great!" cried McNab, joy 
 fully running over the program. " They re wonders 
 a perfect scream ! " 
 
 " Any good dancing ? " said Hungerford, and a dozen 
 answers came : 
 
 " You bet there is ! " 
 
 " Fanny Lamonte a dream, Joe ! " 
 
 " Daintiest thing you ever saw." 
 
 " Sweetest little ankles ! " 
 
 " Who s this coming the Six Templeton Sisters ? " 
 
 " Don t know." 
 
 "Well, here they come." 
 
 " They ve got to be pretty fine for me ! " 
 
 Enthroned as lords of the drama, they pronounced 
 their infallible judgments. Every joke was new, every 
 vaudeville turn an occasion for a gale of applause. The 
 appearance of the " Six Templetons " was the occasion of 
 a violent discussion between the adherents of the blondes 
 
STOVERATYALE 83 
 
 and the admirers of the brunettes, led by the impression 
 able McNab. 
 
 " I m all for the peach in the middle ! " 
 
 " Ah, rats ! She s got piano legs. Look at the fighting 
 brunette at this end." 
 
 " Why, she s got a squint." 
 
 " Squint nothing ; she s winking at me." 
 
 "Yes, she is!" 
 
 " Watch me get her eye ! " 
 
 Stover, of course, preserved an attitude of necessary 
 dignity, gently tolerant of the rakish sentimentalities 
 of the younger members of the flock. Moreover, he 
 was supremely aware that the sparkling eyes under the 
 black curls (were they real?) were not looking at Mc 
 Nab, but intensely directed at his own person all of 
 which, as she could not have read the Register, was a trib 
 ute to his own personal and not public charms. 
 
 The lights, the stir of the audience, the boxes rilled 
 with the upper classmen, the gorgeous costumes, the 
 sleepy pianist pounding out the accompaniments while ac 
 complishing the marvelous feat of reading a newspaper, 
 were all things to him of fascination. But his eye went 
 not to the roguish professional glances, but lost itself 
 somewhere abojye amid the ragged drops and borders. 
 He was transported into the wonders of Dink-land, 
 where one figure ran a hundred adventures, where a hun 
 dred cheers rose to volley forth one name, where a 
 dozen games were passed in a second, triumphant, daz 
 zling, rilled with spectacular conflicts, blurred with frantic 
 crowds of blue, ending always in surging black-hatted 
 rushes that tossed him victoriously toward the stars ! 
 
 " Let s cut out," said McNab s distinct voice. 
 "There s nothing but xylophones and coons left." 
 
84 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Come on over to Reynolds s." 
 
 " Start up the game." 
 
 Reluctantly, fallen to earth again, Stover rose and fol 
 lowed them out. In a moment they had passed through 
 the fragrant casks and bottles that thronged the passage, 
 saluting the statesmanly bulk of Hugh Reynolds, and 
 found themselves in a back room, already floating in 
 smoke. White, accusing lights of bracketed lamps picked 
 out the gray features of a dozen men vociferously rolling 
 forth -a drinking chorus, while the magic arms of Buck 
 Waters, his falcon s nose and little muzzle eyes, domi 
 nated the whole. A shout acclaimed them : 
 
 "Yea, fellows!" 
 
 "Shove inhere!" 
 
 "Get into the game." 
 
 " Bartender, a little more of that brutalizing beer ! " 
 
 " Cheese and pretzels ! " 
 
 " Hello, Tough McCarthy ! " 
 
 " Over here, Dopey McNab." 
 
 " Get into the orchestra." 
 
 " Good boy, Stover ! " 
 
 " Congratulations ! " 
 
 " Oh, Dink Stover, have we your eye ? " 
 
 The last call, caught up by every voice, went swelling 
 in volume, accompanied by a general uplifting of mugs 
 and glasses. It was the traditional call to a health. 
 
 " I d like to oblige," said Dink, a little embarrassed, 
 " but I m in training." 
 
 " That s all right hand him a soft one." 
 
 For the first time he perceived that there was a per 
 fect freedom in the choice of beverage. He bowed, 
 drained his glass, and sat down. 
 
 " Oh, Dopey McNab, have we your eye ? " 
 
 " You certainly have, boys, and Pm no one-eyed man 
 
STOVER AT YALE 85 
 
 at that," said McNab, jovially disappearing down a mug, 
 while the room in chorus trolled out: 
 
 " Drink the wine divine 
 As long as you can stand it. 
 Hand the bowl around 
 As long as you can hand it. 
 Drink your glass, 
 Drink your glass, 
 Dri-i-i-i-ink he s drunk it down." 
 
 " Oh, Jim Hunter, have we your eye ? " 
 
 Each new arrival in turn, called to his feet, rose and 
 drained his glass to a hilarious accompaniment, while 
 Stover, to his surprise, noted that fully a third of the 
 crowd were ordering soft drinks. 
 
 "Oh, Dink Stover, here s to you!" 
 
 From across the table Tommy Bain, lifting his glass 
 of ginger ale, smiled a gracious smile. 
 
 " Same to you, Tommy Bain." 
 
 The fellow who had addressed him was a leader among 
 the Hotchkiss crowd, out for coxswain, already spoken 
 of for one of the class managerships. He was a diminu 
 tive type, immaculately neat, black hair exactly parted 
 and unflurried, well jacketed, turn-down collar embel 
 lished with a red-and-yellow four-in-hand, a rather large, 
 bulbous nose, and thin eyes that were never quiet 
 shrewd, direct, inquisitive, always estimating. He was 
 smiling again, raising his glass to some one else down 
 the table, and the smile that passed easily over his lips 
 had the quality of seeming to come from the heart. 
 
 McNab and Buck Waters, natural leaders of the revels, 
 arms locked, were giving a muscular exhibition of joint 
 conducting, while the room in chorus sang: 
 
86 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Should fortune prove unkind, 
 Should fortune prove unfair, 
 A cure I have in mind 
 To drive away all care." 
 
 " By George ! " said Hungerford, at his side, laughing, 
 " it s good to be in the game at last, isn t it, Dink ? " 
 
 " It certainly is." 
 
 " We ve got a great crowd ; it s going to be a great 
 class." 
 
 " Who s Bain ? " said Dink, under his breath. 
 
 " Bain oh, he s a clever chap, probably be a class 
 deacon. That s another good thing about this place : we 
 can all get together and drink what we want." 
 
 " Chorus ! " cried McNab and Waters, with a twin 
 flourish of their arms. 
 
 " Chorus ! " shouted Hungerford and Bain, raising 
 their glasses in accompaniment. 
 
 " For to-night we will be merry 
 As the rosy wine we drink 
 The rosy wine we drink ! " 
 
 "Yea!" 
 
 " A little more close harmony ! " 
 
 A great shout acclaimed the chorus and another song 
 was started. 
 
 Hunter and Bain were opposite each other, surrounded 
 as it were by adherents, each already aware of the other, 
 measuring glances, serious, unrelaxing, never unbending, 
 never departing a moment from the careful attitude of 
 critical aloofness. In the midst of the rising hilarity and 
 the rebellious joy of newly gained liberty, the two rival 
 leaders sat singing, but not of the song, the same placid, 
 maliciously superior smile floating over the perfectly con- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 87 
 
 trolled lips of Bain, while in the anointed gaze of 
 Hunter was a ponderous seriousness which at that age is 
 ascribed to a predestined Napoleonic melancholy. 
 
 " Solo from Buck Waters ! " 
 
 "Solo!" 
 
 "On the chair!" 
 
 " Yea, Buck Waters ! " 
 
 Yielding to the outcry Waters was thrust upward. 
 
 " The cowboy orchestra ! " 
 
 " Give us the cowboy orchestra ! " 
 
 " The cowboy orchestra, ladies and gentlemen." 
 
 With a wave of his hand he organized the room into 
 drums, bugles, and trombones, announcing: 
 
 " The orchestra will tune up and play this little tune, 
 
 Ta-de-dee-ra-ta-ra-ta-rata, 
 Ta-de-dee-ra-ta-ra-ta-rata-ta ! 
 
 " All ready ? Lots of action there a little more cy 
 clonic from the trombones. Fine ! Whenever I give the 
 signal the orchestra will burst forth into that melodious 
 refrain. I will now give an imitation of a professional 
 announcer at Buffalo Bill s Wild West Show and Con 
 gress of Rough Riders. Orchestra : 
 
 " Ta-de-dee-rata-rata-rata 
 Ta-de-dee-rata-rata-rata-ta ! " 
 
 While Waters, with his great comical face shining 
 above the gleeful crowd like a harvest moon rising from 
 the lake, continued endlessly drawling out his nasal imi 
 tations, the crowd, for the first time welded together, 
 rocked and shouted out the farcical chorus. When he 
 had ended, Buck Waters sat down, enthroned forever 
 afterward master of song and revels. 
 
88 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Bain began to cast estimating glances, calculating on 
 the moment to leave. At the other end Waters was 
 fairly smothered under the rush of delighted comrades, 
 patting him on the back, acclaiming his rise to fame. 
 The tables settled down into a sentimental refrain led by 
 Stone s clear tenor. 
 
 Dink s glance, traveling down the table, was suddenly 
 attracted by the figure of a young fellow with a certain 
 defiant yet shy individuality in its pose. 
 
 "Who s the rather dark chap just beyond Dopey?" 
 he asked Hungerford. 
 
 " Don t know ; ask Schley." 
 
 " Brockhurst Sidney Brockhurst," said Schley, not 
 lowering his voice, " from Hill School. Trying for the 
 Lit. Clever chap, they say, but a little long-haired." 
 
 Stover studied him, his curiosity awakened. Brock 
 hurst, of all present, seemed the most solitary and the 
 most self-conscious. He had a long head, high, thin 
 cheeks, and a nervous little habit, when intent or con 
 scious of being watched, of drawing his fingers over his 
 lips. His head was thrown back a little proudly, but 
 the eyes contradicted this attitude, with the acute shyness 
 in them that clouded a certain keen imaginative scrutiny. 
 
 At this moment his eyes met Stover s. Dink, yielding 
 to an instinct, raised his glass and smiled. Brockhurst 
 hastily seized his mug in response, spilling a little of it 
 and dropping his glance quickly. Once or twice, as if 
 unpleasantly conscious of the examination, he turned un 
 easily. 
 
 " He looks rather interesting," said Stover thought 
 fully. 
 
 "Think so?" said Schley. " Rather freaky to me." 
 
 Suddenly a shout went up: 
 
 "Come in!" 
 
STOVERATYALE 89 
 
 "Yea, Sheff!" 
 
 "Yea, Tom Kelly!" 
 
 The narrow doorway was suddenly alive with a boister 
 ous, rollicking crowd of Sheff freshmen, led by Tom 
 Kelly, a short, roly-poly, alert little fellow with a sharp 
 pointing nose and a great half-moon of a mouth. 
 
 "Come in, Kelly!" 
 
 " Crowd in, fellows ! " 
 
 " Oh, Tom, join us ! " 
 
 " I will not come in," said Kelly, with a certain painful 
 beery assumption of dignity. He balanced himself a mo 
 ment, steadied by his neighbors ; and then, to the delight 
 of the room, began, with the utmost gravity, one of his 
 inimitable imitations of the lords that sit enthroned in the 
 faculty. 
 
 " I come, not to stultify myself in the fumes of liquor, 
 but to do you good. Beer is brutalizing. With your 
 kind permission, I will whistle you a few verses of a 
 noble poem on same subject." 
 
 "Whistle, Tom?" 
 
 " The word was whistle," said Kelly sternly. Extend 
 ing his arm for silence, he proceeded, with great in 
 tensity and concentrated facial expression, to whistle a 
 sort of improvisation. Then, suddenly ceasing, he con 
 tinued : 
 
 " And what does this beautiful, ennobling little thing 
 teach us, written by a great mind, one of the greatest, 
 greatest minds what does it teach us ? " 
 
 " Well, what does it teach ? " said one or two voices, 
 after Kelly had preserved a statuesque pose beyond the 
 limits of their curiosity. 
 
 " Ask me," said Kelly, with dignity. 
 
 " Mr. Kelly," said McNab rising seriously, " what 
 does this little gem of intellectuality, this as it were 
 
90 STOVERATYALE 
 
 psycho-therapeutical cirrhosis of a paleontological state, 
 -you get my meaning, of course, that is, from the 
 point of view of modern introspective excavations, with 
 due regard to whatever the sixth dimension, considered 
 as such, may have of influence, and allowing that a cer 
 tain amount of error is inherent in Spanish cooking if 
 eggs are boiled in a chafing-dish admitting all this, I 
 ask you a simple question. Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said Kelly, who had followed this serious 
 harangue with strained attention. " And, moreover, I 
 agree with you." 
 
 " You agree ? " said McNab, feigning surprise. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Sir, you are a congenial soul. Shake hands." 
 
 But, in the act of stealing this sudden friendship, 
 Kelly brought forth his hand, when it was perceived that 
 he was tightly clutching a pool-ball, and, moreover, that 
 his pockets were bulging like a sort of universal mumps 
 with a dozen inexplicable companions. A shout went 
 up: 
 
 " Why, he s swallowed a frame of pool-balls ! " 
 
 " He certainly has." 
 
 " He s swiped them." 
 
 " He s wrecked a pool-room." 
 
 " How the deuce did he do it? " 
 
 " Why, Tom, where did you get em? " 
 
 " Testimonial testimonial of affection," replied 
 Kelly, " literally showered on me." 
 
 Tom, you stole them." 
 
 " I did not steal them ! " 
 Tom, you stole them! 
 
 "Tom, O Tom!" 
 
 Kelly, who had proceeded to empty his pockets for an 
 exhibition, becoming abruptly offended at the universal 
 
STOVERATYALE 91 
 
 shouted accusation, repocketed the pool-balls and de 
 parted, despite a storm of protest and entreaties, carry 
 ing with him McNab. 
 
 A number of the crowd were passing beyond control ; 
 others, inflexible, smiling, continued in their attitude of 
 spectators, Brockhurst because he could not forget him 
 self, Hunter and Bain because they would not. 
 
 " Time for us to be cutting out," said Hunter, with a 
 glance at his watch. " What about it, Stover ? " 
 
 Dink was annoyed that he had not made the move 
 himself. McCarthy, Hungerford, and one or two of the 
 freshman candidates arose. A shout went up from the 
 noisy end of the table. 
 
 " Here ! no quitting ! " 
 
 "Cowards!" 
 
 " Come back ! " 
 
 " Shut up ; it s the football crowd ! " 
 
 "Oh, football, eh?" 
 
 " Right." 
 
 " Splendid ! " 
 
 Stover with a serious face, shook hands with Trout- 
 man, a red-haired fellow with sharp advancing features 
 who said impressively : 
 
 " Mr. Stover, I wish to express for my friends the 
 gratification, the extreme gratification, the extreme moral 
 gratification we feel at seeing a football a football can 
 didate showing such moral courage moral it s won 
 derful it moves me. Mr. Stover, I d like to shake your 
 hand." 
 
 Dink laughed and escaped, seeing, in a last glance at 
 the vaporous fitful room, Troutman solemnly giving his 
 hand to Waters, whom he was congratulating on his ex 
 treme moral courage in remaining. 
 
 Tommy Bain, in the confusion, slipped out unnoticed 
 
92 STOVERATYALE 
 
 and joined them. The last swollen burst of the song 
 was shut from them. They went back toward the campus 
 in twos and threes, over the quiet, moist pavement, past 
 the noisy windows of Mory s where no freshmen need 
 apply to the Common, where suddenly, in the moon 
 lit shadow of a great elm, they found a vociferous group 
 with Tom Kelly and McNab in the midst. 
 
 At this moment something fell from the skies within 
 perilous distance. 
 
 " What the deuce is that? " said Hungerford, jumping 
 back. 
 
 " Why, it s a pool-ball," said Stone, stooping down. 
 
 Another fell, just missing Hunter s shoulders. 
 
 " It s Kelly/ said Bain, " and he s firing at us." 
 
 With a rush they joined the group, to find Kelly, de 
 termined and enthusiastic, solemnly discharging his 
 ammunition at the great bulbous moon that was set 
 lumberingly above them. They joined the group that 
 surrounded him, expostulating, sober or fuddled : 
 
 " Don t be an ass, Tom." 
 
 " The cops are coming." 
 
 " I say, come on home." 
 
 " How many more has he got ? " 
 
 " Get him home, you fellows." 
 
 " Stop him/ 
 
 Meanwhile, abetted by the admiring, delighted McNab, 
 Tom Kelly, taking the most solicitous aim, was continu 
 ing his serious efforts to hit the moon with the pool -balls 
 which he had procured no one knew how. 
 
 " I say, McNab," said Stover, drawing him aside, 
 " better get him to stop now. Too many cops around. 
 Use your influence he ll listen to you." 
 
 McNab s sense of responsibility having thus become 
 
STOVERATYALE 93 
 
 violently agitated, he wabbled up to the laboring Kelly, 
 and the following historic dialogue took place: 
 
 " I say, Tom, old fellow, you know me, don t you ? 
 You know I m a good sort, don t you one of the fin 
 est?" 
 
 " I know you, Dopey McNab ; I m proud to know you/ 
 
 " I want to speak a word with you seriously." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Seriously." 
 
 " Say on." 
 
 " Now, seriously, Tom, do you think you can hit it?" 
 
 " Don t know ; going to try s much as in me. Biff ! " 
 
 " Hold up," said McNab, staying his hand. " Tom, 
 I m going to appeal to you as man to man." 
 
 "Appeal." 
 
 " You understand as man to man." 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " You re a man ; I m a man." 
 
 " The finest." 
 
 " Now as man to man, I m going to tell you the truth." 
 
 "The whole truth?" 
 
 " Solemn truth." 
 
 " Tell on." 
 
 " You can t hit it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Tom, it s too too far away ! " 
 
 The two shook hands solemnly and impressively. 
 
 " Can t hit it too far away," said Kelly, with the 
 pool-ball clutched tight. " Too far away, eh ? " 
 
 " My dear Tom," said McNab, tearfully breaking the 
 news, " it s too far entirely too far away. You can t 
 reach it, Tom; believe me, as man to man you can t, 
 you can never, never hit it." 
 
94 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " I know I can t, Dopey," said Kelly, in an equally 
 mournful tone, " I know all that. All that you say is 
 true. But, Dopey, suppose I should hit it, suppose I 
 should, just think think how my name would go 
 reeling and rocking down to fushure generations! 
 Biff!" 
 
 They left McNab overcome by the impressiveness of 
 this argument, busily gathering up the pool-balls, re 
 solved that every opportunity should be given Kelly to 
 rank among the immortals. 
 
 Stover would have liked to stay. For the moment, 
 almost a rebellion swept over him at the drudgery to 
 which he had condemned himself in his ambition. He 
 saw again the low table, through the smoke, and Buck 
 Waters s jovial pagan face leading the crowd in lazy, 
 care-free abandon. He felt that liberty, that zest of life, 
 that wild spirit of youth for which he yearned and of 
 which he had been defrauded by Le Baron s hand, that 
 hand which had ruthlessly torn away the veil. Some 
 thing leaped up within him a longing to break the 
 harness, to jump the gate and go heels in the air, cavort 
 ing across unfenced meadows. He rebelled against the 
 way that had been marked out for him. He rebelled 
 against the self-imposed discipline, and, most of all, he 
 rebelled against the hundred eyes under whose inspection 
 he must now inevitably walk. 
 
 Ahead of them to the left, across by Osborne, came 
 the gay, defiant singing of a group of upper classmen re 
 turning to the campus : 
 
 " For it s always fair weather 
 When good fellows stand together, 
 With a stein on the table 
 And a good song ringing clear." 
 
STOVERATYALE 95 
 
 The echo came to him with a certain grim mockery. 
 There would be very little of that for him. It was to 
 be four years, not of pleasure and inclination, but of 
 seriousness and restraint, if he continued in his decision. 
 For a moment the pagan in him prevailed, and he 
 doubted. Then they passed across High Street, and at 
 their sides the dead shadow of the society tomb suddenly 
 intruded upon them. Which of the group at the end of 
 the long three years would be of the chosen? Which 
 would lead? 
 
 " Well, fellows, we go this way," said Bain s meth 
 odical voice. " Drop around at the rooms soon. Good 
 night." 
 
 Stover, Hunter, and Bain for the moment found them 
 selves together, each striving for the same social honor, 
 each conscious that, whatever an established system 
 might bring to them, with its enforced comradeship, 
 among them would always be the underlying contending 
 spirit of variant ambitions. 
 
 Stover felt it keenly, almost with a sharp antagonism 
 that drove from him finally the slumbering rebellion he 
 had felt all that night the tugging at the bridle of con 
 sciousness which had been imposed upon him. This 
 was a bigger thing, a thing that wakened in him the 
 great instincts of combat. He would be a leader among 
 leaders. He would succeed as success was reckoned. 
 
 He gave a little laugh and held out his hand to 
 Hunter. 
 
 " Good night, Jim," he said. 
 
 " Why good night," said Hunter, surprised at the 
 laugh and the unnecessary handshake. 
 
 But the hand had been offered in challenge, and the 
 laugh marked the final deliberate acceptance of all that 
 Le Baron had logically exposed to him. 
 
96 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " I ll play the game, and I ll play it better than they 
 will," he said, setting his lips. " I ve got my eyes open, 
 and I m not going to throw away a single chance. We ll 
 see who ll lead!" 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE intensity and seriousness of the football season 
 abetted Stover in his new attitude of Napoleonic 
 seclusion by leaving him little time for the lighter side 
 of college pleasures. Every hour was taken up with the 
 effort of mastering his lessons, which he then regarded, 
 in common with the majority of his class, as a laborious 
 task, a sort of necessary evil, the price to be paid for 
 the privilege of passing four years in pleasant places 
 with congenial companions. 
 
 After supper he returned immediately to his rooms, 
 where presently a succession of visiting sophomores, 
 members of the society campaign committees, took up 
 the first hours. These inquisitorial delegations, formal, 
 stiff, and conducted on a basis of superior investigation, 
 embarrassed him at first. But this feeling soon wore off 
 with the consciousness that he was a subject of dispute; 
 and, secure in the opportunity that would come to him 
 with the opening of the winter-term period of elections, 
 his interest was directed only to the probable selection 
 among his classmates. 
 
 By the middle of October the situation at Yale field 
 had become critical. The earlier games had demon 
 strated what had been foreseen the weakness and in 
 experience of the raw material in hand. Serious errors 
 in policy were committed by Captain Dana, who, in the 
 effort to find some combination which would bolster up 
 the weak backfield, began a constant shifting of the posi 
 tions in order to experiment with heavier men behind 
 
 97 
 
,98 STOVERATYALE 
 
 the line. A succession of minor injuries arrived to fur 
 ther the disorganization. The nervousness of the cap 
 tain communicated itself to the team, harassed and driven 
 in the effort for accomplishment. That there was seri 
 ous opposition among the coaches to these new groping 
 policies every man saw plainly; yet, to Stover s amaze 
 ment, the knowledge remained within the team, impreg 
 nated with the spirit of loyalty and discipline. 
 
 After three weeks of brilliancy at his natural position 
 of end, buoyed up by the zest of confidence and success, 
 he was abruptly called to one side. 
 
 " Stover, you ve played behind the line, haven t you ? " 
 said Dana. 
 
 " A couple of games at school, sir," he answered 
 hastily, " just as a makeshift." 
 
 " I m going to try you at fullback." 
 
 "At fullback?" 
 
 " Get into it and see if you can make good." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 He went without spirit, sure of the impossibility of the 
 thing, feeling only the humiliation and failure that all 
 at once flung itself like a storm-cloud across his ambi 
 tion. A coach took charge of him, running over with 
 him the elementary principles of blocking and plunging. 
 
 When he lined up, it was with half of the coaching 
 force at his back. 
 
 " Come on, Stover ; get into it ! " 
 
 " Wake up ! " 
 
 " Get your head down ! " 
 
 " Keep a-going ! " 
 
 " Ram into it ! " 
 
 " Knock that man over ! " 
 
 " Knock him over! " 
 
 He went into the line blindly, frantically, feeling for 
 
STOVERATYALE 99 
 
 the first time that last exhausting, lunging expenditure of 
 strength that is called forth with the effort to fall for 
 ward when tackled. Nothing he did satisfied. It was a 
 constant storm of criticism, behind his back, in his ears, 
 shrieked to his face: 
 
 " Keep your feet oh, keep your feet ! " 
 
 " Smash open that line ! " 
 
 " Rip open that line ! " 
 
 "Hit it hit it!" 
 
 "Hard harder!" 
 
 " Go on don t stop ! " 
 
 A dozen times he flung his meager weight against the 
 ponderous bodies of the center men, crushed by the im 
 pact in front, smothered by the surging support of his 
 own line behind, helpless in the grinding contention, 
 turned and twisted, going down in a heap amid the shock 
 of bodies, thinking always: 
 
 " Well, the darn fools will find out just about how 
 r much use I am here ! " 
 
 When the practise ended, at last, Dana called on 
 Tompkins. 
 
 " Joe, take Stover and give him a line on the punting, 
 will you ? " 
 
 " I say, he s been worked pretty hard," said the coach 
 with a glance. 
 
 " How about it ? " said Dana quickly. 
 
 " All right," said Stover, lying gloriously. At that 
 moment, aching in every joint, he would have given every 
 thing to have spoken his mind. Instead he brought forth 
 a smile distinguished for its eagerness, and said, " I d 
 like to get right at it, sir." 
 
 " Fullback s the big problem," said Tompkins, as they 
 started across the field. " Bangs can fill in at end, but 
 we ve got to get a fullback that can catch punts, and with 
 
100 STOVERATYALE 
 
 nerve enough to get off his kicks in the face of that 
 Princeton line." 
 
 " I ll do my best, sir," said Stover, with a sinking 
 feeling. 
 
 For twenty minutes, against the rebellion of his body, 
 he went through a rigorous lesson, improving a little in 
 the length of his punts, and succeeding fairly well in 
 holding the ball, which came spinning end over end to 
 him from the region of the clouds. 
 
 " That ll do," said Tompkins, at last. 
 
 " That s all ? " said Stover stoically, picking up his 
 sweater. 
 
 " That s all." Tompkins, watching him for a moment, 
 said suddenly : " Stover, I don t know whether Dana ll 
 keep you at full or not, but I guess you ll have to get 
 ready to fill in. Come over to the gym lot every morn 
 ing for about half an hour, and we ll see if we can t work 
 up those punts." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 They walked out together. 
 
 " Stover, look here," said Tompkins abruptly, " I m go 
 ing to speak straight to you, because I think you ll keep 
 your mouth shut. We re in a desperate condition here, 
 and you know it. There s only one man in charge at 
 Yale, now and always, and that s the captain. That s 
 our system, and we stand or fall by it ; and in order that 
 we can follow him four times out of five to victory, we ve 
 got sometimes to shut our eyes and follow him down to 
 defeat. Do you get me?" 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " No matter what happens, no criticism of the captain 
 no talking outside. You may think he s wrong, you 
 may know he s wrong, but you ve got to grin and bear 
 it. That s all. Remember it a close mouth ! " 
 
STOVERATYALE 101 
 
 But it required all Stover s newly learned stoicism to 
 maintain this attitude in the weeks that arrived. After 
 a week he was suddenly returned to his old position, and 
 as suddenly redrafted to fullback when another game 
 had displayed the inadequacy of the regular. From a 
 position where he was familiar with all the craft of the 
 game, Stover suddenly found himself a novice whom a 
 handful of coaches sought desperately to develop by dint 
 of hammering and driving. His name no longer figured 
 in the newspaper accounts as the find of the season, but 
 as Stover the weak spot on the eleven. It was a rude 
 discipline, and more than once he was on the point of 
 crying out at what seemed to him the useless sacrifice. 
 But he held his tongue as he saw others, seniors, put to 
 the same test and giving obedience without a word of 
 criticism for the captain, who, as every one realized, face 
 to face with a hopeless outcome, was gradually going to 
 pieces. 
 
 Meanwhile Dopey McNab was just as zealously con 
 cerned in the pursuit of his classic ideal, which, however, 
 was imagined more along the lines of such historic 
 scholars as Verdant Green, Harry Foker, and certain 
 heroes of his favorite author, Charles Lever. 
 
 The annoyance of recitations by an economical im 
 agination he converted into periods of repose and re 
 freshing slumber behind the broad back of McMasters, 
 who, for a certain fixed portion of tobacco a week, agreed 
 to act as a wall in moments of calm and to awake him 
 with a kick on the shins when the summons to refuse to 
 recite arrived. 
 
 Having discovered Buck Waters as a companionable 
 soul, congenially inclined to the pagan view of life, it was 
 not long before the two discovered the third completing 
 genius in the person of Tom Kelly, who, though a mem- 
 
102 STOVERATYALE 
 
 ber of the Sheff freshman class, immediately agreed not 
 to let either time, place, or conflicting recitations stand 
 in the way of that superior mental education which must 
 result from the friction of three such active imagina 
 tions. 
 
 The triumvirate was established on a firm foundation 
 on the day after Kelly s ambitious but unsuccessful at 
 tempt to hit the moon with a pool-ball, and immediately 
 began a series of practical jokes and larks which threat 
 ened to terminate abruptly the partnership or remove it 
 bodily to an unimaginative outer world. 
 
 McNab, like most gentlemen of determined leisure, 
 worked indefatigably every minute of the day. Having 
 slept through chapel and first recitation, with an occa 
 sional interruption to rise and say with great dignity, 
 " Not prepared," he would suddenly, about ten o clock 
 in the morning, awake with a start, and drifting into 
 Stover s room plaster his nose to the window and rest 
 lessly ask himself what mischief he could invent for the 
 day. 
 
 After a moment of dissatisfied introspection, he would 
 say fretfully: 
 
 "I say, Dink?" 
 
 " Hello ! " 
 
 "Studying?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Almost finished?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " What are you doing, McCarthy ? " 
 
 " Boning out an infernal problem in spherical geo 
 metry." 
 
 " I gave that up." 
 
 "Oh, you did!" 
 
STOVERATYALE 103 
 
 " Sure, it s too hard what s the use of wasting time 
 over it, then ? What do you say to a game of pool ? " 
 
 "Get out!" 
 
 " Let s go for a row up on Lake Whitney." 
 
 " Shut up ! " 
 
 " Come over to Sheffield and get up a game of poker 
 with Tom Kelly." 
 
 At this juncture, Stover and McCarthy rising in wrath, 
 McNab would beat a hurried retreat, dodging whatever 
 came sailing after him. Much aggrieved, he would go 
 down the hall, trying the different doors, which had been 
 locked against his approach. 
 
 About this time Buck Waters, moved by similar im 
 pulses, would appear and the two would camp down on 
 the top step and practise duets, until a furious uprising 
 in the house would drive them ignominiously on to the 
 street. 
 
 Left to their own resources, they would wander aim 
 lessly about the city, inventing a hundred methods to ac 
 complish the most difficult of all feats, killing time. 
 
 On one particular morning in early November, Mc 
 Nab and Buck Waters, being refused admission to three 
 houses on York Street, and the affront being aggravated 
 by jeers and epithets of the coarsest kind, went arm in 
 arm on mischief bent. 
 
 " I say, what let s do ? " said McNab disconsolately. 
 
 " We must do something new," said Buck Waters. 
 
 " We certainly must." 
 
 "Well, let s try the old clothes gag," said McNab; 
 " that always amuses a little." 
 
 Reaching the thoroughfare of Chapel Street, McNab 
 stationed himself at the corner while Waters proceeded 
 to a point about half-way down the block. 
 
104 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Assuming a lounging position against a lamp-post, 
 McNab waited until chance delivered up to him a super- 
 humanly dignified citizen in top hat and boutonniere, 
 moving through the crowd with an air of solid impor 
 tance. 
 
 Darting out, he approached with the sweep of an 
 eagle, saying in a hoarse whisper : 
 
 " Old clothes, any old clothes, sir ? " 
 
 His victim, frowning, accelerated his pace. 
 
 " Buy your old clothes, sir, buy em now." 
 
 Several onlookers stopped and looked. The gentle 
 man, who had not turned to see who was addressing him, 
 said hurriedly in an undertone: 
 
 " No, no, nothing to-day." 
 
 " Buy em to-morrow pay good price," said McNab 
 peevishly. 
 
 " No, no, nothing to sell." 
 
 " Call around at the house give good prices." 
 
 " Nothing to sell, nothing, I tell you ! " 
 
 " Buy what you got on," said McNab at the psychologi 
 cal moment, " give you five dollars or toss you ten or 
 nothinks ! " 
 
 " Be off ! " said the now thoroughly infuriated victim, 
 turning and brandishing his cane. " I ll have you ar 
 rested." 
 
 McNab, having accomplished his preliminary role, re 
 treated to a safe distance, exclaiming: 
 
 " Toss you ten dollars or nothinks ! " 
 
 The now supremely self-conscious and furious gentle 
 man, having rid himself of McNab, immediately found 
 himself in the hands of Buck Waters, who pursued him 
 for the remainder of the block, with a mild obsequious 
 persistency that would not be shaken off. By this time 
 the occupants of the shop windows and the loiterers, 
 
STOVERATYALE 105 
 
 perceiving the game, were in roars of laughter, which 
 made the passage of the second and third victims a pro 
 cession of hilarious triumph for McNab and Waters. 
 
 Tiring of this, they locked arms again and, taking by 
 hazard a side street, continued their quest for adventure. 
 
 " Mornings are a dreadful bore," said McNab, pulling 
 down his hat. 
 
 " They certainly are." 
 
 " Who was the old duck we tackled first? " 
 
 " Don t know familiar whiskers." 
 
 " Seemed to me I ve seen him somewhere." 
 
 " Say, look at the ki-yi." 
 
 " It s a Shetland poodle." 
 
 " It s a pen-wiper." 
 
 Directly in front of them a shaggy French poodle, 
 bearing indeed a certain resemblance to both a Shetland 
 pony and a discarded pen-wiper, was gleefully engaged 
 in the process of shaking to pieces a rubber which it 
 had stolen. 
 
 " If it sees itself in a mirror it will die of mortifica 
 tion," said Buck Waters. 
 
 " And yet, Buck, Ke s happier than we are," said Mc 
 Nab, who had been unjustifiably forced to flunk twice in 
 one morning s recitation. 
 
 " I say, Dopey," said Waters in alarm, " quit that ! " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Look at the fireworks/ said Waters, stopping sud 
 denly at a window, " pin-wheels, rockets, Roman can 
 dles." 
 
 " What are they doing there this time of the year ? " 
 said McNab angrily. 
 
 " Election parade, perhaps." 
 
 " That s an idea to work on, Buck." 
 
 " It certainly is." 
 
106 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " We must tell Tom Kelly about that." 
 
 " We will." 
 
 " Why, there s that ridiculous ki-yi again ! " 
 
 " He seems to like us." 
 
 " I m not complimented." 
 
 At this moment, with the poodle sporting the rubber 
 about fifteen feet ahead of them, they beheld an Italian 
 barber lolling in the doorway of his shop, as profoundly 
 bored by himself as they affected to be in conjunction. 
 
 " Fine dog," said the barber with a critical glance. 
 
 " Sure," said McNab, halting at once. 
 
 The poodle, for whatever reason, likewise halted and 
 looked around. 
 
 " Looka better, cutta da hair." 
 
 " You re right there, Columbus," assented Buck 
 Waters. " His fur coat looks as though it came from a 
 fire sale." 
 
 " He ought to be trim up nice, good style." 
 
 " Right, very, very right ! " 
 
 " Give him nice collar, nice tuft on da tail, nice tuft 
 on da feet." 
 
 " Right the second time ! " 
 
 " I clip him up, eh ? " said the barber hopefully. 
 
 " Why not ? " said McNab, looking into the depth of 
 Buck Waters s eyes. 
 
 "Why not, Beecher?" said Waters, giving him the 
 name of the President of the College Y. M. C. A. 
 
 " I think it an excellent suggestion, Jonathan Ed 
 wards," said McNab instantly. 
 
 With considerable strategic coaxing, the dog was en 
 ticed into the shop, where to their surprise he became 
 immediately docile. 
 
 " You see he lika da clip," said the barber enthusias 
 tically, preparing a table. 
 
STOVERATYALE 107 
 
 " He s a very intelligent dog," said McNab. 
 
 " You ve done much of this, Columbus ? " said Waters 
 with a business-like air. 
 
 " Sure. Ten, twenta dog a day, down in da city." 
 
 " Edwards, we shall learn something." 
 
 The dog was induced to come on the table, and Waters 
 delegated to hold him in position. 
 
 " Something pretty slick now, Christopher," said Mc 
 Nab, taking the attitude a connoisseur should take. 
 " Explain the fine points to us, as you go along." 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " I like the way he handles the scissors, Beecher 
 strong, powerful stroke." 
 
 " He s got a good batting eye, too, Edwards." 
 
 " My, what a nice clean boulevard ! " 
 
 " Just see the hair fly." 
 
 " It ll certainly improve the tail." 
 
 " Clip a little anchor in the middle of the back." 
 
 "Did you see that?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " He s a wonder." 
 
 " He is." 
 
 " Columbus, a little more off here oh, just a trifle ! " 
 
 " First rate ; shave up the nose and part the whiskers ! " 
 
 " Look at the legs, with the dinky pantalets aren t 
 they dreams ? " 
 
 " I love the tail best." 
 
 " Why, Columbus is an artist. Never saw any one 
 like him." 
 
 " Would you know the dog? " 
 
 " Why, mother wouldn t know him/ said McNab 
 solemnly. 
 
 " All in forty-three minutes, too." 
 
 " It s beautifully done, beautifully." 
 
108 STOVERATYALE 
 
 "Exquisite!" 
 
 The barber, perspiring with his ambitious efforts, with 
 drew for a final inspection, clipped a little on the top and 
 to the side, and signified by a nod that art could go no 
 further. 
 
 "Prettafine, eh?" 
 
 " Mr. Columbus, permit me," said Waters, shaking 
 hands. 
 
 McNab gravely followed suit. The dog, released, gave 
 a howl and began circling madly about the room. 
 
 " Open the door," shouted McNab. " See how happy 
 he is!" 
 
 The three stationed themselves thoughtfully on the 
 doorstep, watching the liberated poodle disappear down 
 the street in frantic spirals, loops and figure-eights. 
 
 " He lika da feel," said the barber, pleased. 
 
 " Oh, he s much improved," said Waters, edging a 
 little away. 
 
 "He fine lookin a dog!" 
 
 " He ll certainly surprise the girls and mother," said 
 McNab, shifting his feet. " Well, Garibaldi, ta-ta ! " 
 
 " Hold up," said the barber, " one plunk." 
 
 " One dollar, Raphael ? " said Buck Waters in innocent 
 surprise. " What for, oh, what for ? " 
 
 " One plunk, clippa da dog." 
 
 "Yes, but Garibaldi," said McNab gently, "that 
 wasn t our dog." 
 
 " Shall we run for it ? " said Waters, as they went 
 hurriedly up the block. 
 
 " Wait until Garibaldi gives chase we must be digni 
 fied," said McNab, with an eye to the rear. 
 
 " Dagos have no sense of humor. Here he comes 
 with a razor scud for it ! " 
 
 They dashed madly for the corner, doubled a couple 
 
STOVER AT YALE 109 
 
 of times, joined by the rejuvenated friendly poodle, and 
 suddenly, wheeling around a corner, ran straight into the 
 dean, who as fate would have it, was accompanied by the 
 very dignified citizen who had been the first victim of 
 their old clothes act and upon whom the frantic poodle > 
 with canine expressions of relief and delight, immediately 
 cast himself. 
 
 " Buck," said McNab, half an hour later, as they went 
 limply back, " Napoleon would have whipped the British 
 to an omelet at Waterloo if he d known about that sunken 
 road." 
 
 " We are but mortals." 
 
 " How the deuce were we to know the pup belonged 
 to Professor Borgle, the eminent rootitologist ? " 
 
 " Well, we paid the dago, didn t we ? " 
 
 " That was outrageous." 
 
 " I say, Dopey, what ll you do if they fire us?" 
 
 " Don t joke on such subjects." 
 
 " Dopey," said Waters solemnly, " while the dean has 
 the case under consideration, just to aid his deliberations, 
 I think we had better well, study a little." 
 
 " I suppose we must flirt with the text-books," said 
 McNab, " but let s do it together, so no one ll suspect." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE last week of the football season broke over 
 them before Stover could realize that the final test 
 was almost at hand. The full weight of the responsibil 
 ity that was on him oppressed him day and night. He 
 forgot what he had been at end ; he remembered only his 
 present inadequacy. It had been definitely decided to 
 keep him at fullback, for three things were imperative 
 in the weak backfield: some one who could catch punts, 
 with nerve enough to get off his kicks quickly in the face 
 of a stronger line, and above all some one on the last 
 defense who would never miss the tackle that meant a 
 touchdown. 
 
 In the last week a great change took place in the senti 
 ment of the university the hoping against hope that 
 often arrives with the intensity of combat. At this time 
 Harvard and Yale were still reluctantly estranged, due to 
 a purely hypothetical question as to which side had begun 
 a certain historic slaughter, and the big game of the sea 
 son was with Princeton, which, under the leadership of 
 Garry Cockerell, Dink s first captain at Lawrenceville, 
 had established a record of unusual power and brilliancy. 
 
 Up to Monday of the last week, the opinion around the 
 campus was unanimous that the day of defeat had ar 
 rived ; but, with the opening of the week and the flocking 
 in of the old players, a new spirit was noticeable, and 
 (among the freshmen) a tentative loosening of the purse- 
 strings on news of extra-insulting challenges from the 
 South. 
 
 110 
 
STOVER AT YALE 111 
 
 At the practise, the season s marked division among the 
 coaches was forgotten, and the field was alive with 
 frantic assistants. The scrimmage between the varsity 
 and the scrub took on a savageness that was sometimes 
 difficult to control. The team, facing the impossible, 
 with eagerness to respond, had clearly overworked 
 itself. Stover himself weighed a bare one hundred and 
 forty, an unspeakable depravity which he carefully con 
 cealed. 
 
 Still, the team began to feel a new impulse and a new 
 unity, inspired by the confidence of the returned heroes. 
 The grim silence of the past began to be broken by hope 
 ful comments. 
 
 " By George, I believe there s something in those 
 boys." 
 
 " We ve come up smiling before." 
 
 " We may do it again." 
 
 " Shouldn t be surprised if they gave those Princeton 
 Tigers the fight of their lives." 
 
 " Oh, they ll fight it out all right." 
 
 One or two trick plays were perpetrated behind closed 
 gates, and a thorough drill in a new method of breaking 
 up the Princeton formation for a kick, under the instruc 
 tion of returning scouts. The team itself began to ques 
 tion and wonder. 
 
 " That fellow Rivers certainly has stiffened us up in 
 the center of the line," said Regan, between plays, in one 
 of his rare moments of loquacity. " I ve learned more 
 in three days than in the whole darn season." 
 
 " You ve got to hold for my kicks," said Stover, sub 
 mitting to the sponge which Clancy, the trainer, was 
 daubing over his face. 
 
 " We ll hold." 
 
 " What do you really think, Tom ? " said Stover as they 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 stood a little apart, waiting for the scrimmage to be re 
 sumed. " Do you think there s a chance ? " 
 
 " I m not thinking," said Regan, in his direct way. 
 " Haven t any business to think. But we re getting to 
 gether, there s no doubt of that. If we can t win, why, 
 we ll lose as we ought to, and that s something." 
 
 Others were not so unruffled as Regan. The last days 
 brought out all the divergent ways in which fierce, com 
 bative natures approach a crisis. Dana, the captain, was 
 plainly on the edge of his self-control, his forehead 
 drawn in a constant frown, his glance shooting nervously 
 back and forth, speaking to no one except in the routine 
 of the day. Dudley, at the other half, had adopted the 
 same attitude. De Soto at quarter, on the contrary, 
 radiated a fierce joy, joking and laughing, his nervous 
 little voice piping out : 
 
 " A little more murder, fellows ! Send them back on 
 stretchers. That s the stuff. What the deuce is the 
 matter, Bill, do you want to live forever? Use your 
 hands, use your feet, use your teeth, anything! Whoop 
 her up!" 
 
 Others in the line were more stolid, yet each in his 
 way contributing to the nervous electricity that sent the 
 team tirelessly, frantically, like mad dervishes, into the 
 breach, while behind them, at their sides, everywhere, 
 the coaches goaded them on. 
 
 "Oh, get together!" 
 
 " Shove the man in front of you ! " 
 
 " Get your shoulder into it ! " 
 
 " Fight for that last inch there ! " 
 
 "Knock him off his feet!" 
 
 " Put your man out o the play ! " 
 
 " Break him up ! " 
 
 No one paid any attention to the scrubs, fighting 
 
STOVERATYALE 113 
 
 desperately with the same loyalty against the odds of 
 weight and organization, without hope of distinction, 
 giving every last ounce of their strength in futile, frantic 
 effort, rejoicing when flung aside and crushed under the 
 victorious rush of the varsity, who alone counted. 
 
 Against the scrubs Stover felt a sort of rage. Time 
 after time he went crashing into the line, seeing the 
 blurred faces of his own comrades with an instinctive 
 hatred, striking them with his shoulder, hurling them 
 from the path of attack with a wild, uncontrollable fury 
 at their resistance, almost unable to keep his temper in 
 leash. The first feeling of sympathy he had felt so 
 acutely for those who bore all the brunt of the punish 
 ment, unrewarded, was gone. He no longer felt any pity, 
 but a brutal joy at the incessant smarting, grinding shock 
 of the attack of which he was part and the touch of 
 prostrate bodies under his rushing feet. 
 
 Thursday and Friday the practise was lightened for 
 all except for the backs. For an hour he was kept at 
 his punting in the open and behind the lines, while the 
 scrubs, reenforced by every available veteran, swarmed 
 through the line, seeking to block his kicks. 
 
 To one side a little knot of coaches watched the re 
 sult with critical anxiety, following the length of the 
 punts in grim silence. 
 
 Tompkins, behind him, from time to time, spoke 
 quietly, knowing that his was a nature to be restrained 
 rather than goaded on. 
 
 " Watch your opposing backs, Stover. Keep your 
 punts low and away from them so as to gain as much 
 on the ground as you can. That s it ! Here, you center 
 men, you ve got to hold longer than that ! You re hurry 
 ing the kick too much. Get it off clean, Stover. Not 
 so good. Remember what I say about placing your 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 punt. You re going to be out-kicked fifteen yards ; make 
 up for it in brain work. All right, Dana ? " 
 
 " That ll do," said Dana, after a moment s hesitation. 
 
 "All over?" said Dink, dazed. 
 
 "All over!" 
 
 The scrubs, with a yell, broke up, cheering the varsity, 
 and being cheered in turn. Stover, with a sinking, real 
 ized that the week of preparation had gone and that as 
 he was he must come up to the final test the final test 
 before the thousands that would blacken the arena on the 
 morrow. 
 
 The squad went rather silently, each oppressed by the 
 same thought. 
 
 " We ll go out to the country club for the night," said 
 Tompkins s shrill voice. " Get your valises ready. And 
 now stop talking football until we tell you. Go out on 
 the trot now ! " 
 
 From the gymnasium he went back to the house. As 
 he came up the hall he heard a hum of voices from his 
 room. 
 
 " Dink s got the nerve, but what the deuce can he do 
 against that Princeton line ? Do you know how much he 
 weighs? One hundred and fifty." 
 
 Stover listened, smiled grimly. If they only knew his 
 real weight! 
 
 " Do you think he ll last it through ? " 
 
 "What, Dink?" said McCarthy s loyal voice. " You 
 bet he ll last!" 
 
 " Blamed shame he isn t at end ! " 
 
 "By ginger! he d make the All-American if he was." 
 
 " Yes, and now every one will jump on him for being 
 a rotten fullback." 
 
 " Dana be hanged ! " 
 
 Stover went back to the stairs and returned noisily 
 
STOVERATYALE 115 
 
 At his entrance the crowd sprang up instinctively. He 
 felt the sudden focus of anxious, critical glances. 
 
 " Hello, fellows," he said gruffly. " Tough, help me to 
 stow a few duds in my valise." 
 
 "Sure I will!" 
 
 Two or three hurried to help McCarthy, in grotesque, 
 unconsciously humorous eagerness ; others patted him on 
 the back with exaggerated good spirits. 
 
 " Dink, you look fine ! " 
 
 " All to the good." 
 
 " Right on edge." 
 
 " Dink, we re all rooting for you." 
 
 " Every one of us." 
 
 " You ll tear em up." 
 
 " We re betting on you, old gazebo ! " 
 
 " Thanks ! " 
 
 He took the bag which McCarthy thrust upon him. 
 Each solemnly shook his hand, thrilling at the touch, and 
 Hungerford said : 
 
 " \Yhatever happens, old boy, we re going to be proud 
 of you." 
 
 Stover stopped a moment, curiously moved, and obey 
 ing an instinct, said brusquely: 
 
 " Yes, I ll take care of that." 
 
 Then he went hurriedly out. 
 
 That night, after supper a meal full of nervous 
 laughter and assumed spirits two or three of the older 
 coaches came in, and their spirit of hopefulness some 
 how communicated itself to the team. Other Yale 
 elevens had risen at the last moment and snatched a vic 
 tory why not theirs? It lay with them, and during 
 the week they certainly had forged ahead. Dink felt the 
 infection and became almost convinced. Then Tompkins, 
 moving around as the spirit of confidence, signaled him. 
 
116 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Come out here ; I want a little pow-wow with 
 you." 
 
 They left the others and went out on the dim lawns 
 with the lighted club-house at their backs, and Tompkins, 
 drawing his arm through Stover s, began to speak : 
 
 " Dink, we re in for a licking." 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " said Stover, overwhelmed. " But we 
 have come on; we ve come fast." 
 
 " Stover, that s a great Princeton team," said Tompkins 
 quietly, " and we re a weak Yale one. We re going to 
 get well licked. Now, boy, I m telling you this because 
 I think you re the stuff to stand it; because you ll play 
 better for knowing what s up to you." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 " It s going to depend a whole lot on you how you 
 hold up your end how badly we re licked." 
 
 " I know I m the weak spot," said Stover, biting his 
 lips. 
 
 " You re a darn good player," said Tompkins, " and 
 you re going to leave a great name for yourself ; but this 
 year you ve had to be sacrificed. You ve been put where 
 you are because you ve got nerve and a head. Now this 
 is what I want from you. Know what you re up against 
 and make your brain control that nerve understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " You ve got to do the kicking in the second half as 
 well as in the first. You ve got to keep your strength and 
 not break it against a wall. You won t be called on for 
 much rushing in the first half ; you ll get a chance later. 
 The line may go to pieces, the secondary defense may go 
 to pieces; but, boy, if you go to pieces, we ll be beaten 
 thirty to nothing." 
 
 "As bad as that!" 
 
 " Every bit." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 117 
 
 " That s awful a Yale team." He drew a long 
 breath and then said : " What do you want me to do ? " 
 
 " I want you to get off every punt without having it 
 blocked; and that s a good deal, with what you re up 
 against." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And hold on to every punt that comes to you no 
 fumbling." 
 
 " No fumbling yes, sir." 
 
 " And kick as you ve never kicked before every kick 
 better as you go on. Put your whole soul into it." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " You won t miss a tackle I know that ; but you ll 
 have some pretty rum ones to make, and when you tackle, 
 make them remember it." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " But, Stover, above all, hold steadfast. Keep cool and 
 remember the game s a long one. Boy, you don t know 
 what it ll mean for some of us old fellows to see Yale 
 go down, but out of it all we want to remember something 
 that ll make us proud of you." He stopped, controlled 
 the emotion that was in his voice, and said a little anx 
 iously : " I tell you this because a first game is a terrible 
 thing, and I didn t want you to be caught in a panic when 
 you found what you were up against. And I tell you, 
 Stover, because you re the sort of fighting stuff that ll 
 fight harder when you know all there is to it is the fight 
 ing. Am I right?" 
 
 " I hope so, sir." 
 
 " And now, do a more difficult thing. Get right hold 
 of yourself. Put everything out of your mind ; go to bed 
 and sleep." 
 
 This last injunction, though he tried his best to obey it, 
 was beyond Stover s power. He passed the night in fitful 
 
118 STOVERATYALE 
 
 flashes of sleep. At times he awoke, full of a fever of 
 eagerness from a dream of success. Then he would lie 
 staring, it seemed for hours, at the thin path across the 
 ceiling made by a street lamp, feeling all at once a weak 
 ness in the pit of his stomach, a physical horror of what 
 the day would bring forth. The words of the coach 
 framed themselves in a sort of rhythmic chant which went 
 endlessly knocking through his brain: 
 
 " Catch every punt get off every kick make every 
 tackle." 
 
 In the morning it was the same refrain, which never 
 left him. He rose tired, with a limpness in every muscle, 
 his head heavy as if bound across with biting bonds. He 
 stood stupidly holding his wash-pitcher, looking out of 
 the window, saying: 
 
 " Good heavens ! it s only a few hours off now." 
 
 Then he began feebly to wash, repeating: 
 
 "Get off every kick every kick." 
 
 Breakfast passed like a nightmare. He put something 
 tasteless into his mouth, his jaws moved, but that was all. 
 The brisk walk to chapel restored him somewhat, and 
 the consciousness of holding himself before the gaze of 
 the crowd. After first recitation, Regan joined him, and 
 together they went across the campus, no longer the 
 campus of the University, but beginning to swarm with 
 strangers, and strange colors amid the blue. 
 
 " How are you feeling? " said Regan in a fatherly sort 
 of way, as they went through Phelps and out on to the 
 Common. 
 
 " Tom, my shoes stick to the ground, my knees are 
 made of paper, and I m hollow from one end to the 
 other." 
 
 " Fine ! " 
 
 "Oh, wit?" 
 
STOVER AT YALE 119 
 
 " You ll be a bundle of fire on the field." 
 
 " Let s not walk too far. We want to keep fresh/ 
 said Stover, feeling indeed as though every step was 
 draining his energy. 
 
 " Rats ! let s saunter down Chapel Street and see the 
 crowds come in." 
 
 " You old rhinoceros, have you any nerves ? " 
 
 " Lots, but they re a different sort. By George, isn t 
 it a wonderful sight ? " 
 
 Side by side with Regan, a certain shame steadied 
 Stover. They went silently through the surging, ar 
 riving multitude, all intoxicated with the joy and zest of 
 the great game. In and out, newsboys howling papers 
 with headlines and pictures of the team thrust their 
 wares before their eyes, while a pestiferous swarm of 
 strange pedlers shrieked: 
 
 " Get your colors here ! " 
 
 " Get your winnin color." 
 
 Suddenly Stover saw a headline his name and the 
 caption : 
 
 STOVER THE WEAK SPOT 
 
 "Let s get a paper," he said, nervously drawn to it. 
 
 " No you don t," said Regan, who had seen it. " Come 
 on, now, get out of here, some one might walk on your 
 foot or stick a hatpin in your eye." 
 
 "What time is it?" " 
 
 " Time to be getting back." 
 
 " Tom, do you know how much I weigh ? " said Stover 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 "What the deuce?" 
 
 " I weigh one hundred and forty-one pounds," said 
 Stover solemnly, as though imparting a State secret. 
 
 " Go on, be loony if you want," said Regan. " I ve seen 
 
120 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 bruisers before a fight act like high school girls. If you ve 
 got something on your mind, why talk it out, it ll do you 
 good." 
 
 "It s awful it s awful," said Stover, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 "What s awful?" 
 
 " It s awful to think I m the weak spot, that if they 
 only had a decent fullback there would be a chance. 
 I ve no right there every one knows it, and every one s 
 groaning about it." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " That s all," said Stover, a little angry. 
 
 " Well, then come on, I m getting hungry." 
 
 "Hungry! Tom, I d like to knock the spots out of 
 you," said Dink, laughing despite himself. 
 
 " Dink, old bantam," said Regan, resting his huge paw 
 on Stover s shoulder in rough affection, "you re all 
 right. I say so and I know it. Now shut up and come 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 ALMOST before he knew it Stover was in the car 
 and the wheels were moving at last irresistibly 
 toward the field. There was no longer any pretense in 
 those last awful moments that had in them all the concen 
 trated hopes and fears of the weeks that had rushed away. 
 The faces of his own team-mates were only gray faces 
 without identity. He saw some one s lips moving inces 
 santly, but he did not remember whose they were. Op 
 posite him, another man was bending over, his head hidden 
 in his hands. Some one else at his side was nervously 
 locking and unlocking his fingers, breathing short, hard 
 breaths. He remembered only the stillness of it all, the 
 forgetfulness of others, the set stares, and Charlie de 
 Soto fidgeting on the seat and nervously humming some 
 thing irrelevant. 
 
 Caught up in this unreasoning intensity of a young 
 nation, filled, too, with this exaggerated passion of com 
 bat, Stover leaned back limply. Outside, the street was 
 choked with hilarious parties packed in rushing carriages, 
 blue or orange-and-black. Horns and rattles sounded 
 like tiny sounds in his ears, and his eyes saw only gro 
 tesque blurred shapes that swept across them. 
 
 " I ll get em off they won t block any on me they 
 mustn t," he said to himself, closing his eyes. 
 
 Then, on top of the draining weakness that had him 
 in its grip, came a sudden feeling of nausea, and he knew 
 suddenly what the man opposite him with his head in his 
 hands was fighting. He put his arms over the ledge of 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 the door, and rested His head on them, too weak to care 
 that every one saw him, gulping in the stinging air in 
 desperation. 
 
 All at once there came a grinding jerk and the car 
 stopped. From the inside came Tompkins angry, rasp 
 ing voice: 
 
 " Every one up ! Get out there ! Quick ! On the 
 jump! " 
 
 Instinctively obedient, the vertigo left him, his mind 
 cleared. He was out in the midst of the bobbing mass 
 of blue sweaters, moving as in a nightmare through the 
 black spectators, seeing ahead the mammoth stands, hear 
 ing the dull, engulfing roars as one hears at night the 
 approaching surf. 
 
 Then they were struggling through the human barriers, 
 and he saw something green at the bottom of a stormy 
 pit, and a great growing roar of welcome smote him as 
 of a descending gale, the hysterical cry of the American 
 multitude, a roar acclaiming Yale. 
 
 " All ready ! " said Dana s unrecognizable voice some 
 where ahead. " On the trot, now ! " 
 
 Instantly he was sweeping on to the field and up 
 along the frantic stands of suddenly released blue. All 
 indecision, all weakness, went with the first hoarse cry 
 from his own. Something hot and alive seemed to flow 
 back into his veins, and with every stride the spongy turf 
 underneath seemed to send its strength and vitality into 
 his legs. 
 
 From the other end of the field, through the somber 
 crowd, an orange-and-black group was trickling, flowing 
 into a band and sweeping out on the field, while the 
 Princeton stands were surging to their feet, adding the 
 mounting fury of their welcome to the deafening uproar 
 
STOVERATYALE 123 
 
 that suddenly bound the arena in the gripping hollow of 
 a whirlwind. 
 
 " Line up, you blue devils," came Charlie de Soto s 
 raucous cry. " On your toes. Get your teeth into it. 
 Hard, now. Ha-a-ard ! " 
 
 He was in action immediately, thinking only of the 
 signals, sweeping down the field, now to the right, now to 
 the left, stumbling in his eagerness. 
 
 " Enough," said the captain s voice, at last. " Get 
 under your sweaters, fellows. Brown and Stover, start 
 up some punts." 
 
 Dana and Dudley went back to practise catching. 
 Brown, the center, pigskin under hand, set himself for 
 the pass, while Stover, blowing on his hands, measured 
 his distance. Opposite, Bannerman, the Princeton full 
 back, was setting himself for a similar attempt. 
 
 In the stands was a sudden craning hush as the great 
 audience waited to see with its own eyes the disparity 
 between the rival fullbacks. 
 
 Stover, standing out, felt it all instinctively, with a little 
 nervous tremor the quick stir in the stands, the mut 
 tered comments, the tense turning of even the cheer 
 leaders. 
 
 Then the ball came shooting back to him. He caught 
 it, turned it in his hands, and drove forward his leg with 
 all his might At the same moment, as if maliciously 
 calculated, the great booming punt of Bannerman brought 
 the Princeton stands, rollicking and gleeful, to their feet 
 in a burst of triumph. 
 
 In his own stands there was no answering shout. 
 Stover felt on his cheeks, under his eyes, two hot spots 
 of anger. What did they know, who condemned him, of 
 the sacrifice he had made, of the far more difficult thing 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 he was doing? He remembered Tompkins advice; he 
 could not compete with Bannerman in the air. Delib 
 erately he sent his next punt low, swift, striking the 
 ground about thirty yards away and rolling treacherously 
 another fifteen feet before Dudley, who had swerved out, 
 could stop it. This time from the mass almost a groan 
 went up. 
 
 A sudden cold contempt for them, for everything, seized 
 possession of Stover. He hated them all. He stooped, 
 plucked a blade of grass, and stuck it defiantly between 
 his teeth. 
 
 " Shoot that back a little lower, Brown," he said with 
 a sudden quick authority, and again and again he sent 
 off his fast, low-rolling punts. 
 
 " That s the stuff, Dink," said Tompkins, with a pat on 
 the shoulder, " but you ve got to get em off on the instant 
 remember that. Here, throw this sweater over you." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 He did not sit down, but walked back and forth with 
 short steps, waiting for the interminable conference of 
 the captains to be over. And again that same sinking, 
 hollow feeling came over him in the suspense before the 
 question that would be answered in the first shock of 
 bodies. 
 
 The feeling he felt ran through the thousands gathered 
 only to a spectacle. The cheers grew faint, lacking vital 
 ity, and the stir of feet was a nerve-racked stir. Dink 
 gazed up at the high benches, trying to forget the interval 
 of seconds that must be endured. It did not seem pos 
 sible that he was to go out before them all. It seemed 
 rather that in a far-off consciousness he was the same 
 loyal little shaver who had squirmed so often on the top 
 line of the benches, clinging to his knees, biting his lips, 
 and looking weakly on the ground. 
 
STOVERATYALE 125 
 
 " All ready get out, boys ! " 
 
 Dana came running back. Yale had won the toss and 
 had chosen to kick off. 
 
 Some one pulled his sweater from him, struck him a 
 stinging slap between the shoulders, and propelled him 
 on the field. 
 
 "Yale this way!" 
 
 They formed in a circle, heads down, arms locked over 
 one another s shoulders, disputing the same air; and 
 Dana, the captain, who believed in a victory, spoke : 
 
 " Now, fellows, one word. It s up to us. Do you un 
 derstand what that means ? It s up to us to win, the way 
 Yale has won in the past and win we re going to, no 
 matter how long it takes or what s against us. Now, get 
 mad, every one of you. Run em right off their feet. 
 That s all." 
 
 The shoulders under Stover s left him. He went hazily 
 to the place, a little behind the rest, where he knew he 
 should go, waiting while Brown poised the football, wait 
 ing while the orange-and-black jerseys indistinctly scat 
 tered before him to their formation, waiting for the 
 whistle for which he had waited all his life to release him. 
 
 And for a third time his legs seemed to crumble, and the 
 whole blurred scheme of stands and field to reel away 
 from him, and his heart to be lying before him on the 
 ground where he could lean over and pick it up. 
 
 Then like a pistol shot the whistle went throbbing 
 through his brain. He sprang forward as if out of the 
 shell of himself, keen, alert, filled with a savage longing. 
 
 Down the field a Princeton halfback had caught the ball 
 and was squirming back. Then a sudden upheaval, and 
 a mass was spread on the ground. 
 
 " Guess he gained about fifteen on that," he said to him 
 self. " They ll kick right off." 
 
126 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Dana came running back to support him. Out of the 
 sky like a monstrous bird something round, yellow, and 
 squirming came floating toward him. He was forced to 
 run back, misjudged it a little, reached out, half fumbled 
 it, and recovered it with a plunging dive just as Cockerell 
 landed upon him. 
 
 " Get you next time, Dink," said the voice of his old 
 school captain in his ear. 
 
 Stover, struggling to his feet, looked him coolly in the 
 eye. 
 
 " No, you won t, Garry, and you know it. The next 
 time I m going back ten yards." 
 
 " Well, boy, we ll see." 
 
 They shook hands with a grim smile, while the field 
 straggled up. He was lined up, flanked by Dana and 
 Dudley, bending over, waiting for the signal. Three 
 times De Soto, trying out the Princeton line, sent Dana 
 plunging against the right tackle, barely gaining the dis 
 tance. A fourth attempt being stopped for a loss, Stover 
 dropped back for a kick on the second down. 
 
 The ball came a little low, and with it the whole line 
 seemed torn asunder and the field filled with the rush of 
 converging bodies. To have kicked would have been 
 fatal. He dropped quickly on the ball, covering it, under 
 the shock of his opponents. 
 
 Again he was back, waiting for the trial that was com 
 ing. He forgot that he was a freshman forgot every 
 thing but his own utter responsibility. 
 
 " You center men, hold that line ! " he cried. " You 
 give me a chance ! Give me time ! " 
 
 Then the ball was in his hands, and, still a little hurried, 
 he sent it too high over the frantic leaping rush, hurled 
 to the ground the instant after. 
 
 The exchange had netted Princeton twenty yards. A 
 
STOVERATYALE 127 
 
 second time Bannerman lifted his punt, high, long, twist 
 ing and turning over itself in tricky spirals. It was a 
 perfect kick, giving the ends exact time to cover it. 
 
 Stover, with arms outstretched, straining upward, cool 
 as a Yankee, knew, from the rushing bodies he did not 
 dare to look at, what was coming. The ball landed in his 
 convulsive arms, and almost exactly with it Garry Cock- 
 erell s body shot into him and tumbled him clear off the 
 ground, crashing down; but the ball was locked in his 
 arms in one of those catches of which the marvel of the 
 game is, not that they are not made oftener, but that they 
 are made at all. 
 
 " Come on now, Yale," shouted Charlie De Soto s in 
 flaming voice. " We ve got to rip this line. Signal ! " 
 
 Two masses on center, two futile straining, crushing 
 attempts, and again he was called on to kick. The tackles 
 he had received had steadied him, driving from his too 
 imaginative mind all consideration but the direct present 
 need. 
 
 He began to enjoy with a fierce delight this kicking in 
 the very teeth of the frantic Princeton rushes, as he had 
 stood on the beach waiting for great breakers to form 
 above his head before diving through. 
 
 On the fourth exchange of kicks he stood on his own 
 goal-line. The test had come at last. Dana, furious at 
 being driven back without a Princeton rush, came to him 
 wildly. 
 
 " Dink, you ve got to make it good ! " 
 
 " Take that long-legged Princeton tackle when he comes 
 through," he said quietly. " Don t worry about me." 
 
 Luckily, they were over to the left side of the field. 
 He chose his opening, and, kicking low, as Tompkins had 
 coached him, had the joy of seeing the ball go flying over 
 the ground and out of bounds at the forty-yard line. 
 
128 STOVERATYALE 
 
 The Princeton team, springing into position, at last 
 opened its attack. 
 
 " Now we ll see," said Stover, chafing in the backfield. 
 
 Using apparently but one formation, a circular mass, 
 which, when directly checked, began to revolve out toward 
 end, always pushing ahead, always concealing the runner, 
 the Princeton attack surely, deliberately, and confidently 
 rolled down the field like a juggernaut. 
 
 From the forty-yard line to the thirty it came in two 
 rushes, from the thirty to the twenty in three ; and then 
 suddenly some one was tricked, drawn in from the vital 
 attack, and the runner, guarded by one interferer, swept 
 past the unprotected end and set out for a touchdown. 
 
 Stover went forward to meet them like a shot, frantic 
 to save the precious yards. How he did it he never quite 
 knew, but somehow he managed to fling himself just in 
 front of the interferer and go down with a death grip 
 on one leg of the runner. 
 
 A cold sponge was being spattered over him, he was on 
 his back fighting hard for his breath, when he again real 
 ized where he was. He tried to rise, remembering all at 
 once. 
 
 "Did I stop him?" 
 
 " You bet you did." 
 
 Regan and Dudley had their arms about him, lifting 
 him and walking him up and down. 
 
 " Get your breath back, old boy." 
 
 " I m all right." 
 
 " Take your time ; that Princeton duck hasn t come to 
 yet!" 
 
 He perceived in the opposite group something prone 
 on the ground, and the sight was like a tonic. 
 
 The ball lay inside the ten-yard line, within the sacred 
 zone. In a moment, no longer eliminated, but close to 
 
STOVER AT YALE 129 
 
 the breathing mass, he was at the back of his own men, 
 shrieking and imploring: 
 
 "Get the jump, Yale!" 
 
 " Throw them back, Yale! " 
 
 "Fight em back!" 
 
 " You ve got to, Yale you ve got to ! " 
 
 Then, again and again, the same perfected grinding 
 surge of the complete machine: three yards, two yards, 
 two yards, and he was underneath the last mass, desper 
 ately blocking off some one who held the vital ball, hoping 
 against hope, blind with the struggle, saying to himself: 
 
 " It isn t a touchdown ! It can t be ! We ve stopped 
 them ! It s Yale s ball ! " 
 
 Some one was squirming down through the gradually 
 lightening mass. A great weight went from his back, 
 and suddenly he saw the face of the referee seeking the 
 exact location of the ball. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked wildly. 
 
 " Touchdown." 
 
 Some one dragged him to his feet, and, unnoticing, he 
 leaned against him, gazing at the ball that lay just over 
 the goal-line, seeing with almost a bull-like rage the 
 Princeton substitutes frantically capering up and down 
 the line, hugging one another, agitating their blankets, 
 turning somersaults. 
 
 " Line up, Yale," said the captain s unyielding voice, 
 " this is only the beginning. We ll get em." 
 
 But Stover knew better. The burst of anger past, his 
 head cleared. That Princeton team was going to score 
 again, by the same process, playing on his weakness, ex 
 changing punts, hoping to block one of his until within 
 striking distance, and the size of the score would depend 
 on how long he could stand it off. 
 
 " Goal," came the referee s verdict, and with it another 
 
130 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 roar from somewhere. He went up the field looking 
 straight ahead, hearing, like a sound in a memory, a 
 song of jubilation and the brassy accompaniment of a 
 band. 
 
 Again the same story : ten, fifteen yards gained on every 
 exchange of kicks, and a slow retrogression toward their 
 own goal. Time and again they flung themselves against 
 a stronger line, in a vain effort to win back the last yards. 
 Once, in a plunge through center, he found an opening, 
 and went plunging along for ten yards; but at the last 
 the ball was Princeton s on the thirty-five-yard line, and 
 a second irresistible march bore Yale back, fighting and 
 frantic over the line for the second score. 
 
 Playing became an instinct with him. He no longer 
 feared the soaring punts that came tumbling to him from 
 the clouds. His arms closed around them like tentacles, 
 and he was off for the meager yards he could gain before 
 he went down with a crash. He no longer felt the shock 
 of the desperate tackles he was called on to make, nor 
 the stifling pressure above him when he flung himself 
 under the serried legs of the mass. 
 
 He had but one duty to be true to what he had prom 
 ised Tompkins: not to fumble, not to miss a tackle, to 
 get each punt off clean. 
 
 All at once, as he was setting in position, a body rushed 
 in, seizing the ball. 
 
 "Time!" 
 
 The first half was over, and the score was : Princeton, 
 18; Yale, o. 
 
 Then all at once he felt his weariness. He went slowly, 
 grimly with the rest back to the dressing-room. A group 
 of urchins clustering to a tree shrieked at them : 
 
 " O you Yaleses ! " 
 
 He heard that, and that was all he heard. A sort of 
 
STOVERATYALE 131 
 
 rebellion was in him. He had done all that he could do, 
 and now they would haul him over the coals, thinking 
 that was what he needed. 
 
 " Oh, I know what ll be said," he thought grimly. 
 " We ll be told we can win out in the second, and all 
 that rot." 
 
 Then he was in the hands of the rubbers, having his 
 wet, clinging suit stripped from him, being rubbed and 
 massaged. He did not want to look at his comrades, 
 least of all Dana. He only wanted to get back, to have 
 it over with. 
 
 " Yale, I want you to listen to me." 
 
 He looked up. In the center stood Tompkins, preter- 
 naturally grave, trembling a little with nervous, uncon 
 trollable twitches of his body. 
 
 " You re up against a great Princeton team the great 
 est I remember. You can t win. You never had a 
 chance to win. But, Yale, you re going to do something 
 to make us proud of you. You re going to hold that 
 score where it is ! Do you hear me ? All you ve got left 
 is your nerve and the chance to show that you can die 
 game. That s all you re going to do; but, by heaven, 
 you re going to do that! You re going to die game, 
 Yale! Every mother s son of you! And when the 
 game s over we re going to be prouder of your second 
 half than the whole blooming Princeton bunch over their 
 first. There s your chance. Make us rise up and yell 
 for you. Will you, Yale ? " 
 
 He passed from man to man, advising, exhorting, or 
 storming, until he came to Stover. 
 
 " Dink," he said, putting out his hand and changing 
 his tone suddenly, " I haven t a word to say to you. 
 Play the game as you ve been doing only play it 
 out." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Stover felt a sudden rush of shame ; all the fatigue left 
 him as if by magic. 
 
 "If Charlie ll only give me a few chances at the center. 
 I know I could gain there," he said eagerly. 
 
 " You ll get a chance later on, perhaps, but you ve quite 
 enough to do now." 
 
 The second view of the arena was clear to him, even 
 to insignificant details. He thought the cheer leaders, 
 laboring muscularly with their long megaphones, strangely 
 out of place especially a short, fat little fellow in a 
 white voluminous sweater. He saw in the crowd a face 
 or two that he recognized Bob Story in a group of 
 pretty girls, all superhumanly glum and cast down. 
 Then he had shed his sweater and was out on the field, 
 back under the goal-posts, ready for the bruising second 
 half to begin. 
 
 " All ready, Yale ! " 
 
 " All ready." 
 
 Again the whistle and the rush of bodies. Dana caught 
 the ball, and, shifting and dodging, shaking off the first 
 tacklers, carried it back twenty yards. Two short, jam 
 ming plunges by Dudley, through Regan, who alone was 
 outplaying his man, yielded first down. Then an attempt 
 at CockerelFs end brought a loss and the inevitable kick. 
 
 Instead of a return punt, the Princeton eleven prepared 
 to rush the ball. 
 
 " Why the deuce do they do that? " he thought, biting 
 his fingers nervously. 
 
 Opening up their play, Princeton swept out toward 
 Bangs s end, forcing it back for four yards, and immedi 
 ately made first down with a long, sweeping lunge at the 
 other end. 
 
 Suddenly Stover, in the backfield, watching like a cat, 
 started forward with a cry. Far off to one side, a Prince- 
 
STOVERATYALE 133 
 
 ton back, unperceived, was bending down, pretending to 
 be fastening one of his shoe-laces. 
 
 " Look out look out to the left ! " 
 
 His cry came too late. The Princeton quarter made a 
 long toss straight across, twenty yards, to the loitering 
 half, who caught it and started down field clear of the 
 line of scrimmage. 
 
 A Princeton forward tried to intercept him, but Stover 
 flung him aside, and, without waiting, went forward at 
 top speed to meet the man who came without flinch 
 ing to his tackle. It was almost head on, and the 
 shock, which left Stover stunned, instinctively clinging 
 to his man, sent the ball free, where Dana pounced upon 
 it. 
 
 " Holy Mike, what a tackle ! " said Regan s voice. 
 " Any bones broken ? " 
 
 "Of course not," he said gruffly. 
 
 Some one insisted on sponging his face, much to his 
 disgust. 
 
 " How s the other fellow ? " he said grimly. 
 
 " He s a tough nut; he s up, too! " 
 
 " He must be." 
 
 The recovery of the ball gave them a short respite, but 
 it served also to enrage the other line, which rose up and 
 absolutely smothered the next plays. Again his kick 
 seemed to graze the outstretched fingers of the Princeton 
 forwards, and he laughed a strange laugh which he 
 remembered long after. 
 
 This time the punting duel was resumed until, well 
 within Yale territory, Cockerell looked around and gave 
 the signal for attack. 
 
 " Now, Yale, stop it, stop it ! " Dink said, talking to 
 himself. 
 
 But there was no stopping that attack. Powerless, not 
 
134 ^STOVER AT YALE 
 
 daring to approach, he saw the blue line bend back again 
 and again, and the steady, machine-like rolling up of the 
 orange and black. Over the twenty-five-yard line it came, 
 and on past the twenty. 
 
 " Oh, Yale, will you let em score again ? " De Soto 
 was shrieking. 
 
 " You re on your ten-yard line, Yale." 
 
 "Hold them!" 
 
 "Hold them!" 
 
 Two yards at a time, they were rolled back with a 
 mathematical, unfeeling precision. 
 
 " Third down ; two yards to go ! " 
 
 "Yale, stop it!" 
 
 "Yale!" 
 
 And stop it they did, by a bare six inches. Behind the 
 goal-line, Charlie De Soto came up, as he stood measuring 
 his distance for a kick. 
 
 " How are you, Dink ? Want a bit of a rest sponge- 
 off?" 
 
 " Rest be hanged ! " he said fiercely. " Come on with 
 that ball." 
 
 Suddenly, instead of kicking low and off to the right, 
 he sent the ball straight down the field with every ounce 
 of strength he could put in it. The punt, the best he had 
 made, catching the back by surprise, went over his head, 
 rolling up the field before he could recover it. A great 
 roar went up from the Yale stands, fired by the spirit of 
 resistance. 
 
 Thereafter it had all a grim sameness, except, in a 
 strange way, it seemed to him that nothing that had gone 
 before counted that everything they were fighting for 
 was to keep their goal-line inviolate. Nothing new 
 seemed to happen. When he went fiercely into a melee, 
 finding his man somehow, or felt the rush of bodies about 
 
STOVERATYALE 135 
 
 him as he managed each time to get clear his punt, he 
 had the same feeling: 
 
 " Why, I ve done this before." 
 
 A dozen times they stopped the Princeton advance, 
 sometimes far away and sometimes near, once within the 
 five-yard line. Every moment, now, some one cried 
 wearily : 
 
 "What s the time?" 
 
 The gray of November twilights, the haze that settles 
 over the struggles of the gridiron like the smoke of a 
 battle-field, began to close in. And then a sudden fumble, 
 a blocked kick, and by a swift turn of luck it was Yale s 
 ball for the first time in Princeton s territory. One or 
 two subs came rushing in eagerly from the side lines. 
 Every one was talking at once : 
 
 "What s the time?" 
 
 " Five minutes more." 
 
 "Get together, Yale!" 
 
 " Show em how ! * 
 
 " Ram it through them ! " 
 
 " Here s our chance ! " 
 
 Stover, beside himself, ran up to De Soto and flung 
 his arms about his neck, whispering in his ear: 
 
 " Give me a chance you must give me a chance ! 
 Send me through Regan ! " 
 
 He got his signal, and went into the breach with every 
 nerve set, fighting his way behind the great bulk of Regan 
 for a good eight yards. A second time he was called on, 
 and broke the line for another first down. 
 
 Regan was transformed. All his calm had gone. He 
 loomed in the line like a Colossus, flinging out his arms, 
 shouting : 
 
 " We re rotten, are we ? Carry it right down the field, 
 boys ! " 
 
136 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Every one caught the infection. De Soto, with his 
 hand to his mouth, was shouting hoarsely, through the 
 bedlam of cheers, his gleeful slogan: 
 
 " We don t want to live forever, boys ! What do we 
 care? We ve got to face Yale after this. Never mind 
 your necks. We ve got the doctors ! A little more mur 
 der, now ! Shove that ball down that field, Yale ! Send 
 them back on stretchers ! Nineteen eight six four 
 Ha-a-ard!" 
 
 Again and again Stover was called on, and again and 
 again, with his whole team behind him or Regan s great 
 arm about him, struggling to keep his feet, crawling on 
 his knees, fighting for every last inch, he carried the ball 
 down the field twenty, thirty yards on. 
 
 He forgot where he was, standing there with blazing 
 eyes and colorless face. He forgot that he was only the 
 freshman, as he had that night in the wrestling bout. He 
 gave orders, shouted advice, spurred them on. He felt 
 no weariness; nothing could tire him. His chance had 
 come at last. He went into the line each time blubbering, 
 laughing with the fierce joy of it, shouting to himself : 
 
 " I m the weak spot, am I ? I ll show them ! " 
 
 And the certainty of it all overwhelmed him. Nothing 
 could stop him now. He knew it. He was going to 
 score. He was going to cross that line only fifteen yards 
 away. 
 
 " Give me that ball again ! " he cried to De Soto. 
 
 Then something seemed to go wrong. De Soto and 
 Dudley were shrieking out something, protesting wildly. 
 
 "What s wrong?" he cried. 
 
 " They re calling time on us ! " 
 
 " No, no, it s not possible ! It s not time ! " 
 
 He turned hysterically, beseechingly, catching hold 
 of the referee s arm, not knowing what he did. 
 
STOVERATYALE 137 
 
 " Mr. Referee, it isn t time. Mr. Referee " 
 
 " Game s over/ said Captain Dana s still voice. " Get 
 together, Yale. Cheer for Princeton now. Make it a 
 good one ! " 
 
 But no one heard them in the uproar that suddenly 
 went up. Nature could not hold out ; the disappointment 
 had been too severe. Stover stood with his arms on 
 Regan s shoulders, and together they bowed their heads 
 and went choking through the crowd. Others rushed 
 around him he thought he heard Tompkins saying 
 something. He seemed lost in the crowd that stared at 
 him, struggling to hold back his grief. Only one figure 
 stood out distinctly the figure of a white-haired man, 
 who took off his hat to him as he went through the bar 
 rier, and shouted something unintelligible a strangely 
 excited white-haired man. 
 
 All the way back to the gymnasium, through the jubi 
 lant street, Dink sat staring out unseeing, his eyes blurred, 
 a great lump in his throat, possessed by a fatigue such as 
 he had never known before. No one spoke. Through 
 his own brain ceaselessly the score, strangely jumbled, 
 went its tiring way: 
 
 " Eighteen to nothing to nothing ! Eighteen to six 
 it should have been eighteen to six. Eighteen to noth 
 ing. It s awful awful! If I only could punt!" 
 
 His ideal, his dream of a Yale team, had always been 
 of victory, not like this, to go down powerless, swept 
 aside, routed to such a defeat ! 
 
 Then he shut his eyes, fighting over again those last 
 desperate rushes against defeat, against hope, against 
 time, unable to believe it was over. 
 
 " How many times did I take that ball ? " he thought 
 wearily. "Was it seven or eight? If I d only got free 
 that last time kept my feet ! " 
 
138 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 He remembered flashes of that last frenzy the face 
 of a Princeton rusher who reached for him and missed, 
 the teeth savage as a wolf s and the strained mouth. He 
 saw again Regan turning around to pull him through, 
 Regan, the brute, raging like a fury. He remembered the 
 quick, strange white looks that Charlie De Soto had given 
 him, wondering each time if he had the strength to go 
 on. Why had they stopped them? They had a right to 
 that last rally ! 
 
 " Eighteen to nothing. Poor Dana I wonder what 
 he ll do?" 
 
 He remembered, in a far-off way, tales he had heard 
 of other captains, disgraced by defeat, breaking down, 
 leaving college, disappearing. He dreaded the moment 
 when they should break silence, when the awful thing 
 must be talked over, there in the gymnasium, feeling 
 acutely all the misery and ache Dana must be feeling. 
 
 " All right there, Stover ? Let yourself go, if you want 
 to/ 
 
 The voice was Tompkins , who was looking up at him 
 anxiously, the gymnasium at his back. 
 
 " All right," he said gruffly, raising himself with an 
 effort and half slipping to the ground. 
 
 "Sure? How s Dudley?" 
 
 He realized in a curious way that others, too, had gone 
 through the game. Then Regan s arm was around him. 
 He did not put it from him, grateful for any support in 
 his weakness. Together they went through the crowd 
 of ragamuffins staring open-mouthed at a defeated team. 
 
 " What s the matter with Dudley? " 
 
 " Played through all the last with a couple of broken 
 ribs." 
 
 "Dudley?" 
 
STOVER AT YALE 139 
 
 " Yes. Go as slow as you want, old bantam." 
 
 " If we only could have had another minute, Tom " 
 He stopped, unable to go on, shaking his head. 
 
 " I know, I know." 
 
 " It was tough." 
 
 " Darned tough." 
 
 " I thought we were going to do it." 
 
 " Now, you shut up, young rooster. Don t think of 
 it any more. You played like a fiend. We re proud of 
 you." 
 
 "Poor Dana!" 
 
 Upstairs a couple of rubbers took charge of him, strip 
 ping him and rubbing him rigorously. Two or three 
 coaches came up to him, gripping him with silent grips, 
 patting him on the back. The cold bite of the shower 
 brought back some of his vitality, and he dressed mechan 
 ically with the squad, who had nothing to say to one 
 another. 
 
 " Yale, I want to talk to you boys a moment." 
 
 He looked up. In the center of the room was Rivers, 
 coach of coaches, around whom the traditions of football 
 had been formed. Stover looked at him dully, wonder 
 ing how he could stand there filled with such energy. 
 
 " Now, boys, the game s over. We ve lost. It s our 
 turn; we ve got to stand it. One thing I want you to 
 remember when you go out of here. Yale teams take 
 their medicine!" 
 
 His voice rose to a nervous staccato, and the sharp, 
 cold eye seemed to look into every man, just as at school 
 the Doctor used to awe them. 
 
 " Do you understand ? Yale teams take their medicine f 
 No talking, no reasoning, no explanations, no excuses, 
 and no criticism! The thing s over and done. We ll 
 
140 STOVERATYALE 
 
 have a dinner to-night, and we ll start in on next year; 
 and next year nothing under the sun s going to stop us ! 
 Go out; take off your hats! A great Princeton team 
 licked you licked you well ! That s all. You deserved 
 to score. You didn t. Hard luck. But those who saw 
 you try for it won t forget it ! We re proud of that sec 
 ond half! No talk, now, about what might have hap 
 pened ; no talk about what you re going to do. Shut up ! 
 Remember grin and take your medicine." 
 
 " Mr. Rivers, I d like to say a few words." 
 
 Stover, with almost a feeling of horror, saw Dana step 
 forward quietly, purse his lips, look about openly, and 
 say: 
 
 " Mr. Rivers, I understand what you mean, and what s 
 underneath it all, and I thank you for it. At the same 
 time, it s up to me to take the blame, and I m not going 
 to dodge it. I ve been a poor captain. I thought I knew 
 more than you did, and I didn t. I ve made one fool 
 blunder after another. But I did it honestly. Well, 
 that doesn t matter let that go. I say this because it s 
 right, too, I should take my medicine, and because I don t 
 want next year s captain to botch the job the way I ve 
 done. And now, just a word to you men. You ve done 
 everything I asked you to do, and kept your mouths shut, 
 no matter what you thought of it. You ve been loyal, 
 and you ll be loyal, and there ll be no excuses outside. 
 But I want you men to know that I ll remember it, and 
 I want to thank you. That s all." 
 
 Instantly there was a buzz of voices, and one clear note 
 dominating it Regan s voice, stirred beyond thought of 
 self: 
 
 " Boys, we re going to give that captain a cheer. Are 
 you ready ? Hip hip ! " 
 
 Somehow the cry that went up took from Dink all the 
 
STOVERATYALE 141 
 
 sting of defeat. He went out, head erect, back to meet 
 his college, no longer shrinking from the ordeal, proud 
 of his captain, proud of his coach, and proud of a lesson 
 he had learned bigger than a victory. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 AFTER the drudgery of the football season lie had a 
 few short weeks of gorgeous idleness, during which 
 he browsed through a novel a day, curled up on his win- 
 dow-seat, rolling tobacco clouds through the fog of 
 smokers in the room. He had won his spurs and the 
 right to lounge, and he looked forward eagerly to the 
 rest of the year as a time for reading and the opening 
 uip of the friendships of which he had dreamed. 
 
 Old age settled down rapidly upon him, and at eighteen 
 that malady appears in its most virulent form. Perhaps 
 there was a little justification. The test he had gone 
 through had educated him to self-control in its most dif 
 ficult form. He was not simply the big man of the class, 
 the first to emerge to fame, but the prospective captain 
 of a future Yale eleven. A certain gravity was requisite 
 moreover, it was due the University. To have seen 
 the burning letters S-T-O-V-E-R actually vibrating on 
 the front pages of metropolitan papers, to have gazed on 
 his distinguished (though slightly smudged) features, 
 ruined by an unfeeling photographer, but disputing never 
 theless the public attention with statesmen and champions 
 of the pugilistic ring to have felt these heavenly sensa 
 tions at the age of eighteen could not be lightly disguised. 
 
 So he lay back among welcome cushions, book in hand, 
 and listened with a tolerant ear to the rapid-fire comedy 
 of McNab and Buck Waters. He stayed much in his 
 own room, which became a sort of lounging spot where 
 the air was always blue with smoke and a mandolin or 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 guitar was strumming a low refrain or a group near the 
 fireplace was noisy with the hazards of the national game. 
 
 Pretty much every one of importance in the class 
 dropped in en him. The preliminary visiting period of 
 the sophomore societies was nearly over. With the open 
 ing of the winter term the hold-off s and elections would 
 begin. He understood that those who were uncertain 
 wished the advantage of being seen in his company that 
 his, in fact, was now the " right " crowd. 
 
 He intended to call oh several men who interested him : 
 Brockhurst, who had made his appearance with a story 
 in the Lit which announced him as a possible future chair 
 man ; Gimbel, about whose opinions and sincerity he was 
 in doubt ; and, above all, Regan, who genuinely attracted 
 him. But, somehow, having now nothing to do, his after 
 noons and evenings seemed always filled, and he contin 
 ually postponed until the morrow what suggested itself 
 during the day. Besides, there was a complacent delight 
 in being his own master again and of looking forward to 
 such a period of independent languor. 
 
 The first discordant note to intrude itself upon this 
 ideal was a remark of Le Baron s during one of the even 
 ing visits. These embassies were always conducted with 
 punctiliousness and gravity. The inquisitorial sopho 
 mores arrived about eight o clock in groups of three and 
 four. As McCarthy was the object of attention from a 
 different society, Stover, when the former s inspectors ar 
 rived, shook hands gravely, and shortly discovered that 
 he had a letter to post at the corner. When the com 
 mittee on Stover appeared trimly at the door, McCarthy 
 rose at once to return a hypothetical book, after which 
 the conversation began with about as much spontaneity 
 and zest as would be permitted to a board of alienists 
 sitting in judgment on a victim. The sophomores were 
 
144 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 embarrassed with their own impromptu dignity, and the 
 freshmen at the constraint of their superiors. 
 
 On one such occasion, after the committee of four had 
 spent fifteen minutes in the grave discussion of a kinder 
 garten topic, and had filed out with funereal solemnity, 
 Le Baron returned for a more intimate conversation. 
 
 Since the night of his introduction to college, Stover 
 had had only occasional glimpses of Le Baron. True, he 
 was generally of the visiting committee that called every 
 other night for perfunctory inspection, but through it all 
 the sophomore had adopted an attitude of almost de 
 fensive aloofness and impartiality. 
 
 " I want to talk over some of the men in the class," 
 said Le Baron, falling into an arm-chair and picking up a 
 pipe, while his manner changed to naturalness and equal 
 ity. Stover understood at once that the attitude was a 
 notice served on him of the security of his own position. 
 
 " Dink, I want to know your opinion. What do you 
 think of Brockhurst, for instance ? " 
 
 "Brockhurst? Why, I hardly know him." 
 
 "Is he liked?" 
 
 " Why, yes." 
 
 "Who are his friends?" 
 
 Stover thought a moment. 
 
 " Why, I think he rather keeps to himself. He strikes 
 me as being well, a little undeveloped rather shy." 
 
 "Do you like him?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "And Schley?" 
 
 The question was put abruptly, Le Baron raising his 
 eyes to get his answer from Stover s face. 
 
 "Schley?" said Dink, considering a little. "Why, 
 Schley seems to " 
 
 " Regan ? " said Le Baron, satisfied. 
 
STOVERATYALE 145 
 
 " One of the best in the class ! " 
 
 " He seems a rather rough diamond." 
 
 " He s proud as Lucifer but he has more to him than 
 any one I know." 
 
 " It s a question what he ll do." 
 
 " I d back him every time." 
 
 " You are quite enthusiastic about him," said Le Baron, 
 looking at him with a little quizzical surprise. 
 
 " He s a man," said Stover stoutly. 
 
 "Of course, the football captaincy will probably be 
 between you two." 
 
 " Regan ? " said Stover, amazed. 
 
 " Either you or Regan." 
 
 Stover had never thought of him as a rival for his 
 dearest ambition. He remained silent, digesting the pos 
 sibility, aware of Le Baron s searching inquiry. 
 
 "Of course, you have nine chances out of ten, but the 
 race is a long one." 
 
 " He would make a good captain," Stover said slowly. 
 
 "You think so?" 
 
 " I hadn t thought of it before," Stover said, with a 
 sudden falling inside, " but he has the stuff in him of a 
 leader all right." 
 
 " I wish he weren t quite so set," said Le Baron. " He 
 hasn t made a particularly favorable impression on some 
 of the fellows." 
 
 An involuntary smile came to Stover at the thought 
 of Regan s probable reception of a committee of inspec 
 tion. 
 
 " He doesn t perhaps realize the importance of some 
 things," he said carefully. 
 
 " He doesn t," said Le Baron, who was not without a 
 sense of humor. " It s a pity, though, for his sake. I 
 wish you d talk to him a little." 
 
146 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " I will." 
 
 Le Baron rose. 
 
 " By the way, what are you going out for this spring ? " 
 
 "This spring?" said Stover, surprised. 
 
 " Ever rowed any ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " That doesn t make any difference. You learn the 
 stroke quicker no bad habits." 
 
 " I m light as mischief." 
 
 " Oh, I don t know not for the freshman. We want 
 to stimulate the interest in rowing up here. It s a good 
 example for a man like you to come out. Ever done 
 anything in baseball or the track ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Rowing s the stunt for you." He went toward the 
 door, and turned. " Have a little chat with Regan. I 
 admire the fellow, but he needs to rub up a bit with you 
 fellows and get the sharp edges off him. By the way, 
 when you start rowing I ll get hold of you and give you a 
 little extra coaching." 
 
 When McCarthy came grinning through the door, he 
 found Dink, his legs drawn up Turkish fashion, staring 
 rebelliously at the ceiling. 
 
 " Hello ! In love, or what ? " said Tough, stopping 
 short. " Recovering, perhaps, from the brilliant conver 
 sation?" 
 
 " By George, I m not going out for anything more ! " 
 said Dink, between his teeth. 
 
 " Heavens ! haven t you slaved enough ? " 
 
 " You bet I have. I ll be hanged if I m going through 
 here just varsity material. I m going to be a little 
 while my own master." 
 
 " You think so ? " said McCarthy, with a short, incredu- 
 
STOVERATYALE 147 
 
 lous laugh. " Every one s doing something." McCarthy 
 was a candidate for the baseball nine. 
 
 " Have you heard anything about Regan ? " said Stover, 
 between puffs. 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 " Have any of the sophomores been around to see 
 him?" 
 
 McCarthy exploded into laughter. "Have they? 
 Didn t you hear what happened ? " 
 
 "No. What?" 
 
 " They spent half the night locating his diggings, and 
 when they got them the old rhinoceros wouldn t receive 
 them." 
 
 "Why not? " 
 
 " Hadn t time, he said, to be fooling with them." 
 
 " The old chump ! " 
 
 " Lucky dog," said McCarthy, between his teeth. " I 
 wish I had the nerve to do the same." 
 
 "What the deuce?" 
 
 " It makes me boil ! I can t sit up and have a solemn 
 bunch of fools look me over. I can t be natural." 
 
 " It s give and take," said Dink, smiling. " You ll think 
 yourself the lord of the universe next year." 
 
 " I m not so sure," said McCarthy, gloomily. 
 
 "Rats!" 
 
 " Oh, you you ve a cinch," said McCarthy. 
 They re not picking you to pieces and dissecting you. 
 Half the crowd that come to see me have got some friends 
 in the class they d rather see in than me. I m darned 
 uncertain, and I know it." 
 
 Stover, who believed the contrary, laughed at him. He 
 rose and went out, determined to find Regan and make 
 him understand conditions. 
 
148 STOVERATYALE 
 
 His walk led him along the dark ways of College Street 
 into the forgotten street where, under the roof of a 
 bakery, Regan had found a breathing-hole for five dollars 
 a month. 
 
 For the first time a little feeling of jealousy went 
 through Stover as he swung along. Why should he help 
 build up the man who might snatch from him his ambi 
 tion ? Why the deuce had Le Baron mentioned Regan as 
 a possible captain ? No one else thought of such a thing. 
 Compared to him, Regan was a novice in football knowl 
 edge and experience. Still, it was true that the man had 
 a stalwart, unflinching way of moving on that impressed. 
 There was a danger there with which he must reckon. 
 
 He found Regan in carpet slippers and sweater, bend 
 ing grimly over the next day s Greek as if it were a rock 
 to be shattered with the weight of his back. 
 
 " 8-16-6-9-47," said Stover, in a hallo, giving the signal 
 that had sent him through the center. 
 
 Regan started up. 
 
 " Hello, Dink, old bantam ; glad to hear your voice." 
 
 Stover entered, with a glance at the room. A cot, a 
 bureau, a washstand reen forced by ropes, a pine table 
 scorched and blistered, and a couple of chairs were the 
 entire equipment. Half the gas globe was left and two- 
 thirds of the yellow-green shade at the window. In the 
 corner was the battle-scarred valise which had brought 
 Regan s whole effects to college. 
 
 "Boning out the Greek?" said Stover, placing a 
 straight chair against the wall so that his feet could find 
 the ledge of the window. 
 
 " Wrestling with it." 
 
 " Don t you use a trot ? " said Stover in some surprise, 
 perceiving the absence of the handy, literal short-cut to 
 recitation. 
 
STOVERATYALE 149 
 
 " Can t afford to." 
 
 " Why not ? " said Stover, wondering if Regan was a 
 gospel shark, after all. 
 
 " I ve got too much to learn," said Regan, leaning back 
 and elevating his legs in the national position. " You 
 know something; I don t. You can bluff; I m a rotten 
 bluffer. I ve got to train my whole mind, lick it into 
 shape and make it work for me, if I m going to do what 
 I want." 
 
 " Tom, what are you aiming for ? " 
 
 " You d never guess." 
 
 "Well, what?" 
 
 " Politics." 
 
 " Politics ? " said Stover, opening his mouth. 
 
 " Exactly," said Regan, puffing at his corncob pipe. 
 " I want to go back out West and get in the fight. It s 
 a glorious fight out there. A real fight. You don t know 
 the West, Stover." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " We believe in something out there, and we get up 
 and fight for it independence, new ideas, clean govern 
 ment, hard fighters." 
 
 " I hadn t thought of you that way," said Stover, more 
 and more surprised. 
 
 " That s the only thing I care about," said Regan 
 frankly. " I ve come from nothing, and I believe in that 
 nothing. But to do anything I ve got to get absolute hold 
 of myself." 
 
 " Tom, you ought to get in with the fellows more. 
 You ought to know all kinds," said Stover, feeling an 
 opening. 
 
 " I will, when I get the right," said Regan, nodding. 
 
 " Why the devil don t you let the University help you 
 out a while ? You can pay it back," said Stover angrily. 
 
150 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Never ! I know it could be done, but not for me," 
 said Regan, shaking his head. " What I need is the 
 hardest things to come up against, and I m not going to 
 dodge them." 
 
 " Still, you ought to be with us ; you ought to make 
 friends." 
 
 " I m going to do that," said Regan, nodding. " I m 
 going to get in at South Middle after Christmas and per 
 haps get some work in the Coop." He took up a sheet 
 of paper jotted over with figures. " I m about fifty dol 
 lars to the good; a couple of weeks work at Christmas 
 will bring that up about twenty more. If I can make a 
 hundred and fifty this summer I ll have a good start. 
 I want to do it, because I want to play football. It s 
 bully! I like the fight in it!" 
 
 " What sort of work will you do ? " said Stover curi 
 ously. 
 
 " I may go in the surface cars down in New York." 
 
 "Driving?" 
 
 " Sure. They get good pay. I could get work in 
 the mines I ve done that but it s pretty tough." 
 
 " But, Tom, what the deuce do you pick out the hard 
 est grind for ? Make friends with fellows who only want 
 to know you and like you, and you ll get a dozen open 
 ings where you ll make twice what you get at manual 
 labor." 
 
 " Well, there s this to it," said Regan ruminatively, 
 " It s an opportunity I won t always have." 
 
 " What the deuce do you mean ? " 
 
 " The opportunity to meet the fellow who gets the 
 grind of life to understand what he thinks of him 
 self, and especially what he thinks of those above him. I 
 won t have many more chances to see him on the ground 
 floor, and some day I ve got to know him well enough to 
 
STOVER AT YALE 151 
 
 convince him. See? By the way, it would be a good 
 college course for a lot of you fellows if you got in touch 
 with the real thing also." 
 
 " Are you a socialist ? " said Stover, who vaguely as 
 sociated the term with dynamite and destruction. 
 
 " I may be, but I don t know it." 
 
 " I say, Tom, do you go in for debating and all that 
 sort of thing?" 
 
 "You bet I do; but it comes hard as hen s teeth." 
 
 Stover, who had waited for an opportunity to volunteer 
 advice, finding no opening, resolved to take the dilemma 
 by the horns. 
 
 " Tom, I think you re wrong about one thing." 
 
 "What s that?" 
 
 " Holding aloof so much." 
 
 "Particularly what?" 
 
 " I m thinking about sophomore societies, for one thing. 
 Why the deuce don t you give the fellows a chance to help 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, you mean the dinky little bunch that came around 
 to call on me," said Regan thoughtfully. 
 
 "Yes. Now, why turn them out ?" 
 
 " Why, they bored me, and, besides, I haven t time 
 for anything like that. There are too many big things 
 here." 
 
 " They can help you like the mischief, now and after 
 ward." 
 
 " Thanks ; I ll help myself. Besides, I don t want to 
 get their point of view." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Too limited." 
 
 " Have you been talking to Gimbel ? " said Stover, 
 wondering. 
 
 "Gimbel? No; why?" 
 
152 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Because he is organizing the class against them." 
 
 " That doesn t interest me, either." 
 
 "What do you make of Gimbel?" 
 
 " Gimbel s all right ; a good politician." 
 
 "Is he sincere?" 
 
 " Every one s sincere." 
 
 " You mean every one s convinced of his own sin 
 cerity." 
 
 " Sure ; easiest person in the world to convince." 
 
 Stover laughed a little consciously, wondering for a 
 brief moment if the remark could be directed at him. 
 Curiously enough, the more the blunt antagonism of 
 Regan impressed him, the more he was reassured that the 
 man was too radical ever to challenge his leadership. 
 He rose to go, his conscience satisfied by the half-hearted 
 appeal he had made. 
 
 " I say, Dink," said Regan, laying his huge paw on 
 his shoulder, " don t get your head turned by this social 
 business." 
 
 " Heavens, no ! " 
 
 * Cause there s some real stuff in you, boy, and some 
 day it s coming out. Thanks, by the way, for wanting 
 to make me a society favorite." 
 
 Dink left with a curious mixture of emotions. 
 Regan always had an ascendency over him he could not 
 explain. It irritated him that he could not shake it off, 
 and yet he was genuinely chained to the man. 
 
 " Why the deuce did Le Baron put that in my head ? " 
 he said to himself, for the tenth time. "If Regan beats 
 me out for captain it ll only be because he s older and has 
 got a certain way about him. Well, I suppose if I m to 
 be captain I ve got to close up more; I can t go cutting 
 up like a kid. I ve got to be older." 
 
 He resolved to be more dignified, more melancholy, 
 
STOVERATYALE 153 
 
 shorter of speech, and consistent in gravity. For the first 
 time he felt what it meant to calculate his chances. Be 
 fore, everything had come to him easily. He had missed 
 the struggle and the heartburnings. Now, suddenly, a 
 shadow had fallen across the open road, the shadow of 
 one whom he had regarded as a sort of protege. He had 
 thoughts of which he was ashamed, for at the bottom he 
 was glad that Regan would not be of a sophomore society 
 that that advantage would be denied him ; and, a little 
 guiltily, he wondered if he had tried as hard as he might 
 have to show him the opportunity. 
 
 " If they ever know him as I do," he said, with a gen 
 erous revulsion, " he ll be the biggest thing in the class." 
 York Street and the busy windows of Pierson Hall came 
 into his vision. A group of sophomores, ending their 
 tour of visits, passed him, saluting him cordially. He 
 thought all at once, with a sharp rebellion, how much freer 
 Regan was, with his own set purpose, than he under the 
 tutelage of Le Baron. 
 
 " I wonder what I d do if no darn sophomore societies 
 existed," he said to himself thoughtfully. And then, go 
 ing up the stairs to his room, he said to McCarthy as he 
 entered : " I guess, after all, I ll get out and slave again 
 this spring might as well heel the crew. I m just 
 varsity material that s all ! " 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE first weeks of the competition for the crew 
 were not exacting, and consisted mostly of elimina 
 ting processes. Stover had consequently still enough 
 leisure to gravitate naturally into that necessity of run 
 ning into debt which comes to every youth who has just 
 won the privilege of a yearly allowance; the same being 
 solemnly understood to cover all the secret and hidden 
 needs of the flesh as well as those that are outwardly ex 
 posed to the admiration of the multitude. 
 
 Now, the lure of personal adornment and the charm 
 of violent neckties and outrageous vests had come to him 
 naturally, as such things come, shortly after the measles, 
 under the educating influence of a hopeless passion which 
 had passed but had left its handiwork. 
 
 About a week after the opening of the term, Stover 
 was drifting down Chapel Street in the company of Hun- 
 gerford and McCarthy, when, in the window of the most 
 predatory haberdasher s, he suddenly was fascinated by 
 the most beautiful thing he had ever seen adorning a win 
 dow. A tinge of masculine modesty prevented his re 
 maining in struck admiration before it, especially in the 
 presence of McCarthy and Hungerford, whose souls 
 could rest content in jerseys and sweaters; but half an 
 hour later, slipping away, he returned, fascinated. 
 Chance had been kind to him. It was still there, the 
 most beautiful green shirt he had ever beheld not the 
 diluted green of ordinary pistache ice-cream, but the deep, 
 royal hue of a glorious emerald ! 
 
 154 
 
STOVER AT YALE 155 
 
 He had once, in the school days when he was blossom 
 ing into a man of fashion, experienced a similar sensa 
 tion before a cravat of pigeon-blood red. He peered 
 through the window to see if any one he knew was pres 
 ent, and glanced up the street to assure himself that a 
 mob was not going to collect. Then he entered non 
 chalantly. The clerk, who recognized him, greeted him 
 with ingratiating unction. 
 
 " Glad to see you here, Mr. Stover. What can I do 
 for you ? " 
 
 " I thought I d look at some shirts," he said, in what 
 he believed a masterly haphazard manner. 
 
 " White lawn something with a thin stripe ? " 
 
 " Well, something in a color solid color." 
 
 He waited patiently, considering solicitously twenty in 
 consequential styles, until the spruce clerk, casually pro 
 ducing the one thing, said : 
 
 "Would that appeal to you?" 
 
 " It s rather nice," he said, gazing at it. Entranced, he 
 stared on. Then a new difficulty arose. People didn t 
 enter a shop just to purchase one shirt, and, besides, he 
 was known. So he selected three other shirts and added 
 the beautiful green thing to them in an unostentatious 
 manner, saying : 
 
 " Send around these four shirts, will you ? What s the 
 tax?" 
 
 " Very pleased to have you open an account, Mr. 
 Stover," said the clerk. " Pay when you like." 
 
 Stover took this as a personal tribute to his public rep 
 utation. Likewise, it opened up to him startling possibil 
 ities, so he said in a bored way : 
 
 " I suppose I might just as well." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Stover thank you very much ! 
 Anything more? Some rather tasty neckties here for 
 
156 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 conservative dressers. Collars? Something like this 
 would be very becoming to you. We ve just got in a 
 very smart line of silk socks. All the latest bonton styles. 
 Look them over you don t need to buy anything." 
 
 When Stover finally was shown to the door, he had 
 clandestinely and with great astuteness acquired the green 
 shirt on the following terms : 
 
 One green shirt (imported) $5 
 
 Three decoy shirts 9 
 
 Four silk ties (to go with green shirt) 8 
 
 One dozen Roxburgh turndown collars (to complete same) . . 3 
 
 One dozen Gladstone collars (an indiscretion) 3 
 
 One half dozen silk socks (bonton style) 12 
 
 Total for one green shirt $40 
 
 By the time he had made this mental calculation he was 
 half way up the block. Then, his extravagance over 
 whelming him, he virtuously determined to send back the 
 Gladstone collars, to show the clerk that, while he was a 
 man of fashion, he still had a will of his own. 
 
 Refreshed then by this firm conscientious resolve, he 
 went down York Street, where he was hailed by Hunger- 
 ford from an upper story, and went in to find a small 
 group sitting in inspection of several bundles of tailoring 
 goods which were being displayed in the center of the 
 room by a little bow-legged Yankee with an open appeal 
 ing countenance. 
 
 " I say, Dink, you ought to get in on this," said Hunger- 
 ford at his entrance. 
 
 "What s the game?" 
 
 " Here s a wonderful chance. Little bright-eyes here 
 has got a lot of goods dirt cheap and he s giving us the 
 first chance. You see it s this way: he travels for a 
 firm and the end of the season he gets all the samples for 
 himself, so he can let them go dirt cheap." 
 
STOVERATYALE 157 
 
 " Half price," said the salesman nodding. " Half price 
 on everything." 
 
 " I ve bought a bundle," said Troutman. " It s won 
 derful goods." 
 
 " How much? " said Stover, considering. 
 
 " Only twenty dollars for enough to make up a suit. 
 Twenty s right, isn t it, Skenk ? " 
 
 " Twenty for this twenty-two for that. You re 
 member I said twenty-two." 
 
 " Let me see the stuff," said Stover, as though he had 
 been the mainstay of custom tailors all his life. 
 
 Now the crowd was a New York one, a little better 
 groomed than their companions, affecting the same pre 
 dilections for indiscreet vests and modish styles that 
 would make them appreciative of the supremacy of green 
 in the haberdashery arts. 
 
 " This is rather good style," he said, with a glance at 
 Troutman s genteel trousers. " What sort of goods do 
 you call it ? " 
 
 " Imported Scotch cheviot," said the salesman in a con 
 fidential whisper. 
 
 Stover looked again at Troutman, who tried discreetly, 
 without being seen by the unsuspecting Yankee, to con 
 vey to him in a look the fact that it was a crime to acquire 
 the goods at such a price. 
 
 Thus tipped off, Dink bought a roll that had in it a 
 distinct reminiscent tinge of green, and saw it carried to 
 the house, for fear the salesman should suddenly repent 
 of the sacrifice. 
 
 At half past eight that night, as he and Tough Mc 
 Carthy were painfully excavating a bit of Greek prose 
 for the morrow, McNab came rushing in. 
 
 " Get out, Dopey, we re boning," said McCarthy, reach 
 ing for a tennis racket. 
 
158 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Boys, the greatest bargain you ever heard," said Mc- 
 Nab excitedly, " come in before it s too late ! " 
 
 " Bargain ? " said Stover, frowning, for the word was 
 beginning to cloy. 
 
 McNab, with a show of pantomime, squinted behind 
 the window curtains and opened the closet door. 
 
 " Look here, Dopey, you get out," said Tough, wrath- 
 fully, " you re faking." 
 
 " I m looking for customs officers," said McNab mys 
 teriously. 
 
 " What ! I say, what s this game ? " 
 
 " Boys, we ve got a couple of Cuba libre dagos rounded 
 up and dancing on a string." 
 
 " For the love of Mike, Dopey, be intelligible." 
 
 " It s cigars," said McNab at last. 
 
 "Don t want them!" 
 
 " But it s smuggled cigars ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " Wonderful, pure Havanas, priceless, out of a 
 museum." 
 
 " You don t say so." 
 
 "And all for the cause of Cuba libre. You re for 
 Cuba libre, aren t you ? " 
 
 " Sure we are." 
 
 " Well, these men are patriots." 
 
 "Who found them?" 
 
 " Buck Waters. They were just going into Pierson 
 Hall to let the sophs have all the candy. Buck side 
 tracked them and started them down our row. Hunger- 
 ford bought twenty-five dollars worth." 
 
 " Twenty-five ? Holy cats ! " 
 
 " For the ca^use of Cuba libre ! Joe is very patriotic. 
 All the boys came up handsomely." 
 
 " Are they good cigars ? " said Dink who, since his 
 
STOVERATYALE 159 
 
 purchases of the day, was not exactly moved to tears by 
 the financial needs of an alien though struggling nation. 
 
 " My boy, immense ! Wait till you smoke one ! " 
 
 At this moment there came a gentle scratching at the 
 door, and a chocolate pair appeared, with Buck Waters in 
 the background. 
 
 " Emanuel Garcia and Henry Clay ! " said McNab ir 
 reverently. 
 
 " They smuggled the cigars right through the Spanish 
 lines," said Waters who, from constant recital, had caught 
 the spirit of unconquerable revolution. 
 
 " How do you know ? " said McCarthy suspiciously, 
 watching the unstrapping of the cigar boxes. 
 
 " I speak French," said Waters with pride, and turn 
 ing to his proteges he continued fluently, " Vous etes 
 patriots, vous avez battles, soldats n est-ce-pas? You see, 
 they have had a whole family chopped up for the cause. 
 The Cuban Junta has sent them over to raise money 
 very good family." 
 
 " Let s see the cigars," said Stover. " How much a 
 box?" 
 
 Curiously enough this seemed to be a phrase of Eng 
 lish which could be understood without difficulty. 
 
 " Fourteen dollar." 
 
 " That s for a box of a hundred," said McNab, who 
 screwed up the far side of his face, to indicate bargaining 
 was in order. 
 
 " Of course," said Buck Waters, " everything you give 
 goes to the cause. Remember that." 
 
 " Try one," said McNab. 
 
 The smaller Cuban with an affable smile held up a 
 bundle. 
 
 " Nice white teeth he s got," said Buck Waters en 
 couragingly. 
 
160 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Don t let him shove one over on you," said Mc 
 Carthy warningly. 
 
 Waters and McNab were indignant. 
 
 " Oh, I say fellows, come on. They are patriots." 
 
 " If they could understand you they would go right up 
 in the air." 
 
 " Nevertheless and notwithstanding," said McCarthy, 
 indicating with his finger, " I ll take this one ; it appeals 
 to me." 
 
 " I ll worry this one," said Dink with equal astuteness. 
 
 They took several puffs, watched by the enthusiastic 
 spectators. 
 
 "Well? "said McNab. 
 
 Stover looked wisely at McCarthy, flirting the cigar 
 between his careless fingers. 
 
 " Not bad." 
 
 " Rather good bouquet," said McCarthy, who knew no 
 more than Stover. 
 
 " Let s begin at eight dollars and stick at ten," said 
 Dink. 
 
 At that latter price, despite the openly expressed scorn 
 of the American allies of the struggle for Cuban in 
 dependence, Stover received a box of one hundred finest 
 Havana cigars fit for a museum, as McNab repeated 
 and saw the advance guard of the liberators disappear. 
 
 " Dink, it s a shame," said McCarthy gleefully. 
 " Finest cigars I ever smoked." 
 
 They shook hands and Stover, overcome by the look 
 of pain he had seen in the eyes of the patriots on their 
 final surrender at ten dollars, said, with a patriotic re 
 morse : 
 
 "Poor devils! Think what they re fighting for! If 
 I hadn t been so lavish to-day, I d have given them the 
 full price." 
 
STOVERATYALE 161 
 
 " I feel sort of bad about it myself." 
 
 About ten o clock they rose by a common impulse and, 
 seeking out the cigars with caressing fingers, indulged in 
 another smoke. 
 
 " Dink, this is certainly living," said McCarthy, reclin 
 ing in that position which his favorite magazine artist 
 ascribed to men of the world when indulging in extrav 
 agant desires. 
 
 " Pretty high rolling, old geezer." 
 
 " I like this better than the first one." 
 
 " Of course with a well-seasoned rare old cigar you 
 don t get all the beauty of it right at first." 
 
 " By George, if those chocolate patriots would come 
 around again I d give em the four plunks." 
 
 " I should feel like it," said Dink, who made a dis 
 tinction. 
 
 The next morning being Sunday, they lolled deliciously 
 in bed, and rose with difficulty at ten. 
 
 " Of course I don t believe in smoking before break 
 fast, as a general rule," said McCarthy in striped red and 
 blue pajamas, " but I have such a fond feeling for Cuba." 
 
 " I can hardly believe it s true," said Dink, emerging 
 from the covers like an impressionistic dawn. " Smoke 
 up." 
 
 " How is it this morning ? " 
 
 " Wonderful." 
 
 " Better and better." 
 
 " I could dream away my life on it." 
 
 " We ought to have bought more." 
 
 " Too bad." 
 
 After chapel, while pursuing their studies in compara 
 tive literature in the Sunday newspapers, they smoked 
 again. 
 
 " Well ? " said Stover anxiously. 
 
162 STOVERATYALE 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Marvellous, isn t it?" 
 
 " Exquisite." 
 
 " Only ten cents apiece ! " 
 
 " It s the way to buy cigars." 
 
 " Trouble is, Dink, old highroller, it s going to be an 
 awful wrench getting down to earth again. We ll hate 
 anything ordinary, anything cheap." 
 
 " Yes, Tough, we are ruining our future happiness." 
 
 "And how good one of the little beauties will taste 
 after that brutalizing Sunday dinner." 
 
 " I can hardly wait. By the way, I blew myself to 
 a few glad rags," said Dink, bringing out his purchases, 
 " I rather fancy them. How do they strike you ? " 
 
 McCarthy emitted a languishing whistle and then his 
 eyes fell on the cause of all the trouble. 
 
 " Keeroogalum ! Where did you get the pea-soup ? " 
 
 The expression did not please. However, Stover had 
 still in the matter of his sentimental inclinations a cer 
 tain bashf ulness. So he said dishonestly : 
 
 " I had em throw it in for a lark." 
 
 " Why, the cows would leave the farm." 
 
 " Rats. Wait and see," said Dink, who seized the 
 excuse to don the green shirt. 
 
 When Stover s blond locks were seen struggling 
 through the collar McCarthy exploded: 
 
 " It looks like you were coming out of a tree. What 
 the deuce has happened to you ? Are you going out for 
 class beauty ? Holy cats ! the socks, the socks ! " 
 
 " The socks, you Reuben, should match the shirt," said 
 Stover, completing his toilet under a diplomatic assump 
 tion of persiflage. 
 
 " Well, you are a lovely thing," said McCarthy, when 
 the new collar and the selected necktie had transformed 
 
STOVERATYALE 163 
 
 Stover. " Lovely ! lovely ! you should go out and have 
 the girls fondle you." 
 
 At this moment Bob Story arrived, as fate would have 
 it, with an invitation to dinner at his home. 
 
 " Sis is back with a few charmers from Farmington 
 and they re crazy to meet you." 
 
 " Oh, I say," said Stover in sudden alarm. " I m the 
 limit on the fussing question." 
 
 " Yes, he is," said McCarthy maliciously. " Why, they 
 fall down before him and beg him to step on them." 
 
 " You shut up," said Stover, with wrath in his eye. 
 
 " Why, Bob, look at him, isn t he gotten up just to 
 charm and delight? You ll have to put a fence around 
 him to keep them off." 
 
 " In an hour," said Story, making for the door. 
 " Hunter and Hungerford are coming." 
 
 " Hold up." 
 
 " Delighted you re coming." 
 
 "I say" 
 
 " There s a Miss Sparkes just crazy about you. 
 You re in luck. Remember the name Miss Sparkes." 
 
 " Story Bob, come back here ! " 
 
 " Au reservoir ! " 
 
 " I can t go I won t " But here Dink, leaning over 
 the banister, heard a gleeful laugh float up and the sudden 
 banging of the door. 
 
 He rushed back frantically to the room and craned out 
 the window, to see Bob Story sliding around the corner 
 with his fingers spread in a gesture that is never any 
 thing but insulting. He closed the window violently and 
 returned to the center of the room. 
 
 " Damn ! " 
 
 " Pooh ! " said McCarthy, chuckling with delight. 
 
 " Petticoats ! " 
 
164 STOVERATYALE 
 
 "Alas!" 
 
 " A lot of silly, yapping, gushing, fluffy, giggling, tee- 
 heeing, tittering, languishing, vapid, useless " 
 
 " My boy, immense ! Go on ! " 
 
 " Confound Bob Story, why the deuce did he rope me 
 into this? I loathe females." 
 
 " And one just dotes on you," said McCarthy, with the 
 expression of a Cheshire cat. 
 
 " I won t go," said Stover loudly. 
 
 " Are you going in that green symphony ? " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 In the midst of this quarrel, Joe Hunger ford entered, 
 with a solemn face. 
 
 " You re going to this massacre at Story s ? " 
 
 " Don t I look like it? " said Dink crossly. 
 
 " We ll go over together then," said Hungerford, with 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 " I say, help yourself to a cigar, Joe," said McCarthy, 
 with the air of a Maecenas. 
 
 " Cuba Libre? " said Hungerford, approaching the box. 
 
 "And a bas Spain!" 
 
 Hungerford examined the cigars with a certain amount 
 of caution which was not lost on the room-mates. 
 
 " How many of these have you smoked ? " he asked, 
 turning to them with interest. 
 
 " Oh, about three apiece. * 
 
 "How do you like em?" 
 
 " Wonderful ! " said Dink loudly. 
 
 " Wonderful ! " said McCarthy. 
 
 The three lit up simultaneously. 
 
 " What did you pay for yours ? " said Hungerford, with 
 a sort of inward concentration on the flavor. 
 
 " Ten bright silver ones." 
 
 " I paid twenty-five for two. How do they taste ? " 
 
STOVER AT YALE 165 
 
 "Wonderful!" 
 
 " Troutman only paid seven-fifty for his box." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " And Hunter only five." 
 
 " Five dollars ? " said McCarthy, with a foreboding. 
 
 " But what I can t understand is this " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Dopey McNab got a box at two-fifty." 
 
 A sudden silence fell on the room, while, reflectively, 
 each puffed forth quick, questioning volumes of smoke. 
 
 " How do they smoke ? " said Hungerf ord again. 
 
 " Wonderful ! " said McCarthy, hoping against hope. 
 
 " They re not ! " said Dink firmly. 
 
 He rose, went to the window, and cast forth the 
 malodorous thing. Hungerford followed suit. Mc 
 Carthy, proud as the Old Guard, sat smoking on; only 
 one leg was drawn up under the other in a tense, con 
 vulsive way. 
 
 " They were wonderful last night," he said obstinately. 
 
 " They certainly were." 
 
 " And they were wonderful this morning." 
 
 " Not quite so wonderful." 
 
 " I like em still." 
 
 " And Dopey McNab bought a hundred at two-fifty." 
 
 This was too much for McCarthy. He surrendered. 
 
 Dopey McNab, at this favorable conjunction, sidled into 
 the room with his box under his arm and the face of 
 a boy soprano on duty. 
 
 " I say, fellows, I ve got a little proposition to make." 
 
 A sort of dull, rolling murmur went around the room 
 which he did not notice. 
 
 " I find I ve been cracking my bank account the fact 
 is, I m strapped as a mule and have got to raise enough 
 to pay my wash bill." 
 
166 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 "Wash bill, Dopey?" said McCarthy softly. 
 
 " We must wash," said Dopey firmly. " To resume. 
 As I detest, abhor, and likewise shrink from borrowing 
 from friends " 
 
 " Repeat that," said Joe Hungerford. 
 
 " I will not. But for all of which reasons, I have a 
 little bargain to propose. Here is a box of the finest 
 cigars ever struck the place." 
 
 "A full box?" 
 
 " Only three cigars out." 
 
 " Three ! " said Hungerford with a significant look at 
 Stover. 
 
 " I could sell them on the campus for twenty, easy." 
 
 " But you love your friends," said Stover, moving a 
 little, so as to shut off the retreat. 
 
 " Who will give me seven-fifty for it ? " said McNab, 
 with the air of one filling a beggar with ecstasy. 
 
 " Seven-fifty. You ll let it go at seven-fifty, Dopey? " 
 said McCarthy faintly, paralyzed at such duplicity. 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Dopey," said Dink, with a signal to the others, " what 
 is the exact figure of that wash bill of yours ? " 
 
 " Two dollars and sixty-two cents." 
 
 " Will you take two dollars and sixty-two cents for 
 it?" 
 
 " You re fooling." 
 
 " I am very, very serious." 
 
 McNab struck a pose, while over his face was seen 
 the conflict of duty and avarice. 
 
 " Take it," he said at last, in a glow of virtue. 
 
 " I didn t say I wanted it." 
 
 " You didn t ! " 
 
 " I only wanted to know what you d really take." 
 
 " What s this mean ? " said McNab indignantly. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 167 
 
 "Dopey, would you sacrifice it at just a little less?" 
 said Hungerford. 
 
 But here McNab, suddenly smelling danger in the air, 
 made a spring backwards. Hungerford, who was on 
 guard, caught him. 
 
 " Put him in the chair and tie him," said Stover, sav 
 agely. ^ 
 
 Which was done. 
 
 " I say, look here, what are you going to do with me ? " 
 said McNab, fiercely. 
 
 " You re going to sit there and smoke a couple of those 
 museum cigars, for our delectation and amusement." 
 
 " Assassins ! " 
 
 " Two cigars." 
 
 " Never ! I ll starve to death first ! " 
 
 " All right. Keep on sitting there." 
 
 " But this is a crime ! Police ! " 
 
 " There are other crimes, Dopey." 
 
 " Hold up," said McNab, frantically, as he perceived 
 the cigar being prepared. " I ve got to dine over at the 
 Story s at one o clock." 
 
 " So have we," said Hungerford, " but McCarthy will 
 watch you for us." 
 
 " I will," said McCarthy, licking his chops. 
 
 " I ve got to be there," said McNab, wriggling in a 
 frenzy. 
 
 " Smoke right up, then. You can smoke them in twenty 
 minutes." 
 
 " Police ! " 
 
 " I say, Dink," said Hungerford, as McNab s head 
 whipped from side to side like a recalcitrant child s. 
 " Perhaps we d better get in all the crowd who fell for 
 the cigars round em up." 
 
 " I ll smoke it," said McNab instantly. 
 
168 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " I thought you would." 
 
 They sat around, unfeelingly, grinning, while McNab, 
 strapped in like a papoose, rebelliously, with much sput 
 tering and coughing, smoked the cigar that Dink fed him 
 like a trained nurse. 
 
 " Fellows, I ve got to get to that dinner." 
 
 " We know that, Dopey but there s one thing you 
 won t do there tell the story of the Cuba libre cigar." 
 
 " Say, let me off and I ll put you on to a great stunt." 
 
 " We can t be bought." 
 
 " I ll tell you, I ll trust you ! We re going to have a 
 cop-killing over in Freshman row. We ve got a whole 
 depot of Roman candles. Let me off this second cigar 
 and I ll work you in." 
 
 "We ll be there!" 
 
 " You bandits, I ll get even with you." 
 
 " You probably will, Dopey, but you ll never rob us of 
 this memory." 
 
 " Curse you, feed it to me quickly." 
 
 The cigar consumed to the last rebellious puff, McNab 
 was released in a terrific humor, and departed hastily to 
 dress, after remarking in a deadly manner : 
 
 " I ll get you yet you brutal kidnappers." 
 
 " I think it s a rather low trick of Bob Story s," said 
 Stover, considering surreptitiously in the mirror the 
 effect of his new color scheme. 
 
 " Ditto here," said Hungerford. 
 
 Now Stover was in a quandary. He was divided be 
 tween two emotions. He firmly thought that he had 
 never looked so transcendingly the perfect man of fashion, 
 but he had numerous busy doubts as to whether the 
 exquisite costume was as appropriate at a quiet Sunday 
 dinner as it undoubtedly would have been in a sporting 
 audience. Still, to make a change now, under the mali- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 169 
 
 cious inspection of Tough McCarthy, would be to invite 
 a storm of joyful ridicule, so he said hopefully : 
 
 " Think it all right to go in this? " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 As this put the burden of the proof on him, Stover 
 remained silent, but compromised a little by exchanging a 
 rather forward vest for one of calmer aspect. 
 
 " Well," he said, at last, with something between a 
 gulp and a sigh, " I suppose we d better push along." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Hungerford, who brought a 
 strangle hold to bear on his necktie and shot a last look 
 down at the slightly wavering line of his trousers. 
 
 At the door, the vision of McNab, like a visiting Eng 
 lish duke, bore down upon them. 
 
 " Where in the thunder did you get the boutonniere ? " 
 said Stover, examining him critically. 
 
 " Why, Dopey, you re a dude ! " said Hungerford disap 
 provingly. 
 
 " Everything is correct brilliant, but correct," said 
 McNab with a flip of his ringers. " Come on now 
 we re late." 
 
 Half way there, when the conversation had completely 
 fizzled out, McNab said cheerily : 
 
 "How d ye feel? Getting a little nervous, eh? Get 
 ting cold feelings up and down your back? Fingers 
 twitching what ? " 
 
 " Don t be an ass," said Hungerford huskily. 
 
 " Chump," said Stover, feeling all at once the tightness 
 of his vest. 
 
 " Course you know, boys, you re dressed all wrong 
 in shocking taste. You know that, don t you ? Thought 
 I d better tell you before the girls begin giggling at 
 you." 
 
 " Huh ! " 
 
170 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 "Joe s bad enough in a liver-colored sack, but Dink s 
 unspeakable ! " 
 
 "I am! What s wrong?" 
 
 " Fancy wearing a colored shirt and such a color ! 
 You re gotten up for a boating party not for a formal 
 lunch. You re unspeakable, Dink, unspeakable! Look 
 at me. I m a delight black and white, immaculate, im 
 pressive, and absolutely correct." 
 
 By this time they had reached the steps. 
 
 " Now, don t try to shine your shoes on your trousers. 
 It always shows. Don t stumble or trip when you go in. 
 Don t bump against the furniture. Don t stutter. Don t 
 hold on to your hostess to keep from falling over. And 
 don t, don t shoot your cuffs." 
 
 McNab s malicious advice reduced Hungerford to a 
 panic, while only the consciousness of his public im 
 portance prevented Stover from bolting as he saw McNab 
 press the button. 
 
 " Stand up straight and keep your hands out of your 
 pockets." 
 
 " Dopey, I ll wring your neck if you don t stop ! " 
 
 " Ditto." 
 
 " Say something interesting to every girl," continued 
 McNab, in a solemn whisper. " Talk about art or litera 
 ture." 
 
 The door opened, and they stumbled into the ante 
 room, from which escape was impossible. 
 
 " Dink," said McNab in a last whisper. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Don t ask twice for soup, and stop shooting that cuff." 
 
 The next moment Stover, who had been thrust forward 
 by the other two, found himself crossing the perilous 
 track of slippery rugs on slippery floors, and suddenly 
 the cynosure of at least a hundred eyes. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 171 
 
 Judge Story had him by the hand, patting him on the 
 back, smiling up at him with a smile he never forgot 
 a little lithe man bristling with good humor and the genius 
 of good cheer. 
 
 " Stover, I m glad to shake your hand. We did all we 
 could for you in those last rushes. We rooted hard. My 
 wife assaulted a clergyman in front of her, and my daugh 
 ter was found afterward weeping with her arms around 
 the man next to her. I certainly am proud to shake your 
 hand. I won t shake it too long, because " here he 
 looked up in a confidential whisper " because the girls 
 have been fidgeting at the window for an hour. Look 
 them over and tell me which one you want to sit next 
 to you, and I ll fix it." 
 
 " Dad, aren t you awful ? " said a voice in only laughing 
 disapproval. 
 
 " My daughter," said the judge, passing joyfully on to 
 Hungerford. 
 
 " Indeed, I m very glad to meet you." 
 
 He shook hands, a trifle embarrassed, with a young 
 lady of quiet self-possession, gentle in voice and action, 
 with somewhat of the thoughtful reserve of her brother. 
 
 He followed her, only half conscious of a certain float 
 ing grace and the pleasure of following her movements, 
 bowing with cataleptic bobs of his head as the introduc 
 tions ran on : 
 
 " Miss Sparkes." 
 
 " Miss Green." 
 
 " Miss Woostelle." 
 
 " Miss Raymond." 
 
 Then he straightened and allowed his chin to right itself 
 over the brink of his mounting collar, smiling, but with 
 out hearing the outburst that went up from the equally 
 agitated sex: 
 
172 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Isn t the Judge perfectly terrible ! " 
 
 " You mustn t believe a word he says." 
 
 " Don t you think he s lovely, though ? " 
 
 " We really were so excited at the game." 
 
 " Oh, dear, I almost cried my eyes out." 
 
 " We thought you were perfectly splendid." 
 
 " We did want you to score so." 
 
 " I just hated those Princeton men, they were so much 
 bigger." 
 
 Hungerford and McNab coming up for presentation, 
 he found himself a little to leeward, clinging to a chair, 
 and, opening his eyes, perceived for the first time Hunter, 
 with whom he shook hands with the convulsiveness of a 
 death grip. 
 
 Miss Sparkes, a rather fluttering brunette with dimples 
 and enthusiastic eyes, cut off his retreat and isolated him 
 in a corner, where he was forced to listen to a disquisition 
 on the theory of football, supremely conscious that the 
 unforgiving McNab was making him a subject of conver 
 sation with the young lady to whom he was rapidly suc 
 cumbing. 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Story and Bob, and the welcome 
 descent on the dining-room, for a moment made him 
 forget the awful fact that he had perceived, on his en 
 trance, that the green shirt was, in fact, nothing short of 
 a social outrage. 
 
 " Every one sitting next to the person they want," said 
 the Judge roguishly, his glance rolling around the table. 
 " By George, if that body-snatcher of a Miss Sparkes 
 hasn t bagged Stover well, I never! Seems to me a 
 certain party named Hungerford has done very well 
 indeed. McNab, I perceive, is going to set the fashions 
 for the class, but I certainly do like Stover s green shirt." 
 
 At this a shout went up, and Stover s ears began to boil. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 173 
 
 " I don t see what you re ha-ha-ing about, Mr. McNab," 
 continued the Judge, diverting the attack, " descending 
 upon us, a quiet, respectable back-woods family, with a 
 boutonniere! I think that s putting on a good deal of 
 airs, don t you ? Now, boys, don t let these young society 
 ladies from Farmington pretend they re too delicate to eat. 
 You ought to see the breakfast they devoured. Every 
 body happy all right." 
 
 In five minutes all were at ease, chattering away 
 like so many magpies. Stover, finding that his breath 
 came easier-, recovered himself and listened with a tol 
 erant sense of pleasure while Miss Sparkes rushed on. 
 
 " The girls up at Farmington will be so excited when 
 they hear I ve actually sat next to you at the table. You 
 know, we re all just crazy about football. Oh, it gets me 
 so excited! Dudley s the new captain, isn t he? I met 
 him last summer at a dance down at Long Island. I 
 admire him tremendously, don t you? He has such a 
 strong character." 
 
 He nodded from time to time, replied in dignified mono 
 syllables, and became pleasurably aware that Miss Ray 
 mond, opposite, in disloyalty to her companion, had one 
 ear trained to catch his slightest word, while Miss Green 
 and Miss Woostelle, farther away, watched him covertly 
 over the foliage of the celery. He was a lion among 
 ladies for the first time a sensation he had sworn to 
 loathe and detest ; and yet there was in him a sort of warm 
 growing feeling that he could not explain but that was 
 quite far from unpleasant. 
 
 "If Miss Sparkes, Mr. Stover, will stop whispering in 
 your ear for just a moment," said the Judge, on mischief 
 bent, "you can help Mrs. Story with the beef." 
 
 " You ll get accustomed to him soon," said his hostess, 
 smiling. " There, if you ll steady the platter I think we 
 
174 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 two can manage it. I am so glad to have you here. Bob 
 has spoken of you so often. I hope you ll be good 
 friends." 
 
 There was something leonine and yet very feminine in 
 her face, a quiet and restfulness that drew him irresistibly 
 to her and gave him the secret of the reserve and charm 
 that was in her children. 
 
 Of all the delegation from school, Jean Story alone had 
 not seemed aware of his imposing stature. She was sit 
 ting between Hungerford and Hunter, whom she called 
 by his first name, and her way of speaking, unlike the 
 impulsiveness of her companions, was measured and 
 thoughtful. She had a quantity of ash-colored hair 
 which, like her dress, seemed to be floating about Jier. 
 Her forehead was clear, a little serious, and her eyes, 
 while devoid of coquetry, held him with their directness 
 and simplicity. y* .ut A&t* *kt ^ d*\ 
 
 He found himself only half hearing the conversation 
 that Miss Sparkes rolled into his ear, watching the move 
 ments of other hands, feeling a little antagonism to Hunter 
 and wondering how long they had known each other. 
 
 Dinner over, he forgot his shyness, and went up to her 
 with the quick direction which was impulsive in him when 
 he was strongly interested. 
 
 " I want to talk to you," he said. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 She looked at him, a little surprised at the bluntness 
 of his introduction, but not displeased. 
 
 " You are very like your brother," he said. She seemed 
 younger than he had thought. 
 
 " I am glad of that," she answered, with a genuine 
 smile. " Bob and I are old friends." 
 
 " I hope you ll be my friend," he said. 
 
STOVERATYALE 175 
 
 She turned, and then, seeing in his face only sincerity, 
 nodded her head slightly and said : 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He said very little more, ill at ease, a feeling that also 
 seemed to have gained possession of her. 
 
 Miss Raymond and Miss Woostelle came up, and he 
 found himself restored to the role of a hero, a little piqued 
 at Miss Story s different attitude, always aware of her 
 movements, hearing her low voice through all the chatter 
 of the room. 
 
 He went home very thoughtful, keeping out of the 
 laughing discussion that went on, watching from the cor 
 ner of his eye Hunter, and wondering with a little unex 
 plained resentment just how well he knew the Storys. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WITH Stover s return after the Christmas vacation 
 the full significance of the society dominion burst 
 over him. The night that the hold-offs were to be given, 
 there was a little joking at the club table, but it was only 
 lip-deep. The crisis was too vital. Chris Schley and 
 Troutman, who were none too confident, were plainly 
 nervous. 
 
 Stover and McCarthy walked home directly to their 
 rooms, and took up the next day s lessons as a convenient 
 method of killing time. 
 
 " You re not worrying? " said Stover suddenly. 
 
 McCarthy put down the penitential book, and, rising, 
 stretched himself, nervously resorting to his pipe. 
 
 " Not for a hold-off no. That ought to be all right." 
 
 "And afterward?" 
 
 " Don t speak about it." 
 
 " Rats ! You ll be pledged about the eighth or tenth." 
 
 " What time is it? " said McCarthy shortly. 
 
 " Five minutes more." 
 
 This time each took up his book in order to be found 
 in an inconsequential attitude, outwardly indifferent, as 
 all Anglo-Saxons should be. From without, the hour 
 rang its dull, leaden, measured tones. Almost immedi 
 ately a knock sounded on the door, and Le Baron ap 
 peared, hurried, businesslike, mysterious, saying: 
 
 " Stover, want to see you in the other room a moment." 
 
 Dink retired with" him into the bedroom, and received 
 his hold-off in a few matter-of-fact sentences. A second 
 
 176 
 
STOVERATYALE 177 
 
 after, Le Baron was out of the door, rushing down the 
 steps. 
 
 " Your turn next," said Stover, with a wave of his hand 
 to McCarthy. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The sound of hurrying feet and the shudder of hastily 
 banged doors filled the house. 
 
 " My, they re having a busy time of it," said Stover. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Ten minutes passed. McCarthy, staring at his page, 
 mechanically took up the dictionary, hiding the fear that 
 started up. Stover rose, going to the window. 
 
 " They re running around Pierson Hall like a lot of 
 ants," he said, drumming against the window. 
 
 " How far s this advance go? " said McCarthy in a mat 
 ter-of-fact tone. 
 
 " End of page 152," said Stover. He came back frown 
 ing, glancing at the clock. It was seventeen minutes after 
 the hour. 
 
 All at once, outside, came a clatter of feet, and the door 
 opened on Waring, out of breath and flustered. 
 
 " McCarthy, like to see you a moment." 
 
 Stover returned to the window, gazing out. Presently 
 behind his back he heard the two return, the door bang, 
 and McCarthy s voice saying: 
 
 " It s all right, Dink." 
 
 " All right ?" he said. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Glad of it." 
 
 " He gave me a little scare, though." 
 
 " Your crowd lost a couple of men ; besides, you give 
 more hold-offs." 
 
 " That s it." 
 
 They abandoned the subject by mutual consent; only 
 
178 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Stover remembered for months after the tension he had 
 felt and the tugging at the heart-strings. If he could feel 
 that way for his friend, what would be his sensations 
 when he faced his own crisis on Tap Day? 
 
 Fellows from other houses came thronging in with 
 reports of how the class had divided up. Every one had 
 his own list of the hold-offs, completing it according to the- 
 last returns, amid a bedlam of questions. 
 
 "How did Story go?" 
 
 " Did Schley get a hold-off? " 
 
 " Yes, but Troutman didn t." 
 
 " He did, too." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Half an hour late." 
 
 " Brockhurst got one." 
 
 "You don t say so!" 
 
 " Gimbel get anythin ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Regan?" 
 
 " Don t know." 
 
 " Any one know about Regan? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " How about Buck Waters? " 
 
 " I don t know. I think not." 
 
 " Damned shame." 
 
 "What, is Buck left out?" 
 
 " Fraid so." 
 
 "What s wrong?" 
 
 " Too much sense of humor." 
 
 Stover, off at one side, watched the group, seeing the 
 interested calculation as each scanned his own list, won 
 dering who would have to be eliminated if he were to be 
 chosen. Story, Tommy Bain, and Hunter were in his 
 crowd, as he had foreseen. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 179 
 
 He went out and across the campus to South Middle, 
 where Regan was now rooming. By the Coop he found 
 Bob Story, and together they went up the creaky stairs. 
 Regan was out just where, the man who roomed on his 
 entry did not know. 
 
 " How long has he been out ? " said Story anxiously. 
 
 " Ever since supper." 
 
 "Didn t he come in at all?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Were they going to give him a hold-off ? " said Stover, 
 as they went down. 
 
 " Yes. They ve been looking everywhere for him." 
 
 " I don t think the old boy would take it." 
 
 " Can t you make him see what it would mean to him ? " 
 
 " I ve tried." 
 
 " I m afraid Regan s queered himself with a lot of our 
 crowd," said Story thoughtfully. " They don t under 
 stand him and he doesn t want to understand them. 
 Didn t he know this was the night ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I told him." 
 
 " Stayed away on purpose ? " 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 " Too bad. He s just the sort of man we ought to 
 have." 
 
 " How do you feel about the whole proposition? " said 
 Stover curiously. 
 
 " The sophomore society question ? " said Story frankly. 
 " Why, I think there ve got to be some reforms made ; 
 they ought to be kept more democratic." 
 
 "You think that?" 
 
 " Yes ; I think we want to keep away a good deal from 
 the social admiration game be representative of the 
 real things in Yale life; that s why we need a man like 
 Regan. Course, I think this that we ve all got too 
 
180 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 much this society idea in our heads ; but, since they exist 
 it s better to do what we can to make them representative 
 and not snobbish." 
 
 Stover was surprised at the maturity of judgment in 
 the young fellow, as well as his simplicity of expression. 
 He would have liked to talk to him further on deeper 
 subjects, but, as always, the first steps were difficult and 
 as yet he accepted things without a clear understanding 
 of reasons. 
 
 He went up with Story for a little chat. There was 
 about the room a tone of quiet good taste and thoughtful- 
 ness quite different from the boyish exuberance of other 
 rooms. The pictures were Braunotypes of paintings he 
 did not know, while bits of plaster casts mellowed with 
 wax enlivened the serried contents of the book-shelves. 
 
 ft You ve got a lot of books," said Stover, feeling his 
 way. 
 
 " Yes. Drop in and borrow them any time you 
 want." 
 
 While Story flung a couple of cushions on the state 
 arm-chair and brought out the tobacco, Dink examined 
 the shelves respectfully, surprised and impressed by the 
 quality of the titles, French, German, and Russian. 
 
 " Why do you room alone, Bob ? " he said, with some 
 curiosity, knowing Story s popularity. 
 
 " I wanted to." Story was opposite, his face blocked 
 out in sudden shadows from the standing lamp, that 
 accentuated a certain wistful, pensive quality it had. " I 
 enjoy being by myself. It gives me time to think and 
 look around me." 
 
 " Are you going out for anything? " said Stover, won 
 dering a little at the impression Story had made already, 
 through nothing but the charm and sincerity of his char 
 acter. 
 
STOVERATYALE 181 
 
 " Yes, I m going out for tfie News next month, and 
 besides I m heeling the Lit." 
 
 " Oh, you are ? " said Stover, surprised. 
 
 " But it comes hard," said Story, with a grimace. " I 
 have to work like sin over every line. It s all hammered 
 out. Brockhurst is the fellow who can do the stuff." 
 
 " Do you know him at all ? " 
 
 " He won t let any one know him. I ve tried. I don t 
 think he quite knows yet how to meet fellows. I m sorry. 
 He really interests me." 
 
 " That s a good photo of your sister," said Stover, who 
 had held the question in leash ever since his entrance. 
 
 " So, so." 
 
 " How much longer has she at Farmington ? " 
 
 " Last year." 
 
 " Going abroad afterwards ? " said Stover carelessly. 
 
 " No, indeed. Stay right here." 
 
 " I like her," said Stover. " It s quite a privilege to 
 know her." 
 
 Story looked up and a pleased smile came to him. 
 
 " Yes, it is," he said. 
 
 " Bob, what do you think about McCarthy s chances ? " 
 
 Story considered a moment. 
 
 " Only fair," he said. 
 
 " Why, what s wrong with him ? " 
 
 " He hasn t any one ahead pulling for him," said Story, 
 " and most of the other fellows have. That s one fault 
 we have." 
 
 " It would knock him out to miss." 
 
 " It is tough." 
 
 They spoke a little more in a desultory way, and Stover 
 left. He was dissatisfied. He wanted Story to like him, 
 conscious of a new longing in himself for the friendships 
 that did not come, and yet somehow he could find no com- 
 
182 STOVERATYALE 
 
 mon ground of conversation. Moreover, and he rather 
 resented it, there was not in Story the least trace of the 
 admiration and reverence that he was accustomed to 
 receive, as a leader should receive. 
 
 The following weeks were ones of intrigue and nervous 
 speculation. Pledged among the first, he found himself 
 with Hunter, Story, and Tommy Bain in the position of 
 adviser as to the selection of the rest of his crowd. 
 Hunter and Bain, each with an object in view, sought 
 to enlist his aid. He perceived their intentions, not duped 
 by the new cordiality, growing more and more antagonistic 
 to their businesslike ambitions. With Joe Hungerford 
 and Bob Story he found his real friends. And yet, what 
 L completely surprised him was the lack of careless, indo 
 lent camaraderie which he had known at school and 
 had expected in larger scope at college. Every one 
 was busy, working with a dogged persistence along some 
 line of ambition. The long, lazy afternoons and pleasant 
 evenings were not there. Instead was the grinding of 
 the mills and the turning of the wheels. How it was with 
 the rest he ignored ; but with his own crowd the chosen 
 life was earnest, disciplined in a set purpose. He felt 
 it in the open afternoon, in the quiet passage of candi 
 dates for the baseball teams, the track, and the crew ; in 
 the evenings, in the strumming of instruments from 
 Alumni Hall and the practising of musical organizations, 
 and most of all in the flitting, breathless passage of the 
 News heelers in snow or sleet, running in and out of 
 buildings, frantically chasing down a tip, haggard with the 
 long-drawn-out struggle now ending the fourth month. 
 
 He himself had surrendered again to this compelling 
 activity and gone over to the gymnasium, taking his place 
 at the oars in the churning tanks, bending methodically as 
 the bare torso of the man in f-C it bent or shot back, con- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 183 
 
 centrating all his faculties on the shouted words of advice 
 from the pacing coach above him. 
 
 He was too light to win in the competition of unusual 
 material he could only hope for a second or third sub 
 stitute at best; but that was what counted, he said to 
 himself, what made competition in the class and brought 
 others out, just as it did in football. And so he stuck 
 to his grind, satisfied, on the whole, that his afternoons 
 were mapped out for him. 
 
 Meanwhile the pledges to the sophomore societies con 
 tinued and the field began to narrow. McCarthy s hold- 
 off was renewed each time, but the election did not arrive. 
 
 In his own crowd Story, Hungerford, and himself 
 found themselves in earnest alliance for the election of 
 Regan and Brockhurst. Regan, however, had so antag 
 onized certain members of their sophomore crowd that 
 their task was well-nigh impossible. He had been pro 
 nounced " fresh," equivalent almost to a ban of excom 
 munication, for his extraordinary lack of reverence to 
 things that traditionally should be revered, and as he 
 had a blunt, direct way of showing in his eyes what he 
 liked and disliked, his sterling qualities were forgotten 
 in the irritation he caused. Besides, as the opening nar 
 rowed to three or four vacancies, Hunter and Bain, in 
 the service of their own friends, arrayed themselves in 
 silent opposition to him and to Brockhurst. 
 
 About the latter, Stover found himself increasingly 
 unable to make up his mind. He went to see him once 
 or twice, but the visit was never returned. In his infal 
 libility for infallibility is a requisite of a leader he 
 decided that there was something queer about him. He 
 rather shunned others, took long walks by himself, in a 
 crowd always seemed removed, watching others with a 
 distant eye which had in it a little mockery. His room 
 
184 STOVERATYALE 
 
 was always in confusion, as was his tousled hair. In a 
 word, he was a little of a barbarian, who did not speak 
 the ready lip language that was current in social gather 
 ings, and, unfortunately, did not show well his paces when 
 confronted with inspection. So when the final vote came 
 Stover, infallible judge of human nature, conscientiously 
 decided that Brockhurst did not rank with the exceed 
 ingly choice crowd of which he was a leader. 
 
 With the arrival of the elections for the managerships 
 of the four big athletic organizations, positions in the past 
 disputed by the candidacies of the three sophomore soci 
 eties, a revolution took place. The non-society element, 
 organized by Gimbel and other insurgents ahead of him, 
 put up a candidate for the football managership and 
 elected him by an overwhelming majority, and repeated 
 their success with the Navy. 
 
 The second victory was like the throwing down of a 
 gauntlet. The class, which had been quietly dividing 
 since the advent of the hold-offs, definitely split, and for 
 the first time Stover became aware of the soundness of 
 the opposition to the social system of which he was a 
 prospective leader. Quite to his surprise, Jim Hunter 
 appeared in his room one night. 
 
 " What the deuce does he want now ? " he thought to 
 himself, wondering if he were to be again solicited in 
 favor of Stone, who was still short of election. 
 
 " I say, Dink, we re up against a serious row," said 
 Hunter, making himself comfortable and speaking always 
 in the same unvarying tone. " The class is split to 
 pieces." 
 
 " It looks that way." 
 
 " It s all Gimbel and that crowd of soreheads he runs. 
 We had trouble with him up at Andover." 
 
 " Well, Jim, what do you think about the whole propo- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 185 
 
 sition ? " said Stover. " The college seems pretty strong 
 against us." 
 
 " It s just a couple of men who are cooking it up to 
 work themselves into office," said Hunter, dismissing the 
 idea lightly. " You ll see, that s all there is to it." 
 
 Somehow, Stover found that renewed contest with 
 Hunter only increased the feeling of antagonism he had 
 felt from the first. He was aware of a growing resist 
 ance to Hunter s point of view, guarded and deliberate 
 as it was. So he said point blank: 
 
 " I m not so sure there isn t some basis for the feeling. 
 We ought to watch out and make ourselves as democratic 
 as possible." 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Hunter, in the tone of amused 
 worldliness, " these anti-society fights go on everywhere. 
 There was a great hullabaloo six or seven years ago, and 
 then it all died out. You ll see, that s what ll happen. 
 Gimbel ll get what he wants, then he ll quiet down and 
 hope to make a senior society. Don t get too excited 
 over things that happen in freshman year." 
 
 " Have you talked with Story? " said Stover, resenting 
 his tone. 
 
 "Bob s got a curious twist he s a good deal of a 
 dreamer." 
 
 " Then you wouldn t make any changes ? " 
 
 " No, not in our crowd," said Hunter. " I think we 
 do very well what we set out to get the representative 
 men of the class, to bring them together into close friend 
 ship, and make them understand one another s point of 
 view and so work together for the best in the university." 
 
 11 You think the outsiders don t count ? " 
 
 " As a rule, no. Of course, there are one or two men 
 who develop later, but if there s anything in them they ll 
 really make good." 
 
186 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Rather tough work, won t it be ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but every system has its faults." 
 
 " What did you come in to see me about ? " said Stover 
 abruptly. 
 
 " To talk the situation over," said Hunter, not seeming 
 to perceive the hostility of the question. " I think all 
 of us in the crowd ought to be very careful." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 " About talking too much." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 " I mean, if you have any criticism on the system, keep 
 it to yourself. Gimbel is raising enough trouble; the 
 only thing is for us to shut up and not encourage them 
 by making the kickers think that any of us agree with 
 them." 
 
 " So that s what you came in to say to me ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You re for no compromise." 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Are there fellows in our crowd, or the classes ahead, 
 who feel as Story does ? " 
 
 " Yes ; of course there are a few." 
 
 " And, Hunter, you see no faults in the system ? " 
 
 " What other system would you suggest ? " 
 
 Now, Stover had not yet come to a critical analysis of 
 his own good fortune, nor had he any more than a per 
 sonal antagonism for Hunter himself. He did not an 
 swer, unwilling to let this feeling color his views on what 
 he began to perceive might some day shape itself as a test 
 of his courage. 
 
 Hunter left presently, as he had come up, without 
 enthusiasm, always cold, always deliberate. When he 
 had gone, Stover became a little angry at the advice so 
 
STOVER AT YALE 187 
 
 openly imposed on him, and as a result he decided on a 
 sudden move. 
 
 If the split in the class was acute, something ought 
 to be done. If Hunter, as a leader, was resolved on 
 contemptuous isolation, he would do a bigger thing in a 
 bigger way. 
 
 In pursuance of this idea, he suddenly set out to find 
 Gimbel and provoke a frank discussion. If anything 
 could be done to hold the class together and stop the 
 rise of political dissension, it was his duty as a responsible 
 leader to do what he could to prevent it. 
 
 When he reached the room, it was crowded, and an 
 excited discussion was going on, which dropped suddenly 
 on his entrance. What the subject of conversation was 
 he had a shrewd suspicion, seeing several representatives 
 from Sheff. 
 
 " Hello, Stover. Come right in. Glad to see you." 
 Gimbel, a little puzzled at this first visit, came forward 
 cordially. " You know every one here, don t you ? 
 Jackson, shake hands with Stover. What ll you have, 
 pipe or cigarette ? " 
 
 Stover nodded to the fellows whom he knew on slight 
 acquaintance, settled in an arm-chair, brought forth his 
 pipe, and said with assumed carelessness : 
 
 " What was all the pow-wow about when I arrived ? " 
 
 A certain embarrassment stirred in the room, but 
 Gimbel, smiling at the question, said frankly : 
 
 " We were fixing up a combination for the baseball 
 managership. We are going to lick you fellows to a 
 scramble. That s what you ve come over to talk about, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The crowd, plainly disconcerted at this smiling passage 
 
188 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 of arms, began to melt away with hastily formed ex 
 cuses. 
 
 " Quite a meeting-place, Gimbel, you have here," said 
 Stover, nodding to the last disappearing group. 
 
 " Politicians should have," replied Gimbel, straddling 
 a chair, and, leaning his arms on the back, he added, smil 
 ing : " Well, fire away." 
 
 Each had grown in authority since their first meeting 
 on the opening of college, nor was the question of war 
 or peace yet decided between them. 
 
 " Gimbel, I hope we can talk this thing over openly." 
 
 " I think we can." 
 
 " I m doing an unusual thing in coming to you. You re 
 a power in this class." 
 
 " And you represent the other side," said Gimbel. 
 " Go on." 
 
 " You re going to run a candidate for the baseball man 
 agership." 
 
 " I m not running him, but I m making the combination 
 for this class." 
 
 " Same thing." 
 
 " Just about." 
 
 " Are you fellows going to shut out every society man 
 that goes up for a class election ? " 
 
 " You re putting a pretty direct question." 
 
 " Answer it if you want to." 
 
 " Yes, I ll answer it." Gimbel looked at him, plainly 
 concerned in emulating his frankness, and continued: 
 " Stover, this anti-sophomore society fight is a fight to 
 the finish. We are going to put up an outsider, as you 
 call it, for every election, and we re going to elect him." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because we are serving notice that we are against a 
 system that is political and undemocratic." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 189 
 
 "Whatgood llitdo?" 
 
 " We ll abolish the whole system." 
 
 " Do you really believe that ? " said Stover, strangely 
 enough, adopting Hunter s attitude. 
 
 "I do ; I may know the feeling in the upper classes 
 better than you do." 
 
 " Gimbel, how much of this is real opposition and how 
 much is worked up by you and others? " 
 
 " My dear Stover, why ask who is responsible ? Ask 
 if the opposition is genuine and whether it s going to 
 stick." 
 
 " I don t believe it is." 
 
 " That s not it. What you want to know is how much 
 is conviction in me, and how much is just the fun of run 
 ning things and stirring up mischief." 
 
 " That does puzzle me yes. But what I want you 
 to see is, you re splitting up the class." 
 
 " I m not doing it, and you re not doing it. It s the 
 class ahead that s interfering and doing it. Now, Stover, 
 I ve answered your questions. Will you answer mine ? " 
 
 " That s fair." 
 
 " If you put up a candidate, why shouldn t we ? " 
 
 " But you make politics out of it." 
 
 " Do you ever support the candidate of another 
 crowd?" 
 
 Stover was silent. 
 
 " Stover, do you know that for years these elections 
 have gone on with just three candidates offered, one each 
 from your three sophomore societies? And how have 
 they been run? By putting up your lame ducks." 
 
 "Oh, come." 
 
 " Not always. But if you think you can elect a weak 
 member instead of a strong one, you trot out the lame 
 duck. Why? Because at the bottom you are not really 
 
190 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 social, but political; because your main object is to get 
 as many of your men into senior societies as you can." 
 
 "Well, why not?" 
 
 " Because you re doing it at the expense of the class 
 by making us bolster up the weak ones with an office." 
 
 " I don t think that s entirely fair." 
 
 " You ll see. Look at the last candidates the sopho 
 mores put up. You haven t answered my questions. 
 Why shouldn t we non-society men, six-sevenths of the 
 class, have the right to put up our candidates and elect 
 them?" 
 
 " You have," said Stover ; " but, Gimbel, you re not 
 doing it for that. You re doing it to knock us out." 
 
 " Quite true." 
 
 " That means the whole class goes to smash that 
 we re going to have nothing but fights and hard feelings 
 from now on. Is that what you want ? " 
 
 " Stover, it s a bigger thing than just the peace of mind 
 of our class." 
 
 " But what is your objection to us ? " said Stover. 
 
 " My objection is that just that class feeling and har 
 mony you spoke of your societies have already de 
 stroyed." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 " Because you break in and take little groups out of 
 the body of the class and herd together." 
 
 "You exaggerate." 
 
 " Oh, no, I don t ; and you ll see it more next year. 
 You ve formed your crowd, and you ll stick together and 
 you ll all do everything you can to help each other along. 
 That s natural. But don t come and say to me that we 
 fellows are dividing the class." 
 
 " Rats, Gimbel ! Just because I m in a soph isn t going 
 to make any difference with the men I see." 
 
STOVER AT. YALE 191 
 
 " You think so ? " said Gimbel, looking at him with 
 real curiosity. 
 
 " You bet it won t." 
 
 " Wait and see." 
 
 " That s too ridiculous ! " 
 
 Stover, feeling his anger gaining possession of him, rose 
 abruptly. 
 
 " How can it be otherwise ? " said Gimbel, persisting. 
 
 " Next year the only outsiders you ll see will be a few 
 bootlickers who ll attach themselves to you to get pulled 
 into a junior society. The real men won t go with you, 
 because they don t want to kowtow and heel." 
 
 " We ll see." 
 
 " I say, Stover," said Gimbel abruptly, as Dink, for 
 fear of losing his temper, was leaving. " Now, be square. 
 You ve come to me frankly I won t say impertinently 
 and I ve answered your questions and told you openly 
 what we re going to do. Give me credit for that, will 
 you?" 
 
 " I don t believe in you," said Stover, facing him. 
 
 " I know you don t," said Gimbel, flushing a little, " but 
 you will before you get through." 
 
 " I doubt it." 
 
 " And I ll tell you another thing you ll do before this 
 sophomore society fight is ended," said Gimbel, with a 
 sudden heat. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " You ll stand on the right side where we stand." 
 
 "You think so?" 
 
 "I know it!" 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WHEN a freshman has been invited to dinner and 
 in a rash moment accepted the invitation and lived 
 through the agony, he usually pays his party call (always 
 supposing that he has imbibed a certain amount of home 
 etiquette) sometime before graduation. In the balance 
 of freshman year the obligation possesses him like a 
 specter of remorse; in sophomore year he remembers it 
 by fits and starts, always in the middle of the week, in 
 time to forget it by Sunday ; in junior year he is tempted 
 once or twice to use it as an excuse for sporting his newly 
 won high hat and frock-coat, but fears he has offended 
 too deeply ; and in senior year he watches the local society 
 columns for departures, and rushes around to deposit his 
 cards, with an expression of surprise and regret when 
 informed at the door that the family is away. 
 
 Dink Stover temporized, confronted with the awful 
 ordeal of arraying himself in his Sunday prison garb and 
 stiffly traversing the long, tricky, rug-strewn hall of the 
 Story s, with the chance of suddenly showing his whole 
 person to a dozen inquisitive eyes. He let the first Sun 
 day pass without a qualm, as being too unnecessarily close 
 and familiar. On the second Sunday he decided to wait 
 until he had received the suit made of goods purchased 
 at a miraculous bargain from the unsuspecting Yankee 
 drummer. The third Sunday he completely forgot his 
 duties as a man of fashion. On the fourth Sunday, in 
 a panic, he bound his neck in a shackling high collar, 
 
 192 
 
STOVER AT YALE 193 
 
 donned his new suit, which looked as lovely as everything 
 that is new and untried can look, and went post-haste 
 in search of Hungerford as a companion in misery and 
 a post to which to cling. To his horror, Hungerford had 
 paid his visit, and felt very doubtful as to the propriety 
 of repeating it before having been again fed. 
 
 Dink returned for McNab or Hunter as the lesser of 
 two evils. They were both out. Being in stiff and cir 
 cumstantial attire, the afternoon was manifestly lost. 
 With a sort of desperate hope for some miraculous eva 
 sion, he set out laggingly for the Story mansion, revolving 
 different plans. 
 
 " I might leave a card at the door," he thought to 
 himself, " and tell the girl that my room-mate was des 
 perately ill that I had just run in for a moment because 
 I wanted them to know, to know to know what ? " 
 
 The idea expired noiselessly. He likewise rejected the 
 idea of stalking the door Indian fashion, and slipping the 
 card under the crack as if he had rung and not been 
 heard. 
 
 "After all, they might be out," he thought at last, 
 hopefully. " I ll just go by quietly and see if I can hear 
 anything." 
 
 But at the moment when he came abreast the steps a 
 carriage drove up, the door opened, and Judge Story 
 and his wife came down. Stover came to a balky stop, 
 hastily snatching away his derby. 
 
 " Why, bless me if it isn t Mr. Stover," said the Judge 
 instantly. " Dressed to kill, too. Never expected to 
 see you until I went around myself, with an injunction. 
 How did you screw up your courage ? " 
 
 Mrs. Story came to his rescue, smiling a little at his 
 tell-tale face. 
 
194 STOVER A TYALE 
 
 " Don t stop on my account," said Stover, very much 
 embarrassed. " It s a beautiful day for a ride, beau 
 tiful." 
 
 " Oh, you are not going to get off as easily as that," 
 said the Judge, delighted. " My daughter Jean is inside 
 watching you from behind the curtains. Go right up 
 and entertain her with some side-splitting stories. Be 
 sides, Miss Kelly is there with some important top-heavy 
 junior who thinks he s making an awful hit with her. 
 Go in and steal her right away from him." 
 
 The maid stood at the open door. There was nothing 
 to do but to toil up the penal steps, heart in mouth. 
 
 " Is Miss Story in ? " he said in a lugubrious voice. 
 " Will you present her with this card ? " 
 
 " Step right into the parlor, sah. You ll find Miss 
 Jean there," said the colored maid, with no feeling at 
 all for his suffering. 
 
 He caught a fleeting, unreassuring glimpse of himself 
 in a dark mirror, successfully negotiated the sliding rugs, 
 and all at once found himself somehow in the cheery 
 parlor alone with Miss Story, shaking hands. 
 
 "Miss Kelly is here?" he said, perfunctorily stalking 
 to a chair. 
 
 " No, indeed." . 
 
 "Why your father said" 
 
 " That was only his way he s a dreadful tease." 
 
 Stover drew a more quiet breath, and even relaxed 
 into a smile. 
 
 " He had me all primed up for a junior, at least." 
 
 "Isn t Dad dreadful! That s why you came in with 
 such overpowering dignity ? " 
 
 Stover laughed, a little pleased that his entrance could 
 be so described, and, shifting to a less painfully con- 
 
STOVERATYALE 195 
 
 tracted position, sought anxiously for some brilliant open 
 ing that would make the conversation a distinguished 
 success. 
 
 Now, although he still retained his invincible determi 
 nation to keep his faith from women, he had during cer 
 tain pleasant episodes of the last vacation condescended 
 to listen politely to the not disagreeable adoration of 
 a score of hero-worshiping young ladies still languishing 
 in boarding-schools. He had learned the trick of such 
 conversations, exchanged photographs with the laudable 
 intention of making his rooms more like an art gallery 
 than ever, and carried off as mementos such articles as 
 fans, handkerchiefs, flowers, etc. 
 
 But, somehow, the stock phrases were out of place here. 
 He tried one or two openings, and then relapsed, watching 
 her as she took up the conversation easily and ran on. 
 Ever since their first meeting the charming silhouette of 
 the young girl had been in his mind. He watched her 
 as she rose once or twice to cross the room, and her move 
 ments had the same gentle rhythm that mystified him in 
 her voice. Yet he was conscious of a certain antagonism. 
 His vanity, perhaps, was a little stirred. She was not 
 flattered in the least by his attentions, which in itself was 
 an incredible thing. There was about her not the slight 
 est suggestion of coquetry in fact, not more than a 
 polite uninterested attitude toward a guest. And, per 
 ceiving this all at once, a desire came to him to force 
 from her some recognition. 
 
 " You are very much like Bob," he said abruptly, " you 
 are very hard to know." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " I really want to know your brother, but I can t. I 
 don t think he likes me," he said. 
 
196 STOVER AT, FALE 
 
 " I don t think Bob knows you," she said carefully, 
 raising her eyes in a little surprise. " You re right; we 
 both take a long time to make up our minds." 
 
 " Then what I said is true ? " he persisted. 
 
 She looked at him a moment, as if wondering how 
 frank she might be, and said after a little deliberation: 
 
 " I think he s in a little doubt about you." 
 
 " In doubt," said the prospective captain of a Yale 
 eleven, vastly amazed. " How ? " 
 
 " You will succeed; I am sure of that." 
 
 "Well, what then?" he said, wondering what other 
 standard could be applied. 
 
 " I wonder how real you will be in your success," she 
 said, looking at him steadily. 
 
 " You think I am calculating and cold about it," he 
 said, insisting. 
 
 She nodded her head, and then corrected herself. 
 
 " I think you are in danger of it being entirely ab 
 sorbed in yourself not much to give to others that s 
 what I mean." 
 
 " By George," said Dink, open-mouthed, " you are the 
 strangest person I ever met in my life ! " 
 
 She colored a little at this, and said hastily : 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I didn t realize what I was 
 saying." 
 
 " You may be right, too." He rose and walked a little, 
 thinking it over. He stopped suddenly and turned to 
 her. " Why do you think I m not real ? " 
 
 " I don t believe you have begun to think yet." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because well, because you are too popular, too 
 successful. It s all come too easily. You ve had nothing 
 to test you. There s nothing so much alike as the suc 
 cessful men here." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 197 
 
 " You are very old for your years," he said, plainly 
 annoyed. 
 
 " No ; I listen. Bob and Dad say the same thing." 
 
 " You know, I wanted you to be my friend," he said, 
 suddenly brushing aside the conversation. " You remem- 
 ber?" 
 
 " I should like to be your friend," she said quietly. 
 
 " If I turn out as you want." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 He seized an early opportunity to leave, furious at what 
 (not understanding that the instincts of a first antagonism 
 in a young girl are sometimes evidence of a growing in 
 terest) he felt was her indifference. He did not go 
 directly to his rooms, but struck out for a brisk walk up 
 the avenue. 
 
 " What the deuce does she think I m going to turn 
 out?" he said to himself, with some irritation. "Turn 
 out ? Absurd ! Haven t I done everything I should do ? 
 I ve only been here a year, and I stand for something. 
 By George, I d like to know how many men get where 
 I ve gotten the first year." Looking back over the year, 
 he was quickly reassured on this vital point. " If she 
 thinks I m calculating, how about Hunter? He s the 
 original cold fish," he said. " Yes, what about him ? 
 Absurd. She just said that to provoke me." He sought 
 in his mind some epithet adequate to such impertinence, 
 and declared : " She s young that s it ; she s quite 
 young." 
 
 Suddenly he thought of Regan, who had intruded his 
 shadow across the path of his personal ambition. Had 
 he really been honest about Regan? Could he not have 
 made him see the advantages of belonging to a sophomore 
 society, if he had really tried? Whereupon Mr. Dink 
 Stover began a long, victorious debate with his conscience, 
 
198 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 one of those soul-satisfying arguments that always end 
 one way, as conscience is a singularly poor debater when 
 pitted against a resourceful mind. 
 
 " Heavens ! haven t I been the best friend he s had ? " 
 he concluded. " Perhaps I might have talked more to 
 him about the sophomore question, but then, I know I 
 never could have changed him. So what s the odds? 
 I m democratic and liberal. Didn t I go to Gimbel and 
 have it out? I can see the other side, too. What the 
 deuce, then, did she mean ? " 
 
 After another long period of furious tramping, he an 
 swered this vexing question in the following irrelevant 
 way : " By George, what an extraordinary girl she is ! 
 I must go around again and talk with her. She brushes 
 me up." 
 
 And around he did go, not once, but several times. 
 The first little antagonism between them gradually wore 
 away, and yet he was aware of a certain defensive atti 
 tude in her, a judgment that was reserved ; and as, by 
 the perfected averaging system of college, he had lost 
 in one short year all the originality and imagination he 
 had brought with him, he was quite at a loss to under 
 stand what she found lacking in so important and suc 
 cessful a personage as Mr. John Humperdink Stover. 
 
 Naturally, he felt that he was in love. This extraor 
 dinary passion came to him in the most sudden and con 
 vincing manner. He corresponded, with much physical 
 and mental agony, with what is called a dashing brunette, 
 with whom he had danced eleven dances out of a possible 
 sixteen on the occasion of a house-party in the Christmas 
 vacation, on the strength of which they had exchanged 
 photographs and simulated a confidential correspondence. 
 He had done this because he had plainly perceived it was 
 the thing for a man to do, as one watches the crease 
 
STOVERATYALE 199 
 
 in the trousers or exposes a vest a little more daring 
 than the rest. It gave him a sort of reputation among 
 lady-killers that was not distasteful. At Easter he had 
 annexed a blonde, who wrote effusive rolling scrawls and 
 used a noticeable crest. He had done this, likewise, be 
 cause he wished to be known as a destructive force, as 
 one who rather allowed himself to be loved. But he 
 found the manual labor too taxing. He was cruel and 
 abrupt to the blonde, but he consoled himself by saying 
 to himself that he had restored to the little girl her peace 
 of mind. 
 
 On Sunday evening, then, according to tacit agreement, 
 after a pipe had been smoked and the fifth Sunday news 
 paper had been searched for the third time, McCarthy 
 stretched himself like a cat and said: 
 
 " Well, I guess I ll dash off a few heart-throbs to the 
 dear little things." 
 
 " That reminds me," said Stover, with an obvious loud- 
 ness. He took out the last heliotrope envelop and read 
 over the contents which had pleased him so much on the 
 preceding Tuesday. Somehow, it had a different ring 
 a little too flippant, too facile. 
 
 " What the deuce am I going to write her ? " he said, 
 inciting his hair to rebellion. He cleaned the pen, and 
 then the ink-well, and wrote on the envelop: 
 
 Miss Anita Laurence 
 
 It was a name that had particularly attracted him, it 
 was so Spanish and suggestive of serenades. He wrote 
 again at the top of the page : 
 
 "Dear Anita." 
 
 Then he stopped. 
 
 " What the deuce can I say now ? " he repeated crossly. 
 
200 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " By George, I ve only seen her five times. What is there 
 to say?" 
 
 He rose, went to his bureau, and took up the photo 
 graph of honor and looked at it long. It was a pretty 
 face, but the ears were rather large. Then he went back, 
 and, tearing up what he had written, closed his desk. 
 
 " Hello," said McCarthy, who was in difficulties. 
 " Aren t you going to write Anita ? " 
 
 " I wrote her last night," said Stover with justifiable 
 mendacity. " I was writing home, but feel rather 
 sleepy." 
 
 As this was unchallengeable, he went to his room and 
 stretched out on the delicious bed. 
 
 "I wonder if I m falling in love with Jean Story?" 
 he said hopefully. " I m sick to death of Anita calling 
 me by my front name and writing as she does. I ll bet 
 I m not the only one, either ! " This sublimely ingenious 
 suspicion sufficed for the demise of the dashing brunette 
 from whom he had forced eleven dances out of a possible 
 sixteen. " Jean Story is so different. What the deuce 
 does she want changed in me? I wonder if I could get 
 Bob to give me a bid for a visit this summer ? " 
 
 The opening to the imagination being thus provided, 
 he went wandering over summer meadows with a certain 
 slender girl who moved as no one else moved and in a 
 dreamy landscape showed him the most marked prefer 
 ence. In the midst of a most delightful and thoroughly 
 satisfactory conversation he fell asleep. When he woke 
 he went straight to his bureau, and, removing the photo 
 graph of Anita, consigned it to a humble position in the 
 study amid the crowded beauties that McCarthy termed 
 the harem. 
 
 During first recitation, which was an inconsequen 
 tial voyage into Greece, his imagination jumped the black- 
 
STOVERATYALE 201 
 
 boarded walls and went wandering into the realm of the 
 possible summer. A week on the river at the oars, how 
 ever, drove from him all such imaginings; but at times 
 the vexing question returned, and each Sunday, some 
 how, he found an opportunity to drop in and have a long 
 talk with Judge Story, of whom he grew surprisingly 
 fond. 
 
 The period of duns now set in, and the house on York 
 Street became a place of mystery and signals. McNab, 
 naturally, was the most sought, and he took up a sort of 
 migratory abode on Stover s window-seat, disappearing 
 under the flaps at the slightest sound in the corridor. 
 Stover himself began to feel the possibilities of vistas and 
 the sense of lurking shadows. He was utterly disap 
 pointed in the material for a suit which he had bought 
 from the unsuspecting Yankee. It had a yielding char 
 acteristic way about it that brought the most surprising 
 baggings and stretchings, and he had a suspicion that it 
 was pining away and fading in the sun. By the time the 
 tailor s bill had been presented (not paid), the suit might 
 have been on the fashion account of a prince. Then 
 there were little notes, polite but insistent, from the 
 haberdasher s whence the glowing green shirt, now sadly 
 yellowed, had come. In order to make a show of set 
 tling, he went over to Commons to eat, and, being on an 
 allowance for clothes, economized on such articles of 
 apparel as were visible only to himself and McCarthy, 
 who was in the same threadbare state. 
 
 His candidacy for the class crew kept him in strict 
 training, though he ranked no better than third substitute. 
 His afternoons thus employed and his evenings occupied 
 with consultations, he fo und his life as narrowed as it 
 had been in the season of football. Ev^ry one knew him, 
 and he had learned the trick of a smile and an enthusiastic 
 
202 STOVERATYALE 
 
 bob of the head to every one. He was a popular man 
 even among the outsiders now more and more openly 
 opposed to the sophomore society system. He was per 
 haps, at this period, the most popular man in his class; 
 and yet, he had made scarcely a friend, nor did he under 
 stand quite what was the longing in him. 
 
 With the end of May and the coming of society week 
 for the first time the full intensity and seriousness of the 
 social ambition was brought before him. The last elec 
 tions in his own crowd were given out, Regan and Brock- 
 hurst failing to be chosen. In McCarthy s society the 
 last place narrowed down to three men ; and Stone, who 
 had made the News, won the choice. 
 
 Stover was sitting alone with McCarthy on the critical 
 night, when the door opened and Stone entered. One 
 look at his face told McCarthy what had happened. 
 
 " I m sorry, Tough," said Stone, a little over-tense. 
 " They gave me the pledge. It s hard luck." 
 
 " Bully for you ! " There wasn t a break in Mc 
 Carthy s voice. " I knew you d get it all along." 
 
 11 1 came up to let you know right away," said Stone, 
 looking down at the floor. " Of course, I wanted it my 
 self, but I m sorry deuced sorry." 
 
 " Nonsense. You ve made the News. You ought to 
 have it." McCarthy, calm and smiling, held out his hand. 
 " Bully for you ! Shake on it ! " 
 
 Stone went almost immediately and the room-mates 
 were left alone. McCarthy came back whistling, and 
 irrelevantly went to his bureau, parting his hair with 
 methodical strokes of the brush. 
 
 " That was real white of Stone to come up and tell 
 me," he said quietly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, we ll go on with that geometry now." 
 
STOVERATYALE 203 
 
 He came back and sat down at the desk quite calmly, 
 as if a whole outlook had not been suddenly closed to 
 him. 
 
 Stover, cut to the heart, watched him with a genuine 
 thrill. He rose, drew a long breath, walked to the win 
 dow, and, coming back, laid his hand on his room-mate s 
 shoulder. 
 
 McCarthy looked up quickly, with a little flush. 
 
 " Good grit, old man," said Dink, " darned good grit." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " It won t make any difference, Tough." 
 
 " Of course not." McCarthy gave a little laugh and 
 said : " Don t say any more, Dink." 
 
 Stover took his place opposite, saying : 
 
 "I won t, only this. You take it better than I could 
 do. I m proud of you." 
 
 " You remember what the old man said to you fellows 
 after that Princeton slaughter?" said Tough solemnly. 
 " Take your medicine. Well, Dink, I m going to swal 
 low it without a wink, and I rather guess, from what I ve 
 seen, that s the biggest thing they have to teach us up 
 here." 
 
 " It ll make no difference," said Dink obstinately. 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 But each knew that for McCarthy, who would never 
 be above the substitute class, the issue of the senior 
 society was settled, once and for all. 
 
 The excitement of being initiated, the outward mani 
 festation of Calcium Light Night and the spectacular 
 parade of the cowled junior societies with their swelling 
 marching songs, and the sudden arrival of Tap Day for 
 a while drove from Stover all thoughts but his personal 
 dreams. 
 
 On the fateful Thursday in May, shortly after half 
 
204 STOVERATYALE 
 
 past four, he and Tough went over to the campus. By 
 the fence the junior class, already swallowed up by the 
 curious body of the college, were waiting the arrival of 
 the senior elections which would begin on the stroke of 
 five. 
 
 " Lots of others will take their medicine to-day," said 
 McCarthy a little grimly. 
 
 " You bet." 
 
 Hungerford and McNab, seeing them, came over. 
 
 " Gee, look at the way the visitors are on the campus," 
 said McNab. 
 
 " They re packed in all the windows of Durfee and 
 over on the steps of Dwight Hall," said Hungerford. 
 " I didn t know they came on like this." 
 
 " If you want a sensation," said McNab, " just go over 
 to that bunch of juniors. You can hear every one of 
 them breathe. They re scared to death. It s a regular 
 slaughter." 
 
 Stover looked curiously at McNab, amazed to note the 
 excitement on his usually flippant countenance. Then 
 he looked over at the herd huddled under the trees by 
 the fence. It was all a spectacle still dramatic, but 
 removed from his own personality. The juniors, with 
 but a few exceptions, were only names to him. His own 
 society men meant something, and Captain Dudley of 
 next year s eleven, who, of course, was absolutely sure. 
 He felt a little thrill as he looked over and saw the 
 churning mass and thought that in two years he would 
 stand there and wait. But, for the moment, he was only 
 eagerly curious and a little inclined to be amused at the 
 excessive solemnity of the performance. 
 
 " Who do you think will be first tapped for Bones ? " 
 said McNab, at his side. 
 
 " Dudley," said Hungerford. 
 
STOVERATYALE 205 
 
 " No ; they ll keep him for the last place." 
 
 " Well, Allison, captain of the crew, then." 
 
 " I heard Smithson has switched over to Keys."" 
 
 " They re both after De Gollyer." 
 
 All four had tentative lists in their hands, eagerly com 
 paring them. 
 
 " Dopey, you re all wrong. Clark ll never get it." 
 
 " Why not." 
 
 " Look at your Bones list there s no place for him. 
 You ve got to include the pitcher of the nine and the 
 president of Dwight Hall, haven t you ? " 
 
 " My guess is Rogers first man for Keys." 
 
 " No ; they ll take some man Bones wants De Goll 
 yer, probably." 
 
 " Let s get into the crowd." 
 
 " Come on." 
 
 " It s ten minutes of five already." 
 
 Le Baron, passing, stopped Stover, saying excitedly : 
 
 " Say, Dink, watch out for the crowd who go Keys 
 and let me know, will you? I mean the men in our 
 crowd ? " 
 
 " Sure I will." 
 
 Stover was in the throng, with a strange, sharp memory 
 of Le Baron s drawn face. It was a silent mass, waiting, 
 watch in hand, trying stoically to face down the suspense 
 of the last awful minutes. Men he knew stared past him 
 unseeing. Some were carefully dressed, and others 
 stood in sweater and jersey, biting on pipes that were not 
 lit. He heard a few scattered voices and the brief, crisp 
 remarks came to him like the scattered popping of mus 
 ketry. 
 
 " What s the time, Bill ? " 
 
 Three minutes of." 
 
 " Did they ever make a mistake ? " 
 
206 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Sure ; four years ago. A fellow got mixed up and 
 tapped the wrong man." 
 
 " Didn t discover it until they were half way down the 
 campus." 
 
 " Rotten situation." 
 
 " I should say so." 
 
 " Let s stand over here." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Let s see Dudley tapped. He ll be first man for 
 Bones." 
 
 " Gee, what a mob ! " 
 
 " Packed like sardines." 
 
 Near the fence, the juniors, hemmed in, were con 
 stantly being welded together. Stover, moving aimlessly, 
 caught sight of Dudley s face. He would have liked to 
 signal him a greeting, a look of good will ; but the face 
 of the captain was set in stone. A voice near him whis 
 pered that there was a minute more. He looked in a" 
 dozen faces, amazed at the physical agony he saw in 
 those who were counted surest. For the first time he 
 began to realize the importance of it, the hopes and fears 
 assembled there. Then he noticed, above the ghost-like 
 heads of the crowd, the windows packed with spectators 
 drawn to the spectacle. And he had a feeling of indig 
 nant resentment that outsiders should be there to watch 
 this test of manhood after the long months of striving. 
 
 " Ten seconds, nine seconds, eight," some one said near 
 him. Then suddenly, immediately swallowed up in a 
 roar, the first iron note of the chapel bell crashed over 
 them. Then a shriek : 
 
 " Yea ! " 
 
 " There he comes ! " 
 
 " Over by the library." 
 
 " First man." 
 
STOVERATYALE 207 
 
 Across the campus, Dana, first man out for Bones, all 
 in black, was making straight for them with the unre 
 lenting directness of a torpedo. The same breathless 
 tensity was in his face, the same solemnity. The crowd 
 parted slightly before him and then closed behind him 
 with a rush. He made his way furiously into the center 
 of the tangle, throwing the crowd from him without dis 
 tinction until opposite Dudley, who waited, looking at him 
 blankly. He passed, and suddenly, seizing a man nearer 
 Stover, swung him around and slapped him on the back 
 with a loud slap, crying : 
 
 " Go to your room ! " 
 
 Instantly the cry went up : 
 
 "It s De Gollyer!" 
 
 " First man tapped ! " 
 
 The mass parted, and De Gollyer, wabbling a little, tak 
 ing enormous steps, shot out for his dormitory, tracked 
 by Dana, while about him his classmates shouted their 
 approval of the popular choice. 
 
 "Yea!" 
 
 " Rogers ! " 
 
 " First man for Keys." 
 
 " Rogers for Keys ! " 
 
 Stover set out for a rush in the direction of the shout, 
 tossed and buffeted in the scramble. At every moment, 
 now, a cry went up as the elections proceeded rapidly. 
 From time to time he found Le Baron, and shouted to 
 him his report. He saw men he knew tearing back and 
 forth, Hunter driven out of his pose of calm for once, 
 little Schley, hysterical almost, running to and fro. At 
 times the slap was given near him, and he caught the 
 sudden realization, a look in the face that was not good 
 to have seen. It was all like a stampede, some panic, a 
 sudden shipwreck, when every second was precious and, 
 
208 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 once gone, gone forever ; where the agony was in the face 
 of the weak-hearted and a few stoically stood smiling at 
 the waiting gulf. 
 
 The elections began to be exhausted and the writing on 
 the wall to stare some in the face. Then something hap 
 pened ; a cry went up and a little circle formed under one 
 of the trees, while back came the rumor : 
 
 " Some one s fainted." 
 
 " Man s gone under." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 " Franklin." 
 
 "No, no; Henderson." 
 
 "You don t say so!" 
 
 " Fainted dead away. Missed out for Bones." 
 
 All at once another shout went up a shout of amaze 
 ment and incredulity. A great sensation spread every 
 where. The Bones list had now reached thirteen; only 
 two more to be given, and Allison of the crew, Dudley, 
 and Harvey, chairman of the News, all rated sure men, 
 were left. Who was to be rejected? Stover fought his 
 way to where the three were standing white and silent, 
 surrounded by the gaping crowd. Some one caught his 
 arm. It was Le Baron, beside himself with excitement, 
 saying : 
 
 " Good God, Dink ! you don t suppose they re going to 
 turn down Harvey or Allison ? " 
 
 Almost before the words were uttered something had 
 happened. A slap resounded and the sharp command : 
 
 " Go to your room ! " 
 
 Then the cry: 
 
 " Harvey ! " 
 
 " Harvey s tapped ! " 
 
 " Only one place left." 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Good heavens ! " 
 " Who s to go down?" 
 " It s impossible I " 
 
 Dudley and Allison, prospective captains, room-mates 
 from school days at Andover, were left, and between them 
 balancing the fates. A hush fell in the crowd, awed at 
 the unusual spectacle of a Yale captain marked for re 
 jection. Then Dudley, smiling, put out his hand and 
 said in a clear voice : 
 
 " Joe, one of us has got to walk the plank. Here s 
 luck!" 
 
 Allison s hand went out in a firm grip, smiling a little, 
 too, as he answered : 
 
 " No, no ; you re all right ! You re sure." 
 
 " Here he is." 
 
 " Last man for Bones." 
 
 " Here he comes ! " 
 
 The crowd massed at the critical point fell back, open 
 ing a lane to where Allison and Dudley waited, throwing 
 back their shoulders a little, to meet the man who came 
 straight to them, pale with the importance of the deci 
 sion that had been given him. He reached Dudley, 
 passed, and, seizing Allison by the shoulder, almost 
 knocked him down by the force of his slap. Pande 
 monium broke loose : 
 
 "It s Allison!" 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What, they ve left out Dudley? " 
 
 " Missed out." 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 " Fact." 
 
 " Hi, Jack, Dudley s missed out ! " 
 
 " Dudley, the football captain ! " 
 
210 STOVERATYALE 
 
 "What the devil!" 
 
 " For the love of heaven ! " 
 
 " Why, Dudley s the best in the world ! " 
 
 " Sure he is." 
 
 " It s a shame." 
 
 " An outrage." 
 
 " They ve done it just to show they re independent." 
 
 Across the campus toward Vanderbilt, Allison and the 
 last Bones man, in tandem, were streaking like water 
 insects. Le Baron, holding on to Stover, was cursing in 
 broken accents. But Dink heard him only indistinctly; 
 he was looking at Dudley. The pallor had left his face, 
 which was a little flushed; the head was thrown back 
 proudly; and the lips were set in a smile that answered 
 the torrent of sympathy and regret that was shouted to 
 him. The last elections to Keys and Wolf s-Head were 
 forgotten in the stir of the incredible rejection. 
 
 Then some one shrieked out for a cheer, and the roar 
 went over the campus again and again. 
 
 Dudley, always with the same smile and shining eyes, 
 made his way slowly across toward Vanderbilt, hugged, 
 patted on the back, his hand wrung frantically by those 
 who swarmed about him. Stover was at his side, every 
 thing forgotten but the drama of the moment, cheering 
 and shouting, seeing with a sort of wonder a little spec 
 tacled grind with blazing eyes shaking hands with Dud 
 ley, crying : 
 
 " It s a crime a darned crime ! We all think so, 
 all of us!" 
 
 For half an hour the college, moved as it had never 
 been, stood huddled below Dudley s rooms, cheering it 
 self hoarse. Then slowly the crowd began to melt away. 
 
 " Come on, Dink," said Hungerford, who had him by 
 the arm. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 211 
 
 " Oh, is that you, Joe ? " said Dink, seeing him for the 
 first time. " Isn t it an outrage ? " 
 
 " I don t understand it." 
 
 " By George, wasn t he fine, though ? " 
 
 " He certainly was ! " 
 
 " I was right by him. He never flinched a second." 
 
 " Dink, the whole thing is terrible," said Hungerford, 
 his sensitive face showing the pain of the emotions he 
 had undergone. " I don t think it s right to put fellows 
 through such a test as that." 
 
 " You don t believe in Tap Day?" 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 Their paths crossed Regan s and they halted, each 
 wondering what that unusual character had thought of it 
 all. 
 
 " Hello, Tom." 
 
 "Hello, Joe; hello, Dink." 
 
 "Tough about Dudley, isn t it?" 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Why, missing out ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it s Bones s loss," said Regan grimly. 
 "Dudley s all right. He s lucky. He s ten times the 
 man he was this morning." 
 
 Neither Hungerford nor Stover answered. 
 
 " What do you think of it Tap Day? " said Hunger- 
 ford, after a moment. 
 
 " The best thing in the whole society system," said 
 Regan, with extra warmth. 
 
 " Well, I ll be darned ! " said Stover, in genuine sur 
 prise. " I thought you d be for abolishing it." 
 
 " Never ! If you re going through three years afraid 
 to call your souls your own, why, you ought to stand 
 out before every one and take what s coming to you. 
 That s my idea." 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 He bobbed his head and went on toward Commons. 
 
 " I don t know," said Hunger ford solemnly. " It s a 
 horror; I wish I hadn t seen it." 
 
 "I m glad I did," said Stover slowly. "They cer 
 tainly baptize us in fire up here." He remembered Mc 
 Carthy with a new understanding and repeated : " We 
 certainly learn how to take our medicine up here, Joe. 
 It s a good deal to learn." 
 
 They wandered back toward the now quiet fence. 
 All the crowding and the stirring was gone, and over all 
 a strange silence, the silence of exhaustion. The year 
 was over; what would come afterward was inconse 
 quential. 
 
 "I wonder if it s all worth it?" said Hungerford 
 suddenly. 
 
 Stover did not answer; it was the question that was 
 in his own thoughts. What he had seen that afternoon 
 was still too vivid in his memory. He tried to shake 
 it off, but, with the obsession of a fetish, it clung to him. 
 He understood now, not that he would yield to the emo 
 tion, but the fear of judgment that swayed men he knew, 
 and what Regan had meant when he had referred to 
 those who did not dare to call their souls their own. 
 
 " It does get you," he said, at last, to Hungerford. 
 
 " It does me," said Hungerford frankly, " and I sup 
 pose it ll get worse." 
 
 "I wonder?" 
 
 He was silent, thinking of the year that had passed, 
 wondering if the next would bring him the same disci 
 pline and the same fatigue, and if at the end of the three 
 years grind, if such should be his lot, he could stand up 
 like Dudley before the whole college and take his medi 
 cine with a smile. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 XT7HEN Stover returned after the summer vacation 
 VV to the full glory of a sophomore, he had changed 
 in many ways. The consciousness of success had given 
 him certain confidence and authority, which, if it was 
 more of the manner than real, nevertheless was notice 
 able. He had aged five or six years, as one ages at that 
 time under the grave responsibilities of an exalted leader 
 ship. 
 
 A great change likewise had come in his plans. Dur 
 ing the summer Tough McCarthy s father had died, and 
 Tough had been forced to forego his college course and 
 take up at once the seriousness of life. Several offers 
 had been made Dink to go in with Hungerford, Tommy 
 Bain, and others of his crowd, but he had decided to 
 room by himself, for a time at least. The decision had 
 come to him as the result of a growing feeling of rest 
 lessness, an instinctive desire to be by himself and know 
 again that shy friend Dink Stover, who somehow seemed 
 to have slipped away from him. 
 
 Much to his surprise, this feeling of restlessness domi 
 nated all other emotions on his victorious return to col 
 lege. He felt strangely alone. Every one in the class 
 greeted him with rushing enthusiasm, inquired critically 
 of his weight and condition, and passed on. His progress 
 across the campus was halted at every moment by ac 
 claiming groups, who ran to him, pumping his hand, 
 slapping him on the back, exclaiming: 
 
 " You, old Dink Stover ! " 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Bless your heart." 
 
 " Put it there." 
 
 " Glad to see you again." 
 
 "How are you?" 
 
 "You look fit as a fiddle!" 
 
 " The Ail-American this year ! " 
 
 " Hard luck about McCarthy." 
 
 " Ta-ta." 
 
 His was the popular welcome, and yet it left him un 
 satisfied, with a strange tugging at his heart. They were 
 all acquaintances, nothing more. He went to his room 
 on the second floor in Lawrence, and, finding his way 
 over the bare floor and the boxes that encumbered, 
 reached the window and flung it open. 
 
 Below the different fences had disappeared under the 
 joyful, hilarious groups that swarmed about them. He 
 saw Swazey and Pike, two of the grinds of his own class, 
 men who " didn t count," go past hugging each other, 
 and their joy, comical though it was, hurt him. He 
 turned from the window, saying aloud, sternly, as though 
 commanding himself: 
 
 " Come, I must get this hole fixed up. It s gloomy as 
 the devil." 
 
 He worked feverishly, ripping apart the covers, rang 
 ing the furniture, laying the rugs. Then he put in order 
 his bedroom, and, whistling loudly, fished out his bed 
 clothes, laid the bed, and arranged his bureau-top. That 
 done, he brought forth several photographs he had taken 
 in the brief visit he had paid the Storys, and placing 
 them in the position of honor lit his pipe and, camping 
 on a dry-goods box, like Scipio amid the ruins of Car 
 thage, dreamily considered through the smoke-wreaths 
 the distant snap-shots of a slender girl in white. 
 
 He was comfortably, satisfactorily in love with Jean 
 
STOVER AT YALE 215 
 
 Story. The emotion filled a sentimental want in his 
 nature. He had never asked her for her photograph or 
 to correspond, as he would have lightly asked a hundred 
 other girls. He knew instinctively that she would have 
 refused. He liked that in her her dignity and her 
 reserve. He wanted her regard, as he always wanted 
 what others found difficult to attain. She was young 
 and yet with an old head on her shoulders. In the two 
 weeks he had spent in camp, they had discussed much 
 together of what lay ahead beyond the confines of college 
 life. He did not always understand her point of view. 
 He often wondered what was the doubt that lay in her 
 mind about him. For, though she had given him a meas 
 ure of her friendship, there was always a reserve, some 
 thing held back. It was the same with Bob. It puz 
 zled him; it irritated him. He was resolved to beat 
 down that barrier, to shatter it some way and somehow, 
 as he was resolved that Jim Hunter, whose intentions 
 were clear, should never beat him out in this race. 
 
 He rose, pipe in mouth, and, taking up a photograph, 
 stared at the laughing face and the quiet, proud tilt of 
 the head. 
 
 " At any rate," he said to himself, " Jim Hunter hasn t 
 got any more than this, and he never will." 
 
 He went back to the study, delving into the packing- 
 boxes. From below came a stentorian halloo he knew 
 well: 
 
 " Oh, Dink Stover, stick out your head ! " 
 
 " Come up, you, Tom Regan, come up on the jump ! " 
 
 In another moment Regan was in the room, and his 
 great bear clutch brought Stovtfr a feeling of warmth 
 with its genuineness. 
 
 " Bigger than ever, Tom." 
 
 " You look fine yourself, you little bantam ! " 
 
216 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Lord, but I m glad to see you ! " 
 
 " Same to you." 
 
 " How d the summer go? " 
 
 " Wonderful. I ve got four hundred tucked away in 
 the bank." 
 
 " You don t say so ! " 
 
 " Fact." 
 
 Stover shook hands again eagerly. 
 
 " Tell me all about it." 
 
 " Sure. Go on with your unpacking ; I ll lend a hand. 
 I ve had a bully summer." 
 
 " What s that mean ? " said Stover, with a quizzical 
 smile. " Working like a slave ? " 
 
 " No, no ; seeing real people. I tried being a conductor 
 a while, got in a strike, and switched over to construction 
 work. Got to be foreman of a gang, night shift." 
 
 " You don t mean out all night? " 
 
 " Oh, I slept in the day. You get used to it. They re 
 a strange lot, the fellows who work while the rest of you 
 sleep. They brushed me up a lot, taught me a lot. 
 Wish you d been along. You d have got some educa 
 tion." 
 
 " I may do something of the sort with you next sum 
 mer," said Stover quietly. 
 
 " They tell me Tough McCarthy s not coming back." 
 
 "Yes; father died." 
 
 " Too bad. Going to room alone ? " 
 
 " For a while. I want to get away think things over 
 a bit, read some." 
 
 " Good idea," said Regan, with one of his sharp ap 
 praising looks. " If a man s given a thinker, he might 
 just as well use it." 
 
 Hunger ford and Bob Story joined them, and the four 
 went down to Mory s to take possession in the name of 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 the sophomore class. Regan, to their surprise, making 
 one of the party, paid as they paid, with just a touch of 
 conscious pride. 
 
 The good resolves that Dink made to himself, under 
 the influence of the acute emotions he had felt on his 
 return, gradually faded from his memory as he felt him 
 self caught up again in the rush of college life. He 
 found his day marked out for him, his companions 
 assigned to him, his standards and his opinions inherited 
 from his predecessors. Insensibly he became a cog in 
 the machine. What with football practise and visiting 
 the freshman class in the interest of his society, he found 
 he was able to keep awake long enough to get a smatter 
 ing of the next day s work and no more. 
 
 The class had scattered and groups with clear ten 
 dencies had formed, Hunter and Tommy Bain the center 
 of little camps serious and ambitious, while off the 
 campus in a private dormitory another element was pur 
 suing mannish delights with the least annoyance from 
 the curriculum. 
 
 The opposition to the sophomore societies had now 
 grown to a college issue. Protests from the alumni be 
 gan to come in; one of the editors of the Lit made it 
 the subject of his leader, while the college, under the 
 leadership of rebels like Gimbel, arrayed itself in uncom 
 promising opposition and voted down every candi 
 date for office that the sophomore societies placed in the 
 field. 
 
 That the situation was serious and working harm to 
 the college Stover saw, but, as the fight became more 
 bitter, the feeling of loyalty, coupled with distrust of the 
 motives of the assailants, placed him in the ranks of the 
 most ardent defenders, where, a little to his surprise, he 
 found himself rather arrayed with Tommy Bain and Jim 
 
218 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Hunter in their position of unrelenting conservatism, 
 fighting the revolt which was making head in the society 
 itself, as Bob Story and Joe Hungerford led the demand 
 for some liberal reform. 
 
 However, the conflict did not break out until the close 
 of the season. The team, under the resolute leadership 
 of Captain Dudley, fought its way to one of those almost 
 miraculous successes which is not characteristic of the 
 Yale system as it is the result of the inspiring guidance 
 of some one extraordinary personality. 
 
 Regan went from guard to tackle, and Stover, back 
 at his natural position of end, developed the promise of 
 freshman year, acclaimed as the All-American end of the 
 year. Still the possibility of Regan s challenge for the 
 captaincy returned constantly to his mind, for about the 
 big tackle was always a feeling of confidence, of rugged, 
 immovable determination that perhaps in its steadying 
 influence had built up the team more than his own indi 
 vidual brilliancy. Dink, despite himself, felt the force 
 of these masterful qualities, acknowledging them even 
 as, to his displeasure, he felt a rising jealousy ; for at the 
 bottom he was drawn more and more to Regan as he 
 was drawn to no other man. 
 
 About a month after the triumphant close of the foot 
 ball season, then, Stover, in the usual course of a thor 
 oughly uneventful morning, rose as rebelliously late as 
 usual, bolted his breakfast, and rushed to chapel. He 
 was humanly elated with what the season had brought, 
 a fame which had gone the rounds of the press of the 
 country for unflinching courage and cold head-work, but, 
 more than that, he was pleasantly satisfied with the diffi 
 cult modesty with which he bore his honors. For he 
 was modest. He had sworn to himself he would be, 
 and he was. He had allowed it to make no difference in 
 
STOVERATYALE 219 
 
 his relations with the rest of the class. If anything, he 
 was more careful to distribute the cordiality of his smile 
 and the good-natured " How are you ? " to all alike with 
 out the slightest distinction. 
 
 " How are you, Bill ? " he said to Swazey, the strange 
 unknown grind who sat beside him. He called him by 
 his first name consciously, though he knew him no more 
 than this slight daily contact, because he wished to em 
 phasize the comradeship and democracy of Yale, of 
 which he was a leader. " Feelin fine this morning, old 
 gazabo ? " 
 
 " How are you ? " said Swazey gratefully. 
 
 "Tough lesson they soaked us, didn t they?" 
 
 " It was a tough one/ 
 
 " Suppose that didn t bother you, though, you old 
 valedictorian." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it did." 
 
 Stover, settling comfortably in his seat, nodded genially 
 to the right and left. 
 
 "I say, Dink." 
 
 "Hello, what is it?" 
 
 " Drop in on me some night." 
 
 "What?" said Stover surprised. 
 
 " Come round and have a chat sometime," said Swazey, 
 in a thoroughly natural way. 
 
 " Why, sure ; like to," said Stover bluffly, which, of 
 course, was the only thing to say. 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 " Sorry ; I m. busy to-night," said Stover. Swazey, 
 of course, being a grind, did not realize the abhorrent, 
 almost sacrilegious, social break he was making in invit 
 ing him on his society evening. 
 
 " To-morrow, then? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; to-morrow." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " I haven t been very sociable in not asking you be 
 fore," said Swazey, in magnificent incomprehension, " but 
 I d really like to have you." 
 
 " Why, thankee." 
 
 Stover, entrapped, received the invitation with perfect 
 gravity, although resolved to find some excuse. 
 
 But the next day, thinking it over, he said to himself 
 that it really was his duty, and, reflecting how pleased 
 Swazey would be to receive a call from one of his im 
 portance, he determined to give him that pleasure. Set 
 ting out after supper, he met Bob Story. 
 
 " Whither away ? " said Story, stopping. 
 
 " I m going to drop in on a fellow called Swazey," said 
 Stover, a little conscious of the virtue of this act. " I sit 
 next to him in chapel. He s a good deal of a grind, but 
 he asked me around, and I thought I d go. You know 
 the fellow in our row." 
 
 That s very good of you," said Story, with a smile 
 which he remembered after. 
 
 Stover felt so himself. Still, he had the democracy 
 of Yale to preserve, and it was his duty. He went swing 
 ing on his way with that warm, glowing, physical delight 
 that, fortunately, the slightest virtuous action is capable 
 of arousing. 
 
 With Nathaniel Pike, a classmate, Swazey roomed in 
 Divinity Hall, where, attracted by the cheapness of the 
 rooms, a few of the college had been able to find quar 
 ters. 
 
 " Queer place," thought Dink to himself, eyeing a few 
 of the divinity students who went slipping by him. 
 " Wonder what the deuce I can talk to him about. Oh, 
 well, I won t have to stay long." 
 
 Swazey, of course, being outside the current of college 
 heroes, could have but a limited view. He found the 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 door at the end of the long corridor and thundered his 
 knock, as a giant announces himself. 
 
 " Come in if you re good-looking ! " said a piping voice. 
 
 Stover entered with strongly accentuated good fellow 
 ship, giving his hand with the politician s cordiality. 
 
 " How are you, Nat ? How are you, Bill ? " 
 
 He ensconced himself in the generous arm-chair, which 
 bore the trace of many masters, accepted a cigar and 
 said, to put his hosts at their ease: 
 
 " Bully quarters you ve got here. Blame sight more 
 room than I ve got." 
 
 Pike, cap on, a pad under his arm, apologized for going. 
 
 " Awful sorry, Stover ; darned inhospitable. This 
 infernal News grind. Hope y will be sociable and stay 
 till I get back." 
 
 " How are you making out ? " said Stover, in an en 
 couraging, generous way. 
 
 Pike scratched his ear, a large, loose ear, wrinkling 
 up his long, pointed nose in a grimace, as he answered : 
 
 " Danged if I don t think I m going to miss out 
 again." 
 
 " You were in the first competition ? " said Stover, sur 
 prised for one trial was usually considered equivalent 
 to a thousand years off the purgatory account. 
 
 " Yep, but I was green didn t know the rules." 
 
 " Lord, I should think you d have had enough ! " 
 
 " Why, it s rather a sociable time. It is a grind, but 
 I m going to make that News, if I hit it all sophomore 
 year." 
 
 "What, you d try again?" 
 
 "You bet I would!" 
 
 There was a matter-of-fact simplicity about Pike, un 
 couth as was his dress and wide sombrero, that appealed 
 to Stover. He held out his hand. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Good luck to you ! And say if I get any news 
 I ll save it for you." 
 
 " Obliged, sir ta-ta ! " 
 
 " Holy cats ! " said Dink, relapsing into the arm-chair 
 as the door banged. " Any one who ll stick at it like that 
 gets all I can give him." 
 
 " He s a wonderful person," said Swazey, drawing up 
 his chair and elevating his hobnailed shoes. " Never saw 
 anything like his determination. Wonderful! Green as 
 salad when he first came, ready to tickle Prexy under the 
 ribs or make himself at home whenever a room struck 
 his fancy. But, when he got his eyes open, you ought to 
 have seen him pick up and learn. He s developed won 
 derfully. He ll succeed in life." 
 
 Stover smiled inwardly at this critical assumption on 
 Swazey s part, but he began to be interested. There was 
 something real in both men. 
 
 " Did you go to school together ? " he said. 
 
 " Lord, no ! Precious little school either of us got. 
 I ran up against him when I landed here just bumped 
 together, as it were." 
 
 "You don t say so?" 
 
 " Fact. It was rather queer. We were both up in the 
 fall trying to throttle a few pesky conditions and slip in. 
 It was just after Greek prose composition cursed be 
 the memory! when I came out of Alumni Hall, kick 
 ing myself at every step, and found that little rooster 
 engaged in the same process. Say, he was a sight 
 looked like a chicken had been shipped from St. Louis 
 to Chicago but spunky as you make em. Never had 
 put a collar on his neck I got him up to that last spring ; 
 but he still balks at a derby. So off we went to grub, 
 and I found he didn t know a soul. No more did I. So 
 we said, W T hy not? And we did. We hunted up 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 these quarters, and we ve got on first-rate ever since. 
 No scratching, gouging, or biting. We ve been a good 
 team. I ve seen the world, I ve got hard sense, and he s 
 got ideas quite remarkable ideas. Danged if I m not 
 stuck on the little rooster." 
 
 Stover reached out for the tobacco to fill a second pipe, 
 all his curiosity aroused. 
 
 " I say, Dink," said Swazey, offering him a match, 
 " this college is a wonderful thing, isn t it ? " He stood 
 reflectively, the sputtering light of the match illuminating 
 his thoughtful face. " Just think of the romance in it. 
 Me and Pike coming together from two ends of the coun 
 try and striking it up. That s what counts up here 
 the perfect democracy of it!" 
 
 " Yes, of course," said Stover in a mechanical way. 
 He was wondering what Swazey would think of the 
 society system, or if he even realized it existed, so he 
 said curiously: 
 
 " You keep rather to yourselves, though." 
 
 " Oh, I know pretty much what I want to know about 
 men. I ve sized em up and know what sorts to reach 
 out for when I want them. Now I want to learn some 
 thing real." He looked at Stover with a sort of rugged 
 superiority in his glance and said : " I ve earned my 
 own way ever since I was twelve years old, and some of 
 it was pretty rough going. I know what s outside of this 
 place and what I want to reach. That s what a lot of 
 you fellows don t worry about just now." 
 
 " Swazey, tell me about yourself," said Stover, sur 
 prised at his own eagerness. " By George, I d like to 
 hear it ! Why did you come to college ? " 
 
 " It was an idea of the governor s, and he got it pretty 
 well fixed in my head. Would you like to hear? All 
 right." He touched a match to the kindling, and, his 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 coat bothering him, cast it off. " The old man was a 
 pretty rough customer, I guess he died when I was 
 twelve; don t know anything about any one else in the 
 family. I don t know just how he picked up his money ; 
 we were always moving; but I fancy he was a good deal 
 of a rum hound and that carried him off. He always 
 had a liking for books, and one set idea that I was to be 
 a gentleman, get to college and get educated ; so I always 
 kept that same idea in the back of my head, and here I 
 am." 
 
 " You said you d earned your living ever since you 
 were twelve," said Stover, all interest. 
 
 " That s so. It s pretty much the usual story. Selling 
 newspapers, drifting around, living on my wits. Only 
 I had a pretty shrewd head on my shoulders, and wher 
 ever I went I saw what was going on and I salted it away. 
 I made up my mind I wasn t going to be a fool, but I 
 was going to sit back, take every chance, and win out 
 big. Lord of mercy, though, I ve seen some queer cor 
 ners done some tough jobs! Up to about fifteen I 
 didn t amount to much. I was a drifter. I ve worked 
 my way from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine, 
 stealing rides and hoofing it with tramps. I ve scrubbed 
 out bar-rooms in Arizona and Oklahoma, and tended cat 
 tle in Kansas City. I sort of got a wandering fit, which 
 is bad business. But each year I tucked away a little 
 more of the long green than the year before, and got a 
 little more of the juice of books. About four years ago, 
 when I was seventeen I d saved up a few hundreds 
 I said to myself : 
 
 " Hold up, look here, if you re ever going to do any 
 thing, it s about time now to begin. So I planted my 
 hoof out in Oklahoma City and I started in to be a useful 
 citizen." 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 The pipe between Stover s lips had gone out, but he 
 did not heed it. A new life life itself was suddenly 
 revealing itself to him ; not the guarded existences of his 
 own kind, but the earnest romance of the submerged 
 nine-tenths. As Swazey stopped, he said impulsively, 
 directly : 
 
 " By George, Swazey, I envy you ! " 
 
 " Well, it s taught me to size men up pretty sharply," 
 said Swazey, continuing. " I ve seen them in the raw, 
 I ve seen them in all sorts of tests. I ve sort of got a 
 pretty guess what they ll do or not do. Then, of course, 
 I ve had a knack of making money out of what I touch 
 it s a gift." 
 
 " Are you working your way through here ? " said 
 Stover. All feeling of patronage was gone; he felt as 
 if a torrent had cleared away the dust and cobwebs of 
 tradition. 
 
 " Lord, no," said Swazey, smiling. " Why, boy, I ve 
 got a business that s bringing me in between four and 
 five thousand a year running itself, too." 
 
 Stover sat up. 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " I ve got an advertising agency, specialties of all sorts, 
 seven men working under one. I keep in touch every 
 day. Course I could make more if I was right there. 
 But I know what I m going to do in this world. I ve 
 got my ideas for what s coming big ideas. I m going 
 to make money hand over fist. That s easy. Now I m 
 getting an education. Here s the answer to it all." 
 
 He drew out of his pocketbook a photograph and 
 passed it over to Stover. 
 
 "That s the best in the world; that s the girl that 
 started me and that s the girl I m going to marry." 
 
 Dink took the funny little photograph and gazed at it 
 
226 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 with a certain reverence. It was the face of a girl pretty 
 enough, with a straight, proud, reliant look in her eyes 
 that he saw despite the oddity of the clothes and the arti 
 ficiality of the pose. He handed back the photograph. 
 
 " I like her," he said. 
 
 " Here we are," said Swazey, handing him a tintype. 
 
 It was grotesque, as all such pictures are, with its 
 mingled sentimentality and self-consciousness, but Stover, 
 did not smile. 
 
 " That s the girl I ve been working for ever since," 
 said Swazey. " The bravest little person I ever struck, 
 and the squarest. She was waiting in a restaurant when 
 I happened to drop in, standing on her own feet, asking 
 no favor. She s out of that now, thank God ! I ve sent 
 her off to school." 
 
 Dink turned to him with a start, amazed at the mat 
 ter-of-fact way in which Swazey announced it. 
 
 " To school " he stammered. " You ve sent her." 
 
 " Sure. Up to a convent in Montreal. She ll finish 
 there when I finish here." 
 
 " Why ? " said Stover, too amazed to choose his meth 
 ods of inquiry. 
 
 " Because, my boy, I m going out to succeed, and I 
 want my wife to know as much as I do and go with me 
 where I go." 
 
 The two sat silently, Swazey staring at the tintype with 
 a strange, proud smile, utterly unconscious of the story 
 he had told, Stover overwhelmed as if the doors in a 
 great drama had suddenly swung open to his intruding 
 gaze. 
 
 " She s the real student," said Swazey fondly. " She 
 gets it all all the romance of the big things that have 
 gone on in the past. By George, the time ll come when 
 we ll get over to Greece and Egypt and Rome and see 
 
STOVERATYALE 227 
 
 something of it ourselves." He put the photographs in 
 his pocketbook and rose, standing, legs spread before the 
 fire, talking to himself. " By George, Dink, money isn t 
 what I m after. I m going to have that, but the big 
 thing is to know something about everything that s real, 
 and to keep on learning. I ve never had anything like 
 these evenings here, browsing around in the good old 
 books, chatting it over with old Pike he s got imagi 
 nation. Give me history and biography that inspires 
 you. Say, I ve talked a lot, but you led me on. What s 
 your story ? " 
 
 " My story ? " said Stover solemnly. He thought a 
 moment and then said : " Nothing. It s a blank and 
 I m a blank. I say, Swazey, give me your hand. I m 
 proud to know you. And, if you ll let me, I d like to 
 come over here oftener." 
 
 He went from the room, with a sort of empty rage, 
 transformed. Before him all at once had spread out the 
 vision of the nation, of the democracy of lives of striving 
 and of hope. He had listened as a child listens. He 
 went out bewildered and humble. For the first time 
 since he had come to Yale, he had felt something real. 
 His mind and his imagination had been stirred, awak 
 ened, hungry, rebellious. 
 
 He turned back, glancing from the lights on the campus 
 to the room he had left a little splotch of mellow mean 
 ing on the somber cold walls of Divinity, and then turned 
 into the emblazoned quadrangle of the campus, with its 
 tinkling sounds and feverish, childish ambitions. 
 
 " Great heavens ! and I went there as a favor," he said. 
 " What under the sky do I know about anything little 
 conceited ass ! " 
 
 He went towards his entry and, seeing a light in Bob 
 Story s room, suddenly hallooed. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Oh, Bob Story, stick out your head." 
 
 " Hello, yourself. Who is it? " 
 
 " It s me. Dink." 
 
 " Come on up." 
 
 " No, not to-night." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " Say, Bob, I just wanted you to know one thing." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I m just a plain damn fool; do you get that?" 
 
 "What the deuce?" 
 
 " Just a plain damn fool good-night ! " 
 
 And he went to his room, locked the door to all visitors, 
 pulled an arm-chair before the fire, and sat staring into 
 it, as solemn as the wide-eyed owls on the casters. 
 
THE hours that Dink Stover sat puffing his pipe be 
 fore the yellow-eyed owls that blinked to him from 
 the crackling fireplace were hours of revolution. His 
 imagination, stirred by the recital of Swazey s life, re 
 turned to him like some long-lost friend. Sunk back in 
 his familiar arm-chair, his legs extended almost to the 
 reddening logs, his arms braced, he seemed to see through 
 the conjuring clouds of smoke that rose from his pipe the 
 figures of a strange self, the Dink Stover who had fought 
 his way to manhood in the rough tests of boarding-school 
 life, the Dink Stover who had arrived so eagerly, whose 
 imagination had leaped to the swelling masses of that 
 opening night and called for the first cheer in the name 
 of the whole class. 
 
 That figure was stranger to him than the stranger in 
 his own entry. Together they sat looking into each 
 other s eyes, in shy recognition, while overhead on every 
 quarter-hour the bell from Battell Chapel announced the 
 march toward midnight. Several times, as he sat 
 plunged in reverie, a knock sounded imperiously on the 
 locked door; but he made no move. Once from the 
 campus below he heard Dopey McNab s gleeful voice 
 mingling with the deep bass of Buck Waters: 
 
 " Oh, father and mother pay all the bills, 
 And we have all the fun. 
 That s the way we do in college life. 
 Hooray!" 
 
 229 
 
230 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 For a moment the song was choked, and then he heard 
 it ring in triumphant crescendo as the two came up his 
 steps, pounding out the rhythm with enthusiastic feet. 
 Before his door they came to a stop, sang the chorus to a 
 rattling accompaniment of their fists, and exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh, Dink Stover, open up!" 
 
 Receiving no response, they consulted- 
 
 " Why, the geezer isn t in." 
 
 " Let s break down the door." 
 
 " What right has he to be out? " 
 
 " Is there any one else we can annoy around here ? " 
 
 " Bob Story is in the next entry." 
 
 " Lead me to him." 
 
 " About face ! " 
 
 " March ! " 
 
 " Oh, father and mother pay all the bills, 
 And we have all the fun: 
 That s the way we do " 
 
 The sound died out. Upstairs a piano took up the 
 refrain in a thin, syncopated echo. From time to time a 
 door slammed in his entry, or from without the faint 
 halloo : 
 
 " Oh, Jimmy, stick out your head." 
 
 Dink, shifting, poked another log into place and re 
 turned longingly to his reverie. He could not get from 
 his mind what Swazey had told him. His imagination 
 reconstructed the story that had been given in such bare 
 detail, thrilling at the struggle and the drama he per 
 ceived back of it. It was all undivined. When he had 
 thought of his classmates, he had thought of them in 
 a matter-of-fact way as lives paralleling his own. 
 
 " Wonder what Regan s story is the whole story ? " 
 
STOVERATYALE 231 
 
 he thought musingly. " And Pike and all the rest of " 
 He hesitated, and then added, " of the fellows who 
 don t count." 
 
 He had heard but one life, but that had disclosed the 
 vista of a hundred paths that here in his own class, hidden 
 away, should open on a hundred romances. He felt, with 
 a sudden realization of the emptiness of his own life, a 
 new zest, a desire to go out and seek what he had ignored 
 before. 
 
 He left the fire suddenly, dug into his sweater, and 
 flung a great ulster about him. He went out and across 
 the chilly campus to the very steps where he had gone 
 with Le Baron on his first night, drawing up close to 
 the wall for warmth. And again he thought of the other 
 self, the boyish, natural self, the Dink Stover who had 
 first come here. 
 
 What had become of him? Of the two selves it was 
 the boy who alone was real, who gave and received in 
 friendship without hesitating or appraising. He recalled 
 all the old schoolmates with their queer nicknames the 
 Tennessee Shad, Doc MacNooder, the Triumphant Egg 
 head, and Turkey Reiter. There had been no division 
 there in that spontaneous democracy, and the Dink Stover 
 who had won his way to the top had never sought to 
 isolate himself or curb any natural instinct for skylark 
 ing, or sought a reason for a friendship. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " he said, almost aloud, " in one whole 
 year what have I done? I haven t made one single 
 friend, known what one real man was doing or thinking, 
 done anything I wanted to do, talked out what I wanted 
 to talk, read what I wanted to read, or had time to make 
 the friends I wanted to make. I ve been nothing but 
 material varsity material society material ; I ve lost 
 all the imagination I had, and know less than when I 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 came ; and I m the popular man the big man in 
 the class ! Great ! Is it my fault or the fault of things 
 tip here?" 
 
 Where had it all gone that fine zest for life, that 
 eagerness to know other lives and other conditions, that 
 readiness for whole-souled comradeship with which he 
 had come to Yale? Where was the pride he had felt in 
 the democracy of the class, when he had swung amid 
 the torches and the cheers past the magic battlements of 
 the college, one in the class, with the feeling in the ranks 
 of a consecrated army gathered from the plains and the 
 mountains, the cities and villages of the nation, conse 
 crated to one another, to four years of mutual under 
 standing that would form an imperishable bond wherever 
 on the face of the globe they should later scatter ? And, 
 thinking of all this young imagination that somehow had 
 dried up and withered away, he asked himself again and 
 again : 
 
 "Is it my fault?" 
 
 Across the campus Buck Waters and Dopey McNab, 
 returning from their marauding expedition, came singing, 
 arm in arm: 
 
 " Ok, -father and mother pay all the bills, 
 And we have all the -fun. 
 That s the way we do in college life. 
 Hooray!" 
 
 The two pagans passed without seeing him, gloriously, 
 boyishly happy and defiant, and the rollicking banter 
 recalled in bleak contrast all the stern outlines of the 
 lives of seriousness he had felt for the first time. 
 
 At first he revolted at the extremes. Then he consid 
 ered. Even their life and their point of view was some- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 thing unknown. It was true he was only a part of the 
 machine of college, one of the wheels that had to revolve 
 in its appointed groove. He had thought of himself 
 always as one who led, and suddenly he perceived that 
 it was he who followed. 
 
 A step sounded by him, and the winking eye of a 
 pipe. Some one unaware of his tenancy approached the 
 steps. Stover, in a flare-up of the tobacco, recognized 
 him. 
 
 " Hello, Brockhurst," he said. 
 
 " Hello," said the other, hesitating shyly. 
 
 " It s Stover," said Dink. " What are you doing this 
 time of night ? " 
 
 " Oh, I prowl around," said Brockhurst, shifting from 
 one foot to the other. 
 
 " Sit down." 
 
 " Not disturbing you ? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Stover, pleased at this moment at 
 the awe he evidently inspired. " I got sort of restless ; 
 thought I d come out here and smoke a pipe. Amusing 
 old spot." 
 
 "I like it," said Brockhurst. Then he added tenta 
 tively : " You get the feeling of it all." 
 
 " Yes, that s so." 
 
 They puffed in unison a moment. 
 
 " You re hitting up a good pace on that Lit competi 
 tion," said Dink, unconscious of the tone of patronage 
 into which he insensibly fell. 
 
 " Pretty good." 
 
 " That s right. Keep plugging away." 
 
 " Why ? " said Brockhurst, with a little aggressiveness. 
 
 " Why, you ought to make the chairmanship," said 
 Dink, surprised. 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 "Don t you want to?" 
 
 " There are other things I want more." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " To go through here as my own master, and do myself 
 some good." 
 
 "Hello!" 
 
 Stover sat up amazed at hearing from another the 
 thoughts that had been dominant in his own mind; 
 amazed, too, at the trick of association which had put 
 into his own mouth thoughts against which a moment 
 before he had been rebelling. 
 
 " That s good horse sense," he said, to open up the 
 conversation. " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " I m going to do the best thing a fellow can do at our 
 age. I m going to loaf." 
 
 " Loaf ! " said Dink, startled again, for the word was 
 like treason. 
 
 " Just that." 
 
 " But you re not doing that. You re out to make the 
 Lit. You re heeling something, like all the rest of us," 
 said Stover, who suddenly found himself on the opposite 
 side of the argument, revolting with a last resistance at 
 the too bold statement of his own rebellion. 
 
 "I m not heeling the Lit," said Brockhurst. His 
 shyness disappeared; he spoke energetically, interested 
 in what he was saying. "HI were, I would make the 
 chairmanship without trouble. I m head and shoulders 
 over the rest here, and I know it. As it is, some per 
 sistent grubber who sits down two hours a day, thirty 
 days a month, nine months of the year for the next two 
 years, who will regularly hand in one essay, two stories, 
 a poem, and a handful of portfolios will probably beat 
 me out." 
 
STOVERATYALE 235 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I ? I write when I have something to write, because 
 I love it and because my ambition is to write." 
 
 " Still, that s not exactly loafing." 
 
 " It is from your point of view, from the college point 
 of view. It isn t what I write that s doing me any good." 
 
 "What then?" said Stover, with growing curiosity. 
 
 " The browsing around, watching you other fellows, 
 seeing your mistakes." 
 
 "Well, what are they?" said Dink, with a certain 
 antagonism. 
 
 " Why, Stover, here are four years such as we ll never 
 get again four years to revel in ; and what do you 
 fellows do? Slave as you ll never slave again. Why, 
 you re working harder than a clerk supporting a family ! * 
 
 " It s a good training." 
 
 " For a certain type, yes, but a rather low type. 
 Thank you, I prefer to go my own way, to work out my 
 own ideas rather than accept others . However, I m a 
 crank. Any one who thinks differently here must be a 
 crank." 
 
 While they were talking the hour of twelve had struck, 
 and presently across the campus came a mysterious line 
 of senior society men, marching silently, two by two, 
 returning to their rooms. 
 
 " What do you think of that?" said Stover, with real 
 curiosity. 
 
 " That. A colossal mumbo- jumbo that has got every 
 one of you in its grip." He paused a moment and gave 
 a short laugh. " Did you ever stop to think, Stover, that 
 this fetish of society secrecy that is spread all over this 
 Christian, democratic nation is nothing but a return of 
 idol-worship ? " 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 This idea was beyond Stover, and so, not comprehend 
 ing it, he resented it. He did not reply. Brockhurst, 
 perceiving that he had spoken too frankly, rose. 
 
 " Well, I must be turning in," he said. " So long, 
 Stover. You go your way and I ll go mine; some day 
 we ll talk it over four years out of college." 
 
 " The fellow is a crank," said Dink, going his way. 
 " Got some ideas, but an extremist. One or two things 
 he said, though, are true. I rather like to get his point of 
 view, but there s a chap who ll never make friends." 
 
 And he felt again a sort of resentment, for, after all, 
 Brockhurst was still unplaced according to college stand 
 ards, and he was Stover, probable captain, one of those 
 rated sure for the highest society honors. 
 
 When he awoke the next morning, starting rebelliously 
 from his bed, his head was heavy, and he did not at first 
 remember the emotions of the night, as sleepily struggling 
 through his sweater he ran out of his entry for a hurried 
 cup of coffee. Bob Story hailed him: 
 
 " Hold up, you crazy man." 
 
 "What s the matter?" 
 
 " What the deuce got into you last night ? " 
 
 " Last night ? " said Stover, rubbing his eyes. 
 
 " You hauled me out of bed to shout out a lot of 
 crazy nonsense." 
 
 " What did I say ? " said Dink, trying to open his eyes. 
 
 " Nothing new," said Bob maliciously. " You said you 
 were a plain damn fool, and were anxious for me to 
 know it." 
 
 " Oh, I remember." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well what?" 
 
 " Explanations ? " 
 
 Stover did not feel in the mood ; besides, the new ideas 
 
STOVERATYALE 237 
 
 were too big and strange. He wanted time to understand 
 them. So he said: 
 
 " Why, Bob, I just woke up, that s all. I ll tell you 
 about it sometime not now." 
 
 "All right," said Story, with a quick look. "Drop 
 in soon." 
 
 The following night Stover again went over to 
 Swazey s rooms. It being Saturday, one or two men 
 had dropped in: Ricketts, a down-East Yankee who 
 recited in his divisions, a drawling, shuffling stripling with 
 a lazy, overgrown body and a quick, roving eye; Joe 
 Lake, a short, rolling, fluent Southerner from Texas ; 
 and Bud Brown, from a small village in Michigan, one 
 of the class debaters who affected a Websterian deport 
 ment. 
 
 " I brought my pipe along," said Stover genially. " Got 
 a place left where I can stow myself? Hello, Ricketts. 
 Hello, Lake. Glad to shake your hand, Brown. How s 
 the old Nevus getting along, Pike? By the way, I ll give 
 you a story Monday." 
 
 " Right in here, sir," said Lake, making room. 
 
 A couple of stout logs were roaring in the fireplace, 
 before which, propped up with cushions, the majority of 
 the company were sprawling. Stover took his place, 
 filling his pipe. His arrival brought a little constraint; 
 the conversation, which had been at fever pitch as he 
 stood rapping at the door, dwindled to desultory remarks 
 on inconsequential things. 
 
 " Well JLcertajnly_ am among the fruits of the class," 
 thought Stover, eyeing the rather shaggy crowd, where 
 sweaters and corduroys predominated and ihe-, razot-had 
 pagsed jn^t 
 
 In the midst of this hesitation, Regan s heavy frame 
 crowded the doorway, accompanied by Brbckhurst. Both 
 
238 STOVERATYALE 
 
 were surprised at Stover s unaccustomed presence, 
 Brockhurst looking at him with a little suspicion, Regan 
 shaking his hand with new cordiality. 
 
 "Have you, too, joined the deb.atinj^j;jrcie ? " he 
 said, crowding into a place by Stover and adjusting the 
 fire with a square-toed boot. 
 
 " Debating circle ? " said Stover, surprised. 
 
 " Why, this is the verbal prize ring of the college," 
 said Regan, laughing. " We settle everything here, from 
 the internal illnesses of the university to the external 
 manifestations of the universe. Pike can tell you every 
 thing that is going to happen in the next fifty years, and 
 so can Brocky only they don t agree. I m around to 
 get them out of clinches." 
 
 " Reckon you get rather heated up yourself, some 
 times, Tom," said Lake. 
 
 " Oh, I jump in myself when I get tired of listening." 
 
 Swazey, Lake, Ricketts, and Brown in one corner in 
 stalled themselves for a session at the national game, 
 appropriating the lamps, and leaving the region about the 
 fireplace to be lit by occasional gleams from the fitful 
 hickories. 
 
 Brockhurst, the champion of individualism, was soon 
 launched on his favorite topic. 
 
 " The great fault of the American nation, which is the 
 fault of republics, is the reduction of everything to the 
 average. Our universities are simply the expression of 
 the forces that are operating outside. We are business 
 colleges purely and simply, because we as a nation have 
 only one ideal the business ideal." 
 
 " That s a big statement," said Regan. 
 
 " It s true. Twenty years ago we had the ideal of the 
 lawyer, of the doctor, of the statesman, of the gentleman, 
 of the man of letters, of the soldier. Now the lawyer 
 
STOVERATYALE 239 
 
 is simply a supernumerary enlisting under any banner 
 for pay; the doctor is overshadowed by the specialist 
 with his business development of the possibilities of the 
 rich ; we have politicians, and politics are deemed impos 
 sible for a gentleman; the gentleman cultured, simple, 
 hospitable, and kind, is of the dying generation ; the sol 
 dier is simply on parade." 
 
 "Wow!" said Ricketts, jingling his chips. "They re 
 off." 
 
 " Everything has conformed to business, everything 
 has been made to pay. Art is now a respectable career 
 to whom? To the business man. Why? Because a 
 profession that is paid $3,000 to $5,000 a portrait is no 
 longer an art, but a blamed good business. The man 
 who cooks up his novel according to the weakness of 
 his public sells a hundred thousand copies. Dime novel ? 
 No; published by our most conservative publishers 
 one of our leading citizens. He has found out that 
 scribbling is a new field of business. He has convinced 
 the business man. He has made it pay." 
 
 " Three cards," said Swazey s voice. " Well, Brocky, 
 what s your remedy ? " 
 
 " A smashing war every ten years," said Brockhurst 
 shortly. 
 
 " Why, you bloody butcher," said Regan, who did not 
 seize the idea, while from the card-table came the chorus : 
 
 " Hooray, Brocky, go it ! " 
 
 " That s the way ! " 
 
 " You re in fine form to-night ! " 
 
 " And why a war ? " said Pike, beginning to take 
 notice. 
 
 " A war has two positive advantages," said Brockhurst. 
 " It teaches discipline and obedience, which we pro 
 foundly need, and it holds up a great ideal, the ideal of 
 
240 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 heroism, of sacrifice for an ideal. In times of war young 
 men such as we are are inspired by the figures of mili 
 tary leaders, and their imaginations are stirred to noble 
 desires by the word country/ Nowadays what is held 
 up to us ? Go out succeed make money/ 
 
 " That s true, a good deal true," said Regan abruptly. 
 " And the only remedy, the only way to fight the busi 
 ness deal, is to interest young men in politics, to make 
 them feel that there are the new battle-fields/ 
 
 " Now Tom s in it," said Lake, threshing the cards 
 through his fingers. At the card-table the players began 
 to listen, motioning with silent gestures. 
 
 " I am off," said Regan, bending forward eagerly and 
 striking his fist against his open hand. " That s the one 
 great thing our colleges should stand for ; they ought to 
 be great political hotbeds." 
 
 " And they re not," said Brockhurst shortly. $ 
 
 " The more s the pity," said Regan. " There I m with 
 you. They don t represent the nation : they don t repre 
 sent what the big masses are feeling, fighting, striving 
 for. By George, when I think of the opportunity, of 
 what this place could mean, what it was meant to mean ! 
 Why, every year we gather here from every State in the 
 Union a picked lot, with every chance, with a wonderful 
 opportunity to seek out and know what the whole coun 
 try needs, to be fired with the same great impulses, to go 
 out and fight together " He stopped clumsily in the 
 midst of a sentence, and flung back his hair, frowning. 
 " Good government, independent thinking, the love of 
 the fight for the right thing ought to begin here the 
 enthusiasm of it all. Hang it, I can t express it ; but the 
 idea is immense, and no one sees it." 
 
 "I see it," said Pike. "That s my ambition. I m 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 going back; I m going to own my own newspaper some 
 day, and fight for it." 
 
 * BuU why^ donj the universities reflect what s out o 
 thejre? " said Regan with a gesture. 
 
 " Because, to make it as it should be, and as it w_as^ 3 
 a live center of political discussion," said Brockhurst, 
 " you ve got to give the individual a chance, break through 
 this tyranny of the average, get away from business. 
 ideas." 
 
 " Just what do you mean when you say we are noth 
 ing but a business college?" said Stover, preparing to 
 resist any explanation. He understood imperfectly what 
 Regan was advocating. Politics meant to him a sort of 
 hereditary division ; what new forces were at work he 
 completely ignored, though resolved on enlightenment. 
 B rockhuj^t s^attack on the__organization of the college 
 was^gersonal, and he felLthat his own 
 
 the sophomore society was aimed at. 
 
 " I mean this," said Brockhurst, speaking slowly in 
 the effort to express a difficult thought. " I hope I can 
 make it clear. What would be the natural thing? A 
 man goes to college. He works as he wants to work, 
 he plays as he wants to play, he exercises for the fun 
 of the game, he makes friends where he wants to make 
 them, he is held in by no fear of criticism above, for 
 the class ahead of him has nothing to do with his stand 
 ing in his own class. Everything he does has the one 
 vital quality: it is spontaneous. That is the flame of 
 youth itself. Now, what really exists ? " 
 
 As he paused, Stover, unable to find an opening for 
 dissent, observed with interest the attitudes of the lis 
 teners : Pike, his pipe forgotten in the hollow of his 
 hand, was staring into the fire, his forehead drawn in 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 difficult comprehension; Regan was puffing steady, me 
 thodical puffs, nodding his head from time to time. In 
 the background Swazey s earnest face was turned in their 
 direction, and the cards, neglected, were moving in a 
 lazy shuffle; Brown, the debater, man of words rather 
 than ideas, was running his fingers nervously through 
 his drooping hair, chafing for the chance to enter the 
 fray; Lake, tilted back, his fat body exaggerated under 
 the swollen rolls of his sweater, from which from time 
 to time he dug out a chip, kept murmuring : 
 " Perfectly correct, sir ; perfectly correct." 
 Ricketts, without lifting his head, arranged and rear 
 ranged his pile of chips, listening with one ear cocked, 
 deriving meanwhile all the profit which could be gained 
 from his companions divided attention. Two things 
 struck Stover particularly in the group the rough, un 
 hewn personal exteriors, and the quick, awakened light 
 of enthusiasm on their faces while listening to the ex 
 pounding of an idea. Brockhurst himself was trans 
 formed. All the excessive self -consciousness which 
 irritated and repelled was lost in the fervor of the 
 thinker. He spoke, not as one who discussed, but as 
 one who, consciously superior to his audience, announced 
 his conclusions; and at times, when most interested, he 
 seemed to be addressing himself. 
 
 " Now, what is the actual condition here ? " He rose, 
 stretching himself against the mantel, lighting a match 
 which died out, as did a half-dozen others, unnoticed on 
 his pipe. " I say our colleges to-f\ny ^ rp bn sine.?,?. Al 
 leges Vfllp mnro rr^ pprVi^ps, Because it is more sen 
 sitively American. Let s take up any side of our life 
 here. Begin with athletics. What has become of Jhe 
 natural, spontaneous J^^LjxL^ontjs??^ jEsjEJL(f you have 
 one of the most perfectly organized business systems for 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 achieving a required result (ucces$. Football is driv 
 ing, slavish work ; there isn t one man in twenty who gets 
 any real pleasure out of it. Professional baseball is not 
 more rigorously disciplined and driven than our ama 
 teur teams. Add the crew and the track. Play, the 
 fun of the thing itself, doesn t exist; and why? Because 
 we have made a business out of it all, and the college 
 is scoured for material, just as drummers are sent out 
 to bring in business. 
 
 " Take another case. A man has a knack at the banjo 
 or guitar,. or. has a good voice. WliaTis ffie "spontaneous 
 thing?^ To meet with other kindred spirits in informal 
 gatheringsjnjone another s rooms or at the fence, accord 
 ing to the whim of the moment. Instead what happens ? 
 You have our university musical clubs, thoroughly pro 
 fessional organizaH6ns7Tr""you~are material, you must 
 get out and begin to work for them coach with a pro 
 fessional coach, make the Apollo clubs, and, working on, 
 some day in junior year reach the varsity organization 
 and go out on a professional tour. Again an organiza 
 tion conceived on business lines. 
 
 " The same is true with the competition jpr^pur reapers : 
 the struggle for existence outside in a business world 
 is not one whit more intense than the struggle to win 
 out in the News or Lit competition. We are like a beef 
 trust, with every by-product organized, down to the last 
 possibility. You come to Yale what is said to you? 
 * Be natural, be spontaneous, revel in a certain free 
 dom, enjoy a leisure you ll never get again, browse 
 around, give your imagination a chance, see every one, 
 rub wits with every one, get to know yourself. 
 
 " Is that what s said ? No. What are you told, in 
 stead ? Here are twenty great machines that need new 
 bolts and wheels. Get out and work. Work harder 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 than the next man, who is going to try to outwork you. 
 And, in order to succeed, work at only one thing. You 
 don t count everything for the college. Regan says 
 the colleges don t represent the nation; I say they don t 
 even represent the individual." 
 
 "What would you do?" said Brown. " Aholish-all 
 organkaiionsj " > ^-tJ^S&K^ 
 
 " Absolutely," said Brockhurst, who never recoiled. 
 
 " What ! Do you mean to say that the roJWp n f 
 l8?q_was a bigger thing than the college of to-day? " 
 
 " My dear Brown, it isn t even debatable," said Brock- 
 hurst, with a little contempt, for he did not understand 
 nor like the man of flowing words. " What have we 
 to-day that is bigger? Is it this organization of external 
 activities? We have more bricks and stones^Jmt have 
 we the great figures in the teaching staff? I grant you, 
 this is purely an economic failure but at the bottom 
 of the whole thing compare the spirit inside the campus 
 now and then. Who were the leaders then? The men 
 of Ijjrams^. Then the college did reflect the country ; then 
 it was a vital hotbed of political thought. To-day everv- 
 thing that has been developeiLis outside ^he campus ; and 
 it s so in every college. This is the tendency develop 
 ment away from the campus at the expense of the 
 campus. That s why, when you ask me would I wipe 
 out our business. jathletics and our professional musical 
 and traveling;... dramatic ; clubs, I say, yes, absolutely. I 
 would have the limits of college to be the walls of the 
 campus itself, and we d see, when men cease to be 
 drafted for one grind or another, whether they couldn t 
 begin to meet to think and to converse. However, that 
 brings up the whole pet problem of education, and, I m 
 through talking. Go on, Pike ; tell us that we are, after 
 all, only schools for character." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 245 
 
 " Brocky, you certainly are a radical a terrific 
 one," said Pike, shaking his head. Regan, smoking, said 
 nothing. 
 
 "A sort of red-shirt, eh?" said Brockhurst, smiling. 
 
 " You always go off on a tangent." 
 
 " Well, there s a good deal in what Brocky says," said 
 Regan, nodding slowly, " about bringing us all back into 
 the campus and shutting out the world. It s the men 
 here, all sorts and conditions, that, after all, are big 
 things, the vital thing. I m thinking over what you re 
 saying, Brocky not that I follow you altogether, but 
 I see what you re after I get it." 
 
 Stover, on the contrary, was aware of only an antag 
 onism, for his instinct was always to combat new ideas. 
 There were things in what Brockhurst had said that 
 touched him on the quick of his accepted loyalty. Then, 
 he could not quite forget that in the matter of his sopho 
 more society he had rejected him as being a little " queer." 
 So he said rather acidly: 
 
 " Brockhurst, one question. If you feel as you do, 
 why do you stay here ? " 
 
 Brockhurst, who had withdrawn after his outburst, a 
 little self-conscious again, flushed with anger at this 
 question. But with an effort he controlled himself, 
 saying : 
 
 " Stover has not perceived that I have been talking 
 of general conditions all through the East; that I am 
 not fool enough to believe one Eastern university is dif 
 ferent in essentials from another. What I criticize here 
 I criticize in American life. As to why I remain at 
 Yale, I remain because I think, because, having the ad 
 vantages of my own point of view, I can see clearer 
 those who are still conventionalized." 
 
 " But you don t believe in working for Yale," persisted 
 
246 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Stover, for he was angry at what he perceived had been 
 his discourtesy. 
 
 "Work for Yale! Work for Princeton! Work 
 for Harvard ! Bah ! Sublime poppycock ! " exclaimed 
 Brockhurst, in a sort of fury. " Of all drivel preached 
 to young Americans, that is the worst. I came to Yale 
 for an education. I pay for it good pay. I ask, first 
 and last, what is Yale going to do for me_? Work for 
 Yale, go out and slave, give up my leisure and my inde 
 pendence to do what for Yale? To keep turning the 
 wheels of some purely inconsequential machine, or strive 
 like a gladiator. Is that doing anything for Yale, a seat 
 of learning? If I m true to myself, make the most of 
 myself, go out and be something, stand for something 
 after college, then ask the question if you want. Ridic 
 ulous ! Hocus-pocus and flap-doodle ! Lord ! I don t 
 know anything that enrages me more. Good night; I m 
 going. Heaven knows what I ll say if I stay ! " 
 
 He clapped his hat on his head and broke out of the 
 door. The chorus of exclamations in the room died 
 down. Ricketts, still shifting his victorious pile, began 
 to whistle softly to himself. Regan, languidly stretched 
 out, with a twinkle in his eyes kept watching Stover, 
 staring red and concentrated into the fire. 
 
 " Well ? " he said at last. 
 
 Stover turned. 
 
 " Well ? " said Regan, smiling. 
 
 Dink rapped the ashes from his pipe, scratched his 
 head, and said frankly: 
 
 " Of course I shouldn t have said what I did. I got 
 well spanked for it, and I deserve it." 
 
 " What do you think of his ideas ? " said Regan, nod 
 ding appreciatively at Stover s fair acknowledgment. 
 
 " I don t know/ said Stover, puzzled. " I guess I 
 
STOVER AT YALE 247 
 
 haven t used my old thinker enough lately to be worth 
 anything in a discussion. Still " 
 
 " Still what?" said Regan, as Dink hesitated. 
 
 " Still, he has made me think," he admitted grudg 
 ingly. "I wish he didn t quite quite get on my nerves 
 so." 
 
 " There s a great deal in what he said to-night," said 
 Pike meditatively ; " a great deal. Of course, he is 
 always looking at things from the standpoint of the indi 
 vidual ; still, just the same " 
 
 " Brocky always states only one side of the proposi 
 tion," said Brown, who rarely measured swords when 
 Brockhurst was present in the flesh. " He takes for 
 granted his premise, and argues for a conclusion that 
 must follow." 
 
 " Well, what s your premise, Brown?" said Stover 
 hopefully, for he wanted to be convinced. 
 
 " This is my premise," said Brown fluently. " The 
 country has changed, the function of a college has 
 changed. It is now the problem of educating masses and 
 not individuals. To-day it is a question of perfecting a 
 high average. That s what happens everywhere in col 
 lege: we all tend toward the average; what some lose 
 others gain. We go out, not as individuals, but as a 
 type a Yale type, Harvard type, Princeton type, five 
 hundred strong, proportionately more powerful in our 
 influence on the country." 
 
 " Just what does our type take from here to the na 
 tion ? " said Stover ; and then he was surprised that he 
 had asked the question that was vital. 
 
 "What? What does this type stand for? I ll tell 
 you," said Brown readily, with the debater s trick of 
 repeating the question to gain time. " First, a pretty 
 fine type of gentleman, with good, clear, honest stand- 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 ards ; second, a spirit of ambition and a determination 
 not to be beaten ; third, the belief in democracy." 
 
 " All of which means," said Regan, " that we are sim 
 ply schools for character." 
 
 "Well, why not?" said Pike. "Isn t that a pretty 
 big thing?" 
 
 " You re wrong on the democracy, Brown," said 
 Regan, with a snap of his jaws. 
 
 " I mean the feeling of man to man." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 Stover at that moment was not so certain that he 
 would have answered the same. The discussion had so 
 profoundly interested him that he forgot a certain 
 timidity. 
 
 " What would Brockhurst answer to the school-for- 
 character idea? " he said. 
 
 " I calculate he d have a lovely time with it," said 
 Ricketts, with a laugh, " a regular dog-and-slipper time 
 of it." 
 
 " In all which," said Swazey s quick voice, " there is 
 no question about our learning a little bit." 
 
 A laugh broke out. 
 
 "Lord, no!" 
 
 "That doesn t count?" 
 
 " Why the curriculum ? " 
 
 " That," said Regan, rising, " brings up the subject of 
 education, which is deferred until another time. Ladies 
 and gentlemen, good night. Who s winning? Ricketts. 
 That s because he s said nothing. Good night, every 
 body." 
 
 Stover went with him. 
 
 " Tom," he said, when they came toward the campus, 
 " do you know what I ve learned to-night ? I ve learned 
 what a complete ignoramus I am." 
 
STOVERATYALE 249 
 
 " How did you happen in ? " said Regan. 
 
 Stover related the incident without mincing words. 
 
 " You re a lucky boy," said Regan, at the conclusion. 
 " I m glad you re waking up." *. 
 
 " You know I know absolutely nothing. I haven t 
 thought on a single subject, and as for politics, and what 
 you men talk about, I don t know the slightest thing. I 
 say, Tom, I d like to come around and talk with you." 
 
 " Come," said Regan ; " I ve had the door on the latch 
 for a long while, old rooster." c 4*v tlfvC ^ X 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE next afternoon Stover passed Brockhurst going 
 to dinner. 
 
 " Hello," he said, with a cordial wave of the hand. 
 
 " Hello," said Brockhurst, with a little avoidance, for 
 he had a certain physical timidity, which always shrank 
 at the consequences of his mental insurgency. 
 
 " I was a chump and a fool last night," said Stover 
 directly, " and here s my apology." 
 
 " Oh, all right." 
 
 " Drop in on me. Talk things over. You ve started 
 me thinking. Drop in I mean it." 
 
 " Thanks, awfully." 
 
 Brockhurst, ill at ease, moved away, pursued always 1 
 by a shackling self-consciousness in the presence of 
 those to whom he consciously felt he was mentally su 
 perior. 
 
 One direct result came to Stover from the visit to 
 Swazey s rooms. Despite the protests and arguments, 
 he did not report for the competition for the crew. 
 
 " Stay in for a couple of months," said Le Baron. 
 " We want the moral effect of every one s coming out." 
 
 " Sorry ; I ve made up my mind," said Dink. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Want time to myself. I ve never had it, and now 
 I m going to get it." 
 
 Le Baron of the machine did not understand him, and 
 he did not explain. Stover was essentially a man of 
 action and not a thinker. He did not reason things out 
 
 250 
 
STOVER AT YALE 251 
 
 for himself, but when he became convinced he acted. 
 So, when he had thought over Brockhurst s theories and 
 admitted that he was not independent, he determined at 
 once to be so. He began zealously, turning his back on 
 his own society crowd, to seek out the members of his 
 class whom he did not know, resolved that his horizon 
 should be of the freest. For the first time he began 
 to reason on what others said to him. He went often 
 to Swazey s rooms, and Regan s, which were centers of 
 discussion. Some of the types that drifted in were in 
 congruous, bizarre, flotsam and jetsam of the class; but 
 in each, patiently resolved, he found something to stir 
 the imagination ; and when, under Regan s quickening in 
 fluence, he stopped to consider what life in the future 
 would mean to them, he began to understand what his 
 friend, the invincible democrat, meant by the inspiring 
 opportunity of college the vision of a great country 
 that lay on the lips of the men he had only to seek 
 out. 
 
 Dink was of too direct a nature and also too confident 
 in the strength of his position to consider the effect of 
 his sudden pilgrimage to what was called the " out 
 siders." Swazey and Pike, at his invitation, took to 
 dropping into his room and working out their lessons 
 with him. Quite unconsciously, he found himself con 
 stantly in public companionship with them and other 
 newly discovered types who interested him. 
 
 About two weeks after this new life had begun, Le 
 Baron stopped him one day, with a little solicitous frown, 
 saying : 
 
 " Look here, Dink, aren t you cutting loose from your 
 own crowd a good deal ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, I guess I am," Dink announced, quite un 
 consciously. 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 " I wouldn t get identified too much with well, with 
 some of the fellows vou ve taken up." 
 
 Stover smiled, and went his way undisturbed. For 
 the first time he felt his superiority over Le Baron. Le 
 Baron could not know what he knew that it was just 
 these new acquaintances who had waked him up out 
 of his torpor and made a thinking being of him. Others 
 in his class, mistaking his motives, began to twit him : 
 
 " I say, Dink, what are you out for ? " 
 
 " Running for something ? " 
 
 " Getting into politics ? " 
 
 "Junior Prom, eh?" 
 
 He turned the jests aside with jests as ready, quite 
 unaware that in his own crowd he was arousing a little 
 antagonism; for he was developing in such deep lines 
 that he did not perceive vexing details. 
 
 All at once he remembered that it had been over a 
 fortnight since he had called at the Storys and he ran 
 over one afternoon about four o clock, expecting to stay 
 for dinner ; for the Judge kept open house to the friends 
 of his son, and Stover had readily availed himself of 
 the privilege to become intimate. 
 
 Although Bob Story was bound to him by the closest 
 social ties, Dink felt, nor was he altogether at fault in 
 the feeling, that the brother was still on the defensive 
 with him, due to a natural resentment perhaps at Dink s 
 too evident interest in his sister. 
 
 When he arrived at the old colonial house set back 
 among the elms, Eliza, the maid, informed him that no 
 one was at home. Miss Jean was out riding. But im 
 mediately she corrected herself, and, going upstairs to 
 make sure, returned with the welcome information that 
 Miss Story had just returned and begged him to wait. 
 
 He took the request as a meager evidence of her inter- 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 est, and entered the drawing-room. Waiting there for 
 her to come tripping down the stairs, he began to think 
 of the new horizon that had opened to him, and the new 
 feeling of maturity ; and, feeling this with an acute real 
 ization, he was impatient for her to come, that he might 
 tell her. 
 
 It was a good ten minutes before he turned suddenly 
 at a rustling on the stairs, and saw her, fresh and flushed 
 from the ride. 
 
 " It s awfully good of you to wait," she called to him. 
 " I did my best to rush." 
 
 Arrived on the landing, she gave him her hand, look 
 ing at him a little earnestly. 
 
 " How are you ? You re a terrible stranger." 
 
 " Have I been very bad ? " he said, holding her hand. 
 
 " Indeed you have. Even Bob said he hardly saw 
 you. What have you been doing ? " 
 
 She withdrew her hand gently, but stood before him, 
 looking into his face with her frank, inquiring eyes. 
 Stover wondered if she thought he d been a trifle wild; 
 and, as there was no justification, he was immensely 
 flattered, and a little tempted dramatically to assume an 
 attitude that would call for reform. He smiled and said : 
 
 " I ve been on a voyage of discovery, that s all. You ll 
 be interested." 
 
 They sat down, and he began directly to talk, halting 
 in broken phrases at first, gradually finding his words as 
 he entered his subject. 
 
 " By George ! I ve had a wonderful two weeks a 
 revelation just as though just as though I d begun 
 my colkge^course ; that s really wHat it means. All I ve 
 done before doesn t count. And to think, if it hadn t 
 been for an accident, I might have gone on without ever 
 waking up." 
 
254 STOVERATYALE 
 
 He recounted his visit to Swazey s rooms, drawing a 
 picture of his self-satisfied self descending en prince to 
 bestow a favor; and, warming out of his stiffness, drew 
 a word picture of Swazey s telling his story before the 
 fire, and the rough sentiment with which he brought 
 forth the odd, common little tintypes. 
 
 " By George ! the fellow had told a great story and he 
 didn t know it; but I knew it, and it settled me," he 
 added with earnestness, always aware of her heightened 
 attention. " It was a regular knockout blow to the con 
 ceited, top-heavy, prancing little ass who had gone there. 
 By Jove, it gave me a jar. I went out ashamed." 
 
 " It is a very wonderful life simple, wonderful," she 
 said slowly, thinking more of the relator than of the 
 story. " I understand all you felt." 
 
 " You know life s real to those fellows," he continued, 
 with more animation. " They re after something in this 
 world ; they believe in something ; they re fighting for 
 something. There s nothing real in me that is, there 
 wasn t. By George, these two weeks that I ve gone 
 about, looking for the men in the class, have opened up 
 everything to me. I never knew my own country be 
 fore. It s a wonderful country! It s the simple lives 
 that are so wonderful." 
 
 She had in her hand a piece of embroidery, but she 
 did not embroider. Her eyes never left his face. For 
 the first time, the roles were reversed: it was he who 
 talked and she who listened. From time to time she 
 nodded, satisfied at the decision and direction in his 
 character, which had answered the first awakening sug 
 gestion. 
 
 "Who is Pike? "she asked. 
 
 " Pike is a little fellow from a little life in some 
 country town in Indiana; the only one in a family of 
 
LIFE S REAL TO THOSE FELLOWS; THEY RE FIGHTING FOR 
 SOMETHING " Pa>re 254. 
 
STOVERATYALE 255 
 
 eight children that s amounted to anything father s a 
 pretty even sort, I guess; so are the rest of them. But 
 this fellow has a dogged persistence not so quick at 
 thinking things out, but, Lord! how he listens; nothing 
 gets away from him. I can see him growing right under 
 my eyes. He s interested in politics, same as Regan; 
 wants to go back and get a newspaper some day. He ll 
 do it, too. Why, that fellow has been racing ahead ever 
 since he came here, and I ve been standing still. Ricketts 
 is an odd character, a sort of Yankee genius, shrewd, 
 and some of his observations are as sharp as a knife. 
 Brockhurst has the brains of us all ; he can out-think us 
 every one. But he s a spectator ; he s outside looking on. 
 I can t quite get used to him. Regan s the fellow I want 
 for a friend. He s like an old Roman. When he makes 
 up his mind it takes him a long while when he does, 
 he s right." 
 
 He recounted Regan s ideas on politics his enthu 
 siasm, and his ideal of a college life that would reflect 
 the thought of the nation. 
 
 Then, talking to himself, he began to walk up and 
 down, flinging out quick, stiff gestures : 
 
 " Brockhurst states a thing in such a slap-bang way 
 no compromise -that it hits you at first like a blow. 
 But when you think it over he has generally got to the 
 point. Where he s wrong is, he thinks the society sys 
 tem here keeps a man wrapped in cotton, smothering 
 him and separating him from the class. Now, I m an 
 example to the contrary. It s all a question of the in 
 dividual. I thought it wasn t at one moment, but now 
 I know that it is. You can do just what you want 
 find what you want. 
 
 " But we do get so interested in outside things that 
 we forget the real; that s true. Brockhurst says we 
 
256 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 ought to bring the college back to the campus, and the 
 more I think of it the more I see what he means. The 
 best weeks, the biggest in my life, are those when I ve 
 realized I had an imagination and could use it." Sud 
 denly he halted, gave a quick glance at her, and said: 
 
 " Here I m talking like a runaway horse. I got 
 started." 
 
 " Thank you for talking to me so," she said eagerly. 
 
 He had never seen in her eyes so much of genuine 
 impulse toward him, and, suddenly recalled, in this mo 
 ment of exhilaration, to the personal self, he was thrilled 
 with a strange thrill at what he saw. 
 
 " You^r^member," he said, with a certain new bold 
 ness, " how imjUliit~yoTrTr5e4~^ 
 furiousJLjKas-j&hen^pj^ not^awake." 
 
 " I remember." 
 
 " Now^X_undej^taH<i: what you meant," he said, " but 
 then I didn t." 
 
 She rose to order tea, and then turned impulsively, 
 smiling up to him. 
 
 " I think I m sure I felt it would come to you ; only 
 I was a little impatient." 
 
 And with a happy look she offered him her hand. 
 
 " I m very glad to be your friend," she said, to make 
 amends ; " and I hope you ll come and talk over with 
 me all that you are thinking. Will you?" 
 
 He did not answer. At the touch of her hand, which 
 he held in his, at the new sound in her voice, suddenly 
 something surged up in him, something blinding, intox 
 icating, that left him hot and cold, rash and silent. She 
 tried to release her hand, but his grip was not to be 
 denied. 
 
 Then, seeing him standing head down boyishly unable 
 to speak or act, she understood. 
 
STOVERATYALE 257 
 
 " Oh, please ! " she said, with a sudden weakness, 
 again trying to release her fingers. 
 
 " I can t help it," he said, blurting out the words. 
 " Jean, you know as well as I what it is. IJove^you." 
 
 The moment the words were out, he had a cold horror 
 of what had been said. He didn t love her, not as he 
 had said it. Why had he said it? 
 
 She remained motionless a moment, gathering her 
 strength against the shock. 
 
 " Please let go my hand," she said quietly. 
 
 This time he obeyed. His mind was a vacuum ; every 
 little sound came to him distinctly, with the. terror of 
 the blunder he had made. 
 
 She went to the window and stood, her face half 
 turned from him, trying to think; and, misreading her 
 thoughts, a little warm blood came back to him, and he 
 tried to think what he would say if she came back with 
 a light in her eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Stover." 
 
 He looked up abruptly he had scarcely moved. 
 She was before him, her large eyes seeming larger than 
 ever, her face a little frightened, but serious with the 
 seriousness of the woman looking out. 
 
 " You have done a very wrong thing," she said slowly, 
 " and you have placed me in a very difficult position. I 
 do not want to lose you as a friend." She made a rapid 
 movement of her fingers to check his exclamation. "If 
 what you said were true, and you are too young to have 
 said such solemn words, may I ask what right you had 
 to say them to me ? " 
 
 " What right? " he said stupidly. 
 
 " Yes, what right," she repeated, looking at him stead 
 ily with a certain wist-f ulness. " Are you in a position 
 to ask me to be your wife ? " 
 
258 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Let me think a moment," he said, drawing a breath. 
 
 He walked away to the table, leaning his weight on 
 it, while, without moving, she followed with a steady 
 gaze, in which was a little pity. 
 
 " Let me help you," she said at last. 
 
 He turned and looked up for the first time, a look of 
 wretchedness. 
 
 " It would be too bad that one moment should spoil 
 all our friendship," she said, " and because that would 
 hurt me I don t want it so. You are a boy, and I am not 
 yet a woman. I have always respected you, no more so 
 than to-day, before before you forgot your respect 
 toward me. I want always to keep the respect I had for 
 you." 
 
 " Don t say any more," he said suddenly, with a lump 
 in his throat. " I don t know why what why I for 
 got myself. Please don t take away from me your 
 friendship. I will keep it very precious." 
 
 " It is very hard to know what to do," she said. 
 Then she added, with a little heightening of her color: 
 " My friendship means a great deal." 
 
 He put out his hand and gently took the end of a scarf 
 which she wore about her shoulders, and raised it to his 
 lips. It was a boyish, impulsive fantasy, and he inclined 
 his head before her. Then he went out hurriedly, with 
 out speaking or turning, while the girl, pale and with 
 out moving, continued to stare at the curtain which still 
 moved with his passing. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 STOVER went rushing from the Storys home, and 
 away for a long feverish march along dusky avenues, 
 where unseen leaves came whirling against him. He 
 was humiliated, mortified beyond expression, in a panic 
 of self -accusation and remorse. 
 
 " It s all over," he said, with a groan. " I ve made a 
 fool of myself. I can never square myself after that. 
 What under the shining stars made me say that? What 
 happened? I hadn t a thought, and then all at once - 
 Oh, Lord ! " 
 
 A couple of upper classmen returning nodded to him, 
 and he flung back an abrupt " Hello," without distin 
 guishing them. 
 
 "Why did I do it? why why I" 
 
 He went plunging along, through the dark regions 
 that lay between the spotted arc lights that began to 
 sputter along the avenue, his ears deafened by the rush 
 and grind of blazing trolley cars. When he had gone 
 breathlessly a good two miles, he stopped and wearily 
 retraced his steps. The return no longer gave him the 
 sensation of flight. He came back laggingly, with re 
 luctance. Each time he thought of the scene which had 
 passed he had a sensation of heat and cold, of anger and 
 of cowardice. Never again he said to himself, would 
 he be able to enter the Storys home, to face her, Jean 
 Story. 
 
 But after a time, from sheer exhaustion, he ceased to 
 think about his all-important self. He remembered the 
 
 259 
 
260 STOVERATYALE 
 
 dignity and gentleness with which the young girl had met 
 the shock of his blunder, and he was overwhelmed with 
 wonder. He saw again her large eyes, filled with pain, 
 trouble, and yet a certain pity. He recalled her quiet 
 voice, the direct meeting of the issue, and deep through 
 all impressions was the memory of the woman, sweet, 
 self-possessed, and gentle, that had been evoked from her 
 eyes. 
 
 He forgot himself. He forgot all the wretchedness 
 and hot misery. He remembered only this Jean Story, 
 and the Jean Story that would be. And feeling the re 
 vealing acuteness of love for the first time, he said im 
 pulsively : 
 
 " Oh, yes, I love her. I have always loved her ! " 
 And silently, deep in his heart, a little frightened almost 
 to set the thought to words, he made a vow that his life 
 from now on should be earnest and inspired with but 
 one purpose, to win her respect and to win the right to 
 ask her for his wife. 
 
 With the resolve, all the fret and fever went from 
 him. He felt a new confidence and a new maturity. 
 
 " When I speak again, I shall have the right," he said 
 solemnly. " And she shall see that I am not a mere boy. 
 That I will show her soon ! " 
 
 When he came again into the domain of the college, 
 he suddenly felt all the littleness of the ambitions that 
 raged inside those self-sufficient walls. 
 
 " Lord, what have I been doing all this time what 
 does it count for ? Brocky is right ; it isn t what you do 
 here, it s what you are ready to do when you go out. 
 Thank Heaven, I can see it now." And secure in the 
 knowledge that the honors he rated so lightly were his, 
 he added : " There s only one thing that counts that s 
 your own self." 
 
STOVERATYALE 261 
 
 It was after the dinner hour, and he hesitated ; a little 
 tired of his own company, longing for the diversion an 
 other personality would bring, and seeking some one as 
 far removed from his own point of view as possible, he 
 halted before Durf ee, and sent his call to the top stories : 
 
 " Oh, Ricky Ricketts, stick out your head." 
 
 Above a window went up, and a fuzzy head came curi 
 ously forth. 
 
 "Wot ell, Bill?" 
 
 " It s Stover, Dink Stover. Come down." 
 
 "Somethin doin ?" 
 
 " You bet." 
 
 Presently, Ricketts s bean-stalk figure came flopping 
 out of the entry. 
 
 "What s up, Dink?" 
 
 "I m back too late for supper. Come on down with 
 me to Mory s and keep me company, and I ll buy you a 
 drink." 
 
 "Did I hear the word "buy ?" said Ricketts, in the 
 manner then made popular by the lamented Pete Dailey. 
 
 " You did." 
 
 " Lead me to it." 
 
 At Mory s, two or three men whom he didn t know 
 were at the senior table. Le Baron and Reynolds, pros 
 pective captain of the crew and chairman of the News, 
 respectively, men of his own society, gave him a hearty, 
 " Hello, Dink," and then stared curiously at Ricketts, 
 whose general appearance neither conformed to any one 
 fashion nor to any two. Gimbel, the politician, was in 
 the off room with three of the more militant anti-soph 
 omore society leaders. The two parties saluted in regu 
 lation style. 
 
 " Hello, you fellows." 
 
 " Howdy, there." 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 Stover, sitting down, saw GimbeFs perplexed glance 
 at his companion, and thought to himself : 
 
 " I ve got Gimbel way up a tree. I ll bet he thinks 
 I m trying to work out some society combine against 
 him." 
 
 The thought recalled to him all the increasing bitter 
 ness of the anti-sophomore society fight which had swept 
 the college. There was talk even of an open mass meet 
 ing. He remembered that Hunter had mentioned it, and 
 for a moment he was inclined to put the question direct 
 to Gimbel. But his mood was alien to controversy, and 
 Louis, with sidelong, beady eyes, and a fragrant aroma, 
 was waiting the order. 
 
 Ricketts had, among twenty Yankee devices for greas 
 ing his journey through college, a specialty of breaking 
 in new pipes, one of which he now produced, with an 
 apologetic : 
 
 " You don t mind, do you, if I crack my lungs on this 
 appetizing little trifle ? " 
 
 " I say, Ricketts," said Stover, trying to keep off his 
 mind the one subject, " is that all a joke about your 
 breaking in pipes ? " 
 
 " Straightest thing in the world." 
 
 "What do you charge?" 
 
 " Thirty-five cents and the tobacco." 
 
 " You ought to charge fifty." 
 
 " I m going to next year. You think I m loony ? " said 
 Ricketts. 
 
 " I m not sure." 
 
 " Dink, my boy, I ll be a millionaire in ten years. You 
 know what I m figuring out all this time? I m going at 
 this scientifically. I m figuring out the number of fools 
 there are on the top of this globe, classifying em, looking 
 
STOVERATYALE 263 
 
 out what they want to be fooled on. I m making an 
 exact science of it." 
 
 " Go on," said Dink, amused and perplexed, for he 
 was trying to distinguish the serious and the humorous. 
 
 " What s the principle of a patent medicine ? adver 
 tise first, then concoct your medicine. All the science 
 of Foolology is: first, find something all the fools love 
 and enjoy, tell them it s wrong, hammer it into them, 
 give them a substitute and sit back, chuckle, and shovel 
 away the ducats. Bread s wrong, coffee s wrong, beer s 
 wrong. Why, Dink, in the next twenty years all the 
 fools will be feeding on substitutes for everything they 
 want; no salt denatured sugar anti-tea oiloline 
 peanut butter whale s milk et cetera, et ceteray, 
 and blessing the name of the fool-master who fooled 
 them." 
 
 " By Jingo," said Stover, listening to this jumble of 
 words, entranced, " I believe you re right. And so 
 you ve reduced it to a science, eh Foolology ? " 
 
 Ricketts, half in earnest, never entirely in jest, abetted 
 by newly arriving tobies, was off again on his pet theories 
 of business imagination, disdaining the occasional gibes 
 that were flung at him from Gimbel s table. 
 
 When Le Baron and Reynolds passed out, with curi 
 ous glances, Stover was weak with laughter. Later 
 arrivals dropping in joined them, egging on the inventor. 
 
 Stover, who had been busily consulting his watch, 
 left at half -past eight on a sudden resolve. The farcical 
 interruption that had temporarily drawn him out of him 
 self, had cleared his head, and brought him a sudden 
 authoritative decision. 
 
 He went directly to the Storys , and, entering the 
 parlor, found a group of his crowd there, dinner finished, 
 trying out the latest comic opera chorus. 
 
264 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 He came in quite coldly self-possessed, shook hands, 
 and immediately jumped into the conversation, which 
 was all on the crisis in the sophomore societies. Jean 
 Story was at the piano, a little more serious than usual. 
 At his entrance, she looked up with sudden wonder and 
 confusion. He came to her, and in taking her hand 
 inclined his head in great respect, but did not speak to 
 her. He had but one desire, to show her that he was not 
 a boy but a man, and that he could rise to the crisis 
 which he had brought on himself. 
 
 Hunter and Tommy Bain had been arguing for no 
 compromise, Bob Story and Hungerford were of the 
 opinion that the time had come to enlarge the member 
 ship of the societies, and to destroy their exclusiveness. 
 
 On the sofa, the little Judge, a spectator, never in 
 timating his opinion, studying each man as he spoke, 
 appealed to Stover : 
 
 " Well, now, Judge Dink, what is your learned opinion 
 on this situation? Here is the dickens to pay; three- 
 fourths the college lined up against you fellows, and a 
 public mass meeting coming. Jim Hunter here believes 
 in sitting back and letting the storm blow over; Bob, 
 who of course can regulate it all, wants to double the 
 membership and meet some objections. Now what do 
 you say? Mr. Stover has the floor. My daughter will 
 please come to order." 
 
 Jean Story abruptly turned from the piano, where 
 her fingers had been absent-mindedly running over the 
 keys. 
 
 " Frankly, I haven t made up my mind just yet," said 
 Stover. " There are a great many sides to it. I ve 
 listened to a good many opinions, but haven t yet chosen 
 mine. Every one is talking about the effect on the col 
 lege, but what has impressed me most is the effect on the 
 
STOVER AT YALE 265 
 
 sophomore society men themselves. If the outsiders only 
 knew the danger and handicap they are to us ! " 
 
 " Hello," said the Judge, shifting with a little interest. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Hunter aggressively. 
 
 " I mean we are the ones who are limited, who are 
 liable to miss the big opportunities of college life. We 
 have got into the habit, under the pretense of good 
 fellowship, of herding together." 
 
 "Why shouldn t we?" persisted Hunter. 
 
 " Because we shut ourselves up, withdraw from the 
 big life of the college, know only our own kind, the kind 
 we ll know all our life ; surrender our imagination. We 
 represent only a social idea, a good time, good friends, 
 good figure-heads on the different machines of the col 
 lege. But we miss the big chance to go out, to mingle 
 with every one, to educate ourselves by knowing opposite 
 lives, fellows who see things as we never have seen them, 
 who are going back to a life a thousand miles away from 
 what we will lead." He expressed himself badly, and, 
 realizing it, said impatiently : " Here, what I mean is 
 this. It s not my idea, it s Brockhurst s, it s Tom 
 Regan s. The biggest thing we can do is to reflect the 
 nation, to be the inspiration of the democracy of the 
 country, to be alive to the fight among the, people.. Jor 
 real political independence. We ought to get a great 
 vision when we come up here, as young men, of the big 
 ness of our country, of the privilege of fighting out its 
 political freedom, of what American manhood means in 
 the towns of Georgia and Texas, in the little manu 
 facturing cities of New England, in the great West, and 
 in the small homes of the big cities. We ought to really 
 know one another, meet, discuss, respect each other s 
 point of view, independence odd ways if you wish. 
 We don t do it. We did once we don t now. Prince- 
 
266 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 ton doesn t do it, Harvard doesn t do it. We re over- 
 organized away from the vital thing the knowledge of 
 ourselves." 
 
 " Then you d abolish the sophomore societies ? " said 
 Hunter, crowding him to the wall. 
 
 " I don t know. Sometimes I ve felt it s the system 
 that is wrong," said Stover frankly. " Lately, I ve 
 changed my mind. I think we can do what we want 
 at least I know I ve gone out and met whom I wanted 
 to without my being in a sophomore society making the 
 slightest difference. I say I don t know where the trou 
 ble is ; whether the whole social system here and else 
 where is the cause or the effect. It may be that it is the 
 whole development of America that has changed our 
 college life. I don t know; those questions are too big 
 for me to work out. But I know one thing, that my own 
 ideas of what I want here have taken a back somersault, 
 and that I m going out of here knowing everything I 
 can of every man in the class." Suddenly he remem 
 bered Hunter s opposition, and turning, concluded: 
 " One thing more ; if ever I make up my mind that the 
 sophomore society system or any other system ought to 
 be abolished, I ll stand out and say so." 
 
 When he had finished, his classmates began talking all 
 at once, Hunter and Bain in bitter opposition, Bob Story 
 in warm defense, Hungerford, in his big-souled way, 
 coming ponderously to his assistance. 
 
 Stover withdrew from the conversation. He glanced 
 at Jean Story, wondering if she had understood the rea 
 son of his return, and that he had spoken for her ears 
 alone. She was still at the piano, one hand resting on 
 the keyboard, looking at him with the same serious, half- 
 troubled expression in her large eyes. He made an ex 
 cuse to leave, and for the second that he stood by her, 
 
STOVER AT YALE 267 
 
 he looked into her eyes boldly, with even a little bravado, 
 as though to ask: 
 
 " Do you understand ? " 
 
 But the young girl, without speaking, nodded her head 
 slightly, continuing to look at him with her wistful, a 
 little wounded glance. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 IT was only a little after nine. He had left in the 
 company of Joe Hungerford, who had ostensibly 
 taken the opportunity of going with him. 
 
 " I say, Dink," he began directly, in the blustering, 
 full-mouthed way he had when excited, " I say bully for 
 you. Lord, I liked to hear you talk out." 
 
 " It s all simple enough," said Stover, surprised at the 
 other s enthusiasm. " I suppose I wouldn t have said all 
 I did if it hadn t been for Hunter." 
 
 " Oh, Jim s a damned hard-shell from way back," 
 said Hungerford good-humoredly, " never mind him. 
 I say though, Dink, you really have been going round, 
 haven t you, breaking through the lines ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have." 
 
 " I wish you d take me around with you some time," 
 said Hungerford enviously. 
 
 " Why the deuce don t you break in yourself ? " 
 
 " It doesn t come natural, Dink," said the inheritor of 
 millions regretfully. " I never went through boarding- 
 school like you fellows. By George, it s just what I 
 want, what I hoped for here ! and, damn it, what I m not 
 getting!" 
 
 " You know, Joe," said Dink suddenly, " there 
 wouldn t be any society problem if fellows that felt the 
 way you and I do would assert themselves. By George, 
 there s nothing wrong with the soph societies, the trouble 
 is with us." 
 
 " I m not so sure," said Hungerford seriously. 
 268 
 
STOVER AT YALE 269 
 
 "Rats!" 
 
 " You know, Dink," said Joe with a little hesitation, 
 " it is not every one who understands you or what you re 
 doing." 
 
 " I know," said Stover, laughing confidently. " Some 
 have got an idea I ve got some great political scheme, 
 working in with the outsiders to run for the Junior Prom, 
 or something like that." 
 
 " No, it s not all that. I don t think some of our 
 crowd realize what you re doing rather fancy you re 
 cutting loose from them." 
 
 " Let them think," said Stover carelessly. Then he 
 added with some curiosity: "Has there been much 
 talk?" 
 
 " Yes, there has." 
 
 " Any one spoken to you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I know I know they ve got an idea I m queering 
 myself oh, that word queer ; it s the bogey of the 
 whole place." 
 
 " You re right there ! But, Dink, I might as well let 
 you know the feeling ; it isn t simply in our set, but some 
 of the crowd ahead." 
 
 "Le Baron, Reynolds?" 
 
 " Yes. Haven t they ever ever said anything to 
 you?" 
 
 " Bless their simple hearts," said Stover, untroubled. 
 " So they re worrying about me. It s rather humorous. 
 It s their inherited point of view. Le Baron, Joe, could 
 no more understand what we are thinking about and 
 yet he s a fine type. Sure, he s stopped me a couple of 
 times and shaken his head in a worried, fatherly way. 
 To him, you see, everything is selective; what he calls 
 the fellow who doesn t count, the fruit/ is really out- 
 
270 STOVERATYALE 
 
 side what he understands, the fellows who are in the 
 current of what s being done here. I must talk it out 
 with him sometime. We ve come to absolutely opposite 
 points of view. And yet the curious thing is, he s fond 
 as the deuce of me." 
 
 " Yes, that s so," said Hungerford. He did not in 
 sist, seeing that Stover was insensible to the hints he 
 had tried to convey. Not wishing to express openly a 
 point of view which was personally unsympathetic, he 
 hesitated and remained silent. 
 
 " Coming up for a chin ? " said Dink, as they neared 
 the campus. 
 
 "No, I ve got a date at Heub s. I say, Dink, I m 
 serious in what I said. I want to wake up and get 
 around. Work me in." 
 
 " You bet I will, and you ll meet a gang that really 
 have some ideas." 
 
 " That s what I want. Well, so long." 
 
 " So long, Joe." 
 
 Dink, turning to the right, entered the campus past 
 Battell. He had never before felt so master of himself, 
 or surer of a clear vision. The thought of his instinct 
 ive return to the Storys , and the knowledge that he had 
 distinguished himself before Jean Story, gave him a cer 
 tain exhilaration. He began to feel the opportunity that 
 was in his hands. He remembered with pleasure Hun- 
 gerford s demand to follow where he had gone, and he 
 said to himself : 
 
 " I can make this crowd of mine see what the real 
 thing is and, by George, I m going to do it." 
 
 As he delayed in the campus, Le Baron and Reynolds 
 passed him, going toward Durfee. 
 
 " Hello, Dink." 
 
 " Hello there." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 271 
 
 He continued on to his entry, and, turning, saw the two 
 juniors stop and watch him. Without heed he went up 
 to his room, lit the dusty gas-jet, and went reverently 
 to his bureau. He was in his bedroom, standing there 
 in a sentimental mood, gazing at the one or two little 
 kodaks he had displayed of Jean Story, when a knock 
 sounded. He turned away abruptly, singing out: 
 
 " Let her come." 
 
 The door opened and some one entered, and, emerging 
 from his bedroom, he beheld to his surprise Le Baron 
 and Reynolds. 
 
 " Hello," he said, puzzled. 
 
 " Anything doing, Dink ? " said Le Baron pleasantly. 
 
 " Not a thing. Make yourself at home," he said 
 hastily. "Take a seat. Pipe tobacco in the jar 
 cigarettes on the table." 
 
 Each waved his hand in dissent. Reynolds seated 
 himself in a quick, business-like way on the edge of his 
 chair; Le Baron, more sociable, passed curiously about 
 the room, examining the trophies with interest. 
 
 " I wonder what s up now," thought Dink, without 
 uneasiness. He knew that it was the custom of men in 
 the class above about to go into the senior societies to 
 acquaint themselves with the tendencies of the next class. 
 " That s it," he said to himself ; " they want to know if 
 I m heeling Bones or Keys." 
 
 " You ve got a great bunch of junk," said Le Baron, 
 finishing his inspection. 
 
 " Yes, it s quite a mixture." 
 
 Le Baron, refusing a seat, stood before the fireplace, 
 a pocket knife juggling in his hands, seeking an opening. 
 
 " Here, I ll have a cigarette," he said finally, with a 
 frown. 
 
 Reynolds, more business-like, broke out: 
 
272 STOVER AT ,YALE 
 
 " Dink, AveVe dropped in to have a little straight talk 
 with you." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 He felt a premonition of what was coming, and the 
 short note of authority in Reynolds s voice seemed to 
 stiffen everything inside of him. 
 
 " We ve dropped a few hints to you," continued Rey 
 nolds, in his staccato manner, " and you haven t chosen 
 to understand them. Now we re going to put it right 
 to you." 
 
 " Hold up, Benny," said Le Baron, who had lit his 
 cigarette, " it s not necessary to talk that way. Let me 
 explain." 
 
 " No, put it to me straight," said Stover, looking past 
 Le Baron straight into Reynolds s eyes. An instinctive 
 antagonism was in him, the revolt of the man of action, 
 the leader in athletics, at being criticized by the man of 
 the pen. 
 
 " Stover, we don t like what you ve been doing 
 lately." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " You re shaking your own crowd, and you re identi 
 fying yourself with a crowd that doesn t count. What 
 the deuce has got into you ? " 
 
 " Just shut up for a moment, Benny," said Le Baron, 
 giving him a look, " you re not putting the thing in the 
 right way." 
 
 " I m not jumping on any one," said Reynolds. " I m 
 giving him good advice." 
 
 Stover looked at him without speaking, then he turned 
 to Le Baron. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Look here, Dink," said Le Baron conciliatingly. " A 
 lot of us fellows have spoken to you, but you didn t seem 
 
STOVER AT YALE 273 
 
 to understand. Now, what Pm saying is because I like 
 you, and because you are making a mistake. We re 
 interested personally, and for the society s sake, in see 
 ing you make out of yourself what you ought to be, one 
 of the big men of the class. Dink, what s happened? 
 Have you lost your nerve about anything anything 
 wrong ? " 
 
 " Wait a moment let me understand the thing," said 
 Stover, absolutely dumbfounded. Reynolds s purely un 
 intentional false start had left him cold with anger. 
 " Am I to understand that you have come here to inform 
 me that you do not approve of the friends I ve been mak 
 ing?" 
 
 " Hold up," said Le Baron. 
 
 " No, let s have it straight. That s what I want, too," 
 he said quickly, facing Reynolds. " You criticize the 
 crowd I m going with, and you want me to chuck them. 
 That s it in plain English, isn t it?" 
 
 A little flush showed on Reynolds s face. He, too, 
 felt the physical superiority in Stover, and the antago 
 nism thereof, and, being provoked, he answered more 
 shortly than he meant to: 
 
 " Let it go at that." 
 
 " Is that right ? " said Stover, turning to Le Baron. 
 
 " Now, look here, Dink, there s no use in getting hot 
 about this," said Le Baron uneasily. " No one s forcing 
 anything on you. We are here as your friends, telling 
 you what we believe is for your own good." 
 
 " So you think if I go on identifying myself with 
 the crowd I m with that I may queer myself ? " 
 
 " That s rather strong." 
 
 " Wliy not have it out? " 
 
 " This is true," said Le Baron, " that the men in your 
 own crowd don t understand your cutting loose from 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 them, and that no one can make out why you ve taken up 
 with the crowd you have." 
 
 The explanation which might have cleared matters 
 was forgotten by Stover in the wound to his vanity. 
 
 " You haven t answered my question." 
 
 " Well, Dink, to be honest," said Le Baron, " if you 
 keep on deliberately, there is more than a chance of " 
 
 " Of queering myself ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Being regarded as a sort of wild man, and missing 
 out on a senior election." 
 
 " That s what we want to prevent," said Le Baron, be 
 lieving he saw a reasonable excuse. " You ve got every 
 thing in your hands, Stover, don t waste your time " 
 
 " One moment." 
 
 Stover, putting out his hand, interrupted him. He 
 locked his hands behind his back, twisting them in 
 physical pain, staring out the window, unable to meet 
 the suddenness of the situation. 
 
 " You ve been quite frank," he said, when he was able 
 to speak. " You have not come to me to dictate who 
 should be my friends here, though that s perhaps a 
 quibble, but as members of my sophomore society you 
 have come to advise me against what might queer me. 
 I understand. Well, gentlemen, you absolutely amaze 
 me. I didn t believe it possible. I ll think it over." 
 
 He looked at them with a quick nod, intimating that 
 there was nothing more to be discussed. Reynolds, say 
 ing something under his breath, sprang up. Le Baron, 
 feeling that the interview had been a blunder from the 
 first, said suddenly: 
 
 " Benny, see here ; let me have a moment s talk with 
 Dink." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 275 
 
 " Quite useless, Hugh," said Stover, in the same con 
 trolled voice. " There s nothing more to be said. You 
 have your point of view, I have mine. I understand. 
 There s no pressure being put on me, only, if I am to go 
 on choosing my friends as I have I do it at my own 
 risk. I ve listened to you. I don t know what I shall 
 answer. That s all. Good night." 
 
 Reynolds went out directly, Le Baron slowly, with 
 much hesitation, seeking some opportunity to remain, 
 with a last uneasy glance. 
 
 When Stover was left to himself, his first sensation 
 was of absolute amazement. He, the big man of the 
 class, confident in the security of his position, had sud 
 denly tripped against an obstruction, and been made to 
 feel his limitations. 
 
 " By Heavens ! If any one would have told me, 
 I wouldn t have believed it the fools ! " 
 
 The full realization of the pressure that had been 
 exerted on him did not yet come to him. He was an 
 noyed, as some wild animal at the first touch of a rope 
 that seems only to check him. 
 
 He moved about the room, tossing back his hair impa 
 tiently. 
 
 " That s what Hungerford was trying to hint to me," 
 he said. " So my conduct has been under fire. What 
 I do is a subject of criticism because I ve gone out of the 
 beaten way, done something they don t understand the 
 precious idiots ! " Then he remembered Reynolds, and 
 his anger began to rise. " The little squirt, the impu 
 dent little scribbler, to come and tell me what I should 
 or shouldn t do! How the devil did I ever keep my 
 temper ? Who is he anyhow ? I ll give him an answer ! " 
 
 All at once he perceived the full extent of the situation, 
 
276 STOVER AZT YALE 
 
 and what a defiance would mean to those leaders in the 
 class above, men marked for Skull and Bones, the soci 
 ety to which he aspired. 
 
 " No pressure ! " he said aloud, with a grim laugh, 
 " Oh, no ! no pressure at all ! Advice only take it or 
 leave it, but the consequences are on your head. By 
 Heavens, I wouldn t have believed it." It hurt him, it 
 hurt him acutely, that he, who had won his way to lead 
 ership, should have sat and listened to those who were 
 the masters of his success. 
 
 " Hold up, hold up, Dink Stover," he said, all at once. 
 " This is serious a damn sight more serious than you 
 thought. It s up to you. What are you going to do 
 about it?" 
 
 All at once the temper that always lay close to his 
 skin, uncontrollable and violent, broke out. 
 
 " By Heavens and I stood for it I stood there 
 quietly and listened, and never said a word! But I 
 didn t realize it no, I didn t realize it. Yes, but he 
 won t understand it, that damned little whipper-snapper 
 of a Reynolds; he ll think I ve kow-towed. He will, 
 will he? We ll see! By Heavens, that s what their 
 society game means, does it! Thank Heaven, I didn t 
 argue with them. At least I didn t do that." 
 
 He strode over quickly, and seizing his cap clapped it 
 on his head, and stopped. 
 
 " Now or never," he said, between his teeth. 
 
 He went out slamming the door; and as he went, 
 furiously, all the anger and humiliation blazed up in a 
 fierce revolt he, Dink, Dink Stover, had stood tamely 
 and listened while others had come and told him what 
 to do, told him in so many words that he was " queering " 
 himself. He went out of the entry almost at a run, with 
 a sort of blind, unreasoning idea that he could overtake 
 
STOVERATYALE 277 
 
 them. By the fence he almost upset Dopey McNab, who 
 called to him fruitlessly: 
 
 " Here I say, Dink ! What the devil ! " 
 
 He reached the center of the campus before he 
 stopped. He had quite lost control of himself ; he knew 
 what he would say, and he didn t care. Suddenly he 
 recalled where Reynolds roomed, and went hot-foot for 
 Vanderbilt, with a fierce physical longing to be provoked 
 into a fight. 
 
 He arrived at the door breathlessly, a lump in his 
 throat, never considering the chances of finding them out. 
 
 Le Baron and Reynolds were before the fireplace in a 
 determined argument. He shut the door behind him, 
 and leaned against it, digging his nails into his hands 
 with the effort to master his voice. 
 
 The two juniors, struck by the violence of his en 
 trance, turned abruptly, and Le Baron, a little pale, 
 started forward, saying: 
 
 "I say, Dink" 
 
 " Look here," he cried, flinging out a hand for silence, 
 " I don t know why I didn t say it to you there when 
 you spoke to me. I don t know. I m a low-livered cow 
 ard and a skunk because I didn t ! But I know now what 
 I m going to say, and I ll say it. You came to me, you 
 dared to come to me and tell me what I was to do 
 to heel that s what you meant; to cut out fellows I 
 know and respect oh, you didn t have the courage to 
 say it out, but that s it. Well, now, I ve just got one 
 thing to say to you both. If this is what your society 
 business means, if this is your idea of democracy I m 
 through with you " 
 
 " Hold up," said Le Baron, springing forward. 
 
 " I won t hold up," said Stover, beside himself, " for 
 you or for any one else, or whatever you can do against 
 
278 STOVERATYALE 
 
 me! Here s my answer I m through! You and the 
 whole society can go plumb to Hell ! " 
 
 And suffocating, choking, blinded with his fury, he 
 thrust his hand into his breast, and tore from his shirt 
 the pin he had been given to wear, and flung it on the 
 floor, stamped upon it, and bolted from the room. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 an hour, bareheaded, he went plunging into the 
 darkness, a prey to a nervous crisis, that left him 
 shaking in every muscle. He knew the extent of his 
 passions, and the anger which had swept over him left 
 him weak and frightened. 
 
 " It s lucky that runt of a Reynolds held his tongue," 
 he said hotly. " By the Lord, I don t know what I would 
 have done to him. Here, I must get hold of myself. 
 This is terrible. Well, thank Heaven, it s over." 
 
 He controlled himself slowly, and came back, limp and 
 weak; yet beyond the physical reaction was a liberated 
 soaring of the spirit. 
 
 " I m glad I did it ! I never was gladder ! " he said 
 solemnly. " Good-by to the whole society game, Skull 
 and Bones, and all the rest. But I take my stand from 
 now on, and I stand on my own feet. I m glad of it." 
 Then he thought of Jean Story, and he was troubled. 
 " I wonder if she ll understand ? I can t help it. I 
 couldn t do anything else. Now, I suppose the whole 
 bunch will turn on me. So be it." 
 
 It was long after midnight when he came back gloom 
 ily to the light still staring from his window, and toiled up 
 the heavy steps. When he entered the room, Le Baron, 
 Bob Story, and Joe Hungerford were sitting silently, 
 waiting for him, and in Story s hand was the pin 
 bruised by his furious heel. 
 
 He saw at once the full strength of the appeal that was 
 to be made to him, and he closed the door wearily. 
 
 279 
 
280 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " I don t want to talk about it," he said slowly ~" The 
 whole thing is done and buried." 
 
 Bob Story, agitated and solemn, came to him. 
 
 " Dink, this is awful the whole thing is awful," he 
 said earnestly. "You ve got to talk it out with us." 
 
 " Do you understand, Bob," Stover said suddenly, 
 "just what happened in this room?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I do." 
 
 " I don t believe it." 
 
 " Dink, I want you to listen to me a moment," said 
 Le Baron. " It s been rotten business, the whole 
 wretched thing. I can understand how you felt. 
 Reynolds and you got on each other s nerves. You each 
 said what you didn t mean. It was damned unfortunate. 
 He put things to you like a fool, and I was telling him 
 so when you broke into the room. He was all up on 
 edge from something that had gone before." 
 
 " Oh, I lost my temper," said Stover. " I know it." 
 
 " I d have done the same," said Hungerford openly. 
 
 " Now, Dink, there isn t one of us here that doesn t 
 like you, and look up to you," said Story, with his irre 
 sistible charm. " We know you re every inch a man, 
 and what you do you believe in. But, Dink, we re all 
 friends together, and this is a terrible thing to us. We 
 want you toJaJce_J)ack^rQur_^in, and shut^up this whole 
 business*. WjlLyilU ? " 
 
 " I d do a great deal for you, Bob Story," said Stover, 
 looking him in the eyes, " more than for any one else, but 
 I can t do this." 
 
 He said it calmly, with a little sadness. The three 
 were impressed with the finality of the judgment. 
 Story, standing with the cast-off pin in his hand, turning 
 and twisting it, said slowly : 
 
 " Dink, do you really mean it ? " 
 
STOVER AT YALE 281 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " It s a serious thing you re doing, Stover," said Le 
 Baron, with the first touch of formality, " and I don t 
 think it should be done in anger." 
 
 " I m not." 
 
 " Remember that you are judging a whole society 
 your own friends by what one man happened to say to 
 you in a moment of irritation." 
 
 " I don t want to talk of what s done," said Stover 
 slowly, for his head was throbbing. " I know myself, 
 and I know nothing is going to make me go back on 
 what I ve said. I m only going to say a word, and then 
 I m going into my room and going to bed. Le Baron " 
 with a sudden rise of his voice he turned and faced the 
 junior " don t think I don t understand what it means 
 that I m giving up. I get what you mean when you 
 start in calling me Stover. I know as well as I m stand 
 ing here that you and Reynolds will keep me out of 
 Bones, whether I make captain or not. And that ll hurt 
 me a good bit I admit it. Now don t let s quibble. 
 It isn t the way Reynolds said what he did though that 
 did rile me it s what was told me, indirectly or directly 
 it s the same thing ; you men in sophomore societies 
 "would limit my freedom of choice. There you are. I m 
 against you now, because for the first time I see how 
 the thing works out, because you re wrong! You re a 
 bad influence for those who are in, and a rotten influ 
 ence for the whole college. Now I ve made up my mind 
 to just one thing. I m going to finish up here, at the head 
 of my own business my own master ; and I m not going 
 to be in a position to be told by any one in your class 
 or my class what I m to do." 
 
 " One moment." Le Baron rose as Stover moved 
 towards the bedroom. " There s another side to it." 
 
282 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 "What other side?" 
 
 " Whatever you decide, and I won t take your answer 
 until the morning," said Le Baron solemnly, " I want 
 you to give me your word that what s happened to-night 
 remains a secret." 
 
 " I won t give my word to that or anything else," said 
 Dink defiantly. " I shall do exactly what I think is right 
 to be done, and for that reason only. Now you ll have 
 to excuse me. Good night." 
 
 He went to his bedroom, shut the door, and without 
 undressing tumbled on the bed, and, still hearing in a 
 confused jumble the murmur of voices, dropped off to 
 sleep. 
 
 He was startled out of heavy dreams by a beating in 
 his ears, and sprang up to find Bob Story thundering on 
 his door. He looked at his watch. It was still an hour 
 before chapel. 
 
 When he entered his dim study, Story was waiting, 
 and Hungerford uncoiling from the couch where he had 
 passed the night. 
 
 " Have you fellows been here all night? " said Stover, 
 stopping short. 
 
 " Dink, we want a last chance to talk this over," said 
 Story solemnly. " We ve all had a chance to sleep it out. 
 Le Baron isn t here, just Joe and myself your friends." 
 
 " You make it hard for me, boys," said Dink, shaking 
 his head. 
 
 Hun^erfoj^i rose with the stiffness of the night, and 
 coming to Stover, took him by the shoulders. 
 
 " Damn you, Dink," he said, " get this straight, we re 
 not thinking about the society, we re thinking about you 
 about your future. And I want you to know this : 
 wW^v^rj^iLjrlfiddf, Tna-yoiir frienj and_j^ou.d_to^ be 
 it." 
 
STOVERATYALE 283 
 
 " What Joe says is what I feel," said Story, as Stover, 
 much affected, stood looking at the ground. " We re 
 sticking by you, Dink that s why I m going to try once 
 more. Can t you go on in the society, make no open 
 break, and still fight for what you believe in what Joe 
 and I believe in, too ? " 
 
 " But, Bob, I think they re wrong through and through 
 you don t understand I m for wiping them out 
 now." 
 
 " That whole question s coming up, and coming up 
 soon," continued Story earnestly, " and a lot of our own 
 crowd will line up for you. Work inside the crowd, if 
 you can see it that way, Dink. There are only five of 
 us know what s happened, and no one else need 
 know." 
 
 " Wait a moment, Bob, old fellow," said Dink, stop 
 ping him. " You two have got down under my skin, 
 and I won t forget it. Now I m going to ask you fel 
 lows a couple of questions. First: you think if I stick 
 to my determination that most of the crowd ll turn on 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That I have as much chance of being tapped for 
 Bones as Jackson, the sweep ? " 
 
 " Yes, Dink." 
 
 " Now, boys, honest, if I took back my pin for any such 
 reason as that, wouldn t I be a spineless, calculating little 
 quitter?" 
 
 Neither answered. 
 
 " What would you think of me, Joe Bob ? " 
 
 " Damn the luck," said Hungerford. He did not 
 attempt to answer the question. Neither did Bob 
 Story. They shook hands with Stover, and went out 
 defeated. 
 
284 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Just how big a change in his college career his renun 
 ciation would make, Stover had not understood until in 
 the weeks that succeeded he came to feel the full effects 
 of the resentment he had aroused in the society crowds, 
 now at bay before a determined opposition. 
 
 The second morning, as he went down High Street to 
 his eating- joint, Hunger ford was loafing ahead of him, 
 ostensibly conning a lesson. Stover joined him, unaware 
 of the friendly intent of the action. They went inside, 
 laughing together, to where a score of men were rubbing 
 their eyes over hasty breakfasts. Four-fifths of them 
 belonged to sophomore societies. 
 
 " Morning, everybody," said the new arrivals, in uni 
 son, and the answer came back: 
 
 " Hello, Joe." 
 
 " Hello, Dink." 
 
 " Shove in here." 
 
 At their arrival a little constrained silence was felt, 
 for the news had somehow passed into rumor. Oppo 
 site Stover, Jim Hunter was sitting. He nodded to 
 Hungerford, and then with deliberation continued a con 
 versation with Tommy Bain, who sat next to him. 
 
 Stover perceived the cut instantly, as others had per 
 ceived it. He sat a moment quietly, his glance concen 
 trated on Hunter. 
 
 " Oatmeal or hominy ? " said the waiter at his back. 
 
 " One moment." He raised his hand, and the gesture 
 concentrated the attention of the table on him. " Why, 
 how do you do, Jim Hunter ? " he said, with every word 
 cut sharp. 
 
 There w r as a breathless moment, and a nervous stir 
 ring under foot, as Hunter turned and looked at Stover. 
 Their glances matched one another a long moment, and 
 then Hunter, with an excess of politeness, said : 
 
STOVERATYALE 285 
 
 " Oh, hello Stover." 
 
 Instantly there was a relieved hum of voices, and a 
 clatter of cutlery. 
 
 " I ll take oatmeal now," said Stover calmly. Story, 
 glancing over, saw two spots of scarlet standing out on 
 his cheeks, and realized how near the moment had come 
 to a violent scene. 
 
 " Dink, old gazabo," said Hungerford, as they walked 
 over to chapel, " what are you going to do ? You can t 
 go about the whole time with a chip on your shoulder." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can," said Dink between his teeth. " I ll 
 stick right where I am. And I d like to see Jim Hunter 
 or any one else try that again on me ! " 
 
 Hungerford shook his head. 
 
 " You know, Dink, you must see both sides. Now 
 from Hunter s side, you ve smashed all traditions, and 
 given us a blow that may be a knockout, considering the 
 state of feeling in the college. Hunter s a society man, 
 believes in them heart and soul." 
 
 " Then let him come to me and say what he thinks." 
 
 " Are you quite sure, Dink," said Joe, with a glance, 
 " that there isn t some other reason for the way you two 
 feel about each other ? " 
 
 " You mean jealousy?" said Dink, flushing a little. 
 "Bob s sister? Yes, there s that. But from the first 
 we ve been on opposite sides." He hesitated a moment, 
 and then asked : " I say, Joe, what does Bob think 
 about what I ve done? Tell me straight." 
 
 " Of course he respects you," said Hungerford care 
 fully, " more now than I think he did last year, but 
 Bob s a society man all these Andover fellows are 
 brought up in the idea, you know and I think it s kind 
 of a jolt." 
 
 " I suppose it is," said Stover, with a little depression. 
 
286 STOVERATYALE 
 
 He would like to have asked Hungerford to state his 
 case to Jean Story, but he lacked the courage of his boy 
 ish impulse. The thought of Jean Story, as he sat in 
 chapel, came to him like a temptation. The Judge was 
 of the Skull and Bones alumni, Bob was sure to go ; all 
 the influences about her were of belief in the finality of 
 that judgment. 
 
 " Yes, and Hunter will go in with sailing colors ; 
 he ll never risk anything," he said bitterly, " and I ll stand 
 up and take my medicine, for doing what? For show 
 ing I had a backbone. But no one will ever know it out 
 side. They ll think it s something wrong in my char 
 acter they always do. Stover, Yale s star end, misses 
 out for Bones! That s the slogan. Cheating at cards 
 or bumming. I wonder what she ll think? Lord, that s 
 the hard part ! " 
 
 For a week, proud as Lucifer, on edge for an oppor- 
 tunity, he stuck it out at the eating-joint, knowing the 
 hopelessness of it all that what he wanted had gone, 
 and no amount of bravado could make him wink the 
 fact, that in the midst of his own crowd, where he had 
 stood as a leader, he was now regarded as an outsider. 
 
 In the second week he gav^ipthejjsejessjght, and 
 went to Commons, to the table where Segaji^inabel, and 
 BrockbursL^aie. They forebore to ask him the reasons 
 of the change, and he gave no explanation. That some 
 thing had happened which had caused him to break away 
 from his society was soon a matter of common rumor, 
 and several incorrect versions circulated, all vastly to his 
 credit. His influence in the body of the class was corre 
 spondingly increased, and Gimbel once or twice ap 
 proached him with offers to run him for manager of the 
 crew or the Junior Prom. 
 
 One day, about a month after his withdrawal, when, 
 
"REGAN WAS HIS ONE FRIEND" Page 288. 
 
STOVERATYALE 287 
 
 bundled up in his dressing-gown, he went shuffling into 
 the basement for a cold tub, he had quite a shock, that 
 brought home visually to him the realization of the price 
 he had paid. 
 
 It had been the practise from long custom to inscribe 
 on the walls tentative lists of the probable selections 
 from the class for the three senior societies. On this 
 particular list his name had stood at the head from the 
 beginning, and the constant familiar sight of it had 
 always brought him a warm, secure pleasure. 
 
 All at once, as he looked at it, he perceived a leaden 
 blur where his name had stood, and the names of Bain 
 and Hunter heading the list. 
 
 " I suppose they ve got me down among the last now," 
 he said, with a long breath. He searched the list, his 
 name was not even on it. This popular estimation of 
 what he himself believed had nevertheless power to 
 wound him deeply. 
 
 "Well, it s so I knew it," he said; but it was said 
 in bitterness, with a newer and keener realization. 
 
 He began indeed to feel like an outsider, and, rebelling 
 against the injustice of it all, to set his heart in bitterness. 
 Hungerford and Bob Story, Dopey McNab often, tried 
 to keep up with him, but, understanding their motives, 
 he was proudly sensitive, and sought rather to avoid them. 
 
 Meanwhile the opposition to the ,^phr>*nr>^ gnrmtipg 
 reached the point of open revolt, and a_jnass meeting was 
 held, which, as had been planned, caused a stir through 
 out the press of the country, and brought in from the 
 alumni a storm of protest. 
 
 Stover, himself, despite his inclination to come for 
 ward in direct opposition, after a long debate, remained 
 silent, feeling bound by the oath he had given at his initi 
 ation. 
 
288 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Shortly after the news spread like wildfire that the 
 President, taking cognizance of the intolerable state of 
 affairs, had summoned representatives of the three sopho 
 more societies before him, and given them a month to 
 deliberate and decide on some scheme of reform that 
 would be comprehensive and adequate. 
 
 Rightly or wrongly, Stover felt that these develop 
 ments intensified the feeling of the society element 
 against him. A few weeks outside the boundaries, de 
 spite all his bravado, had brought home to him how much 
 he cared for the companionship of those from whom he 
 had separated. 
 
 Regan^was his one friend ; Brockhurst stimulated him ; 
 and in the inters Ricketts, 
 
 and others he had found a xsjrtaJi^inspiration. But after 
 all, the men of his own kind Story, TTungerf ord, and 
 others, whom from pride he now avoided were largely 
 the men of the society crowd. They spoke a language he 
 understood, they came from a home that was like his 
 home, and their judgment of him would go with him out 
 into the new relations in life. 
 
 It was a time of depression and bitter revolt at what 
 he knew was the injustice of his ostracism, forgetting 
 how much was of his own proud choosing. 
 
 He wandered from crowd to crowd, rather taciturn and 
 restless, seeking diversion with a consuming nervousness. 
 The new restlessness of spirit drove him away from the 
 conferences in Regan s and Swazey s rooms to the com 
 pany of idlers. For a period, in his pride and bitterness, 
 he let go of himself, flung the reins to the wind, and 
 started down hill with a gallop. 
 
 In pursuance of his policy of open defiance, he chose 
 to appear at Mory s with the wildest element of the class. 
 His companions were a little in awe of his grim, concen- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 289 
 
 trated figure; when he sat into a game of poker or joined 
 a table of revelers, he did it with no zest. He never 
 joined in the chorus, and if he occasionally broke out into 
 a boisterous laugh, there was always a jarring note to it, 
 that caused his companions to glance at him uneasily. 
 With the impetuousness of his nature, he outstripped his 
 associates, plunging deeper and deeper, obstinately re 
 solved, into the black gulf of his cynicism. In a week 
 his excesses became college gossip, and, unknown to 
 Stover, the subject of many long conferences among his 
 friends. 
 
 One Friday night, as, straying aimlessly from room to 
 room, he set out for Mory s in quest of Tom Kelly and 
 a group of Sheff pagans, he was trudging along the hard 
 ways in front of Welch Hall, fists sunk in his pockets, 
 head down under a slouch hat, when he chanced on Tom 
 Regan coming out of the Brick Row. 
 
 " Hello there, bantam," said Regan, with the preroga 
 tive of his size. 
 
 " Hello, Tom," he said, but without enthusiasm, for 
 he had rather avoided him in company with the rest of 
 his old friends. 
 
 " That s a deuced cordial greeting ! Where are you 
 bound, stranger ? " 
 
 " Mory s." 
 
 " Mory s," said Regan, appearing to consider. " Good 
 idea. I ve got a hankering after a toby of musty ale and 
 a rabbit myself. Wait till I stow these books and I ll 
 join you." 
 
 Stover stood frowning, suspicious and rebelling, for at 
 that age it is a point of honor, when a man of the world 
 resolves to run his head against a stone wall, that any 
 interference from a friend is regarded as an unwarranted 
 insult. 
 
290 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " He thinks he ll try the big brother act on me," he 
 said, scowling. He was not in a particularly good 
 humor, nor was his head clear from several nights that 
 had gone their reeling way. 
 
 When they entered Mory s, Tom Kelly, Dopey McNab, 
 and Buck Waters were already grouped in the inner 
 room. 
 
 " Well, old flinthead, how do you feel after last 
 night ? " said Kelly, making room for them. 
 
 " Fine," said Dink mendaciously, secretly pleased at 
 the tribute to his sporting talents before Regan. 
 
 " More n I can say," said Dopey, affectionately feeling 
 of his head. " Curse the man who invented fish-house 
 punch." 
 
 " Get home all right? " continued Kelly. 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " I had a little tiff with a cop. If he d been smaller, 
 I d have taken his shield away. He was most impudent. 
 Never mind, I beat him in a foot race." 
 
 " Cocktails," said Stover, resolved that Regan should 
 be well punished. " Make it two for me, Louis, I ll have 
 to catch up." 
 
 " I ll stick to a toby and a rabbit," said Regan, without 
 a change of expression. 
 
 " Cocktail, Dopey ? " continued Stover, with a million 
 aire gesture. 
 
 " I never refuse," said Dopey, who planned to go 
 through life on that virtuous method. 
 
 With such a beginning, matters progressed with re 
 markable facility. Stover, taciturn and in an ugly mood, 
 constantly hurried the rounds, matching drink for drink, 
 secretly resolved to prove his supremacy here as else 
 where. Regan, after two tobies, withdrew from the 
 
STOVERATYALE 291 
 
 contest, sitting silently puffing on his huge pipe, but with 
 out attempt at interference. Bob Story and Hungerford 
 came in, and went away with a glance at Stover s clouded 
 face and Regan s stolid, unfathomable expression. 
 When midnight arrived, and Louis came in with apolo 
 gies to announce the closing, there was quite a reckoning 
 to be paid. 
 
 Stover was the best of the lot, doggedly resolved to 
 show no effects of what he had taken. He felt a hazi 
 ness in his vision, and words that were spoken seemed 
 to be whirled away without record, but his legs stood 
 firm, and his head was still under control. Buck Waters 
 and a Sheff man took Tom Kelly home by a circuitous 
 route to avoid either a wrestling match or a foot race 
 with too zealous members of the New Haven police 
 force ; and Stover had the fierce pride of showing Regan 
 that he could take charge of the hilarious but wabbly 
 Dopey McNab, who, moved by the finest feelings of the 
 brotherhood of man, was determined to scatter his super 
 fluous change among his brother beings. 
 
 With great dignity and impressiveness, Stover, sup 
 porting one side, continued to give foggy directions to 
 Regan on the other, until, come to McNab s quarters, 
 they delivered that joyously exuberant person into his 
 bed, propped up his head, opened the window, locked the 
 door and left the key outside, to insure the termination 
 of the night s adventure. 
 
 Stover went down the steep, endless stairs with great 
 deliberation and minute pains. 
 
 "Dopey s got weak head no good stand noth 
 ing," he said seriously to Regan. 
 
 " Well, we ve fixed him up for the night," said Regan 
 cheerily. " You ve got a wonderful top, old sport." 
 
292 STOVERAT YALE 
 
 " I m pretty good Dopey s got the weak head," said 
 Stover, taking his arm. " I m good, I can put em under 
 the table all under the table." 
 
 " Good for you." 
 
 " Tom, you aren t aren t in critical at-attochood, are 
 you ? " said Dink, with all feeling of resentment gone. 
 
 " Lord, no, boy." 
 
 " Cause it does me good this does me good. I feel 
 bad pretty bad, Tom, about some things. You don t 
 know can t tell but I feel bad this does me good 
 
 forget you understand." 
 " I understand." 
 
 " You re a good friend, Tom. They don t understand 
 
 no one else understands. I d like to shake hands. 
 Thank you. Good night." 
 
 They had come opposite the Brick Row, and Regan, 
 knowing the other s true condition, would have preferred 
 to see him along to his room. But he knew of old the 
 danger of making mistakes, so he said: 
 
 " Feel all right, old bantam? " 
 
 " Fine." Stover took a step or two, and then re 
 turned. "I put em to bed, didn t I?" 
 
 " You certainly did." 
 
 " Never fects me." 
 
 " You re a wonder." 
 
 " I thank you for your company." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 Stover, intent only on making his entry, a hundred 
 yards away, felt a roaring in his ears, and sudden jumble 
 and confusion before him. 
 
 " Must get there self-control that s it, self-con 
 trol," he said to himself, and by a supreme effort he 
 reached his entry, pushed open the door, and, stumbling 
 in out of Regan s vision, sat heavily down on the steps. 
 
CURSE THE FELLOW WHO INVENTED FISH- HOUSE PUNCH* " 
 
 Page 290. 
 
STOVERATYALE 293 
 
 Some indistinct time after he beheld before him a little 
 spectacled figure in pink pajamas. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said. 
 
 " Wookey, sir." 
 
 " What s your class ? " 
 
 " Freshman, sir." 
 
 " Very well. All right. You can help me help me 
 up. You know me ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The pink pajamas approached, and with an effort he 
 rose, and, grasping the proffered shoulder, tumbled up 
 the steps. When he reached his room his mind seemed 
 to clear a moment, like the sudden drifting to and fro 
 of a fog. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said, frowning. 
 
 " Wookey, sir." 
 
 " Where do you room ? " 
 
 " On the first landing, sir." 
 
 " Why do you wear pink ones ? " 
 
 The little freshman, hero-worshipper, face to face with 
 his first great emotion, the conduct of an intoxicated 
 man, blurted out : 
 
 " Don t you like em, sir? " 
 
 " Keep em on," said Stover magnanimously. " So 
 you re a freshman." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Suddenlyjie felt impressed with his duty, his obvious 
 duty JO nnfijiplnw him, x""\ 
 
 " Freshman," he said thickly, " I want you listen to 
 me. Never drink to excess understand. You begin 
 ning college school of character hold on yourself 
 lead a good life self-control s the great thing take 
 it from me understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Wookey, awed and a little frightened 
 
294 STOVERATYALE 
 
 at the service he was rendering to the great Dink Stover. 
 
 " That s all," said Stover benignly. " Is is my bed 
 room still there ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You may lead me to it." 
 
 When he had been brought to his bed he recalled the 
 pink pajamas, and said : 
 
 " I thank you for your courtesy and your kindness." 
 Then he said to himself : " It does me good forget 
 happy now." 
 
 A moment later the fog closed over his consciousness 
 again and he was asleep. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 NIGHT after night, Wookey, the little freshman 
 from a mountain village of Maine, the shadow of 
 a grind, whom no one knew in his class, and who would 
 never know any one, waited over his books the hour of 
 twelve and the arrival of the great man gone wrong, 
 whose secret only he possessed. Sometimes at the clat 
 ter on the stairs, when he went out eagerly, the hero 
 would be in control, and would say: 
 
 " Hello, Wookey, how are you to-night ? " 
 
 " All right, sir," he would answer, shifting from foot 
 to foot, afraid to volunteer assistance. 
 
 " All right myself," Stover would answer. " See you 
 to-morrow. Good night." 
 
 Gradually, however, to his delight, Stover grew to like 
 the strange meetings, and permitted him to accompany 
 him to his room to open the window, draw off the boots 
 and disappear with the promise to thunder on his door in 
 time for chapel. In the daytime they never met. 
 
 Stover never failed to thank him with the utmost cere 
 mony. Often the dialogue that ensued was farcically 
 humorous, only little Wookey, solemn as an owl, never 
 laughed. 
 
 One night Stover, draped in difficult equilibrium on 
 the mantelpiece, suddenly, in his new parental solicitude 
 for the freshman, bethought himself of the curriculum. 
 
 " Wookey." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 295 
 
296 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " One thing must speak about meant speak about 
 long time ago." 
 
 " What, sir ? " said Wookey, looking up apprehensively 
 over his spectacles. 
 
 " Study," said Stover, with terrific solemnity. " Want 
 you be good scholar." 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir." 
 
 " Want you be validict you understand what mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Wookey, college life serious, finest thing in it s study, 
 don t neglect study, you understand." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I do study pretty hard." 
 
 " Not enough," said Stover furiously. " Study all 
 time ! What cher do to-day ? Recite in in Greek, 
 Latin, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir all right." 
 
 " Good, very good proud of you, Wookey," said 
 Stover, satisfied. " Must be good influence under 
 stand that, Wookey. Going to ask every night." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " All right. Go an study now. Study lot more." 
 
 This feeling of the influence he was exerting for 
 Wookey s academic betterment was so strong in Dink 
 when the hour of midnight had passed that shortly 
 after he brought McNab home with him to witness his 
 works. 
 
 When Wookey appeared, something displeased Stover. 
 His protege was not as he should be presented. Sud 
 denly he remembered Wookey was not in the pink 
 pajamas! 
 
 " Wookey," he said sternly. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " The pink ones," he said solemnly. 
 
 " Very well, sir." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 297 
 
 " Hurry." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Study s better in pink," said Stover wisely to McNab, 
 who was trying to exceed him in dignity. " Most be- 
 comin ." 
 
 "Aha!" 
 
 " Make him study, Dopey," continued Stover. " I 
 make him study." 
 
 " Want hear m reshite," said McNab, unconvinced. 
 
 When Wookey, in changed costume, came puffing 
 upstairs, books under his arm, McNab, who had been 
 exhorted by Stover, viewed the pink pajamas with 
 deliberation, and said: 
 
 " Like you in pink, Wookey ; always wear em. Want 
 to hear you reshite." 
 
 " Reshite," said Stover. 
 
 "Hold up," said Dopey, scratching his head. 
 
 "What s matter?" 
 
 " Where going to sleep ? " 
 
 " Wookey, suggestions ? " said Stover, who added in a 
 thundering whisper to McNab, " Always leave such 
 things to Wookey." 
 
 The freshman busily took down the cushions from the 
 window seat, piled up the pillows at one end before the 
 fire, and brought up a rug. 
 
 " Thank Mr. Wookey," said Stover severely. 
 
 " Mr. Wookey, I thank you," said McNab, who sat 
 down tailor fashion, and, staring at a book of geometry 
 open on his lap, said : " I m most interested most, 
 very fond of Horace reshite." 
 
 Wookey in the pink pajamas, seated in a sort of spinal 
 bend, overwhelmed by the terrifying delight of being 
 admitted to the company of Olympians, began directly 
 to translate an ode of Horace. 
 
298 STOVERATYALE 
 
 McNab, staring at the geometry, turned a casual page, 
 remarking from time to time severely : 
 
 " What s that ! oh, yes, h m quite right free, 
 rather free, Dink not bad, not bad for freshman." 
 
 " Is it all right ? " said Stover anxiously. 
 
 "All right." 
 
 " All my influence," said Stover. 
 
 " Wookey," said McNab, as a judge would say it, 
 " very fortunate, sir, have such good infloonce. Con- 
 grath-ulate you." 
 
 Wookey, whether deceived by their drunken assump 
 tion of sobriety, or to conciliate dangerous men, remained 
 in his corner, his book closed, blinking out from his wide 
 glasses. 
 
 McNab, remembering the beginning of a discussion 
 in which he had engaged with serious purpose, suddenly 
 began, shaking his head : 
 
 " Dink, you ought be better infloonce than y are." 
 
 Stover chose to be offended. 
 
 "Why you say that?" 
 
 " Cause m right ; y oughtn t drink, not a drop ! " 
 
 " What right you got to say that? " 
 
 " Every right every," said McNab, trying to remem 
 ber what was the original destination of his argument. 
 " I m bad example n you re good infloonce, there s diff, 
 see?" 
 
 "Ratsh!" 
 
 " I remember," said McNab all at once. " I know 
 what I want say. I m going to leave it to Wookey. 
 Wookey 11 be the judge referee y willin ? " 
 
 " Willin ." 
 
 " M going to give moral lecture," said McNab rapidly, 
 then paused and considered a long while. " I m fond of 
 Stover, Wookey, very fond very worried, too, want 
 
STOVER AT YALE 299 
 
 him to stop drinking bad for him bad for any one, 
 but bad for him ! " 
 
 Stover, who could still perceive the argument, laughed 
 a disagreeable laugh. 
 
 " He s laughin at me, Wookey," said McNab in a 
 grieved voice. " He means by that insultin laugh that 
 I sometimes drink excess. I admit it ; I m not proud of 
 it, but I admit it. But there s a difference, and here s 
 where you ref ree, judge. When I take n occasional 
 glass, I drink to be happy, make others happy y under- 
 stand, excesh of love for humanity, enjoy youth an all 
 that sort of thing, you know. That s the point you re 
 ref ree. When Stover drinks he goes at in bad way, no 
 love humanity, joy of youth. That s the point, y under- 
 stand. I want him to stop it, cause he s my friend, he s 
 good infloonce I m bad example." 
 
 " You re my friend ? " said Stover, overcome. 
 
 " You re besh friend." 
 
 " Shake hands." 
 
 " Shure." 
 
 " Dopey, I tell you truth confide in you," said Stover, 
 slipping down beside him. " Swear." 
 
 " Swear." 
 
 " Never tell." 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " I m unhappy." 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Drink to forget, y understand." 
 
 " Must stop it," said McNab, firmly closing one eye, 
 and gazing fearfully at the yellow owls in front. 
 
 " Going to shtop it," said Stover, " soon stop soon 
 promise." 
 
 "Promish?" 
 
 " Promise ! Y understand, want to forget." 
 
300 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Must stop it," repeated McNab, turning from the 
 yellow-eyed owls to Stover. 
 
 " Promish," repeated Stover solemnly. A moment 
 later he said sleepily : " I shay." 
 
 " Shay it." 
 
 " What what I going to stop ? " 
 
 " What you, what McNab frowned terrifically at 
 the owls. " Stop must stop promish what 
 what stop?" 
 
 The question being transferred to Stover, he in turn 
 scratched his head and sought to concentrate his memory. 
 
 " I promished," he said slowly, " remember that stop 
 promish stop. Wookey ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The pink pajamas approached with reluctance, and 
 waited at a safe distance. 
 
 " Wookey! What what s this all about? What s 
 it?" 
 
 Wookey, facing the crisis of his life, hesitated between 
 two impulses; but at this moment the two took solemn 
 hold of each other s hands, vacillated and rolled over on 
 the cushions. Wookey, in the pink pajamas, covered 
 them over with the rug, and stole out, like a thief, carry 
 ing away a secret. 
 
 But despite McNab s more sober remonstrances and 
 his own proclamation, Stover did not cease his headlong 
 gallop down the hill of Rake s Progress. He still avoided 
 his old friends he had not been to the Storys home for 
 weeks. Regan occasionally forced himself upon him, but 
 never offered a suggestion. The truth was, Stover began 
 to have a horror of his own society, of being left alone. 
 What he did, he did without restraint. At the card 
 tables to which he wandered he was always clamoring for 
 
STOVERATYALE 301 
 
 the raising of the limit ; always ready to eat up the night. 
 Even the most inveterate of the gamblers in his class per 
 ceived what McNab perceived, that there was no pleasure 
 in what he did, but a sort of self-immolation. They 
 were a little in awe of him, uneasy when he was around. 
 He wandered over into Sheff, and among a group of 
 hard livers in the Law School, getting deeper and deeper 
 into the -maelstrom. Several times, returning unsteadily 
 late at night, he had met Le Baron, who stood aside, and 
 watched him go with difficulty towards the haven of his 
 own entry, for Stover always made it a point of pride to 
 reach home and Wookey unaided. He never was offen 
 sive or quarrelsome. On the contrary, his struggle was 
 always for self-control and an excess of politeness. 
 
 The climax arrived one Friday night when, having 
 outlasted the party, he had put Tom Kelly to bed, and 
 was returning from Sheff alone. He was very well 
 pleased with himself. He had delivered Tom Kelly to 
 his friends and gone away without assistance. 
 
 " Weak head, all weak head," he said to himself val 
 iantly, " all but Stover, Dink Stover, old Rinky Dink. 
 Self-control, great self-control. That s it, that s the 
 point. Never taken home walk myself self-con 
 trol." He began to laugh at the memory of Tom Kelly, 
 who had insisted on going to bed with one boot under 
 the pillow and his watch on the floor. The excruciating 
 humor of it almost made him collapse. He clung to the 
 nearest tree and wept for joy. 
 
 " Never hear end of it Tom Kelly boots won 
 derful poor old Tom n I walkin home alone." 
 
 Some one on the opposite sidewalk, seeing him clinging 
 hilariously, stopped. Stover straightened up instantly, 
 adjusted his hat and started off. 
 
 " Mustn t create false impression all right ! Street 
 
302 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 corner careful of street corner." He crossed with a 
 run and a leap, and continued more sedately. " Know 
 just what m doin . 
 
 " Oh, -father s mother 
 Pays all the bills, 
 N I have all the fun." 
 
 Suddenly he remembered he was passing Divinity Hall, 
 and broke off abruptly, raising his hat in apology. 
 
 " Scuse me, no offense." 
 
 Then he considered anxiously: 
 
 " Mishtake nothin hilar-ious might be Sunday." 
 He tried to remember the day and could not. He stopped 
 a laborer returning home with his bundle, and said cere 
 moniously : 
 
 " Beg your pardon, don t mean insult you, can you 
 tell me what day the week it is ? " 
 
 " Sure, me b y," said the Irishman. " It s to-morrow." 
 
 " Thanks sorry trouble you," said Stover, bowing. 
 Then, pondering over the information, he started hur 
 riedly on his way. " Knew it was late must hurry." 
 
 When he came to the corner of the campus he raised 
 his hat again to the chapel. 
 
 " Battell believe in compulsory chapel Yale de 
 mocracy." He passed along College Street, saluting the 
 various buildings by name. " Great inshtoostion 
 campus Brocky s right bring life back into campus, 
 bring it all back. Things wrong now everything s 
 wrong must say so must stop an fight, good fight. 
 Regan s right n Swazey s right all right. Hello, Don 
 nelly. Salute!" 
 
 The campus policeman, lolling in the shadow of 
 Osborne Hall, said: 
 
STOVER AT YALE 303 
 
 " So there you are again, Dink. A fine life you re 
 leadin ." 
 
 Stover felt this was an unwarranted criticism. 
 
 " Never saw any one take me home," he said. " Al 
 ways manage get home. That s the point, that s it 
 see?" 
 
 " Go on with you," said Donnelly. " You ought to be 
 ashamed of yourself you who ought to be captain of 
 <he team." 
 
 Stover approached him. 
 
 "Bill captain?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I m goin to stop. Solemn promish." 
 
 He went into the campus and steadied himself against 
 an elm, gazing down the long dim way to where in the 
 shadow of the chapel was his entry. 
 
 " I see it see it plainly perfect self-control. 
 What s that ? " The trees seemed swollen to monstrous 
 shapes, and the fagades of the dormitories to be set on 
 a slant, like the leaning tower of Pisa. He laughed cun 
 ningly : " Don t fool me might fool Dopey Tom 
 Kelly weak head don t fool me illushion, pure 
 illushion know all bout it. Worse comes worse, get 
 down hands knees." 
 
 " Well, Dink, pickled again," said the voice of Le Baron 
 from an outer world. 
 
 He straightened up, his mind coming back to his con 
 trol, as it always did in the presence of others. 
 
 " All right," he said, leaning up against the cold, hard 
 side of Phelp s, " bit of a party, that s all." 
 
 " Look here, Dink," said Le Baron, who was ignorant 
 of the extent of the other s condition, " let s have a few 
 plain words man to man." 
 
304 STOVER AT. YALE 
 
 Stover heard him as from a distance, and nodded his 
 head gravely. 
 
 " Good." 
 
 " We ve had our break, but I ve always respected you. 
 You thought I was a snob then, and a damned aristocrat. 
 Well, was I so far wrong? I believe in the best getting 
 together and keeping together. You ve chucked that and 
 tried the other, haven t you? Now look where it s 
 brought you." 
 
 Stover, his back to the wall, heard him with the clarity 
 that sometimes comes. His head seemed to be among 
 whirling mists, but every word came to him as though 
 it alone were the only sound in a sleeping world. He 
 wanted to answer, he rebelled at the logic, he knew it 
 could be answered, but the words would not come. 
 
 " You re going to the devil, that s it in good English 
 words," said Le Baron, not without kindness. " You 
 ought to be the biggest thing in your class, and you re 
 headed for the biggest failure. And it s all because 
 you ve cut loose from your crowd, Dink from your 
 own kind, because you ve taken up with a bunch who 
 don t count, who aren t working for anything here." 
 
 Suddenly Stover revolted, saying angrily: 
 
 "Hugh!" 
 
 " I don t want to hit you when you re down," said Le 
 Baron quickly. " But, Dink, man alive, you re too good 
 to go to the devil. Brace up be a man. Get back to 
 your own kind again." 
 
 " Hugh, that s enough ! " 
 
 He said it sharply, and there was a finality about it. 
 
 " I say, Dink." 
 
 "Goodnight!" 
 
 He stood without moving until he had compelled Le 
 Baron to leave, then he set out for his room. A great 
 
STOVERATYALE 305 
 
 anger swept over him at himself, at the Dink Stover 
 who had betrayed the cause, and given Le Baron the 
 right to say what he did. 
 
 " It isn t that," he said furiously, " it s not for break 
 ing way democracy standing on m own feet, no! 
 It s a lie, all a lie. It s m own fault damn you, Dink 
 Stover, you re quitter ! " 
 
 He marched into his entry, his head on fire, but clear 
 with one last resolve, and thundered on Wookey s door. 
 
 "Come out!" 
 
 The pink pajamas flashed out as by magic. The little 
 freshman, perceiving Stover s fierce expression, drew 
 back in alarm. 
 
 " Go n to help you up to-night able to do it," said 
 Dink, the idea of assistance to another mingling in some 
 curious way with his great resolve. 
 
 He took Wookey firmly by the arm and assisted him 
 up the stairs. Once in his room he motioned him to a 
 chair. 
 
 " Sit down somethin to say to you ! " 
 
 Wookey, frightened, calculating the chances to the 
 door, huddled in the big arm-chair, his toes drawn up 
 under him, his large eyes over the spectacles never daring 
 to deviate from the imperious glance of Stover. 
 
 "Studied to-day?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Good. Wookey^ listen to me. I m a quitter, you 
 understand. I ve fought fight good fight big fight 
 real democracy n then I lost nerve. I m wrong ; 
 I m all wrong.. jJknaw__iL._ Fault s with me, not what 
 fought for. Wooke_y, listen to me. Le Baron s wrong, all 
 wrong, you understand; doesn t know realize see." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Wookey, in terror and complete in 
 comprehension. 
 
306 STOVER AT 
 
 " I m fool big fool, but that s over, y understand. 
 Never give Le Baron chance say again what he did to 
 night. 5 M going fight again good fight. An no one s 
 ever going say saw me like this again, y understand." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the freshman weakly, terrified at the 
 passion that showed in Stover, rocking before the mantel 
 piece. 
 
 " Last time they ever get me this way ! " 
 
 The green shaded lamp was burning on the table be 
 fore him. 
 
 " The last time by God," he said, and lifting his fist 
 he drove it through the shattering glass, reeled, and 
 stretched insensible on the floor. 
 
 On the following night, a Saturday, Kelly, Buck 
 Waters, and McNab at Mory s set up a shout of wel 
 come as Stover came in quietly : 
 
 "Good old Dink!" 
 
 " Hard old head." 
 
 " What is it, old boy? get in the game." 
 
 " A toby of musty, Louis," he said, quietly sitting 
 down. 
 
 McNab glanced at him, aware of something new in 
 the sharp, businesslike movements, and the old deter 
 mined lines of the lips. 
 
 " My round," said Buck Waters presently. 
 
 " Another toby for me," said Stover. 
 
 A little later Kelly rang on the table : 
 
 " Bring em in all over again." 
 
 " Not for me," said Stover. " I guess two ll be my 
 limit from now on." 
 
 There was no protest. McNab surreptitiously, while 
 the others were in an argument, leaned over and patted 
 him on the knee. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 WHAT Stover in his fuddled consciousness had said 
 to little Wookey on that last wild night returned 
 to him with doubled force in the white of the day. He 
 had given his opponents t*he right to destroy all he had 
 stood for by pointing to his own example. He had been 
 a deserter from the cause, but the sound of the enemy s 
 bugle had recalled him to the battle. 
 
 He took the first occasion to stop Le Baron, for he 
 wanted the latter to make no mistake about him. 
 
 " Hugh, I was rude as the devil to you the other 
 night," he said directly. " I was drunk more than you 
 had any idea. What I want you to know is this. You 
 put the question right up to me. You ve forced me to 
 take my stand, and I ve done it. You re all wrong on 
 the argument, but I don t blame you. Only after this 
 you ll never have the chance to fling that at me again. 
 You and I ll never agree on things here, we re bound to 
 be enemies, but I want to thank you for opening my eyes, 
 putting it squarely up to me." 
 
 He left without waiting for an answer, having said 
 what he wished to. For several days he kept by himself, 
 taking long walks, disciplining the ship that had sailed 
 so long in mutiny. Then he turned up in Regan s room, 
 and holding out his hand, said : 
 
 " Well, Tom, it s over. How in blazes did you keep 
 from telling me what you thought about me all this 
 time?" 
 
 30T 
 
308 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Regan, unruffled and undemonstrative, said through 
 the cloud of his pipe: 
 
 " Well, I ve seen men go through it before. You 
 never were very bad." 
 
 " What ? " said Stover, who felt rather annoyed at this 
 tame estimate. 
 
 " It s not a bad thing when you ve licked the devil 
 four ways to election," said Regan. " You know what 
 you can do, and that s something." 
 
 "Ever been through it?" said Stover, still a little 
 piqued. 
 
 " Ye-es." 
 
 " Really, Tom ? " said Dink amazed. 
 
 " Ran about six months," said Regan, crossing his legs 
 and dreaming. " I wasn t nice and polite like you 
 used to clean up the place rather ugly time, but I 
 pulled out." 
 
 " You ve never told me about yourself," said Stover 
 tentatively. 
 
 Regan rose, reaching for the tobacco. " No, I never 
 have," he said. " My story is one of those stories that 
 isn t told. Come on over to Brocky s; he s got a debat 
 ing scheme you ll be interested in." 
 
 " You damned unemotional cuss," said Stover, looking 
 at him a little defiantly. 
 
 " Are you coming with me this summer to see a little 
 real life get a little real education ? " said Regan 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 " If you ll take me." 
 
 " Good boy." 
 
 He rested his hand on Stover s shoulder a moment, 
 and gave him a little tap, and the touch brought a gen 
 uine thrill of happiness to Dink. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 309 
 
 " Lord, what a leader he d make," he thought. " Why 
 is it, and what s the story the old rhinoceros can t tell, 
 I wonder ? " 
 
 The old crowd was at B rocky s, the crowd which had 
 first stirred his imagination. His return produced quite 
 a sensation. Nothing was said, but the grip in the hand 
 shakes was different, and the diffident, hesitant little ex 
 pressions of relieved good-will that came to him touched 
 him more than he would have believed. 
 
 Brockhurst began to expound his scheme, speaking 
 nervously, in compressed sentences, as he always did in 
 the beginning of an argument. 
 
 " Here s what I m trying to say. We ve all been sit 
 ting round and criticizing I mean I have things up 
 here. Now why not really suggest something worth 
 while ? " He frowned, and becoming angry at his own 
 difficulty in expressing himself, gradually became more 
 fluent. "We all feel the need of getting together and 
 having real discussions, and we all agree that debating 
 here has died out, become merely perfunctory. The de 
 bates take place in a class-room, and everything is cold, 
 stiff, mechanical. Now that all is unnecessary. What 
 we want is something spontaneous, informal and with 
 the incentive of a contest. This is my scheme. To take 
 a certain number say twenty of the men in the 
 class who really have ideas, and believe in expressing 
 them ; form a club to meet one night a week in some room 
 over, a restaurant where we can sit about tables, smoke, 
 have beer and lemonade, a bit to eat if you want, .every 
 thing natural, informal. Divide the club up equally into 
 two camps, each camp to have a leader for each debate, 
 who opens the discussion and sums it up the only 
 formal, perfunctory speeches. Every one else speaks as 
 
810 STOVE R AT YALE 
 
 he feels like it, right from his table. Have in an out 
 side judge, and keep a record. At the end of the year 
 the side that loses sets the other up to a banquet." 
 
 Stover was interested at once. He saw an instrument 
 at hand for which he had been looking something to 
 bring the class together. 
 
 " Look here, it s bigger than that, Brocky," he said 
 earnestly. " I m not criticizing I like the idea, the 
 whole thing, you know. But here s what we can do. 
 Make the club, say, forty, and get into it all the repre 
 sentative elements of the class make it a real meeting 
 place. Get the fellows who are going to be managers 
 and captains. They ve all got to speak the fellows on 
 papers, the real debaters and you ll have something 
 that ll bring the class together." 
 
 " What would you debate ? " said Swazey, while the 
 others considered Stover s suggestion. 
 
 " College subjects every one has an opinion about at 
 first," said Regan. " And then get into red-hot politics." 
 
 " Of course Stover s idea is a social one democratic 
 if you will," said Brockhurst perplexed. " My idea was 
 for a more intimate crowd, all alike, trying to discuss 
 real things." 
 
 " Brocky, I don t believe you can do it," said Stover. 
 " My experience is that the big discussions, the ones 
 worth while, always are informal, just as they ve been 
 in this crowd, and the crowd mustn t be too large." 
 Several nodded assent. " The other thing is something 
 we need in the class. We ve been torn to pieces, all at 
 loggerheads, and I believe, outside of the debating, this 
 is the first step to getting together. Moreover, I think 
 you ll find all crowds will jump at the chance. Let me 
 talk it around." 
 
STOVE R AT YALE 311 
 
 " I think Dink s got the practical idea, Brocky," said 
 Regan. " And, moreover, he s the man to work it." 
 
 As they went out together they were met with the sen 
 sation of the campus the jsophomore societies had been 
 abplished ! 
 
 Stover stopped McNab, who was hurrying past. 
 
 "I say, Dopey, is it true?" 
 
 " Sure thing." 
 
 "How d it happen?" 
 
 " Don t know." 
 
 Gimbel came up with the full news, 
 
 " The President gave them a certain time, you remem 
 ber, to submit a plan of reform. They reported they 
 couldn t agree, so he called the committee together and 
 said: 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, I gave you the opportunity to con 
 form to public sentiment, you haven t been able to do 
 it, you are now abolished. 
 
 " Who d have thought it ! " 
 
 " You don t say so ! " 
 
 "Abolished!" 
 
 " I know you re glad, Dink, old man," said Gimbel, 
 shaking his hand with a confidential look. " We all 
 know how you stood." 
 
 " It s for the best," said Stover slowly ; then he added : 
 " But Gimbel, the fight s over ; the big thing now is for 
 the class to get together be careful how you fellows 
 take it." 
 
 Strangely enough, in the hour of defeat the instinct 
 of caste came back to him he was again the sophomore 
 society man. He walked over to his rooms with a curi 
 ous feeling of resentment at the rejoicing on the campus, 
 where the news was being shouted from window to win- 
 
STOVE RAT YALE 
 
 dow. Bob Story, leaving the fence, came over and took 
 him by the arm. 
 
 " Dink, old fellow, I ve been waiting to see you." 
 
 " I ve just heard the news," said Stover, when they 
 reached his room. 
 
 " That s not what I came about," said Story, " though 
 it fits in all the better. Dink, you won t mind our clear 
 ing up a little past history ? " 
 
 " I wish you would, Bob," said Stover earnestly. " I 
 know you never saw things my way." 
 
 " No, I didn t. I don t say you were wrong. It was 
 a question of different temperaments. You did a braver 
 thing than I would have done " 
 
 "Oh, I say" 
 
 " Yes, I mean it. Of course I think it was all a 
 rotten mistake, and that if you d talked the matter out 
 as you ve done with me, Le Baron and Reynolds would 
 have seen your side." 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 " I felt that Reynolds had acted like an ass, and you 
 very naturally had lost your temper the result being 
 to put the society in the position as a society of dictat 
 ing a man s friendships. I don t believe that was justi 
 fied." 
 
 " Indirectly, Bob, it worked out that way." 
 
 " There I believe you re right, Dink," said Story 
 openly. " I ve come to see it, and I admit it now. I m 
 glad the system has gone. I m for the best here. Now, 
 Dink," he hesitated a moment " I know you ve been 
 through a rotten time ; you ve felt every one was against 
 you unjustly. I know all that, and I know you ve got 
 hold of yourself again." 
 
 " That s true." 
 
 " What I want to talk over with you now is this. 
 
STOVERATYALE 313 
 
 Don t let what has passed keep you away from any one 
 in the class." 
 
 " But, Bob," said Dink, amazed, a how can I help 
 it? The soph crowd must be down on me particu 
 larly now." 
 
 "Rats, they all know pretty well the circumstances, 
 and they all respect your nerve, that s honest. We like 
 a good fighter up here. Now, Dink, more than ever, 
 we need a real leader here to bring us together again. 
 Don t leave the field to Bain and Hunter they re all 
 right in their way, but they can t see things in a big way. 
 Go right out where you ve always gone, twice the man 
 you used to be, and make us all follow you. Don t make 
 apologies for what you did go out as though you were 
 proud of it, and the whole bunch will rise up and follow 
 you." 
 
 " I get what you mean," said Stover solemnly. 
 " That s horse sense, Bob you ve always got that. I 
 wish you d said it before." 
 " I wish I had." 
 
 Stover looked at him wondering, but not daring to 
 ask if some one else had prompted him to the act. 
 
 " It s strange you came just now, Bob," he said. 
 " You ve put words in my mouth that were already there. 
 I ve just been talking over a scheme that I think s a big 
 idea. It s Brockhurst s." 
 
 He detailed the plan and his own suggestion. Story 
 was enthusiastic. They talked at length, drawing up a 
 list of possible members, with the enthusiasm of pioneers. 
 " I say, Dink, there s one thing more," said Bob, as he 
 started to go. " I ve been thinking a lot lately about 
 things here, and what I want for the next two years 
 this is about ended. I d like to propose something to 
 you." 
 
314 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Propose it." 
 
 " What do you say to you and me, Joe Hungerford, and 
 Tom Regan, all rooming together another year ? " 
 
 " Tom ? " said Stover, surprised a moment. " The 
 very thing if he d do it." 
 
 c< The four of us are all different enough to make just 
 the combination we need. I m tired of bunking alone. 
 I want to rub up against some one else." 
 
 :< There s nothing I could have thought of better, Bob. 
 You re right, we four ought to be friends real friends 
 and stand together. Here s my hand on it." 
 
 " Bully. I ve spoken to Joe, and he s going to see 
 Regan. I say, Dink, drop in soon." 
 
 " Sure thing." 
 
 " I mean at the house." 
 
 " Oh, yes." A little constraint came to him, and then 
 a flush of boyish hope. " I m coming round." 
 
 " Because the family have been wondering." 
 
 When Bob had gone, Stover stood a long while gazing 
 at the excited groups about the fence, retailing the all- 
 important news. 
 
 " By George, I ll do it," he said at last. " I ll not leave 
 it to Tommy Bain or Jim Hunter. It may be a fight, 
 but I m going out to lead because I can do it, and because 
 I believe in the right things." Then he thought over 
 all the incidents of Bob s visit, and he fell into a musing 
 state with sudden wild jumps of the imagination. " I 
 wonder did he come of his own accord I wonder if 
 she knew ! " 
 
 With one of his old-time sudden resolves, he went 
 that very night to the Storys . The struggle he had come 
 through in victory showed in a new, abrupt self-confi 
 dence. He felt older by a year than at his last visit. 
 
 Jean Story was at the piano, Jim Hunter on the wide 
 
STOVER AT YALE 315 
 
 seat beside her, turning over the leaves of her music. 
 He saw it from the hall in the first glance. 
 
 The Judge, surprised, came to him, delighted. 
 
 " Well, if here isn t Dink in the flesh. How are you ? 
 Thought you d eloped somewhere. Glad to see you ; tar 
 nation if I m not glad to shake your hand." 
 
 Hungerford, Bain, Bob Story, and Stone were pres 
 ent; a little difference in their several greetings. 
 
 " Well, we re holding a sort of wake here," said the 
 Judge cheerily. " Bain seems the most afflicted." 
 
 " It s a hard moment," said Stover calmly, knowing 
 that any expression of opinion from him would be re 
 sisted in certain quarters. " I felt quite upset myself 
 to-day when I heard the news, despite the stand I ve 
 taken." 
 
 Hunter looked up and then down, but said nothing. 
 
 " It s for the best," said Hungerford, not wishing him 
 to stand alone. " Best for the college as a whole." 
 
 " That remains to be seen," said Bain. " I passed 
 Gimbel coming over, and his crowd. It wasn t very 
 pleasant." 
 
 " Well, it s over," said Dink in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 " No post-mortem ! The great thing now is to recognize 
 what exists. The class to-day is shot to pieces. We 
 want to get together again. One half our time s up, and, 
 wherever the fault, we ve done nothing but scrap and get 
 apart." 
 
 " I ve been telling them a little about your scheme, 
 yours and Brockhurst s," said Story. 
 
 Stover launched into an enthusiastic argument in its 
 support. Bain and Hunter followed, instinctive in their 
 opposition, each perceiving all the superiority that would 
 derive to Stover from its success. 
 
 " May I ask," said Hunter finally, in a tone of icy 
 
316 STOVERATYALE 
 
 criticism, " What is. the difference between knocking 
 down the sophomore society and putting up this organ 
 ization ? " 
 
 " Very glad to tell you, Jim," said Stover, assuming 
 an attitude of careful good-will. " The difference is that 
 this is an open organization, drawing from every ele 
 ment of the class, to meet for the sole purpose of doing 
 a little thinking and getting to know other crowds. The 
 sophomore society was an organization drawn from one 
 element of the class, consciously or unconsciously for the 
 purpose of advancing the social ambitions of its mem 
 bers at the expense of others. One is natural and 
 democratic, and the other s founded on selfishness and 
 exclusiveness." 
 
 ,-" 
 
 The Judge, fearing the results of a controversy, broke 
 in, switching the conversation to safer channels. 
 
 " By the way, Jim," said Stover, in an interlude, 
 " we re counting on you and Tommy Bain to go into 
 this thing and make it a success. Is that right ? " 
 
 Despite their reluctance at so prompt an espousal, 
 Hunter and Bain were too far-seeing to set themselves 
 in opposition. But the acceptance was given without 
 enthusiasm, and, not relishing this sudden renewal of 
 authority in one whom they naturally held at fault, they 
 soon broke up the party. 
 
 Hungerford and Bob went into the billiard room for 
 a game, and presently the Judge disappeared upstairs 
 to run over some routine work. 
 
 Stover took the seat vacated by Hunter, with perhaps 
 a little malicious pleasure, saying: 
 
 "Aren t you going on playing?" 
 
 The young girl hesitated a moment, turning the leaves 
 aimlessly. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 317 
 
 " I don t know," she said. " Do you want me to very 
 much?" 
 
 " I d much rather talk." 
 
 She closed the music, turning to him with a little re 
 proachful seriousness. 
 
 " You ve been away a long while." 
 
 " Yes." He admitted the implied accusation with a 
 moment s silence. " A crazy spell of mine. Bob was 
 over this afternoon and we had a long talk." He said 
 it point blank, watching her face for some indication he 
 hoped to find there of her complicity. " Did he tell 
 you?" 
 
 " He was speaking of it at the dinner table," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 " Did you blame me," he said impulsively, " for what 
 I did about getting out of my society ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Bob did, at least for a while," he said, looking 
 eagerly into her eyes. 
 
 " I did not agree with him there." 
 
 She rose. 
 
 " If we are going to talk, let s find more comfortable 
 chairs." 
 
 He followed her, a little irritated at the sudden closing 
 on this delightful prospect. They took chairs by the 
 window. Through the vista of open rooms could be 
 seen the glare of the brilliant lights, and the figures of 
 the tw r o young fellows moving at their game. 
 
 Suddenly, with a return of the old-time feeling of 
 camaraderie between them, he burst out: 
 
 " You know I ve got into such a serious point of 
 view ! I don t quite know how it happened. Sometimes 
 it seems to me I m missing all the fun of college life." 
 
318 STOVERATYALE 
 
 He made a gesture toward the billiard room. " Even 
 fellows like McNab, good for nothing, jovial little 
 loafers, according to Yale standards, do seem to be 
 getting something wonderful out of these years. I don t. 
 It s been all work or fighting." 
 
 " That s because they are going different ways in life 
 than you are," she said quickly. " Tell me more about 
 this new organization. It seems a big idea. Whom will 
 you take in ? " She added suddenly : " Take charge 
 yourself, do it all yourself. It s just what you should 
 do/ 
 
 He was too much interested in the expounding of the 
 idea to notice the solicitude she showed him. After a 
 while the conversation drifted to other topics. He spoke 
 of the summer. 
 
 "Joe wants me to go on a cruise, and Bob wants me 
 to run up to your camp for a visit, but I ve about de 
 cided to do neither." 
 
 She looked up. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I am going with Regan for the summer slumming 
 it, I suppose some would call it; Tom calls it getting 
 real education. We re going down to work among men 
 who work, to know something of what they think and 
 want and what they think of us. It appeals to me 
 tremendously. I want to have an all-around point of 
 view. There are so many opportunities coming now, 
 and I want to grasp them all learn all I can. What 
 do you think ? " 
 
 " It is a splendid idea, just the thing for you now. It 
 will broaden you," she said, with a determined bob of 
 her head. " Why doesn t Bob ever bring Regan around ? 
 He sounds interesting." 
 
 " Don t know he sticks by himself. You can t 
 
STOVERATYALE 319 
 
 move him. Bob s told you about the four of us rooming 
 together?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "I wonder" 
 
 " What ? " she asked as he stopped. 
 
 " Did you suggest to Bob what he said to me this 
 afternoon ? " he said point blank. 
 
 She looked at him troubled and undecided, and he 
 suddenly guessed the reason. 
 
 " Oh, won t you trust me enough to tell me," he said 
 boyishly, "if you did?" 
 
 She looked into his eyes a moment longer. 
 
 " He was afraid you wouldn t like it," she said sim 
 ply. " Yes, I told him to go." 
 
 A dozen things rushed to his lips, and he said nothing. 
 Perhaps she liked his silence better than anything he 
 could have said, for she added: 
 
 " You will do the big things now, won t you ? You 
 see, I want to see you at your biggest." 
 
 When he went home that night, he seemed to walk 
 on air. He had taken no advantage of her friendship, 
 tempted almost beyond his powers as he had been by the 
 kindness in her voice and her direct appeal. He had to 
 tell some one, not of the interest he felt she had shown 
 him, but of his own complete adoration and supreme 
 consecration. So he hauled Hungerford up to his room, 
 who received the information as to Stover s state of mind 
 with gratifying surprise, as though it were the most in 
 credible, mystifying, and incomprehensible bit of news. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 WHEN Stover returned to college as a junior, Jie 
 showed^ the results of his summer with Regan. 
 He had gone into construction gangs, and learned to obey 
 and to command. He had had a glimpse of what the 
 struggle for existence meant in the stimng^mas^es ; and 
 he had known the keenness of a little joy and the reality 
 of sorrow to those for whom everything in life was real. 
 
 He had long ago surrendered the idea of entering 
 Skull and Bones over the enmity of Reynolds and Le 
 Baron, and this relinquishing somehow robbed him of all 
 the awe that he had once felt. He had returned a man, 
 tempered by knowledge of the world, distinguishing be 
 tween the incidental in college life and the vital oppor 
 tunity within his grasp. 
 
 The new debating club, launched in the previous 
 spring, had been an instajnit success, and its composition, 
 carefully representative, had become the nucleus of a 
 new comradeship in the class. With the one idea of 
 proving his fitness to lead in this new harmonizing de 
 velopment, Stover made his room a true meeting-place of 
 the class, and, loyally aided by Hungerford and Story, 
 sought to restore all the old-time zest and good-will to 
 the gatherings about the sophomore fence. His efforts 
 were met by a latent opposition from Hunter and Bain, 
 on one side, who never outgrew their wounded resent 
 ment, and from Gimbel on the other, who, though en 
 thusiastically seconding him in the open, felt secretly 
 that he was being supplanted. 
 
 320 
 
STOVERATYALE 321 
 
 But, as Story had foreseen, Stover had the magnetism 
 and the energy to carry through what no other leader 
 would have accomplished. Once resolved on the accom 
 plishment, upheld by a strong sentimental devotion, 
 Stover went at his task with a blunt directness that dis 
 dains all objections. 
 
 Each Saturday night was given over to a rally of the 
 class en masse at the Tontine. Certain groups held off 
 at first, but soon came into the fold when Stover, who 
 was no respecter of persons, would find occasion to say 
 publicly : 
 
 " Hello there, what happened to you last night ? Get 
 out of that silk-lined atmosphere of yours! Wake up! 
 You re not too good for us, are you ? " 
 
 " Well, why weren t you there ? It s no orgy you 
 can get lemonade or milk if you want. There are bad 
 men present, but we keep em from biting." 
 
 " I say, forget your poker game for one night. We 
 all know you re dead game sports. That s why we want 
 you to give us an atmosphere of real life." 
 
 The remarks were made half in jest, half in earnest, 
 but they seldom failed of their object. At the Saturday 
 night rallies it was the same. Stover was everywhere, 
 saying with his good-humored, impudent smile what no 
 one else dared to say, sometimes startling them with his 
 boldness : 
 
 " Here now, fellows, no grouping around here. We 
 want to see a sport and a gospel shark sitting arm in arm. 
 Come on, Schley, your social position s all right 
 there s only one crowd here to-night. No one here is 
 going to boost you into a senior society. Percolate, fel 
 lows, percolate. We ve scrapped like Sam Hill, now 
 we re tired of it. No more biting, scratching, or gou 
 ging. Don t forget this is a love feast, and they re going 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 to be lovelier. Now let s try over that song for the 
 Princeton game. Bob Story perpetrated it pretty 
 rotten, I think, but let s hit it up all the same." 
 
 The rallies jumped into popularity. The class gasped, 
 then laughed at Stover s abrupt reference to the late 
 unpleasantness, and with the laugh all constraint went. 
 The class found itself, as a regiment returns to its pride 
 again. It went to the games in a body, it healed its dif 
 ferences, and packed the long room at the Tontine each 
 Saturday night, shouting out the chorus which Buck 
 Waters, McNab, Stone, and the talent led. 
 
 Many, undoubtedly, marvelling at the ease with which 
 Stover had inspired the gathering, admired him for what 
 they believed was a clever bid for society honors. But 
 the truth was that he succeeded because he had no under 
 lying motive, because he had achieved in himself absolute 
 independence and fearlessness of any outer criticism, and 
 his strength with the crowd was just the consciousness of 
 his own liberty. 
 
 By the _fall_of_ jiuiioj^earj.. ji_was , the . undisputed 
 leader jxlthejiass, a force that had brought to it a com 
 munity of interest and friendly understanding. Un 
 known to him, his classmates began to regard him, 
 despite his old defiance, as one whom a senior society 
 could not overlook. Stover had no such feeling. He 
 believed that the hatred in what remained of the soph 
 omore society organization was, and would continue, un 
 relenting, and this conviction had determined him in a 
 course of action to which he was impelled by other 
 reasons. 
 
 He went through the football season as he had gone 
 through the previous season, with a record for distin 
 guished brilliancy, acclaimed by all as the best end in 
 years, the probable captain of the next year. He wanted 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 the position, as he had desired it on his first arrival at 
 Yale, and yet he surrendered it. Hunter had developed 
 into a tackle and made the team. In the class below 
 were two men of the defunct sophomore societies. 
 Stover had vividly before him the record of Dana, his 
 captain of freshman year, and the memory of the ordeal 
 after the game, when he had stood up and acknowledged 
 his lack of leadership. 
 
 That this still resentful society element in the eleven 
 would follow him with distaste and reluctance, despite 
 all traditional loyality, he knew too well. Moreover, 
 sure that he was destined to be passed over on Tap Day, 
 he felt perhaps too keenly the handicap of such a rejec 
 tion. Then, at the bottom, reluctantly, he knew in his 
 heart that Regan was the born leader of men, and what 
 once he had rebelled against he finally acknowledged. 
 
 So when at the end of a victorious season the members 
 of the eleven gathered for the election of the next year s 
 captain, he stood up immediately and stated his views. 
 It was a difficult announcement to make, both on the 
 score of seeming sentimentality, and from the danger of 
 seeming to refuse what might not be offered him. 
 
 But during the tests of the last year the self -conscious 
 ness which would have prevented Brockhurst s express 
 ing himself had completely gone. Determined on one 
 course of action, to be his own master, to do what he 
 wanted to do, and to say what he wanted to say, in abso 
 lute fearlessness, he spoke with a frankness that amazed 
 his comrades, still under the fetish of upper-class su 
 premacy. 
 
 " Before we begin," he said, " I ve a few words I want 
 to say. I suppose I am a candidate here. I don t say 
 I shouldn t be crazy to have the captaincy. I would 
 any one would. What I say is that I have thought it 
 
STOVER AT [5TALE 
 
 over and I withdraw my name. Even if you hadn t in 
 Tom Regan here the best type of leader you could get, 
 it would be very unfortunate for our chances next year 
 if I were chosen. I m quite aware that in a certain 
 element of the team, due to the open stand I felt forced 
 to take in the question of the sophomore society, there 
 is a great deal of resentment against me. I can under 
 stand that; it is natural. But there should be no such 
 division in a Yale team. We ve got a tough fight next 
 year, and we need a captain about whom are no enmities, 
 who ll command every bit of the loyalty of the team " 
 he paused a moment " and every bit of help he can 
 get from the college. I move that Tom Regan be 
 unanimously elected captain." 
 
 There was quite an outcry at the end of his declara 
 tion, especially from Regan, who was utterly surprised. 
 But Stover held firm, and perceived, not without a little 
 secret resentment, that the outcome came with relief not 
 only to the team but to the coaches. 
 
 When they returned, and Regan was still protesting, 
 Stover said frankly: 
 
 " Look here, Tom, we don t split hairs with one an 
 other. If I had thought it was right for me to stand 
 for it I would have. I wanted it like hell. You re 
 member Dana? I do. It s an awful thing to lead a 
 team into defeat, and say I was responsible. I don t 
 care to do it. Besides, you are the better man and 
 I m of such a low, skulking nature I hate to admit it. 
 So shut up and buy me a rabbit at Mory s. I m hungry 
 as a pirate." 
 
 He had said nothing of his determination to any one. 
 He had been tempted to talk it over with Jean Story, 
 but he had refrained, feeling instinctively that in her 
 ambition for him, and in her inability to judge the depth 
 
STOVER AT YALE 325 
 
 of certain antagonisms towards him, she would oppose 
 his determination. 
 
 The four friends had gone to Lyceum together 
 Swazey and Pike were in the same building. There 
 was a certain flavor of the simplicity and ruggedness of 
 old Yale in the building that gave to the meetings in their 
 rooms a character of old-time spontaneity. 
 
 By the opening of the winter term, Stover, the en 
 thusiast, had begun to see the weakness of movements 
 that must depend on organization. The dgj^ating^club, 
 which had started with a zest, soon showed its .....limita- 
 tions. Once the edge of novelty had worn off, there 
 were too many diverting interests to throng in and de 
 plete the ranks. 
 
 When, following Regan s suggestion, they had at 
 tempted a new division on the lines of the pojitical 
 parties, the result was decidedly disappointing. There 
 was no natural interest to draw upon, and the political 
 discussions, instead of fanning the club into a storm of 
 partizanship, lapsed into the hands of perfunctory de 
 baters. 
 
 Regan himself took his disillusionment much to heart. 
 They discussed the reasons of the failure one stormy 
 afternoon at one of their informal discussions, to which 
 they had returned with longing. 
 
 " What the devil is the matter ? " said the big fellow 
 savagely. " W T hy, where I come from, the people I see, 
 every mother s son of them, feed on politics, talk noth 
 ing else they love it! And here if you ask a man if 
 he s a Republican or a Democrat, he writes home and 
 asks his father. A condition like this doesn t exist any 
 where else on the face of the globe. And this is America. 
 Why?" 
 
326 STOVE RAT YALE 
 
 When he had propounded the question, there was a 
 busy, unresponsive puffing of pipes, and then Pike 
 added : 
 
 " That s what hits me, too. Just look at the questions 
 that are coming up ; popular election of senators, income 
 tax, direct primaries; it s like building over the govern 
 ment again, and no one here cares or knows what s doing. 
 I say, why ? " 
 
 " There may be fifty-two reasons for it," said Brock- 
 hurst, in his staccato, biting way. " One is, our colleges 
 are all turning into social clearing houses, and every 
 one is too absorbed in that engrossing process to know 
 what happens outside ; second is the fact that our univer 
 sities are admirably organized instruments for the pre 
 vention of learning ! " 
 
 " Good old Brocky," said Swazey with a chuckle. 
 " Just what I like ; stormy outside, warm inside, and 
 Brocky at the bat. Serve em up." 
 
 Brockhurst, who was used to this reception of his 
 pointed generalizations, paid no heed. He, too, had 
 grown in mental stature and in control. A certain 
 diffidence was over him, and always would be; but when 
 a subject came up that interested him, he forgot himself, 
 and rushed into the argument with a zeal that never 
 failed to arouse his listeners. 
 
 Brockhurst turned on Swazey with the license that was 
 always permissible. 
 
 " Well, what do you know ? You ve been here going 
 on three years. You are supposed to be more than half 
 educated. And you re not a fair example either, because 
 you really are seeking to know something." 
 
 " Well, go on," said Swazey, thoroughly aroused. 
 
 " What do you know about the Barbizon school, and 
 the logical reasons for the revolt of the impressionists ? " 
 
STOVER AT YALE 32T 
 
 Instantly there was an outcry: 
 
 " Not fair." 
 
 " Oh, I say." 
 
 " That s no test." 
 
 " Finishing your third year, gentlemen," said Brock- 
 hurst triumphantly, " age over twenty ; the art of paint 
 ing is of course known to the aborigines only in its 
 cruder forms. Well, does any one know at least who 
 Manet is, or what he s painted ? " 
 
 There was an accusing silence. 
 
 "Of course you ve an idea of the Barbizon school 
 one or two of you. You remember something about a 
 Man with a Hoe or the Angelus that s Sunday supple 
 ment education. Now let me try you. Please raise 
 hands, little boys, when you know the answer to these 
 questions, but don t bluff teacher. I m not contending- 
 you should have a detailed knowledge of the world in 
 your eager, studious minds. I am saying that you. 
 haven t the slightest general information. I ll make m^ 
 questions fair. 
 
 " First, music : I won t ask you the tendencies arrcf 
 theories of the modern schools you won t know that 
 such a thing as a theory in music exists. You know the 
 opera of Carmen good old Toreadore song. Do you 
 know the name of the composer? One hand Bob- 
 Story. Do you know the history of its reception? Do> 
 you know the sources of it? Do you know what Bach s 
 influence was in the development of music? Did you 
 ever hear of Leoncavallo, Verdi, or that there is such 
 a thing as a Russian composer ? Absolute silence. You 
 have a hazy knowledge of Wagner, and you know that 
 Chopin wrote a funeral march. That is your foothold 
 in music ; there you balance, surrounded by howling 
 waters of ignorance. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Take up architecture. Do you know who built the 
 Vatican ? Do you know the great buildings of the world 
 or a single thing about Greek, Roman and Renaissance 
 architecture? Do you know what the modern French 
 movement is based upon? Nothing. 
 
 " Take up religion. Do you know anything about 
 Confucius, Shintoism, or Swedenborg, beyond the names ? 
 Of course you would not know that under Louis XVI 
 a determined movement was made to reunite the Cath 
 olic and Protestant branches, which almost succeeded. 
 That s unfair, because of course it is the forerunner of 
 the great religious movement to-day. Do you know the 
 liistory of the external symbols of the Christian religion, 
 and what is historically new? Darkness denser and 
 denser. 
 
 " Take literature. You have excavated a certain 
 .amount of Shakespeare, and grubbed among Elizabeth 
 ans, and cursed Spenser. Who has read Taine s His 
 tory of English Literature, or known in fact who Taine 
 is? Only Bob Story. And yet there is the greatest 
 took on the whole subject; you could abolish the English 
 department and substitute it. Beside Story, who else 
 has had even a fair reading knowledge of any other lit 
 erature Russian, Norwegian, German, French, Italian ? 
 Who knows enough about any one of these writers to 
 look wise and nod; Renan, Turgeniev, Daudet, Bjornson, 
 Hauptman, Suderman, Strindberg? Do you know any 
 thing about Goethe as a critic, or the influence of Poe 
 upon French literature? What do you know? I ll tell 
 you. You know Les Miserables and The Three Mus 
 keteers in French literature. You know Goethe wrote 
 Faust. You re beginning to know Ibsen as a name, and 
 one may have read Tolstoi, and all know that he s a very 
 old man with a long white beard, who lives among his 
 
STOVERATYALE 329 
 
 peasants, has some queer ideas, and has started to die 
 three or four times. The papers have told you that. 
 
 " Take another field, of simple curiosity on what i$ 
 doing in a world in which by opportunity you are sup 
 posed to be of the leading class. What do you know 
 about the strength and spread of socialism in Germany, 
 France and England? In the first place no one of you 
 here probably has any idea of what socialism is ; you ve 
 been told it s anarchy, and, as that only means dynamite 
 to you, you are against socialism, and will never take the 
 trouble to investigate it. What do you know about the 
 new political experiments in New Zealand? nothing. 
 What do you know about the labor pension system in 
 Germany, or the separation of the church and state in 
 France? all subjects dealing with the vital develop 
 ment of the race of bipeds on this earth of which you 
 happen to be members. 
 
 " Now here is a catch question all candidates for 
 the dunce-cap will take a guess. The Botticelli story is 
 such a chestnut now that you all know that it isn t a 
 cheese or a wine credit that to ridicule. I m going 
 to give you a few names from all the professions, and 
 let s see who can tag them. What was Spinoza, Holman 
 Hunt, Dostoiefski, Ambrose Thomas, Savonarola (if 
 you ve read the novel you d know that), Bastien Le Page, 
 Zorn, Bizet, Bossuet! Unfair? not at all. These 
 things are just as necessary to know to a man of educa 
 tion and culture as it is to a man of good manners to 
 realize that peas are not introduced into the mouth by 
 being balanced on a knife." 
 
 " Help ! " cried Hungerford, as Brockhurst went rush 
 ing on. " Great Scott, what do we know ? " 
 
 " You know absolutely nothing," said Brockhurst 
 savagely. " Here you are ; look at yourselves four 
 
330 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 years when you ought to learn something, some inform 
 ing knowledge of all that has developed during the four 
 thousand years the human race has fought its way to 
 ward the light, four years to be filled with the marvel 
 and splendor of it all, and you don t know a thing. 
 
 " You don t know the big men in music ; you don t 
 know the pioneers and the leaders in any art ; you don t 
 know the great literatures of the world, and what they 
 represent; you don t know how other races are working 
 out their social destinies; you ve never even stopped to 
 examine yourselves, to analyze your own society, to see 
 the difference between a civilization founded on the unit 
 of the individual, and a civilization, like the Latin, on 
 the indestructible advance of the family. You have no 
 general knowledge, no intellectual interests, you haven t 
 even opinions, and at the end of four years of education 
 you will march up and be handed a degree Bachelor of 
 Arts! Magnificent! And we Americans have a sense 
 of humor! Do you wonder why I repeat that our col 
 leges are splendidly organized institutions for the pre 
 vention of learning? No, sir, we are business colleges, 
 and the business of our machines is to stamp out so many 
 business men a year, running at full speed and in com 
 petition with the latest devices in Cambridge and Prince 
 ton!" 
 
 " Brocky, you are terrific," said Swazey in admira 
 tion. There was too much truth in the attack, violent as 
 it was, not to have called forth serious attention. 
 
 " I feel a good deal the way you do," said Bob Story, 
 and Stover nodded, " only it seems to me, Brocky, a good 
 deal of what you re arguing for must come from outside 
 in just such informal talks as this." 
 
 " That s true," said Brockhurst. " If the stimulus in 
 the college life itself were toward education all our meet- 
 
STOVERATYALE 331 
 
 ings would be educational. It s true abroad, it isn t here. 
 You know my views. You think I m extreme. I m 
 getting an education because I didn t accept any such 
 flap-doodle as, What am I going to do for Yale ? but 
 instead asked, What has Yale got to offer me ? I m 
 getting it, too." 
 
 Stover suddenly remembered the conversation they had 
 together the year before, and looking now at Brockhurst, 
 revealed in a new strength, he began to understand what 
 had then so repelled him. 
 
 " The great fault," continued Brockhurst, " lies, how 
 ever, with the colleges. The whole theory is wrong, 
 archaic and ridiculous the theory of education by 
 schedule. All^ducatk)n...can~-dajs_.to ..instil the love of 
 knowledge. You get that, you catch the fire of it you 
 educate yourself. All education does to-day is to develop 
 the memory at the expense of the imagination. It says : 
 1 Here are so many pounds of Greek, Latin, mathematics, 
 history, literature. In four years our problem is to pass 
 them through the heads of these hundreds of young 
 barbarians so that they will come out with a lip knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 " But come, we do learn something," said Hungerford. 
 
 " No, you don t, Joe," said Brockhurst. " You ve 
 translated the Iliad you ve never known it. You ve 
 recited in Horace you have no love for him.. 
 You ve excavated the plays of Shakespeare, a couple of" 
 acts at a time; you don t know what Hamlet means or 
 Lear, the beauty of it all has escaped you. You ve 
 recited in Logic and Philosophy, but you don t under 
 stand what you re repeating. You re only repeating all 
 the time. Your memory is trained to hold a little knowl 
 edge a little time that s all. You don t enjoy it, you re 
 rather apologetic or others are." 
 
332 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Well, what other system is there ? " said Regan. 
 
 " There is ^tj^e_j^e^eptorial..^sjte^ England," said 
 Brockhurst, " where a small group of men are in per 
 sonal contact with the instructor. In French universi 
 ties, education is a serious thing because failure to pass 
 an examination for a profession means two extra years 
 of army service. Men don t risk over there, or divide 
 up their time heeling the News or making a team. In 
 Germany a man is given a certain number of years to 
 get a degree, and I believe has to do a certain amount 
 of original work. 
 
 " But of course the main trouble here is, and there is 
 no blinking the fact, that the colleges have surrendered 
 unconsciously a great deal of their power to the growing 
 influence of the social organization. In^a^period when 
 we have no society in America, families., are sending their 
 
 .sons to colleges to.,. place them-selv^-s^sQcially. Some of 
 
 them carry it to an extreme, even directly avow their 
 ihope that they will make certain clubs at Princeton or 
 Harvard, or a senior society here. It probably is very 
 hard to control, but it s going to turn our colleges more 
 .and more, as I say, into social clearing houses. At pres 
 ent here at Yale we keep down the question of wealth 
 pretty well; fellows like Joe Hungerford here come in 
 and live on our basis. That s the best feature about 
 Yale to-day how it will be in the future I don t know, 
 for it depends on the wisdom of the parents." 
 
 " Social clearing house is well coined," said Hunger- 
 ford. " I think it s truer though of Harvard." 
 
 " That s perhaps because you see the mote in your 
 neighbors eyes," said Brocky rising. " Well, discussion 
 isn t going to change it. Who s always talking about 
 school for character Pike or Brown? We might as 
 well stand for that but it would not be very wise to 
 
STOVER AT YALE 333, 
 
 announce it to the American nation, would it? we" 
 might be dubbed a reformatory. Fathers, send your sons 
 to college reform their characters, straighten out the 
 crooks. At the end give em a degree of of, say 
 G. B." 
 
 "What s that, Brocky?" said Swazey, grinning with 
 the rest. 
 
 " Good Boy," said Brockhurst, who departed, as he 
 liked, on the echoes of the laugh which he had inspired. 
 
 " Whew ! " said Hungerf ord, with a comical rubbing 
 of his head. " What struck me ? " 
 
 " And I expect to make Phi Beta Kappa," said Swazey, 
 with an apologetic laugh. 
 
 " What a dreadfully disconcerting person," said Bob 
 Story. 
 
 " By George, it takes the conceit out of you," said 
 Stover ruthfully. " Shall we all start in and learn some 
 thing? What s the answer?" 
 
 At this moment a familiar slogan was heard below, 
 increasing in riotous, pagan violence with the approach 
 of boisterous feet. 
 
 " Oh, father and mother 
 Pay all the bills, 
 And we have all the fun. 
 Hooray! 
 
 That s the way we do in college life 
 In college life." 
 
 The room burst into a roar of laughter. 
 " There s one answer," said Regan rising. 
 The door slammed open, and McNab and Buck Waters 
 reeled in arm in arm. 
 
 " I say, fellows, we ve cornered the sleigh market/ 
 
334 STOVERATYALE 
 
 said Dopey uproariously. " We re all going to beat it to 
 the Cheshire Inn, a bottle of champagne to the first to 
 arrive. Are you on ? " 
 
 Half an hour later, Stover at the reins was whirling 
 madly along the crusty roads, in imminent danger of 
 collision with three other rollicking parties, who packed 
 the sleighs and cheered on the galloping horses, singing 
 joyfully the battle hymn of the pagans: 
 
 " Oh, father and mother 
 Pay all the bills, 
 And we have all the fun. 
 Hooray! 
 
 That s the way we do 
 In college life" 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ONCE Stover had reconciled himself to the loss of 
 a senior society election, he found ample com 
 pensation in the absolute liberty of action that came to 
 him. It was not that he condemned this parent system ; 
 he believed in it as an honest attempt to reward the best 
 in the college life, a sort of academic legion of honor, 
 formed not on social cleavage, but given as a reward of 
 merit. In his own case, he believed his own personal 
 offending in the matter of Le Baron and Reynolds had 
 been so extreme that nothing could counteract it. 
 
 So he gave himself up to the free and untrammelled 
 delights of living his own life. His fierce stand for abso 
 lute democracy made of his rooms the ante-room of the 
 class, through which all crowds seemed to pass, men of 
 his own kind, socially calculating, glad to be known as 
 the friends of Regan, Hungerford and Story, all rated 
 sure men, and Stover, about whom they began to wonder 
 more and more, as a unique and rebellious personality, 
 which, contrary to precedent, had come to bear down 
 all opposition. Gimbel and Hicks, elected managers for 
 the coming year, came often, willing to conciliate the 
 element they had fought, in the hopes of a favorable 
 outcome on Tap Day. Men who worked their way 
 dropped in often on Regan; Ricketts, with his drawling 
 Yankee astuteness, always laughing up his sleeve ; twenty 
 odd, lonely characters, glad to sink into a quiet corner 
 and listen to the furious discussions that raged about 
 Brockhurst, Story and Regan. 
 
 335 
 
836 STOVERATYALE 
 
 It was seldom that Stover talked. He learned more 
 by listening, by careful weighing of others opinions, than 
 in the attempt to classify his own thoughts through the 
 medium of debate. At times when the discussion wan 
 dered from vital sources, he would ask a question, and 
 these sharp, direct remarks had a pertinency and a 
 searching trenchancy that sometimes upset an elaborate 
 argument. 
 
 Regan brought him to the romance of commonplace 
 things, to a genuine interest and study of political con 
 ditions; Brockhurst irritated and dissatisfied him, and 
 so stimulated him to reading and self-analysis; Story, 
 with his seriousness and fairness, recalled him always to 
 a judicial point of view and an understanding of others;. 
 Hungerford, with his big, effusive nature, always dis 
 satisfied and eager for realities, was akin to his own 
 nature, and they grew into a confidential intimacy. In 
 a community of splendid barbarians, their circle was 
 exceptional, due to the pronounced individuality of their 
 several rebellious minds. 
 
 Despite the abolition of the sophomore societies, other 
 groups still maintained their exclusiveness, and kept alive 
 the old antagonism, as the approach of Tap Day in 
 tensified the struggle for election and the natural cam 
 paigning of friend for friend. 
 
 As Brockhurst had prophesied, the chairmanship of 
 the Lit Board went to Wiggin, a conscientious, thorough 
 little plodder, who had never failed to hand in to each 
 number his numerically correct quota of essays, two 
 stories, a hammered-out poem and two painful portfolios. 
 
 On the night of the election, Stover heard from his 
 room in Lyceum the familiar: 
 
 " Oh, you Dink Stover stick out your head." 
 
STOVERATYALE 337 
 
 " Hello there, Brocky ; come up," he said anxiously. 
 "Who got it?" 
 
 " Wiggin, of course. Come on down, I want a ram 
 ble." 
 
 It was the first time that Brockhurst had shown a 
 longing for companionship. Stover returned into the 
 room, announcing: 
 
 " Poor old chap. Wiggin got it. Isn t it the devil ? " 
 
 " Wiggin oh, Lord ! " said Regan. 
 
 " Why, he s not fit to tie Brocky s shoe-strings," said 
 Hungerford, who fired a volley of soul-relieving oaths. 
 
 " I m going down to bum around a bit with him," 
 said Stover, slipping on his coat, " cheer the old boy 
 up." 
 
 " Well, he knew it." 
 
 " Lots of difference that makes ! " 
 
 Below Brocky, muffled to the ears, brim down, was 
 whistling in unmusical enthusiasm. 
 
 " Tis a jolly life we lead, 
 
 Care and sorrow we defy " 
 
 "Hello, that you, Dink?" he said, breaking off. 
 " Come on for a tramp." 
 
 At that age, being inexperienced, the undergraduate 
 in questions of sympathy wisely returns to the instincts 
 of the canine. Stover, without speaking, fell into his 
 stride, and they swung off towards West Rock. 
 
 " Wiggin is the type of man," said Brockhurst, medi 
 tatively puffing his pipe, " that is the glorification of the 
 commonplace. He is a sort of sublime earthworm, 
 plodding along and claiming acquaintance with the rose 
 because he travels around the roots. He is really by 
 
338 STOVERATYALE 
 
 instinct a bricklayer, and the danger is that he may con 
 tinue either in literature or some profession where the 
 cry is for imagination." 
 
 " You could have beaten him out," said Stover, as a 
 solace. 
 
 " And become an earthworm ? " said Brockhurst. 
 " The luck of it is, he made up his mind to heel the Lit. 
 With his ideas he would have made leader of the glee 
 club, president of the Phi Beta Kappa, chairman of the 
 News, or what not." 
 
 " Still, give him credit," said Stover, smiling to him 
 self, for he felt that he saw for the first time the human 
 side of Brockhurst. 
 
 " I did ; it was quite an amusing time." 
 
 "What happened?" 
 
 " Why, the little grubber came up to me and said, 
 Brocky, old man, you ought to have had it. " 
 
 " Why, that was rather decent," said Stover. 
 
 "Rubbish. All form," said Brockhurst impatiently. 
 " Showed the calibre of his mind, the obvious ; nothing 
 but the obvious. He thought it the thing to say, that s 
 all." 
 
 "Well, what did you answer?" said Stover wonder 
 ing. 
 
 " I said, f Well, why didn t you vote for me then ? " 
 
 Stover burst out laughing, and Brockhurst, who had 
 lost a coveted honor, was a little mollified by the tribute. 
 
 "Of course he stammered and looked annoyed 
 naturally; situation his imagination couldn t meet, so I 
 said: 
 
 1 Come, Wiggin, no stuff and nonsense. You didn t 
 think I ought to have it, and I know damn well, now that 
 you ve won out, you ll get a Skull and Bones to wear, 
 pose in the middle of the photograph for the Banner, and 
 
STOVER AT YALE 339 
 
 be thoroughly satisfied at our board meeting to sit back 
 and listen while I do the talking/ " 
 
 Stover broke into a laugh. 
 
 " Brocky, you scandalized him." 
 
 "Not at all. He thought I was joking the last 
 thing that occurs to the grubber is that wit is only a polite 
 way of calling a man an ass." 
 
 " Brocky, you re at your best, don t stop." 
 
 Brockhurst smiled. It was turning a defeat into a 
 victory. He continued: 
 
 " After all, Wiggy is interesting. I ll be revenged. 
 I ll put him in a book some day. He represents a type 
 the mathematical mind, quantity not quality. He set 
 out for the chairmanship as a man trains for a long 
 distance run. Do you know the truth? He rose every 
 morning and took a cold shower, fifty swings to the left 
 with the dumb-bell, fifty to the right, ate nothing heavy 
 or starchy for his meals, walked the same distance each 
 afternoon, and w r orked his two hours each night, ham 
 mering out divine literature." 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " said Dink, a little in doubt. 
 
 Brockhurst began to laugh. 
 
 " He may have for all I know. Now I ll bury him. 
 He will be eminently successful I like that word 
 eminently. You see he has no sense of humor, and es 
 pecially no imagination to hinder him." Brockhurst, in 
 one of his quixotic moods, began to gesture to the stars 
 as he abandoned himself to the delights of his conceit. 
 " Oh, that s a wonderful thing, to have no imagination 
 the saving of commonplace minds. If Wiggin had an 
 imagination he would never have written a line, he would 
 have perceived the immense distances that separated him 
 from the Olympians. Instead he read Stevenson, 
 Dumas, Kipling, and, unafraid, wrote little Steven- 
 
340 STOVERATYALE 
 
 son echoes of Dumas, capsule Kiplings. He ll go out 
 in the world, nothing will frighten him. He will 
 rebel against nothing, for he hasn t an idea. He will 
 choose the woman he needs for his needs, persuade him 
 self that he s in love, and then persuade her. And he ll 
 believe that s a virtuous marriage. He ll belong to the 
 conservative party, the conservative church, and will be a 
 distinguished subordinate, who will stand for tradition, 
 institutions, and will be said to resemble some great man. 
 Then he ll die, and will be pointed to as a great example. 
 Requiescat in pace! 
 
 " Off with his head," said Stover appreciatively. 
 " Now he s finished, own up, Brocky, that you are furious 
 that you did not buckle down and beat him out." 
 
 " Of course I am damn it," said Brockhurst. " I 
 know I did right, but no one else will ever know it. And 
 the strange thing is, Dink, the best thing for me is to 
 have missed out." 
 
 "Why, in Heaven s name?" 
 
 " If I had made the chairmanship, I should probably 
 be tapped for Bones one of the successful. I might 
 have become satisfied. Do you know that that is the 
 great danger of this whole senior business ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " The fellow who wears his honors like a halo. He s 
 made Bones or Keys, he s a success in life. Nothing 
 more awaits him. I was it. " 
 
 " Still, you would have liked it." 
 
 " Sure ; I m inconsistent," said Brocky, with a laugh. 
 " It s only when I don t get what I want that my beauti 
 ful reason shows me I shouldn t have had it." 
 
 " Well, there s no danger of either of us disappearing 
 under the halos," said Stover shortly. 
 
 " I m not so sure about you," said Brockhurst. 
 
STOVERATYALE 341 
 
 The casual doubt aroused strange emotions in Stover. 
 
 " I thought you didn t believe in them," he said 
 slowly. 
 
 " I don t. I don t believe in organizations, institutions, 
 traditions that s my point of view," said Brockhurst. 
 " But then I m in the world to be in revolt." 
 
 11 You once spoke of the society system the whole 
 thing as it exists in America " said Stover, " as a sort 
 of idol worship. I never quite understood your mean 
 ing." 
 
 " Why, I think it s quite obvious," said Brockhurst 
 surprised. " What was idol worship ? A large body of 
 privileged charlatans, calling themselves priests, im 
 pressed the masses with all the flummery of mysterious 
 ceremonies, convenient voices issuing from caves or 
 stone idols. What was an idol? An ordinary chunk of 
 marble, let us say, issuing from the sculptor s chisel. 
 When did it become sacred and awe-inspiring? When 
 it had been placed in an inner shrine of shrines, removed 
 from the public, veiled in shadows, obscured by incense, 
 guarded by solicitous guards ; the stone is still a stone but 
 the populace is convinced. Look into a well in daylight 
 commonplace ; look into it at night a great mystery ; 
 black is never empty, the imagination fills it." 
 
 "How does this apply?" said Stover, impatiently. 
 
 " Cases are parallel. A group of us come together for 
 the purpose of debate and discussion; no one notices it 
 beyond a casual thought. Suddenly we surround our 
 selves with mystery, appear on the campus with a sensa 
 tional pin stuck in our cravats, a bat s head or a gallows, 
 and when, marvellously enough, some one asks us what 
 the dickens we are wearing, we turn away; instantly it- 
 becomes known that something so deadly secret has be 
 gun that we have sworn to shed our heart s blood be- 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 fore we allow the holy, sacred name of Bat s Head or 
 Callow s Bird to pass our lips ! " 
 
 "It s a little foolish, but what s the harm?" 
 
 " The harm is that this mumbo- jumbo, fee-fi-fo-fum, 
 high cockalorum business is taken seriously. It s the 
 effect on the young imagination that comes here that is 
 harmful. Dink, I tell you, and I mean it solemnly, that 
 when a boy comes here to Yale, or any other American 
 college, and gets the flummery in his system, believes in 
 it surrenders to it so that he trembles in the shadow 
 of a tomblike building, doesn t dare to look at a pin that 
 stares him in the face, is afraid to pronounce the holy, 
 sacred names ; when he s got to that point he has ceased 
 to think, and no amount of college life is going to 
 revive him. That s the worst thing about it all, this 
 mental subjection which the average man undergoes here 
 when he comes up against all this rigmarole of Tap 
 Day, gloomy society halls, marching home at night, et 
 cetera et ceteray. By George, it is a return of the old 
 idol-worship idea thinking men in this twentieth cen 
 tury being impressed by the same methods that kept 
 nations in servitude to charlatans three thousand years 
 before. It s wrong, fundamentally wrong it s a crime 
 against the whole moving spirit of university history 
 the history of a struggle for the liberation of the human 
 mind." 
 
 " But, Brocky, what would you have them do run as 
 open clubs ? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Brockhurst. " I would strip them 
 of all nonsense; in fact that is their weakness, not their 
 strength, and it is all unnecessary. This is w r hat I d do : 
 drop the secrecy this extraordinary muffled breathless 
 guarding of an empty can retain the privilege any club 
 has of excluding outsiders, stop this childishness of get- 
 
STOVER AT YALE 343 
 
 ting up and leaving the room if some old lady happens 
 to ask are you a Bones man or a Keys man. Instead, 
 when a Bones man goes to see a freshman whom he 
 wants to befriend, have him say openly as he passes the 
 chapter house: 
 
 " That s my society Skull and Bones. It stands as 
 a reward of merit here. Hope you ll do something to 
 deserve it. 
 
 " Which is the better of the two ideas, the saner, the 
 manlier and the more natural? What would they lose 
 by eliminating the objectionable, unnecessary features 
 all of which you may be sure were started as horse play, 
 and have curiously enough come to be taken in deadly 
 earnestness? " 
 
 " I think you exaggerate a little," said Stover, un 
 willing to accept this arraignment. 
 
 "No, I don t," said Brockhurst stubbornly. "The 
 thing is a fetish; it gets you; it s meant to get you. It 
 gets me, and if you re honest you ll admit it gets you. 
 Now own up." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it does." 
 
 " Now, Dink, you re righting for one thing up here, 
 the freedom of your mind and your will." 
 
 " Why, yes," Stover said, surprised at Brockhurst s 
 knowledge of his inner conflicts. " Yes, that s exactly 
 what I m fighting out." 
 
 " Well, my boy, you ll never get what you re after 
 until you see this thing as it is the unreasoning harm 
 done, the poppycock that has been thrown around a good 
 central idea if you admit such things are necessary, 
 which of course I don t." 
 
 " You see," said Stover stubbornly, " you re against all 
 organization." 
 
 " I certainly am inherited organizations," said 
 
344 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Brockhurst immediately, " organizations that are im 
 posed on you. The only organization necessary is the 
 natural, spontaneous coming together of congenial ele 
 ments." 
 
 They had returned to the campus, and Brockhurst, by 
 intent leading the way, stopped before the lugubrious 
 bulk of Skull and Bones. 
 
 " There you are," he said, with a laugh. " Look at it. 
 It s built of the same stone as other buildings, it has in 
 it what secret? Go up, young Egyptian, to its mystery 
 in awe and reverence, young idol worshiper of thirty 
 centuries ago." 
 
 " Damn it, Brocky, it does get me," said Stover with 
 a short laugh. 
 
 " Curious," said Brockhurst, turning away. " The 
 architecture of these sacred tombs is almost invariably 
 the suggestion of the dungeon the prison of the human 
 mind." 
 
 Stover s conversation with Brockhurst did not at first 
 trouble him much. Curiously enough the one idea he 
 retained was that Brockhurst had spoken of him as a 
 possibility for Tap Day. 
 
 " What nonsense," he said to himself angrily. " Here, 
 I know better ! " 
 
 But the next afternoon, the thought returning to him 
 with pleasure, all at once, following a boyish whim, he 
 passed into his old entry at Lawrence, and, going down a 
 little guiltily into the region of the bath-tubs, came to 
 the wall on which was inscribed the lists of his class. 
 
 On the Bones list, third from the top, the name Stover 
 had been replaced and heavily underlined. 
 
 It gave him quite a thrill; something seemed to leap 
 up inside of him, and he went out hastily. Then all at 
 
STOVERATYALE 345 
 
 once he became angry. It was like opening up again a 
 fight that had been fought and lost. 
 
 " What an ass I am," he said furiously. " The deuce 
 of a chance I have to go Bones with Reynolds and Le 
 Baron. Can the leopard change his spots? About as 
 much chance as a ki-yi has to go through a sausage 
 machine and come out with a bark." 
 
 But, as he went towards Jean Story s home, thinking 
 of her and what she would want, the force of what 
 Brockhurst had said began to weaken. 
 
 " Brocky is impractical," he said artfully. " We 
 must deal with things as they are, make the best of them. 
 He exaggerates the effect on the imagination. At any 
 rate, no one can accuse me of not taking a stand." 
 
 He saw the old colonial home, white and distinguished 
 under the elms, and he said to himself, hoping against 
 hope: 
 
 " If I were tapped it would mean a good deal to 
 her. I ll be darned if I ll let Brocky work me up. I m 
 not going up against anything more ! I ve done enough 
 here." 
 
 He said it defiantly, for the courage of a man has two 
 factors, his courage and the courage of the woman he 
 loves. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 WHEN he had returned to the college after the 
 summer, he came to his first call on Jean Story 
 with a confident enthusiasm, eager for the first look in 
 her eyes. He had not corresponded with her during the 
 summer. He had not even asked for permission to 
 write, confident though he was that her consent would 
 now be given. He was resolved, as a penance for his 
 first blunder, to hold himself in reserve on every occa 
 sion. Bob had written the news, always pressing him 
 to take two weeks off for a visit to the camp, but Dink, 
 despite the tugging at his heart, had stuck to Regan, 
 perhaps a little secretly pleased to show his earnestness. 
 
 Now, as he came swinging impatiently toward the 
 glowing white columns under the elms, he realized all at 
 once what was the moving influence in his struggle for 
 growth and independence. 
 
 " Here is the horny-handed son of toil," he said, hold 
 ing out his hand with a laugh. 
 
 She took it, turning over the firm palm with a little 
 curiosity, and looked at him sharply, aware of a great 
 change they were no longer boy and girl. The vaca 
 tion had made of the impetuous Dink Stover she had 
 known a new personality that was strange and a little 
 intimidating. 
 
 He did not understand at all the sudden dropping of 
 her look, nor the uneasy turning away, nor the quick 
 constraint that came. He was hurt with a sudden sharp 
 sting that he had never known before, and the ache of 
 
 346 
 
STOVERATYALE 347 
 
 unreasoning jealousy at the bare thought of what might 
 have happened during the summer. 
 
 " I m awfully glad to see you," she said, but the words 
 sounded formal. 
 
 He followed her into the parlor puzzled, irritated by 
 something he did not understand, something that lay 
 underneath everything she said, and seemed to interpose 
 itself as a barrier between them and the old open feeling 
 of camaraderie. 
 
 " Mother will be so glad to see you," she said, after a 
 little moment of awkwardness. " I must call her." 
 
 This maneuver completed his bewilderment, which 
 increased when, Mrs. Story joining them, suddenly the 
 Jean Story of old returned with the same cordiality and 
 the same enthusiasm. She asked a hundred questions, 
 leading him on until he was launched into an account of 
 his summer experiences, the little bits of real life that 
 had brought home to him the seriousness of the world 
 that waited outside. 
 
 He spoke not as the Stover of sophomore year, filled 
 with the enthusiasm of discovery, but with a maturer 
 mind, which had begun to reflect and to reason upon what 
 had come into his knowledge. 
 
 Mrs. Story, sunk in the old high-backed arm-chair near 
 the fire, followed him, too, aware also of the change in 
 the boy, wondering what lay in the mind of her daugh 
 ter, camped at her knee on the hearth rug, listening 
 so intently and yet clinging to her as though for in 
 stinctive protection. 
 
 Stover spoke only of outward things ; the thoughts that 
 lay beneath, that would have come out so eagerly before 
 the girl, did not appear in the presence of another. As 
 he understood nothing of this sudden introduction of a 
 third into the old confidential relationship, he decided 
 
348 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 to be more formal than the girl, and rose while still his 
 audience s attention was held by his account. 
 
 " It s been awfully jolly to see you again," he said 
 with a perfect manner to Mrs. Stover. 
 
 " But you re going to stay to dinner," she said, with a 
 little smile. 
 
 " Awfully sorry, but I ve got a dozen things to do," 
 he said, in the same careful, matter-of-fact tone. " Bob 
 sent word he d come later." 
 
 Jean Story had not urged him. He went to her with 
 mechanical cheeriness, saying: 
 
 " Good-by. You re looking splendidly." 
 
 She did not answer, being in one of her silent moods. 
 Mrs. Story went with him towards the door, with a few 
 practical housekeeping questions on the menage that had 
 just begun. As they were in the ante-room, Jim Hunter 
 entered and, greeting them, passed into the salon. 
 
 Stover, deaf to anything else, heard her greeting: 
 
 " Why, Jim, I am glad to see you." 
 
 Mrs. Story was asking him a question, but he did not 
 hear it. He heard only the echoes of what seemed to 
 him the joy in her laugh. 
 
 " If you need any rugs let me know," said Mrs. Story 
 in patient repetition. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he stammered. " Yes yes, of 
 course." 
 
 She looked at him with a little maternal pity, knowing 
 the pang that had gone through him, and for a moment 
 a word was on her lips to enlighten him. But she 
 judged it wiser to be silent, and said: 
 
 " Come in for dinner to-morrow night, surely." 
 
 This invitation fitted at once into Stover s scheme of 
 mislogic. He saw in it a mark of compassion, and of 
 compassion for what reason? Plainly, Jean was inter- 
 
STOVERATYALE 
 
 ested in some one else, perhaps engaged. In ten minutes, 
 to his own lugubrious satisfaction, he had convinced him 
 self it was no other than Jim Hunter. But a short, 
 inquisitive talk with Joe Hungerford, who magnani 
 mously appeared stupidly unconscious of the real motives, 
 reassured him on this point. So, after the hot tempest 
 of jealousy, he began to feel a little resentment at her 
 new, illogical attitude of defensive formality. 
 
 Gradually, as he gave no sign of unbending from his 
 own assumption of strict politeness, she began to change, 
 but so gradually that it was not for weeks that he per 
 ceived that the old intimate relations had returned. This 
 little interval, however, had brought to him a new under 
 standing. With her he had lost the old impulsiveness. 
 He began to reason and analyze, to think of cause and 
 effect in their relationship. As a consequence the ini- 
 tiative and the authority that had formerly been with 
 her came to him. All at once he perceived, to his utter 
 surprise, what she had felt immediately on his return: 
 that he was the stronger, and that the old, blind, boyish 
 adoration for the girl, who was companion to the stars, 
 had steadied into the responsible and guiding love of a 
 man. 
 
 This new supremacy brought with it several differ 
 ences of opinion. When the question of the football 
 captaincy had come up he did not tell her of his deci 
 sion, afraid of the ambition he knew was strong in her 
 for his career. 
 
 When he saw her the next night, Bob had already 
 brought the news and the reason. She received him 
 with great distance, and for the first time showed a little 
 cruelty in her complete ignoring of his presence. 
 
 " You are angry at me," he said, when finally he had 
 succeeded in finding her alone. 
 
350 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Yes, I am," she said point blank. " Why didn t you 
 tell me what you were planning?" 
 
 "I didn t dare," he said frankly. "You wouldn t 
 have approved." 
 
 " Of course I wouldn t. It was ridiculous. Why 
 shouldn t you be the captain ? " 
 
 " There were reasons," he said seriously. " I should 
 not have had a united team back of me oh, I know 
 it." 
 
 " Absurd," she said with some heat. " You should 
 have gone out and made them follow you. Really, it s 
 too absurd, renouncing everything. Here s the Junior 
 Prom; every one says you would have led the class if 
 you d have stood for it." 
 
 " Yes, and it s just because a lot of fellows thought 
 they knew my whole game of democracy that I wouldn t 
 stand for it." 
 
 She grew quite angry. He had never seen her so 
 stirred. 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense. What do you care for their 
 opinion? You should be captain and chairman of the 
 Prom, but you renounce everything you seem to de 
 light in it. It s too absurd; it s ridiculous. It s like 
 Don Quixote riding around." 
 
 He was hurt at this, and his face showed it. 
 
 " It s something to be able to refuse what others are 
 grabbing for," he said shortly. " But all you seem to 
 care for is the name." 
 
 The flash that was in his eyes surprised her, and the 
 sudden stern note in his voice that she had never heard 
 before brought her to a quick realization of how she 
 must have wounded him. Her manner changed. She 
 became very gentle, and before he went she said hur 
 riedly : 
 
STOVERATYALE 351 
 
 " Forgive me. You were right, and I was very petty." 
 But though he had shown his independence of her 
 ambitions for him, and gained thereby, at heart he had 
 a foolish longing, a senseless dream of winning out on 
 Tap Day just for the estimation he knew she held of 
 that honor. And, wishing this ardently, he was influ 
 enced by it. There were questions about the senior 
 societies that he had not put to himself honestly, as he 
 had in the case of the sophomore. He knew they were 
 way back in his mind, claiming to be met, but, thinking 
 of Jean, he said to himself evasively again and again : 
 
 " Suppose there are bad features. I ve done enough 
 to show my nerve. No one can question that ! " 
 
 With the passing of the winter, and the return to 
 college in the pleasant month of April, the final, all- 
 absorbing Tap Day loomed over them only six weeks 
 away. It was not a particularly agreeable period. The 
 contending ambitions were too keen, too conflicting, for 
 the maintenance of the old spirit of comradeship. The 
 groups again defined themselves, and the " lame ducks," 
 in the hopes of being noticed, assiduously cultivated the 
 society of what are called " the big men." 
 
 One afternoon in the first week in April, as Dink 
 was returning from the gymnasium, he was suddenly 
 called to from the street. Chris Schley and Troutman, 
 in a two-seated rig, were hallooing : 
 
 " Hello there, Dink." 
 
 " Come for a ride." 
 
 " Jump in join us." 
 
 The two had never been of his intimates, belonging 
 to a New York crowd, who were spoken of for Keys. 
 He hesitated, but as he was free he considered : 
 
 "What s the game?" 
 
352 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " We re out for a spin towards the shore. Tommy 
 Bain and Stone were going but had to drop out. Come 
 along. We might get a shore supper, and toddle back 
 by moonlight." 
 
 " I ve got to be here by seven," said Dink doubtfully. 
 
 " Oh, well, come on; we ll make it just a drive." 
 
 " Fine." 
 
 He sprang into the front seat, and they started off 
 in the young, tingling air. Troutman, at the reins, was 
 decidedly unfamiliar with their uses, and, at a fervent 
 plea from Schley, Stover assumed control. Since fresh 
 man year the three had been seldom thrown together. 
 He remembered Troutman then as a rather overgrown 
 puppy type, and Schley as a nuisance and a hanger-on. 
 He scanned them now, pleasantly surprised at their trans 
 formation. They had come into a clean-cut type, affable, 
 alert, and if there was small mark of character, there 
 was an abundance of good-humor, liveliness, and so 
 ciability. 
 
 " Well, Dink, old chap," said Troutman, as he passed 
 along quieter ways, " the fatal day approaches." 
 
 " It does." 
 
 " A lot of seniors are out buying nice brand-new 
 derbies to wear for our benefit." 
 
 " I ll bet they re scrapping like cats and dogs," said 
 Schley. 
 
 " They say last year the Bones list wasn t agreed upon 
 until five minutes before five." 
 
 " The Bones crowd always fight," said Schley, from 
 the point of view of the opposite camp. " I say, Dink, 
 did you ever think of heeling Keys ? " 
 
 " No, I m not a good enough jollier up for that 
 crowd." 
 
STOVERATYALE 353 
 
 " They say this year Keys is going to shut down on 
 the sporting life and swipe some of the Bones type." 
 
 "Really?" said Stover, in disbelief. 
 
 " Sure thing ; Tommy Bain has switched." 
 
 " I heard he was packer," said Stover, not particularly 
 depressed. In the college the rumor had always been 
 that the Keys crowd had what was termed a packer in 
 the junior class, who helped them to pledge some of their 
 selections before Tap Day. 
 
 " Sure he is," said Troutman, with conviction. 
 
 "Wish he d stuck to Bones," said Schley. "Yours 
 truly would feel more hopeful." 
 
 " Why, you fellows are sure," said Stover to be polite. 
 
 "The deuce we are!" 
 
 Schley, tiring of the conversation, was amusing him 
 self from the back seat by well-simulated starts of sur 
 prise and a sudden snatching off of his hat to different 
 passers-by, exclaiming : 
 
 " Why, how do you do. I remember meeting you be 
 fore." 
 
 He did it well, communicated his good spirits to the 
 pedestrians, who took his banter good-naturedly. 
 
 All at once his mischievous eye perceived two girls of 
 a rather noticeable type. Instantly he was on his feet, 
 with an exaggerated sweep of his hat, exclaiming: 
 
 " Ladies, accept my carriage, my prancing horses, my 
 groom and my footman." 
 
 The girls, bursting into laughter, waved to him. 
 
 " Yes, it s a lovely day," continued Schley, in imita 
 tion of McNab. " Mother s gone to the country, aunty s 
 visiting us now, Uncle John s coming to-morrow he ll 
 be sober then. Too bad, girls, you re going the other 
 way, and such lovely weather. Won t you take a ride? 
 
354 STOVERATYALE 
 
 What ? Oh, do now. Here, I say, Dink whoa there ! 
 They re coming." 
 
 " Rats," said Troutman, glancing uneasily up the 
 street. 
 
 " Sure they are. Whoa ! Hold up. We ll give em 
 a little ride, just for a lark. What s the diff? " 
 
 He was down, hat off, with exaggerated Chesterfield 
 politeness, going to their coming. 
 
 " Do you mind ? " said Troutman to Stover. 
 " Schley s a crazy ass to do this just now." 
 
 " I wouldn t take them far," said Stover, who did not 
 particularly care. He had no facility for bantering of 
 this sort, but it rather amused him to listen to Schley. 
 He saw that while they were of an obvious type one was 
 insipid, and the other rather pretty, dark with Irish 
 black eyes. 
 
 " Ladies, I wish to make you acquainted with my 
 friends," said Schley, as he might speak to a duchess. 
 " The ill-favored gent with the vermilion hair is the 
 Reverend Doctor Balmfmder; the one with the padded 
 shoulders is Binks, my trainer. Now what is this little 
 girl s name ? " 
 
 " Muriel," said the blonde, " Muriel Stacey." 
 
 " Of course, I might have known it. And yours of 
 course is Maude, isn t it ? " 
 
 " My name is Fanny Le Roy," said the brunette with 
 a little pride. 
 
 " Dear me, what a beautiful name," said Schley. 
 " Now girls, we ll take you for a little ride, but we can t 
 take you very far for our mammas don t know we re out, 
 and you must promise to be very good and get out when 
 we tell you, and not ask for candy ! Do we promise ? " 
 
 Schley sat on the rear seat, chatting along, a girl on 
 either side of him, while Troutman, facing about, added 
 
STOVER AT YALE 355 
 
 his badinage. It was not excruciatingly witty, and yet 
 at times Stover, occupied with the driving, could not 
 help bursting into a laugh at the sheer nonsense. It in 
 terested him as a spectator ; it was a side of life he knew 
 little of, for, his nature being sentimental, he was a little 
 afraid of such women. 
 
 " What s our real names ? " said Troutman in reply 
 to a demand. " Do you really want to know ? We ll 
 send them to you. Of course we ve met before. In 
 New York, wasn t it, at the junior cotillion?" 
 
 " Sure I saw this fellow at the Hari-gori s ball," said 
 Fanny, appealing to her companion. 
 
 " Sure you did." 
 
 " If you say so, all right," said Troutman, winking at 
 Schley. " Fanny, you have beautiful eyes. Course you 
 don t know it." 
 
 " You two are great jolliers, aren t you? " said Fanny, 
 receiving the slap-stick compliment with pleasure. 
 
 " They think we re easy," said Muriel, with a look at 
 Schley. 
 
 " I think the fellow that s driving is the best of the 
 lot," said Fanny, with the usual method of attack. 
 
 " Wow," said Troutman. 
 
 " Come on back," said Schley, " we don t count." 
 
 Stover laughed and drove on. The party had now 
 passed the point of interest. He had no desire for a 
 chance meeting that would require explanations, but he 
 volunteered no advice, not caring to appear prudish in 
 the company of such men of the world. 
 
 They were in the open country, the outskirts of New 
 Haven just left behind. For some time Fanny Le Roy 
 had been silent, pressing her hand against her side, 
 frowning. All at once a cry was wrung from her. The 
 carriage stopped. All turned in alarm to where the 
 
356 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 girl, her teeth compressed, clutching at her side, was lying 
 back against the seat, writhing in agony. 
 
 Troutman swore under his breath. 
 
 " A devil of a mess ! " 
 
 They descended hurriedly and laid the girl on the 
 grass, where her agony continued increasingly. Schley 
 and Troutman were whispering apart. The other girl, 
 hysterically bending over her companion, mopped her 
 face with a useless handkerchief, crying: 
 
 " She s got a fit ; she s got a fit ! " 
 
 " I say it s appendicitis or gripes," said Troutman, com 
 ing over to Stover. His face was colorless, and he spoke 
 the words nervously. " The deuce of a fix Chris has got 
 us into ! " 
 
 " Come, we ve got to get her back," said Stover, real 
 izing the gravity of the situation. He went abruptly to 
 the girl and spoke with quick authority. " Now stop 
 crying; I want you to get hold of yourself. Here 
 Schley, lend a hand; you and Troutman get her back 
 into the carriage. Do it quickly." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " said Troutman, under 
 his breath. 
 
 " Drive her to a doctor, of course." 
 
 " Couldn t we go and fetch a doctor here ? " 
 
 "No, we couldn t!" 
 
 With some difficulty they got the suffering girl into 
 the carriage and started back. No one spoke ; the banter 
 had given place to a few muttered words that broke the 
 moaning, delirious tones of the stricken girl. 
 
 " Going to drive into New Haven this way ? " said 
 Troutman, for the second time under his breath. 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " Hell ! " 
 
 They came to the city streets, and Stover drove on 
 
STOVER AT YALE 357 
 
 hastily, seeking from right to left for a doctor. All at 
 once he drew up at the curb, flung the reins to Trout- 
 man, and rushed into a house where he had seen a sign 
 displayed " Dr. Burke." He was back almost immedi 
 ately with the doctor at his heels. 
 
 " I say, Dink, look here," said Schley, plucking him 
 aside, as the doctor hurriedly examined the girl. " This 
 is a deuce of a mess." 
 
 " You bet it is," said Stover, thinking of the sufferer. 
 
 " I say, if this gets out it ll be a nasty business." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " If we re seen driving back with well, with this 
 bunch ! " 
 
 " What do you propose ? " said Stover sharply. 
 
 Troutman joined them. 
 
 " See here, leave her with the doctor, I ll put up all 
 the money that s necessary, the doctor ll keep a close 
 mouth ! Man alive, you can t go back this way ! " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Good Lord, it ll queer us, we ll never get over it." 
 
 " Think of the papers," said Schley, plucking at his 
 glove. 
 
 " We can fix it up with the doctor." 
 
 At this moment Dr. Burke joined them, quiet, business 
 like, anxious. 
 
 " She has all the symptoms of a bad attack of appendi 
 citis. There s only one thing to do; get her to the 
 hospital at once. I ll get my hat and join you." 
 
 " Drive to drive to the hospital ? " said Troutman, 
 with a gasp, " right through the whole city, right in the 
 face of every one ? " 
 
 " Don t be a fool, Dink," said Schley nervously. 
 " We ll fix up Burke ; we ll give him a hundred to take 
 her and shut up." 
 
358 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 Stover, too, saw the danger and the inevitable scandal. 
 He saw, also, that they were no longer men as he had 
 thought. The thin veneer had disappeared they were 
 boys, terrified, aghast at a crisis beyond their strength. 
 
 " You re right, it would queer you" he said abruptly. 
 " Clear out both of you." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " You re going to stay ? " said Schley. Neither could 
 face his eyes. 
 
 " Clear out, I tell you ! " 
 
 When Burke came running down the steps he looked 
 at Stover in surprise. 
 
 " Hello, where are your friends ? " 
 
 " They had other engagements," said Dink grimly. 
 " All ready." 
 
 " I ve seen your face before," said Dr. Burke, climbing 
 in. 
 
 " I m Stover." 
 
 "Dink Stover of the eleven?" 
 
 " Yes, Dink Stover of the eleven," said Stover, his face 
 hardening. " Where do I drive ? " 
 
 " Do you want to go quietly ? " said Dr. Burke, with a 
 look of sympathetic understanding. 
 
 From behind the girl, writhing, began to moan : 
 
 "Oh, Doctor Doctor I can t stand it I can t 
 stand it." 
 
 " What s the quickest way? " said Stover. 
 
 " Chapel Street," said the doctor. 
 
 Stover turned the horses heads into the thoroughfare, 
 looking straight ahead, aware soon of the men who saw 
 him in the full light of the day, driving through the 
 streets of New Haven in such inexplicable company. 
 And suddenly at the first turn he came face to face with 
 another carriage in which were Jean Story and her 
 mother. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WHEN Stover returned to his rooms, it was long 
 after supper. 
 
 " Where the deuce have you been ? " said Hungerf ord, 
 looking up from his books. 
 
 " Went for a drive, got home late," said Stover shortly. 
 He filled the companionable pipe, and sank into the low 
 arm-chair, which Regan had broken for comfort. Some 
 thing in his abrupt procedure caused Bob Story to look 
 over at Regan with an inquiring raise of his eyebrows. 
 
 "Got this psychology yet?" said Hungerf ord, to try 
 him out. 
 
 " No," said Stover. 
 
 "Going to get it?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " The thinghood of a thing is its indefinable somewhat- 
 ness," said Hungerford, with another slashing attack on 
 the common enemy, to divert Stover s attention. " What 
 in the name of peanuts does that stuff mean ? " 
 
 Dink, refusing to be drawn into conversation, sat en 
 veloped in smoke clouds, his eyes on the clock. 
 
 " Hello, I forgot," said Story presently. " I say, Dink, 
 Troutman and Schley were around here hallooing for 
 you." 
 
 "They were, eh?" 
 
 " About an hour ago. Wanted to see you particularly. 
 Said they d be around again." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 At this moment from below came a bellow: 
 359 
 
360 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Oh, Dink Stover hello above there ! " 
 
 " That s Troutman now," said Joe Hungerford. 
 
 Stover went to the window, flinging it up. 
 
 "Well, who s there?" 
 
 " Troutman and Chris Schley. I say, Dink, we ve got 
 to see you. Come on down." 
 
 " Thanks, I haven t the slightest desire to see you now 
 or at any other time," said Stover, who closed the win 
 dow and resumed his seat, eyeing the clock. 
 
 His three friends exchanged troubled glances, and 
 Regan began to whistle to himself, but no questions were 
 asked. At nine o clock Stover rose and took his hat. 
 
 " I m going out. I may be back late," he said, and 
 went down the stairs. 
 
 " What the devil ? " said Hungerford, closing his book. 
 
 " He s in some scrape," said Regan ruthfully. 
 
 " Oh, Lord, and just at this time, too," said Story. 
 
 Stover went rapidly towards the hospital. The girl 
 had been operated on immediately, and the situation was 
 of the utmost seriousness. He had been told to come 
 back at nine. When he arrived he found Muriel Stacey 
 already in the waiting-room, her eyes heavy with fright 
 ened weeping. He looked at her curiously. All sugges 
 tion of the provoking impertinence and the surface 
 allurement was gone. Under his eyes was nothing but 
 an ignorant boor, stupid and hysterical before the awful 
 *act of death. 
 
 "What s the news?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Stover, I don t know. I can t get anything 
 out of them," the woman said wildly. " Oh, do you 
 think she s going to die ? " 
 
 " Of course not," he said gruffly. " See here, where s 
 her family ? " 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
STOVERATYALE 361 
 
 "Don t they live here?" 
 
 " They re in Ohio somewhere, I think. I don t know. 
 Ask the doctor, won t you, Mr. Stover? He ll tell you 
 something." 
 
 He left her, and, making inquiries, was met by a young 
 intern, immaculate and alert, who was quite communica 
 tive to Dink Stover of the Yale eleven. 
 
 " She s had a bad case of it ; appendix had already 
 burst. You got her here just in time." 
 
 "What s the outlook?" 
 
 " Can t tell. She came out of the anaesthetic all right." 
 He went into a technical discussion of the dangers of 
 blood poisoning, concluding: "Still, I should say her 
 chances were good. It depends a good deal on the re 
 sistance. However, I think your friend s family ought 
 to be notified." 
 
 Stover did not notice the " your friend," nor the look 
 which the doctor gave him. 
 
 " She s here alone as far as I can find out," he said. 
 " Poor little devil. I ll call round about midnight." 
 
 " No need," said the doctor briskly, " nothing ll de 
 velop before to-morrow." 
 
 Stover sent the waiting girl home somewhat tran- 
 quilized, and, finding a florist s shop open, left an order 
 to be sent in to the patient the first thing in the morning. 
 Then, thoroughly exhausted by his sudden contact with 
 all the nervous fates of the hospital, he walked home and 
 heavily to bed. 
 
 The next morning as he went to his eating-joint with 
 Regan and Hungerford, the newsboy, who had his papers 
 ready, gave them to him with a hesitating look. All at 
 once Joe Hungerford swore mightily. 
 
 " Now what s wrong, Joe ? " said Regan in surprise. 
 
 " Nothing," said Hungerford hastily, but almost im- 
 
362 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 mediately he stopped, and said in a jerky, worried way: 
 " Say, here s the devil to pay, Dink. I suppose you 
 ought to know about it. Damn the papers." 
 
 With his finger he indicated a space on the front page 
 of the New York newspaper he was reading. Stover 
 took it, reading it seriously. It was only a paragraph, 
 but it rose from the page as though it were stamped in 
 scarlet. 
 
 DINK STOVER S LARK 
 ENDS SERIOUSLY. 
 
 Below followed in suggestive detail an account of the 
 drive with friends " not exactly in recognized New 
 Haven society," and the sudden seizure of Miss Fanny 
 Le Roy, with an account of his drive back to the hospital. 
 
 "That s pretty bad," he said, frowning. "What do 
 the others say?" 
 
 One paper had it that his presence of mind and prompt 
 action had saved the girl s life. The third one hinted 
 that the party had been rather gay, and said in a short 
 sentence : 
 
 "It is said other students were with young Stover, 
 who prefer not to incur any unnecessary notoriety." 
 
 " It looks ugly," said Stover grimly. 
 
 " Who was with you ? " said Hungerf ord anxiously. 
 
 " I prefer not to tell." 
 
 :t Troutman and Schley, of course," said Regan sud 
 denly, and, starting out of his usual imperturbability, he 
 began to revile them. 
 
 " But, Dink, old man," said Hungerford, drawing his 
 arm through his, " how the deuce did you ever get into 
 it?" 
 
 " Well, Joe, what s the use of explanations ? " said 
 
STOVERATYALE 363 
 
 Stover gloomily. " Every one ll believe what they want 
 to. It s a thoroughly nasty mess. It s my luck, that s 
 all." 
 
 " Is that all you can say? " said Hungerford anxiously. 
 
 " All just now. I don t feel particularly affable, Joe." 
 
 The walk from his eating- joint to the chapel was per 
 haps the most difficult thing he had ever done. Every 
 one was reading the news, commenting on it, as he passed 
 along, red, proud, and angry. He felt the fire of amazed 
 glances, the lower classmen looking up at the big man of 
 the junior class in disgrace, his own friends puzzled and 
 uncomprehending. 
 
 At the fences there was an excited buzz, which dropped 
 perceptibly as he passed. Regan was at one side, Hun 
 gerford loyally on the other. At the junior fence Bob 
 Story, who had just got the report, came out hurriedly 
 to him. 
 
 " I say, Dink, it it isn t true ? " he said. " Some 
 thing s wrong must be ! " 
 
 " Not very far wrong," said Stover. He saw the in 
 credulity in Bob s face, and it hurt him more than all the 
 rest. 
 
 " Even Bob thinks I m that sort, that I ve been doing 
 things on the sly I wouldn t stand for in public. And 
 if he thinks it, what ll others think? " 
 
 " Shut up, Bob," he heard Regan say. " It may look 
 a nasty mess, and Dink may not tell the real story, but 
 one thing I know, he didn t scuttle off like a scut, but 
 faced the music, and that s all I want to know." 
 
 Stover laughed, a short, nervous, utterly illogical 
 laugh, defiant and stubborn. He would never tell what 
 had happened let those who wanted to misjudge him. 
 
 Several men in his class he remembered them ever 
 after came up and patted him on the back, one or two 
 
STOVER AT YALE 
 
 avoided him. Then he had to go by the senior fence 
 into chapel with every eye upon him, watching how he 
 bore the scandal. He knew he was red and uncom 
 fortable, that on his face was something like a sneer. 
 He knew that what every one was saying under his 
 voice was that it was hard luck, damned hard luck, that 
 it was a rotten scandal, and that Stover s chances for 
 Skull and Bones were knocked higher than a kite. 
 
 Then something happened that almost upset him. In 
 the press about the chapel doors he suddenly saw Le 
 Baron s tall figure across the scrambling mass. Their 
 glances met and with a little solemnity Le Baron raised 
 his hat. He understood; they might be enemies to the 
 end of their days, but the hat had been raised as the 
 tribute of a man to a man. Once in his seat he looked 
 about with a little scorn Troutman and Schley were 
 not there. 
 
 After first recitation he went directly to the hospital, 
 stubbornly resolved to give no explanations, stubbornly 
 resolved in his own knowledge of his right to affront 
 public opinion in any way he chose. The news he re 
 ceived was reassuring, the girl was out of danger. 
 Muriel Stacey not yet arrived, for which he was phys 
 ically thankful. 
 
 He returned to his rooms, traversing the difficult 
 campus with erect head. 
 
 " Now, boy, see here," said Hungerford, when he had 
 climbed the stairs, " I want this out with you. What did 
 happen, and who ran away ? " 
 
 " You ve got the story in the papers, haven t you ? " 
 said Stover wearily. " The New Haven ones have in a 
 couple of columns and my photograph." 
 
 "Is that all, Dink, you re going to tell me?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
STOVE R AT YALE 365 
 
 "Is that all you re going to let Jean Story know?" 
 said Hungerford boldly. 
 
 Stover winced. 
 
 " Damn you, Joe ! " 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 " She ll have to believe what she wants to about me," 
 said Stover slowly. " It s a test." 
 
 " No, it isn t a test or a fair test," said Hungerford 
 hotly. " I know everything s all right, boy, but I want 
 to stop anything that might he said. You re hurt now 
 because you know you re misjudged." 
 
 " Yes, I am hurt." 
 
 " Sure ; a rotten bit of luck has put you in a false posi 
 tion. That s the whole matter." 
 
 " Joe, I won t tell you," said Stover shortly. " I am 
 mad clear through and through. I m going to shut up 
 on the whole business. If my friends misjudge me 
 so much the worse for them. If some one else " He 
 stopped, flung his hat on the couch, and sat down at the 
 desk. "What s the lesson?" 
 
 But at this moment Regan and Story came in, bolting 
 the door. 
 
 " Well, we ve got the truth," said Story. He came 
 over and laid his hand on Dink s shoulder. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " Tom and I have had it out with Schley and Trout- 
 man. They ve told the whole thing, the miserable little 
 curs." His voice shook. " You re all right, Dink ; you 
 always were, but it s a shame a damn shame ! " 
 
 " Oh, well, they lost their nerve," said Stover heavily. 
 
 " Why the devil didn t you tell us last night? " 
 
 "What was the use?" 
 
 " We could have stopped its getting into the papers, 
 or had it right." 
 
366 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Well it all comes down to a question of luck some 
 times," said Stover. " I was just as responsible as they 
 were it was only fooling, but there s the chance." 
 
 " Dink, I ve done one thing you may not like." 
 
 "What s that?" 
 
 " I ve written the whole story to your folks at home 
 sent it off." 
 
 " No I don t mind I that was rather white of 
 you, Bob thank you," said Stover. He drew a long 
 breath, went to the window and controlled himself. 
 " What are Troutman and Schley going to do ? " 
 
 " They re all broken up," said Story. 
 
 " Don t wonder." 
 
 " They won t face it out very long," said Regan, with 
 out pity. 
 
 " Well, it was a pretty hard test," said Stover, coming 
 back and by that alone they knew what it had meant 
 to him. 
 
 Despite the giving out of the true story, the atmos 
 phere of scandal still clung to the adventure. His 
 friends rallied stanchly to him, but from many quarters 
 Stover felt the attitude of criticism, and that the thing 
 had been too public not to affect the judgment of the ( 
 senior societies, already none too well disposed toward 
 him. 
 
 Stover was sensitively proud, and the thought of how 
 the story had traveled with all its implications wounded 
 him keenly. He had done nothing wrong, nothing for 
 which he had to blush. He had simply acted as a human 
 being, as any decent gentleman would have acted, and 
 yet by a malignant turn of fate he was blackguarded to 
 the outer world, and had given his enemies in college a 
 chance to imply that he had two attitudes in public and 
 in secret. 
 
STOVERATYALE 367 
 
 The next morning came a note to him from Jean Story, 
 the first he had ever had from her just a few lines. 
 
 "My Dear Friend: 
 
 " You are coming in soon to see me, aren t you ? I 
 shall be very much honored. 
 
 " Most cordially, 
 
 "JEAN STORY." 
 
 The note brought a great lump to his throat. He 
 understood what she wished him to understand, her 
 loyalty and her pride in his courage. He read it over 
 and over, and placed it in his pocket-book to carry al 
 ways but he did not go at once to see her. He did 
 not want sympathy; he shunned the very thought. Be 
 fore, in his revolt, he had come against a college tradition, 
 now he was face to face with a social prejudice, and it 
 brought an indignant bitterness. 
 
 He called every day at the hospital; out of sheer 
 bravado at first, furious at the public opinion that would 
 have him go his way and ignore a human being alone and 
 suffering, even when his motives were pure. 
 
 At the end of a week he was told that the girl wanted 
 to see him. He found her in a cot among a row of other 
 cots. She was not white and drawn as he had expected, 
 but with a certain flush of color in her face, and lazy 
 eyes that eagerly waited his coming. When he had ap 
 proached, surprised and a little troubled at her pretti- 
 ness, she looked at him steadily a long moment until he 
 felt almost embarrassed. Then suddenly she took his 
 hand and carried it to her lips, and her eyes overflowed 
 with tears, as an invalid s do with the strength of any 
 emotion. 
 
 The nurse motioned him away, and he went, troubled 
 
368 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 at what his boyish eyes had seen, and the touch of. her 
 lips on his hand. 
 
 " By George, she can t be very bad," he thought. 
 " Poor little girl ; she s probably never had half a chance. 
 What the devil will become of her ? " 
 
 He knew nothing of her life he did not want to 
 know. 
 
 When she left the hospital at last he continued to see 
 her, always saying to himself that there was no harm in 
 it, concealing from himself the pleasure it gave him to 
 know himself adored. 
 
 She would never tell him where she lived, always giv 
 ing him a rendezvous on a certain corner, from which 
 they would take a walk for an hour or so. Guessing 
 his desires, she began to change her method of dress, 
 leaving aside the artifices, taking to simple and sober 
 dress, which brought a curious, girlish, counterfeit charm. 
 
 " I am doing her good," he said to himself. " It means 
 something to her to meet some one who treats her with 
 respect like a human being poor little girl." 
 
 He did not realize how often he met her, leaving his 
 troubled room-mates with a curt excuse, nor how rapid- 
 ily he consumed the distance to their meeting place. He 
 had talked to her at first seriously of serious things, then 
 gradually, laughing in a boyish way, half tempted, he 
 began to pay her compliments. At first she laughed with 
 a little pleasure, but, as the new attitude continued, he 
 felt her eyes on his face constantly in anxious, wistful 
 scrutiny. 
 
 One night she did not keep her appointment. He 
 waited troubled, then furious. He left after an hour s 
 lingering, irritable and aroused. 
 
 The next night as he approached impatiently, half 
 afraid, she was already at the lamp-post. 
 
STOVERATYALE 369 
 
 "I waited an hour," he said directly. 
 
 " I m sorry ; I couldn t come," she answered troubled, 
 but without volunteering an explanation. 
 
 " Why ? " he said with a new irritation. 
 
 " I couldn t," she said, shaking her head. 
 
 He felt all at once a new impulse in him to wound 
 her in some way and make her suffer a little for the 
 disappointment he had had to undergo the night be 
 fore. 
 
 " You did it on purpose," he said abruptly. 
 
 " No, no," she said frowning. 
 
 " You did." Then suddenly he added : " That s why 
 you stayed away to make me jealous." 
 
 " Never." 
 
 "Why, then?" 
 
 " I can t tell you," she said. 
 
 They walked along in silence. Her resistance in with 
 holding the information suddenly made her desirable. 
 He wondered what he might do with her. As they 
 walked still in silence, he put out his hand, and his fingers 
 closed over hers. She did not draw them away. He 
 gave a deep breath and said : 
 
 " I would like " 
 
 " What ? " she said, looking up as his pressure made 
 her face him. 
 
 He put out his arms and took her in them, and stood 
 a long moment, looking at her lips. 
 
 " Forgive me I " he said, stepping back suddenly. 
 "I I didn t mean to offend you." 
 
 " No you couldn t do that never," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 " You you re so pretty to-night I couldn t help 
 it," he said. To himself he vowed he would never let 
 himself be tempted again not that night. 
 
370 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " I m going to take you to your home," he said, when 
 after small conversation they returned. 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 He was surprised and delighted at this, but almost 
 immediately to be generous he said : 
 
 " No, no, I won t." 
 
 " I don t care." 
 
 They had reached their corner. 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " At eight." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 He resisted a great temptation, and offered his hand. 
 She took it suddenly in both of hers and brought it to 
 her lips as she had done in the hospital. 
 
 " You ve been white, awful white to me," she said, and 
 flitted away into the engulfing night. 
 
 When he left her, her words came back to him, and 
 brought an unrest. He had almost yielded to what he 
 had vowed never to do, he, who only wanted her to feel 
 his respect. Yet the next day seemed endless. He re 
 gretted that he had not gone to where she lived, for then 
 he could have found her in the afternoon. 
 
 A shower passed during the day, leaving the streets 
 moist and luminous with long lances of light and star 
 points on the wet stones. He went breathlessly as he 
 had never gone before, a little troubled, always reasoning 
 with his conscience. 
 
 " It was only a crazy spell," he said to himself. " I 
 don t know what got into me. I ll be careful, now." 
 
 When he reached the lamp-post another figure was 
 there, Muriel Stacey, painted and over-dressed, and in 
 her hand was a white letter, that he saw half-way up the 
 block. He stopped short, frowning. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 371 
 
 "Where s Fanny?" 
 
 " Here s a note she sent you," said the girl ; " she s 
 gone." 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 " This morning." 
 
 He looked at the envelope ; his name was written there 
 in a childish, struggling hand. 
 
 " All right ; thank you," he said suffocating. He left 
 hurriedly, physically uncomfortable in the presence of 
 Muriel Stacey, her friend. At the first lamp-post he 
 stopped, broke the envelope, and read the awkward, 
 painfully written script. 
 
 " I m going away, it s best for you and me I know it. 
 Guess I would care too much and I m not good enough 
 for you. Don t you be angry with me. Good luck. 
 God bless you. 
 
 " F." 
 
 He slipped it hurriedly in his pocket, and set off at a 
 wild pace. And suddenly his conscience, his accusing 
 conscience, rose up. He saw where he had been going. 
 It brought him a solemn moment. Then he remembered 
 the girl. He took the letter from his pocket and held 
 it clutched like a hand in his hand. 
 
 " Good God," he said, " I wonder what ll become of 
 her?" 
 
 He had found so much good that the tragedy revolted 
 him. So he went through the busy streets with their 
 flare and ceaseless motion, in the wet of the night, watch 
 ing with solemn, melancholy eyes, other women pass 
 with sidelong glances. All the horror and the hopeless 
 ness of a life he could not better thronged over him, and 
 he stood a long while looking down the great bleak ways, 
 through the gates that it is better not to pry ajar. 
 
372 STOVERATYALE 
 
 Then in a revulsion of feeling, terrified at what he 
 divined, he left and went, almost in an instinct for pro 
 tection, hurriedly to the Story home, white and peaceful 
 under the elms. He did not go in, but he stood a little 
 while opposite, looking in through the warm windows at 
 the serenity and the security that seemed to permeate 
 the place. 
 
 When he returned to his rooms, Joe and Regan were 
 there. He sat down directly and told them the whole 
 story, showing them her letter. 
 
 " She went away for my sake," he said. " I know 
 it. Poor little devil. It s a letter I ll always keep." 
 Solemnly, looking at the letter, he resolved to put this 
 with the one, the first from Jean Story, and reverently 
 he felt that the two had the right to be joined. 
 
 "What s terrible about it," he said, talking out his 
 soul, " is that there s so much good in them. And yet 
 what can you do? They re human, they respond, you 
 can t help pitying them wanting to be decent, to help 
 and you can t. It s terrible to think that there are 
 certain doors in life you open and close, that you must 
 turn your back on human lives sometimes, that things 
 can t be changed. Lord, but it s a terrible thing to 
 realize." 
 
 He stopped, and he heard Regan s voice, moved as he 
 had never heard it, say : 
 
 " That s my story only / married." 
 
 Suddenly, as though realizing for the first time what 
 he had said, he burst out : " Good God, I never meant 
 to tell. See here, you men, that s sacred you under 
 stand." 
 
 And Dink and Joe, looking on his face, realized all at 
 once why a certain gentler side of life was shut out to 
 him, and why he had never gone to the Storys . 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 ONE result of Stover s sobering experience witK 
 Fanny Le Roy was that he met the problem of the 
 senior elections with directness and honesty. What 
 Brockhurst had said of the injurious effect of secrecy 
 and ceremony on the imagination had always been with 
 him. Yet in his desire to stand high in the eyes of Jean 
 Story, to win the honors she prized, he had quibbled 
 over the question. Now the glimpse he had had into 
 the inscrutable verities of human tragedy had all at once 
 lifted him above the importance of local standards, and 
 left him with but one desire to be true to himself. 
 
 The tests that had come to him in his college life had 
 brought with them a maturity of view beyond that of his 
 fellows. Now that he seriously debated the ques 
 tion, he said to himself that he saw great evils in the 
 system : that on the average intelligence this thraldom to 
 formula and awe at the assumption of mystery had unde 
 niably a narrowing effect, unworthy of a great university 
 dedicated to liberty of thought and action. He saw that 
 while certain individuals, such as Hungerford and 
 Regan, laughed at the bugbear of secrecy, and went their 
 way unconcerned, a great number, more impressionable, 
 had been ruled from the beginning by fear alone. 
 
 With the aims and purposes of Skull and Bones 
 he was in thorough sympathy their independence of 
 judgment, their seeking out of men who had to contend 
 with poverty, their desire to reward ambition and indus 
 try and character but the more he freely acknowl- 
 
 373 
 
374 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 edged their influence for democracy and simplicity at 
 Yale, the more he revolted at the unnecessary fetish of 
 it all. 
 
 " They should command respect and not fear. By 
 George, that s where I stand. All this rigmarole is 
 ridiculous, and it s ridiculous that it ever affected me; 
 it is of the middle ages outgrown." 
 
 Then a problem placed itself before him. Admitting 
 that he had even the ghost of a chance of being tapped, 
 ought he to go into a senior society feeling as he did 
 about so many of its observances, secretly resolved on 
 their elimination? Finally, a week before Tap Day, he 
 decided to go to Judge Story and frankly state his case, 
 letting him know that he preferred thus to give notice of 
 his beliefs. 
 
 When he arrived at the Story home the Judge was 
 upstairs in his study. Jean, alone in the parlor, looked 
 up in surprise at his expressed intention to see her 
 father. Since her letter they had never been alone. 
 Stover had avoided it with his shrinking from sympathy, 
 and, perhaps guessing his temperament, she had made 
 no attempt to go beyond the safe boundaries of formal 
 intercourse. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Dad s upstairs," she said. Then she 
 added a little anxiously : " You look serious is it a 
 very serious matter ? " 
 
 He hesitated, knowing instinctively that she would 
 oppose him. 
 
 " It s something that s been on my mind for a long 
 time," he said evasively; and he added with a smile, 
 " It s what you call my Quixotic fit." 
 
 " It s about Skull and Bones," she said instantly. 
 
 " Yes, it is." 
 
 " What are you going to say ? " 
 
STOVER AT YALE 375 
 
 " I m going to tell him just where I stand just what 
 I ve come to believe about the whole business." 
 
 "And what s that?" 
 
 " That Skull and Bones, which does a great good here 
 I believe it also does a great deal of harm ; all of 
 which is unnecessary and a weakness in its system. In 
 a word, I ve come to the point where I believe secrecy is 
 un-American, undemocratic and stultifying; and, as I 
 say, totally unnecessary. I should always be against it." 
 
 " But aren t you exaggerating the importance of it 
 all ? " she said hastily. 
 
 " No, I m not," he said. " I used to silence myself 
 with that, but I see the thing working out too plainly." 
 
 " But why speak about it? " 
 
 " Because I don t think it s honest not to. Of course," 
 he added immediately, " I have about one chance in a 
 thousand perhaps that s why I m so all-fired direct 
 about it." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn t," she said, rising and coming 
 towards him. " It might offend them terribly ; you 
 never know." 
 
 He shook his head, though her eagerness gave him a 
 sudden happiness. 
 
 " No, I ve thought it out a long while, and I ve de 
 cided. It all goes back to that sophomore society scrap. 
 I made up my mind then I wasn t going to compromise, 
 and I m not now." 
 
 " But I want to see you go Bones," she said illogically, 
 in a rush. " After all you ve gone through, you must 
 go Bones ! " 
 
 He did not answer this. 
 
 " Oh, it s so unnecessary," she said. " No one but 
 you would think of it ! " 
 
 " Don t be angry with me," he said, a little troubled. 
 
316 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " I am it s absurd ! " she said, turning away with 
 a flash of temper. 
 
 " I m sorry/ he said, and went up the stairs. 
 
 When he returned, after an interview which, needless 
 to say, had somewhat surprised the Judge, he found a 
 very different Jean Story. She was waiting for him 
 quiet and subdued, without a trace of her late irritation. 
 
 " Did you tell him ? " she said gently. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 " I didn t ask for an answer. I told him how I felt, 
 and that I would rather my opinions should be known. 
 That s all." 
 
 " Are you going ? " she said, as he made a move 
 ment. 
 
 " I didn t know " he said, hesitating and looking at 
 her. 
 
 " I am not angry," she said a little wistfully. " You 
 were quite right. I m glad you did it. You are much 
 bigger than I could be I like that." 
 
 " You were the first to wake me up," he said happily, 
 sitting down. 
 
 " Yes, but you have gone so far ahead. You do things 
 without compromise, and that sometimes frightens me." 
 She stopped a moment, and said, looking at him steadily : 
 " You have kept away a long while. Now you see you 
 are caught. You can t avoid being alone with me." 
 
 " I don t want to," he said abruptly. 
 
 " You are so proud, Dink," she said softly, using his 
 nickname for the first time. " I have never seen any 
 one so proud. Everything you do I think comes from 
 that. But it must make you suffer terribly." 
 
 " Yes, it does." 
 
 They were in the front parlor, dimly lit, sitting on the 
 
STOVERATYALE 377 
 
 window-seat, hearing from time to time the passing chug 
 of horses feet. 
 
 " I knew how it must have hurt you all this pub 
 licity," she said slowly. " Why didn t you come when 
 I wrote you ? Were you too proud ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so and then it didn t seem fair to 
 you after all the talk." 
 
 " I was proud of you," she said, raising her head a 
 little. She put out her hand again to his, leaving it in 
 his for a long time, while they sat in silence. The touch 
 that once had so disturbed him brought now only a gen 
 tle serenity. He thought of the other woman, and what 
 might have been, with almost a hatred, the hatred of man 
 towards whatever he wrongs. 
 
 " You are right about me," he said slowly. " Most 
 people think I don t care what happens, that I m sort of 
 a thick-skinned rhinoceros. How did you know ? " 
 
 " I knew." 
 
 She withdrew her hand slowly, without resistance on 
 his part; only when he held it no longer he felt alone, 
 abandoned to the blackness of the street outside. 
 
 " I ve kept my promise to you, Jean," he said a little 
 unsteadily, " but don t make it too hard." 
 
 She rose and he followed. Together they stood in the 
 shadows of the embrasure, half seeing each other. Only 
 he knew that her large eyes were looking out at him with 
 the look of the woman that he had first called forth when 
 he had wounded the pride of the girl. 
 
 " I am glad you didn t listen to me just now," she said 
 slowly. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " W T hen you went upstairs to Dad. You will never 
 weaken, I know." She came a little towards him, and 
 understanding, he took her gently, wonderingly, in his 
 
378 STOVERATYALE 
 
 arms. " It s going to be very hard for you," she said, 
 " Tap Day to stand there and know that you may be 
 misjudged. I should be very proud to announce our 
 engagement, then that same day." 
 
 Then he knew that he held in his arms one who had 
 never given so much as her hand lightly, who came to 
 him in unflinching loyalty, whose only interest would be 
 his interest, who would know no other life but his life, 
 whose joy would be the struggle that was his struggle. 
 
 Tap Day arrived at last, cloudy and misty. He had 
 slept badly in fits and starts, nor had the others fared 
 better, with the exception of Regan, who had rumbled 
 peacefully through the night but then Regan was one 
 whom others sought. The morning was interminable, a 
 horror. They did not even joke about the approaching 
 ordeal. No one was so sure of election but that the pos 
 sible rejection of some chum cast its gloom over the 
 day. 
 
 Dink ran over a moment after lunch with Bob for a 
 last word with Jean. She was going with her father 
 and mother to see the tapping from a window in Durfee. 
 
 " I shall only see you," she said to him, with her hands 
 in his, and her loyal eyes shining. " I shall be so proud 
 of the way you take it." 
 
 " So you think I won t be tapped," he said slowly. 
 
 " It means so little now," she said. " That can t add a 
 feather s weight to what you are." 
 
 They went back to their rooms, joining Hungerford 
 and Regan, who were whiling away the time playing 
 piquet. 
 
 " Here," said Tom in relief when they entered, " one 
 of you fellows keep Joe entertained, the darn fool has 
 suddenly made up his mind he s going to be passed over." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 379 
 
 Regan, relinquishing his place, went back to his book. 
 
 " Why, Joe, you fluffy ass," said Story affectionately, 
 " you re the surest of the lot. Shut up cheer us up 
 instead." 
 
 " Look at that mound of jelly/ said Hunger ford 
 peevishly, pointing to Regan. " Has he any nerves ? " 
 
 " What s the use of fidgeting? " said Regan. 
 
 An hour later Hungerf ord stretched his arm nervously, 
 rose and consulted the clock. 
 
 " Four-fifteen ; let s hike over in about twenty min 
 utes." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 " Say, I don t mind saying that I feel as though I were 
 going to be taken out, stuck full of holes, sawed up, 
 drawn and quartered and boiled alive. I feel like jump 
 ing on an express and running away." 
 
 Stover, remembering Joe s keen suffering at the spec 
 tacle back in freshman year, said gravely: 
 
 " You re sure, Joe. You ll go among the first. Come 
 back with smelling salts for me. I ve got to stand 
 through the whole thing and grin like a Cheshire cat 
 that s de rigueur. Do you remember how bully Dudley 
 was when he missed out ? Funny then I thought I 
 had a cinch." 
 
 " If it was left to our class, you would, Dink," said 
 Bob. 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 Stover smiled a little at this unconscious avowal of 
 his own estimate, rose, picked out his favorite pipe, and 
 said: 
 
 " I don t care so much there s a reason. Well, let s 
 get into the mess." 
 
 The four went together, over toward the junior fence, 
 already swarming. 
 
380 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Ten minutes of five," said Hungerford, looking at 
 the clock that each had seen. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Some one stopped Stover to wish him good luck. He 
 looked down on a diminutive figure in large spectacles, 
 trying to recall, who was saying to him : 
 
 "I I wanted to wish you the best." 
 
 " Oh, it s Wookey," said Stover suddenly. He shook 
 hands, rather troubled. " Well, boy, there s not much 
 chance for me." 
 
 " Oh, I hope so." 
 
 " Thanks just the same." 
 
 " Hello, Dink, old fellow." 
 
 " Put her there." 
 
 " You know what we all want ? " 
 
 He was in another group, patted on the back, his arm 
 squeezed, listening to the welcome loyalty of those who 
 knew him. 
 
 " Lord, if they d only have sense enough." 
 
 He smiled and made his way towards his three friends, 
 exchanging salutations. 
 
 " Luck, Dink." 
 
 " Same to you, Tommy Bain." 
 
 " Here s wishing." 
 
 " Back to you, Dopey." 
 
 " You ve got my vote." 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 He joined his room-mates under the tree, looking over 
 the heads to the windows of Durfee where he saw Jean 
 Story with her father and mother. Presently, seeking 
 everywhere, she saw him. Their eyes met, he lifted his 
 cap, she nodded slightly. From that moment he knew 
 she would see no one else. 
 
 " Let s keep together," said Regan. " Lock arms." 
 
STOVER AT YALE 381 
 
 The four stood close together, arms gripped, resisting 
 the press that crushed them together, speaking no more, 
 hearing about them the curious babble of the under 
 classmen. 
 
 " That s Regan." 
 
 " Story ll go first." 
 
 " Stand here." 
 
 " This is the spot." 
 
 " Lord, they look solemn enough." 
 
 " Almost time." 
 
 " Get your watch out." 
 
 " Fifteen seconds more." 
 
 " Five, four, three, two " 
 
 "Boom!" 
 
 Above their heads the chapel bell broke over them with 
 its five decisive strokes, swallowed up in the roar of the 
 college. 
 
 "Yeal" 
 
 11 Here he comes ! " 
 
 " First man for Bones ! " 
 
 "Reynolds!" 
 
 From where he stood Stover could see nothing. Only 
 the travelling roar of the crowd told of the coming 
 seniors. Then there was a stir in the crowd near him, 
 and Reynolds, in black derby, came directly for them; 
 pushed them aside, and suddenly slapped some one be 
 hind. 
 
 A roar went up again. 
 
 " Who was it ? " said Story quickly. 
 
 " Hunter, Jim Hunter." 
 
 The next moment Hunter, white as a sheet, bumped 
 at his side and passed, followed by Reynolds; down the 
 convulsive lane the crowd opened to him. 
 
 Roar followed roar, and reports came thick. 
 
382 STOVERATYALE 
 
 " Stone s gone Keys." 
 
 " Three Wolf s-Head men in the crowd." 
 
 " McNab gets Keys." 
 
 "Hooray!" 
 
 " Dopey s tapped ! " 
 
 " Bully." 
 
 " Wiggins fourth man for Bones." 
 
 Still no one came their way. Then all at once a Bones 
 man, wandering in the crowd, came up behind Bob 
 Story, caught him by the shoulders, swung him around 
 to make sure, and gave him the slap. 
 
 Regan s, Hungerford s, and Stover s voices rose above 
 the uproar: 
 
 "Bully, Bob!" 
 
 "Good work!" 
 
 " Hooray for you ! " 
 
 Almost immediately Regan received the eighth tap for 
 Bones, and went for his room amidst the thundering 
 cheers of a popular choice. 
 
 " Well, here we are, Dink," said Hungerford. 
 
 " You re next." 
 
 About them the curious spectators pressed, staring up 
 into their faces for any sign of emotion, struggling to 
 reach them, with the dramatic instinct of the crowd. 
 Four more elections were given out by Bones only 
 three places remained. 
 
 " That settles me," said Stover between his teeth. 
 " If they wanted me, I d gone among the first. Joe s go 
 ing to get last place bully for him. He s the best 
 fellow in the class." 
 
 He folded his arms and smiled with the consciousness 
 of a decision accepted. He saw Hungerford s face, and 
 the agony of suspense to his sensitive nerves. 
 
STOVER AT YALE 383 
 
 " Cheer up, Joe, it s last place for you." 
 
 Then another shout. 
 
 " Bones or Keys ? " he asked of those around him. 
 
 " Bones." 
 
 " Charley Stacey." 
 
 " Thirteenth man." 
 
 " I was sure of it," he said calmly to himself. Then 
 he glanced up at the window. Her eyes had never left 
 him. He straightened up with a new defiance. " Lord, 
 I d like to have gotten it, just for Jean. Well, I knocked 
 against too many heads. I don t wonder." 
 
 Suddenly Hungerford caught his hand underneath the 
 crowd, pressing it unseen. 
 
 " Last man for Bones now, Dink," he said, looking 
 in his eyes. " I hope to God it s you." 
 
 " Why, you old chump," said Stover laughing, so all 
 heard him. " Bless your heart, I don t mind. Here s 
 to you." 
 
 Above the broken, fitful cheers, suddenly came a last 
 swelling roar. 
 
 " Bones." 
 
 " Last man." 
 
 The crowd, as though divining the election, divided a 
 path towards where the two friends waited, Hungerford 
 staring blankly, Stover, arms still folded, waiting stead 
 ily with a smile of acceptation on his lips. 
 
 It was Le Baron. He came like a black tornado, 
 rushing over the ground straight toward the tree. Once 
 some one stumbled into his path, and he caught him and 
 flung him aside. Straight to the two he came, never 
 deviating, straight past Dink Stover, and suddenly 
 switching around almost knocked him to the ground 
 with the crash of his blow. 
 
384 STOVER AT YALE 
 
 " Go to your room ! " 
 
 It was a shout of electrifying drama, the voice of his 
 society speaking to the college. 
 
 Some one caught Stover. He straightened up, trying 
 to collect his wits, utterly unprepared for the shock. 
 About him pandemonium broke loose. Still dazed, he 
 felt Hungerford leap at him, crying in his ears : 
 
 " God bless you, old man. It s great, great they 
 rose to it. It s the finest ever ! " 
 
 He began to move mechanically towards his room, 
 seeing nothing, hearing nothing. He started towards 
 the library, and some one swung him around. He heard 
 them cheering, then he saw hundreds of faces, wild-eyed, 
 rushing past him; he stumbled and suddenly his eyes 
 were blurred with tears, and he knew how much he 
 cared, after the long months of rebellion, to be no longer 
 an outsider, but back among his own with the stamp of 
 approval on his record. 
 
 The last thing he remembered through his swimming 
 vision was Joe Hungerford, hatless and swinging his 
 arms as though he had gone crazy, leading a cheer, and 
 the cheer was for Bones. 
 
 That night, even before he went to the Storys , Stover 
 went out arm in arm with Hungerford, across the quiet 
 campus, so removed from the fray of the afternoon. 
 
 " Joe, it breaks me all up," he said at last. " You and 
 I waiting there " 
 
 " Don t speak of it, old fellow," said Hungerford. 
 " Now let me talk. I did want to make it, but, by 
 George, I know now it s better I didn t. I ve had every 
 thing I wanted in this world; this is the first I couldn t 
 get. It s better for me; I know it already." 
 
 "You were clean grit, Joe, cheering for Bones." 
 
STOVERATYALE 385 
 
 " By George, I meant it. It meant something to feel 
 they could rise up and know a man, and you ve hit pretty 
 close to them, old boy." 
 
 " Yes, I have, but I ve believed it." 
 
 " It shows the stuff that s here," said Hungerford, 
 " when you once can get to it. Now I take off my hat to 
 them. I only hope you can make your influence felt." 
 
 " I m going to try," said Stover solemnly. " The 
 thing is so big a thing that it ought not to be hampered 
 by bug-a-boo methods." 
 
 Brockhurst joined them. 
 
 " Well, the smoke s rolled away," said Brockhurst, 
 who likewise had missed out. " It s over all over. 
 Now we ll settle down to peace and quiet relax." 
 
 " The best time s coming," said Hungerford. " We ll 
 live as we please, and really enjoy life. It s the real 
 time, every one says so." 
 
 " Yes," said Brockhurst, rebel to the last, " but why 
 couldn t it come before, why couldn t it be so the whole 
 four years ? " 
 
 " Well, now, old croaker," said Hungerford with a 
 little heat, "own up the old college comes up to the 
 scratch. We ve surrendered the sophomore society sys 
 tem, and the seniors showed to-day that they could 
 recognize honest criticism. That s pretty fine, I say." 
 
 " You re pretty fine, Joe," said Brockhurst to their 
 surprise. " Well, it s good enough as it is. It takes an 
 awful lot to stir it, but it s the most sensitive of the 
 American colleges, and it will respond. It wants to do 
 the right thing. Some day it ll see it. I m a crank, of 
 course." He stopped, and Stover felt in his voice a little 
 note of bitterness. " The trouble with me is just that. 
 I m impractical; have strange ideas. I m not satisfied 
 with Yale as a magnificent factory on democratic busi- 
 
386 STOVERATYALE 
 
 ness lines; I dream of something else, something vision 
 ary, a great institution not of boys, clean, lovable and 
 honest, but of men of brains, of courage, of leadership, 
 a great center of thought, to stir the country and bring 
 it back to the understanding of what man creates with 
 his imagination, and dares with his will. It s visionary 
 it will come." 
 
 THE END 
 
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