THE REVOLT ENDS
The sun came up from behind Mount Adam, the chapel bell rang, some two
hundred boys leaped, crawled, or rolled out of bed, and life at Hillton
began the next morning as though the day was of no more importance than
any of the five which had preceded it that week; in fact, as though
Wayne Gordon was not heroically resolved to sacrifice himself upon the
altar of principle.
While the unfeeling sun was coming up Wayne was going through a most
remarkable adventure. Plainly he had won Professor Wheeler to his
side, for together they were besieged in the school library and had
barricaded the doors and windows with books, while from convenient
loopholes they maintained a rapid and merciless fusillade of ancient
and modern history, Greek and Latin text-books, geometries, and
algebras upon the heads of the besiegers, who retaliated with chest
weights, dumb-bells, single sticks, and Indian clubs until the air was
dark with the flying missiles and the battle cries of the foes shook
the building. Wayne and the principal had just clasped hands and sworn
to perish side by side, fighting grandly to the last gasp for the
right, when a whole covey of chest weights came through a window and
smote Wayne on the head, and he awoke to see Don with a second pillow
poised, ready to throw.
“Get up, Wayne; bell’s rung!”
Wayne yawned, pitched the pillow back at Don, and arose. He hadn’t
slept well, and wished that Don wouldn’t always insist on his getting
up so early. And he told him so. But Don was good nature itself that
morning and refused to argue or get cross, and Wayne was perforce
obliged to recover his wonted gayety, much against his inclination, and
trudge off arm in arm with Don to chapel. And after he had got through
with a hearty breakfast, even the thought that probation awaited him on
the morrow failed to dispel his excellent spirits.
For, as Don had feared, the combined efforts of the three friends had
failed to shake Wayne’s resolution. Don had pleaded, Paddy had begged,
Dave had threatened; and Wayne had reiterated passionately his desire
to suffer martyrdom on account of his principles, and had utterly and
absolutely and finally refused to attend gymnasium work to-day or to
plead illness in extenuation. The three friends had not appeared cast
down--a fact at which Wayne wondered not a little. It looked as though
they didn’t care whether he was put on probation or not, and he had
gone to bed deeply pessimistic on the subject of friendship.
Wayne’s hour for physical training in the gymnasium began at three, and
when, five minutes before that time, he issued from Academy Building
resolved to proceed to his room and put in the momentous hour at hard
study, he found Don and Dave and Paddy on the steps. The two latter
youths at once locked arms with him, much to his surprise, for Dave
especially was little given to such expressions of friendliness, and
the quartet moved toward Bradley Hall.
“Why aren’t you and Dave on the campus?” asked Wayne.
“Oh, we didn’t like to leave you alone this afternoon,” answered Paddy,
with a smile. “You see, we have your welfare at heart, my boy, and we
are going to see that you don’t act silly and get put on probation, and
not be able to go to Marshall with us next week.”
“If you mean not going to the gymnasium when you say ‘acting silly,’”
replied Wayne, with much dignity, “why, then, I’m going to act silly.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” said Dave.
“What do you mean?” demanded Wayne, striving to withdraw himself from
his friends’ clutches. They had almost reached the steps of Bradley,
and now they stopped and faced about.
“Just this,” said Dave. “We’ve tried persuasion and--and----”
“Entreaty,” prompted Don.
“And entreaty--and both have failed. So now we’re going to use force.
If you don’t agree to go to the gym and do your work peaceable, we are
going to take you there.”
Wayne struggled violently, only to suddenly find his feet off the
ground, his arms held fast, and himself being borne, kicking wildly,
toward the gymnasium.
“Let me go, Dave! Paddy, you--you beast, put me down!”
“Aisy, me child,” answered Paddy soothingly. “’Tis for yer own good.”
“Don, make ’em let me go!” pleaded Wayne. But his chum shook his head.
“Go you must, Wayne, so you’d better promise and we’ll let you walk.”
Wayne made no answer, only struggled the harder.
“You’ll have to take his legs, Don,” panted Paddy. “’Tis mighty unaisy
he is.” They were crossing the green now, and several fellows were
hurrying nearer to see what was going on. A group of boys on the steps
of the gymnasium were watching.
“It’s--it’s an outrage!” panted Wayne, his face white with anger.
“Maybe it is,” said Dave calmly, “but we’re getting you there.”
Struggle was useless, and Wayne for a moment lay quiet in the grasp of
the three boys. Then he caught sight of the watchers. It was public
degradation! He temporized.
“I’ll walk, fellows,” he said.
His bearers stopped and let him down.
“Will you promise to go to the gym?” asked Don.
“Yes,” growled Wayne. “But I’ll not do any work, and nobody can make
me!”
“Up with him!” cried Dave, and once more Wayne was fighting in the arms
of the three and being borne on toward the gymnasium.
“What’s the fun, Paddy?” yelled one of the fellows who were hurrying to
meet them.
“Oh, we’re just taking exercise,” answered Paddy carelessly.
“What--what are you going to do with me?” asked Wayne, in meeker tones.
“Carry you to the locker room, change your clothes, take you upstairs,
and give you, like a bundle of old rags, to Professor Beck,” answered
Dave.
“Let me down, then, and I’ll agree.” Once more he found his feet, but
the others took no chances and still stood guard.
“Promise to do your work?” asked Don.
“Yes,” growled Wayne.
“Honest Injun?”
“Honest Injun,” echoed the other.
“All right,” replied Dave. “Then let’s proceed.”
They walked on, Wayne striving to look at ease under the inquiring gaze
of many eyes as they passed up the steps and into the building. In the
locker room Dave and Paddy left him to get into their own clothes and
to hurry away to the campus, while Don stood by and listened patiently
to all that Wayne had to say, which was much, and not altogether polite
or flattering. Then the two proceeded upstairs and Wayne went through
a long siege with the dumb-bells and the chest weights. Professor Beck
made no sign, and Wayne wondered resentfully if he was aware of his
presence. He was, for after awhile he came to the boy, watched him
tugging the cords over his shoulders for a moment in silence and then
said:
“Don’t get yourself too tired, Gordon. Stop when you think best.”
Whereat Wayne scowled, tugged the harder at the weights, and resolved
to stay until the class was dismissed, hoping resentfully that he
would injure his spine or some other portion of his anatomy, and that
Professor Wheeler and Don and Paddy and Dave would be sorry and would
regret their treatment of him. This so cheered him up that he was
quite ready to forgive and forget when he had dried himself after his
bath, and so met Don with almost a smile; for that youth, hoping for
a reconciliation, had abandoned a French recitation and had waited
patiently outside. Neither mentioned the recent affair as they
strolled off together, and by mutual consent the subject of physical
training was tabooed in their conversation for several weeks. And Dave
and Paddy evinced the utmost tact, and were in turn forgiven on the
morrow.
Professor Wheeler, however, was not so silent on the subject nor so
considerate of Wayne’s feelings. He summoned the boy before him on the
following day and earnestly and kindly thanked him for his action in
attending the gymnasium; and Wayne, shifting uneasily from one foot to
the other, heard him through and then broke out with:
“But I didn’t, sir!”
“Didn’t what?” asked the principal.
“Didn’t voluntarily attend the class.”
“But Professor Beck himself told me that you were there.”
“Yes, sir, I was there; but--but--” And Wayne told the circumstances of
his attendance, and the principal smiled broadly when he had finished.
“Well, well, that’s one way to persuade. I asked Cunningham to
see what he could do with you, but I didn’t suppose he would use
such--ah--heroic measures.”
“I don’t think it was his idea, sir,” answered Wayne. “I believe Paddy
was at the bottom of it.”
“Paddy? Oh, yes--Breen. I shouldn’t be surprised if he was.” Professor
Wheeler was smiling again. “Well, it wasn’t so hard yesterday, was it,
Gordon?”
“No, sir, not very hard; but the principle----”
The professor held up his hands in simulated despair.
“Gordon, it’s a reckless thing to say, but let us forget our principles
for once. If I were you I’d try to keep out of all trouble if for no
other reason than to please three such good friends as Cunningham and
Breen and--er--Merton have proved to be. I’d even put principle aside,
I think, and only consider that I was pleasing my chums. Now, don’t you
think you can afford to do that?”
Wayne thoughtfully smoothed the carpet with the toe of his shoe.
“Yes, sir,” he said, at length, “I think I can.”
“And you’ll attend the ‘compulsory physical education’ class in
future?” Wayne scowled and tried the effect of the other shoe for a
moment.
“Yes, sir,” he answered. “I’ll do gymnasium work, but not because I
think it is right, for I don’t. I still think it’s wrong. But I’ll do
it to please Don and Dave and Paddy and--and----”
“And me,” said the principal smilingly.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s right. By the way, Carl Gray came to me yesterday and told me
about that money, you know. It may please you to hear that the account
will not be sent to his mother.”
“I’m very glad, sir,” responded Wayne heartily. “It seemed too bad to
have her know, didn’t it, sir?”
“Yes,” said Professor Wheeler gravely. “I feel sure that you don’t want
thanks for the kindness, but I’d like to tell you that it has made me
very nearly as happy as it has Gray; I disliked my duty greatly. Well,
that’s all, I think, Gordon. Come and see me sometimes. I’m always glad
to see you boys at any time, and especially on Saturday evenings. I
wish more of you could find time to come then. Oh, by the way, you said
the other day that you were having hard work with your studies. Which
ones bother you most?”
“Greek and mathematics are the worst.”
“Perhaps you could get a little help from some one for a while. Have
you tried?”
“No, sir, I--I didn’t like to own up; all the other fellows get along
so well.”
“Not all, Gordon; there are others in your fix. Take my advice and go
and see Professor Durkee. He rooms in your building. You’ll find him
quite willing to help you all he can; and he’s an excellent Greek man.
He’s a little--ah--well, crusty, Gordon, on the surface, but you’ll
find him kindness itself underneath. Try him.”
“Thank you, sir, I will.”
“Yes. And it’s all settled about the ‘compulsory physical education,’
is it?”
“Yes, sir, only----”
“What, have we struck a snag already?”
“No, only I’d like it understood that I’m doing it under protest, sir.”
“That,” answered the principal gravely, “is of course understood. Shall
we shake hands on it?”
And they did.