"I do. That's the man you--an' all the other coaches--have been wantin'
to see. The perfect athlete. Better in everything than the best man at
any one thing. Just a freak, Woodie--but, God Almighty, how New Haven
an' Colgate are goin' to feel it these next years!"
"Mebbe he's dumb, Fitz."
"Mebbe. Mebbe not."
"Find out."
Fitz wasted no time. He telephoned to the registrar's office. "Mr. H.
Danner," said the voice of a secretary, "passed his examinations with
the highest honours and was admitted among the first ten."
"He passed his entrance exams among the first ten," Fitzsimmons
repeated.
"God!" said Woodman, "it's the millennium!" And he took a drink.
* * * * *
Late in the afternoon of that day Hugo found his room in Thompson
Dormitory. He unpacked his carpet-bag and his straw suitcase. He checked
in his mind the things that he had done. It seemed a great deal for one
day--a complete alteration of his life. He had seen the dean and
arranged his classes: trigonometry, English, French, Latin, biology,
physics, economics, hygiene. With a pencil and a ruler he made a
schedule, which he pinned on the second-hand desk he had bought.
Then he checked his furniture: a desk, two chairs, a bed, bed-clothes, a
rug, sheets and blankets, towels. He hung his clothes in the closet. For
a while he looked at them attentively. They were not like the clothes of
the other students. He could not quite perceive the difference, but he
felt it, and it made him uncomfortable. The room to which he had been
assigned was pleasant. It looked over the rolling campus on two sides,
and both windows were framed in the leaves of nodding ivy.
It was growing dark. From a dormitory near by came the music of a banjo.
Presently the player sang and other voices joined with him. A warm and
golden sun touched the high clouds with lingering fire. Voices cried
out, young and vigorous. Hugo sighed. He was going to be happy at
Webster. His greatness was going to be born here.
At that time Woodman called informally on Chuck and Lefty. They were in
a heated argument over the decorative arrangement of various liquor
bottles when he knocked. "Come in!" they shouted in unison.
"Hello!"
"Oh, Woodie. Come in. Sit down. Want a drink--you're not in training?"
"No, thanks. Had one. And it would be a damn sight better if you birds
didn't keep the stuff around."
"It's Chuck's." Lefty grinned.
"All right. I came to see about that bird you brought to me--Danner."
"Was he any good?"
Woodman hesitated. "Fellows, if I told you how good he was, you wouldn't
believe me. He's so good--I'm scared of him."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Just that. He gave Nellie thirty feet in a lap on the track."
"Great God!"
"He jumped twenty-eight and eleven feet--running and standing. He kicked
half a dozen punts for eighty and ninety yards and he passed the same
distance."
Lefty sat down on the window seat. His voice was hoarse. "That--can't be
done, Woodie."
"I know it. But he did it. But that isn't what makes me frightened. How
much do you think he weighs?"
"One fifty-five--or thereabouts."