AND SHOWS HIS METTLE
The freshman election took place in one of the lecture rooms of Grace
Hall. There was a full attendance of the entering class, while the
absence of sophomores was considered by those who had heard of former
freshman elections at Erskine as something unnatural and of
evil portent.
Paul, robbed of the support of Tom Cowan's presence, was noticeably ill
at ease, and for the first time appeared to be in doubt as to his
election. Fanwell Livingston was put in nomination by one of his St.
Mathias friends in a speech that secured wide applause, and the
nomination was duly seconded by a red-headed and very eloquent youth
who, so Neil learned, was King, the captain of the St. Mathias baseball
team of the preceding spring.
"Are there any more nominations?" asked the chairman, a member of the
junior class.
South, a Hillton boy, arose and spoke at some length of the courage and
ability for leadership of one of whom they had all heard; "of one who
on the white-grilled field of battle had successfully led the hosts of
Hillton Academy against the St. Eustace hosts." (Two St. Eustace
graduates howled derisively.) South ended in a wild burst of flowery
eloquence and placed in nomination "that triumphant football captain,
that best of good fellows, Paul Dunlop Gale!"
The applause which followed was flattering, though, had Paul but known
it, it was rather for the speech than the nominee. And the effect was
somewhat marred by several inquiries from different parts of the hall as
to who in thunder Gale was. Neil secured recognition ere the applause
had subsided, and seconded the nomination. He avoided rhetoric, and told
his classmates in few words and simple phrases that Paul Gale possessed
pluck, generalship, and executive ability; that he had proved this at
Hillton, and, given the chance, would prove it again at Erskine.
"Gale is a stranger to many of you fellows," he concluded, "but, whether
you make him class president or whether you give that honor to another,
he won't be a stranger long. A fellow that can pilot a Hillton football
team to victory against almost overwhelming odds and through the
greatest of difficulties as Gale did last year is not the sort to sit
around in corners and watch the procession go by. No, sir; keep your eye
on him. I'll wager that before the year's out you'll be prouder of him
than of any man in your class. And, meanwhile, if you're looking for
the right man for the presidency, a man that'll lead 1905 to a renown
beside which the other classes will look like so many battered
golf-balls, why, I've told you where to look."
Neil sat down amid a veritable roar of applause, and Paul, totally
unembarrassed by the praise and acclaim, smiled with satisfaction. "That
was all right, chum," he whispered. "I guess we've got them on the
run, eh?"
But Neil shook his head doubtfully. Cries of "Vote! Vote!" arose, and in
a moment or two the balloting began. While this was proceeding
announcement was made that the annual Freshman Class Dinner would be
held on the evening of the following Monday, October 7th. When the
cheers occasioned by this information had subsided the chairman arose.
"The result of the balloting, gentlemen," he announced, "is as follows:
Livingston, 97; Gale, 45. Mr. Livingston is elected by a majority
of 52."
Shouts of "Livingston! Livingston! Speech! Speech!" filled the air, and
were not stilled until some one arose and announced that the
president-elect was not in the hall. Paul, after a glance of
bewilderment at Neil, had sat silent in his chair with something between
a sneer and a scowl on his face. Now he jumped up.
"Come on; let's get out of here," he muttered. "They act like a lot of
idiots." Neil followed, and they found themselves in a pushing throng at
the door. The chairman was vainly clamoring for some one to put a motion
to adjourn, but none heeded him. The crowd pushed and shoved, but made
no progress.
"Open that door," cried Paul.
"Try it yourself," answered a voice up front. "It's locked!"
A murmur arose that quickly gave place to cries of wrath and
indignation. "The sophs did it!" "Where are they?" "Break the door
down!" Those at the rear heaved and pushed.
"Stop shoving, back there!" yelled those in front. "You're squashing us
flat."
"Everybody away from the door!" shouted Neil. "Let's see if we can't get
it open." The fellows finally fell back to some extent, and Neil, Paul,
and some of the others examined the lock. The key was still there, but,
unfortunately, on the outside. Breaking the door down was utterly out of
the question, since it was of solid oak and several inches thick. The
self-appointed committee shook its several heads.
"We'll have to yell for the janitor," said Neil. "Where does he hang
out?"
But none knew. Neil went to one of the three windows and raised it.
Instantly a chorus of derision floated up from below. Gathered almost
under the windows was a throng of sophomores, their upturned faces just
visible in the darkness.
"O Fresh! O Fresh!" "Want to come down?" "Why don't you jump?" These
gibes were followed by cheers for "'04" and loud groans. Neil turned and
faced his angry classmates.
"Look here, fellows," he said, "we don't want to have to yell for the
janitor with those sophs there; that's too babyish. The key's in the
outside of the lock. I think I can get down all right by the ivy, and
I'll unlock the door if those sophs will let me. If two or three of you
will follow I guess we can do it all right."
"Bully for you!" "Plucky boy!" cried the audience. But for a moment none
came forward to share the risk. Then Paul pushed his way to the window.
"Here, I'll go with you, chum," he said, with a suggestion of swagger.
"We can manage those dubs down there alone. The rest of you can sit down
and tell stories; we'll let you out in a minute," he added scathingly.
"That's Gale," whispered some one. "Fresh kid!", added another angrily.
But the gibe had the desired effect. Four other freshmen signified their
willingness to die for their class, and Neil climbed on to the broad
window-sill. His reappearance was the signal for another outburst from
the watching sophomores.
"Don't jump, sonny; you may hurt yourself." "He's going to fly, fellows!
Good little Freshie's got wings!" "Say, we'll let you out in the
morning! Good-night!"
But when Neil, divesting himself of coat and shoes, swung out and laid
hold of the largest of the big ivy branches that clung there to the
wall, the jeers died away. The hall where the meeting had been held was
on the third floor, and when Neil stepped from the window-sill he hung
fully twenty-five feet from the ground. The ivy branch, ages old, was
almost as large as his wrist, and quite strong enough to bear his weight
just as long as it did not tear from its fastenings. Whether it would
hold in place remained to be seen. Neil judged that if he could lower
himself fifteen feet by its aid he could easily drop the rest of the
distance without injury. The window above was black with watchers as he
began his journey, and many voices cheered him on. Paul, his feet
hanging over the black void, sat on the narrow ledge and waited
his turn.
"Go fast, chum," he counseled, "but don't lose your grip. I'll wait
until you're down."
"All right," answered Neil. Then, with a great rustling of the
thick-growing leaves, he lowered himself by arm's lengths. The vine
swayed and gave at every strain, but held. From below came the sound of
clapping. Hand under hand he went. The oblong of faint light above
receded fast. His stockinged feet gripped the vine tightly. In the group
of sophomores the clapping grew into cheers.
[Illustration]
"Good work, Freshie!" "You're all right!"
Then, with the ground almost at his feet, Neil let go and dropped
lightly into a bed of shrubbery. The fellows above applauded wildly.
With a glance at the near-by group of sophomores, Neil ran. Several of
the enemy started to intercept him, but were called back.
"Let him go! He's all right! We've had our fun!" And Neil sprang up the
steps and into the building without molestation. Meanwhile Paul was
making his descent and receiving his meed of applause from friend and
foe. And as he dropped to earth there came a sound of cheering from the
building, and the freshmen, released by the unlocking of the door,
emerged on to the steps and path.
"Five this way!" was the cry. "Rush the sophs!"
But wiser counsels prevailed and, each cheering loudly, the
representatives of the rival classes took themselves off.
Neil and Paul were the last to leave the building, since they had been
obliged to return to the room for their shoes and coats. Paul had
forgotten some of his disappointment during the later proceedings, and
appeared very well satisfied with himself.
"We showed them what Hillton chaps can do, chum," he said. "And I'll bet
they'll regret electing that fellow Livingston before I'm through with
them! Much I care about their old presidency! They're a pack of silly
little kids, any way. Let's go to bed."