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Online Distributed Proofreading Team
WINNING HIS "W"
A Story of Freshman Year at College
by
EVERETT T. TOMLINSON
M.A. Donohue & Company
Chicago New York
1904
PREFACE
In this book I have endeavored to relate the story of a boy's early
experiences in college life--a boy who was neither unnaturally good nor
preternaturally bad, wholesome, earnest, impulsive, making just such
mistakes as a normal boy would make, and yet earnest, sincere, and
healthy. We all have known just such boys and are grateful that they are
neither uncommon nor unknown.
Perhaps it may add a little to the interest of this tale if it is stated
that many of the events described in it actually occurred. I have not
tagged a "moral" upon it, for if the story itself shall not bear its own
moral, then the addition will not add to it.
EVERETT T. TOMLINSON.
Elizabeth, New Jersey.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE OPENING TERM
II. PETER JOHN'S ARRIVAL
III. NEW FRIENDS AND NEW EXPERIENCES
IV. A CLOUD OF WITNESSES
V. UNSOUGHT ATTENTIONS
VI. A RACE IN THE DARKNESS
VII. SPLINTER'S QUESTIONS
VIII. THE PARADE
IX. THE WALK WITH MOTT
X. A VISITOR
XI. THE PERPETUAL PROBLEM
XII. THE MEET
XIII. WAGNER'S ADVICE
XIV. THE ADVICE FOLLOWED
XV. A REVERSED DECISION
XVI. TELEGRAMS
XVII. PETER JOHN'S DOWNFALL
XVIII. AN ALARMING REPORT
XIX. A RARE INTERVIEW
XX. A CRISIS
XXI. THE EXAMINATION
XXII. A FRESH EXCITEMENT
XXIII. THE RUSH TO COVENTRY CENTER
XXIV. THE MYSTERY OF THE CANES
XXV. ON THE TRAIL
XXVI. ST. PATRICK'S DAY
XXVII. CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
THE OPENING TERM
"I've got a letter from Peter John."
"What's the trouble with him? He ought to have been here yesterday or
the day before."
"I'm afraid Peter John never'll be on time. He doesn't seem to have
taken that in his course. He'd never pass an 'exam' in punctuality."
"What does he want?"
"The poor chap begs us to meet him at the station."
"What train?"
"The two-seventeen."
"Then we've no time to waste. Is he afraid he'll be lost?"
"He's afraid, all right."
"What's he afraid of?"
"Everything and everybody, I guess. Poor chap."
Will Phelps laughed good-naturedly as he spoke, and it was evident that
his sympathy for "Peter John" was genuine. His friend and room-mate,
Foster Bennett, was as sympathetic as he, though his manner was more
quiet and his words were fewer; their fears for their friend were
evidently based upon their own personal knowledge.
For four years the three young men had been classmates in the Sterling
High School, and in the preceding June had graduated from its course of
study, and all three had decided to enter Winthrop College. The entrance
examinations had been successfully passed, and at the time when this
story opens all had been duly registered as students in the incoming
class of the college.
Foster Bennett and Will Phelps were to be room-mates, and for several
days previous to the September day on which the conversation already
recorded had taken place they had been in the little college town,
arranging their various belongings in the room in Perry Hall, one of the
best of all the dormitory buildings. The first assembling of the college
students was to occur on the morrow, and then the real life upon which
they were about to enter was to begin.
The two boys had come to Winthrop together, the parents of both having
decided that it was better to throw the young students at once upon
their own resources rather than to accompany them, reserving their
visits for a later time when the first novelty of the new life would be
gone.
And on this September day the novelty certainly was the most prominent
element in the thoughts of both boys. The task of arranging their
various belongings in their new rooms had kept both so busy that
thoughts of the homes they had left were of necessity somewhat rare, and
the vision of the family life in which they had been so vital a part had
not as yet come to take the place in their minds which it soon would
occupy.
At the hotel where they had been staying there were many other boys who
were in a predicament not unlike their own, but the very fact that all
were alike new to the life and its surroundings had made every one
somewhat diffident and the warm friendships and cordial relations that
soon were to be formed were as yet not begun.
Will Phelps and Foster Bennett, however, had been so completely taken up
with their own immediate tasks that they had little thought for other
things. At the time when this story opens their study room was ready for
callers, as Will expressed it, and the adjoining sleeping rooms were in
a fair way for occupancy. Indeed, the boys planned that very night to
sleep in the dormitory, and the experience was looked forward to as one
which they both would enjoy.
Will Phelps, a sturdy young fellow of eighteen, of medium height, with
strong body and a bright, keen expression in his dark eyes, had been the
most popular of all the boys in the high school from which he had
recently graduated. Not over-fond of study, he had somewhat neglected
his tasks until his final year, and though he had then begun to work
more seriously, his late effort had not entirely atoned for the neglect
of the preceding years. An only son and not rigidly trained in his home,
he had not formed the habits of study which his more serious-minded
room-mate, Foster Bennett, possessed. But almost every one who met the
young student was drawn to him by the fascination of his winning ways,
and realized at once the latent possibilities for good or ill that were
his. His success would depend much upon his surroundings, and though
Will was sublimely confident in his ability to meet and master whatever
opposed him, it nevertheless had been a source of deep satisfaction to
his father and mother that he was to room with his classmate, Foster
Bennett, for Foster was of a much more sedate disposition than his
friend. Taller than Will by three inches, as fond as he of certain
athletic sports, still Foster was one whom enthusiasm never carried away
nor impulse controlled. When people spoke of him they often used the
word "steady" to describe him. Not so quick nor so brilliant as Will, he
was not able to arouse the response which his room-mate seldom failed to
elicit, nor was his promise in certain ways so great. Will might do
brilliant things, but of Foster it was said that 'one always knew where
to find him.' Naturally, the two boys in a measure complemented each
other, and their friendship was strong and lasting.
Peter John Schenck--no one ever thought of referring to him by another
term than "Peter John"--the third member of the high-school class to
which reference has already been made, was a boy who every morning had
driven into the little city of Sterling from his country home, and in
his general appearance was decidedly unlike either of his classmates.
The influences of his home had been of a different character from those
which had surrounded his two friends. Not that the love for him had been
less, but certain elements of refinement had been lacking and his
familiarity with the ways of the world was much less. Besides, his
father had been in humbler circumstances, and Peter John was to room in
college in Leland Hall, one of the oldest of the dormitories, where the
room rent was much less than in Perry Hall and more in accord with
Peter John's pocket. In school he had been made the butt of many a joke,
but his fund of good nature had never rebelled and his persistence was
never broken. Tall, ungainly, his trousers seemed to be in a perpetual
effort to withdraw as far as possible from his boots, while his hands
and wrists apparently were continually striving to evade the extremities
of his coat sleeves. His face was freckled, not the ordinary freckles
produced by the heat of the sun, but huge splotches that in color almost
matched his auburn-tinted hair--at least his sister was prone to declare
that the color of his hair was "auburn," though his less reverent
schoolmates were accustomed to refer to him as a "brick-top."
But Peter John was undeterred by the guying of his mates, and when he
had first declared his intention to go to college his words had been
received as a joke. But it was soon discovered that in whatever light
they might be received by others, to Peter John himself they were the
expression of a fixed purpose; and so it came to pass that he too had
passed the entrance examinations and was duly enrolled as a member of
the freshman class in Winthrop College.
When his determination had been accepted by his mates, some of them had
made use of their opportunities to enlarge upon the perils that lay
before him--perils for the most part from the terrible sophomores who
were supposed to be going about seeking their prey with all the
fierceness of a roaring lion. Peter John had listened to the marvelous
tales that were poured into his ears, but so far as his expression of
face was concerned, apparently they had been without effect.
Nevertheless, deep in his heart Peter John had stored them all and his
fear of the class above him had increased until at last just before he
departed from home he had written to his friend Will Phelps informing
him of his fears and begging that he and Foster would meet him at the
station and protect him from the fierce onslaughts, which, he confessed,
he expected would await him upon his arrival. This letter Will Phelps
had found at the little post office when he made inquiries for his mail,
and upon his return to his room it had provided the basis for the
conversation already recorded.
"We'd better go right down to the station, then, Will," Foster had said.
"All right. Peter John will be in mortal terror if he shouldn't find us
there. He probably believes the sophs will have a brass band and knives
and guns and will be drawn up on the platform ready to grab him just the
minute he steps off the car."
"Not quite so bad as that," laughed Foster. "But we'll have to help the
poor chap out."
"Sure. Come on, then," called Will as he seized his cap and started
toward the hallway.
"Hold on a minute. Wait till I lock the door."
"'Lock the door?' Not much! You mustn't do that."
"Why not?"
"It isn't polite."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Foster.
"Just what I'm telling you. Freshmen mustn't lock their doors, that's
not the thing. The janitor told me not to, because the sophs will take
it as a challenge to break it in. He said the college had to put sixty
new locks this summer on the doors here in Perry."
"Looks as if something had happened for a fact," said Foster slowly, as
he glanced at some huge cracks that were plainly visible in the panels.
"Sure 't'll be safe?"
"It'll be all right. The janitor says so. Come on! Come on, or we'll be
too late!"
The two boys ran swiftly down the stairway (their room was on the third
floor of the dormitory) and soon were on the street which was directly
in front of the building. As they walked rapidly in the direction of the
station, which was a half-mile or more distant from the college
buildings, the sight which greeted their eyes was one that stirred the
very depths of their hearts. The very buildings themselves were
impressive, some old and antiquated, dating back a century or more and
venerable with age, and others new and beautiful, the recent gifts of
some loyal alumni. From the huge clock in the tower of the chapel rang
out the chimes which announced that the hour of two was come and gone.
The beautifully kept grounds, the stately buildings, the very leaves on
the huge elms that grew about the grounds were all impressive at the
time to the boys to whom the entire picture was new.
In the wide street that led directly through the midst of the college
buildings, were passing young men of their own age, some of whom would
suddenly stop and grasp with fervor the hands of some students just
returned from the long summer vacation. From the windows of the
dormitories could be seen the faces of students who were leaning far out
and shouting their words of greeting to friends on the street below. The
September sun was warm and mellow, and as it found its way through the
thick foliage it also cast fantastic shadows upon the grass that seemed
to dance and leap in the very contagion of the young life that abounded
on every side. The very air was almost electric and the high hills in
the distance that shut in the valley and provided a framework for the
handiwork of nature, lent an additional charm to which Will Phelps was
unconsciously responding.
"I tell you, Foster, this is great! I'm glad I'm here!" he exclaimed.
"Are you?" replied Foster in his more subdued manner. "Well, I'm glad
too."
The scene upon the platform of the station was as animated and inspiring
as that about the college grounds. Groups of students were here awaiting
the coming of friends, and yet their impatience was hidden by the
enthusiasm of the moment. One group, consisting of twenty or more young
men, particularly interested Will, for their noise and exuberance seemed
to know no bounds. At last a young man, evidently a student though
slightly older than the most in the group, approached them and said:
"Here, you sophs! You're making too much noise. Children should be seen,
not heard."
"All right, pop," responded one; and for a time the noise decreased. But
it was not long before it broke forth afresh and became even more
violent than before. Both Will and Foster were curiously watching the
group; they almost instinctively looked upon them as natural enemies and
yet were compelled to laugh at their antics.
"Here you, taxi-driver," suddenly called out one of the sophomores
advancing from the midst of his classmates and approaching one of the
cabs, a line of which were drawn up near the platform.
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Here you are! Here you are! This way!" responded a
half-dozen of the taxi-drivers.
"Be still!" replied the young man solemnly to the noisy men. "Can't you
see I'm engaged with John? Now, John, tell me honestly, are you free?"
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Take you anywhere ye say," responded the driver
glibly.
"You're sure you're at liberty?"
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir."
"All right, then. I'm glad to hear it. I've a great respect for liberty.
That's all I wanted to know; thank you," he added, politely bowing; then
turning to his classmates he said: "I say, fellows, make it three for
liberty!"
The cheers were given with a will, and then the leader added solemnly,
"Let's make it three for our class, the best class that ever entered old
Winthrop! Now then!"
These cheers also were loudly given, but they ceased abruptly when it
was seen that the train, for whose coming they had been waiting, was now
approaching.