CUPID OF CAMPION
[Illustration]
CUPID
OF CAMPION
BY
FRANCIS J. FINN, S.J.
_Author of “Tom Playfair,” “Percy Wynn,” “Harry Dee,”_
_“Claude Lightfoot,” etc._
[Illustration]
NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO
BENZIGER BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER’S MAGAZINE
COPYRIGHT 1916 BY BENZIGER BROTHERS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
In which Clarence Esmond places himself in the hands of the
Bright-eyed Goddess of Adventure, and entrusted by that Deity to
the care of a Butcher’s Boy 9
CHAPTER II
In which the Steamer St. Paul and a tramp lend their aid to
the Bright-eyed Goddess 18
CHAPTER III
In which Clarence and his companion, the Butcher’s Boy,
discourse, according to their respective lights, on poetry and
other subjects, ending with a swim that was never taken and the
singing of Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay for the last time 28
CHAPTER IV
In which Clarence Esmond, alone and deserted, tries to pray;
and his parents defer their trip to the Coast 45
CHAPTER V
In which Ben, the gypsy, associates himself with the
Bright-eyed Goddess in carrying out her will upon Master Clarence
Esmond, and that young gentleman finds himself a captive 58
CHAPTER VI
In which Clarence meets Dora, learns much of his gypsy
companion, fights Ezra, and is sung to slumber 69
CHAPTER VII
In which the strange tale of Dora, another victim of the
Bright-eyed Goddess, is told to Clarence 89
CHAPTER VIII
In which Clarence enters upon his career as a gypsy, and
makes himself a disciple of Dora 100
CHAPTER IX
In which Clarence gets some further knowledge of a shrine,
which has much to do with the most important events of this
veracious narrative, and pays back the gypsy, Pete, with compound
interest 106
CHAPTER X
In which Clarence engages in a swimming race, and to the
consternation of Dora disappears in the waters of the Mississippi 118
CHAPTER XI
In which John Rieler, of Campion College, greatly daring,
goes swimming alone, finds a companion, and acts in such a manner
as to bring to Campion College the strangest, oddest boy visitor
that ever entered its portals 126
CHAPTER XII
In which Clarence relieves the reader of all possible doubts
concerning his ability as a trencherman, and the Reverend Rector
of Campion reads disastrous news 135
CHAPTER XIII
In which Clarence as the guest of Campion College makes an
ineffectual effort to bow out the Bright-eyed Goddess of
Adventure 141
CHAPTER XIV
In which Clarence tells his story and gets the Reverend
Rector to take a hand against the Bright-eyed Goddess 147
CHAPTER XV
In which Clarence begins to admire Campion College, and
becomes the room-mate of a very remarkable young man, as the
sequel will clearly show 164
CHAPTER XVI
In which the Bright-eyed Goddess comes to bat again, and
promises to win the game 170
CHAPTER XVII
In which one surprise follows so closely upon the heels of
another that Masters Esmond and Rieler lose power of speech and
Will Benton strikes a blow which will live forever in the
traditions of Campion College 182
CHAPTER XVIII
In which there are a joyful return, a sad duty and a picnic,
ending with a reunion of loved ones 195
CHAPTER XIX
In which John Rieler fails to finish his great speech, and
Clarence is seriously frightened 207
CHAPTER XX
In which there is another joyful reunion, and Clarence
presents an important letter to the Rector of Campion College 215
CHAPTER XXI
In which everybody is happy, Will Benton is jocose, and
justifies the title of this Romance of the Upper Mississippi 228
CUPID OF CAMPION
CHAPTER I
_In which Clarence Esmond places himself in the hands of the
Bright-eyed Goddess of Adventure, and is entrusted by that Deity
to the care of a Butcher’s Boy._
On a morning early in September, the sun was shining brightly upon the
village of McGregor. Nestled in a coulée between two hills, one rising
squarely and rock-ribbed, lacking only the illusion of windows to give
it the appearance of a ruined castle, the other to the northwest,
sloping gently upwards, and crowned at the summit with a number of
villas, McGregor, running down to the Mississippi River, was as pretty a
town as Iowa could boast.
On this bright particular morning, an overgrown youth was sitting on the
boat-landing, his feet dangling above the water, his face glooming
darkly. Master Abe Thompson, age sixteen, was troubled in spirit.
He was homeless. He had lost his position, that of a butcher’s boy, just
a little after sunrise. It arose out of a difference of seventy-five
cents in the butcher’s accounts. Abe had been told under penalty of
having “his face shoved in” never to darken the doors of the
butcher-shop again. At the tender age of twelve Abe had left his home
unostentatiously and without serving notice, and ever since had spent
his time in losing jobs up and down the river. The trouble with Abe was
that he never could resist “obeying that impulse,” no matter what that
impulse might be. He had been blessed, if one may say so, with an
obedient mother and an indifferent father. The discipline of the public
school which Abe was supposed to attend might have done something for
the boy had he been present for so much as six days hand-running. But
Abe had early made a successful course in the art of dodging duty. He
was by way of joining that vast army of the unemployed who are the
ornament of our country roads in summer and of our back alleys in
winter. Abe was entitled to graduate with honors in the ranks of those
who have learned the gentle art entitled “How not to do it.” At the
present moment Abe Thompson was in darkest mood. His soul just now was
fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils. His gloomy eyes moved vacantly
over the waters shimmering in the sun. Suddenly his air of listlessness
disappeared, his eyes grew tense. Among the boats around the landing was
one small skiff riding high on the water, in which (for some people will
be careless) lay a pair of oars and a paddle.
Abe was still gazing at this boat and its contents with greedy eyes when
there came upon his ears the sound of a sweet, piercing soprano voice,
giving, to whoso should wish to hear, the ineffable chorus of an almost
forgotten music-hall melody:
“Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!”
Abe turned to discover coming blithely down street—the one street
running through McGregor—a gay lad of about fourteen years of age,
dressed in an immaculate white sailor-suit. The approaching youth was
walking, skipping, and jumping in such wise that it was hard to define
what he was doing at any particular moment. He was rather small for his
years, but apparently of muscle all compact. Gracefulness characterized
his wildest and most impetuous motions. He was a perfect blonde, and his
hair, bobbed after the fashion of little girls of ten or eleven, gave
him a somewhat feminine aspect, further emphasized by his cream-and-rose
complexion. A close observer, studying his pretty features, might indeed
have inferred from his tip-tilted nose and his square chin that the
youngster was not safely to be treated as a mollycoddle. Abe was not a
close observer.
“I say,” he broke out, as the pretty boy drew near, “what sort of a
lingo is that you’re giving us? You don’t call that American, do you?”
“Good morning, fair sir,” replied the boy, raising his sailor hat and
bowing elaborately, “may I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?”
“What lingo was that you was a-singing?”
“The language, fair sir, of adventure.”
Abe frowned, and spat into the river.
“Permit me,” continued the newcomer, “to introduce myself. I have the
honor of informing you that my name is Clarence Esmond. What is yours?”
“I’m Abe Thompson. What are you looking for this morning?” continued
Abe, as he noticed that Clarence was gazing longingly at the craft
moored at the river’s edge.
“Who?—me?” queried the debonair youth. He drew himself erect, threw
back his head, raised his eyes, and with a dramatic gesture continued:
“I am looking for the bright-eyed goddess of adventure!”
“Oh, talk American!”
“I will, gentle youth. I am looking for fun; and if something happens,
so much the better.”
“Do you want to go anywheres?”
“I want to go everywhere. I’d like to be on the ocean, running a liner;
I’d like to be a cowboy, dodging Indians; I’d like to be a soldier in
the trenches, and a sailor in a submarine. In fact, I’d like to be
everywhere at the same time.”
“You can’t do that, you boob,” said Abe with strong disfavor on his
rugged face.
“I am one of those fellows,” continued Clarence, “who wants to eat his
cake and have it.”
“Oh, jiminy!” roared Abe, breaking into a loud laugh, “you want to eat
your cake and you want to have it at the same time?”
“That’s it exactly. I want to eat my cake, and at the same time have
it.”
“Oh, jiminy! Why, do you know what you are?” asked Abe laughing with
conscious superiority.
“Won’t you please tell me?”
“Why, you are an idiot, a plumb-born idiot.”
“Oh, am I?” and as Clarence asked the question his face beamed with joy.
“You sure are.”
“I suppose,” continued Clarence, “that you think I am one of those chaps
who hasn’t got enough sense to come in out of the rain when it is
raining.”
“You’re the dumbdest idiot I ever met,” said the frank butcher’s boy.
“I guess you are right,” assented the lad beamingly. “Lots of people
have told me I am an idiot. And I never do come in out of the rain when
it is raining. I use a cravenette.”
“Oh, Lord!” cried Abe, all his crude humor stirred to scornful laughter,
“what an awful ass you are!”
“Thank you so much,” answered Clarence glowing with delight. “It’s a
pleasure to meet a fellow who says just what he thinks.”
“Any more like you at home?”
“I happen to be the only child,” answered Clarence. “I am the light of
my mother’s eyes. There are no others like me.”
“I should say not! Say, who let you loose?”
“That reminds me,” said Clarence, his smile leaving him. “I’ve got to be
back at noon, and it’s nearly eight-thirty now. Say, do you know this
river?”
“I should say I do. Do you want me to row you?”
“Is there any place around here worth seeing?”
“Sure! Pictured Rocks! Everybody goes there. It’s a mile down the
river.”
“Suppose I hire a boat, would you mind acting as my guide—salary, fifty
cents?”
“I can do better than that,” said Abe, becoming all of a sudden
obsequious. “That’s my boat down there—that little boat with the
oars—and I’ll take you to Pictured Rocks and bring you back for one
dollar. That’s fair enough, ain’t it?”
Abe was young and his imagination undeveloped. Had he been older, he
would have tried to sell the boat and a few houses nearest the river
bank, all together, for a slightly larger sum.
“That’s a go!” cried Clarence, running for the boat, jumping in and
seating himself to row. “Come on quick. Cast off, old boy.”
The boat was locked to a post. Abe was accustomed to facing such
difficulties. He broke the lock under Clarence’s unobservant eyes, and,
shoving the skiff off and jumping in, seated himself in the stern.
“You row and I’ll steer,” he said, as he picked up the paddle.
Clarence dipped the oars into the water, and with a few strokes the two
started down the river with the swift current. It was a beautiful
morning, clear and crisp. The river, a vast lake in width with islands
and inlets and lagoons and streams between the Iowa and the Wisconsin
shores, was dancing in the sunlight. Birds, late though the season was,
made the air gay. On the Wisconsin shore the solemn hills, noble and
varied, stood sentinel over the smiling valleys of golden grain which
ran almost to the river’s banks; on the Iowa side, a twin range came
down almost to the water. The river was clear and, despite the current,
had all the appearance of a vast lake.
The air and the sunshine and the scenery entered into Clarence’s soul.
“Hurrah!” he cried, brandishing an oar. “All aboard to meet the
bright-eyed goddess of adventure!”
And the bright-eyed goddess was not deaf to the summons of the
thoughtless lad. The goddess was awaiting him. The meeting was to be
very soon, and the interview a long one. And it is because of the
meeting that this veracious story is written.