BARRY SEEKS ADVICE
After a moment’s silence Peaches asked soberly: “What’s happened?”
Barry looked out of the window.
“I just decided I’d better quit,” he replied, elaborately casual. “It’s
pretty strenuous, for one thing; and then I’m not doing awfully well
with Latin and――well, I just thought it would be the wisest thing,
Peaches.”
“I see. And you want to know if Loring will let you do it, eh? Well, I
can tell you that he won’t. Not for any reason you’ve told me, Barry.”
Their eyes met. Barry’s fell and he shuffled his feet.
“I don’t see how he can make me play if I don’t want to,” he muttered.
“If you don’t want to play,” replied the other, dryly, “I don’t think
he will try to make you.”
“Well, then――”
“But the fact that Allen doesn’t want you to wouldn’t matter so much to
him.”
“Allen?” Barry tried to sound puzzled. “I didn’t say anything about
Clyde,” he protested.
“You don’t have to, young Ananias. I happen to have been in Billy
Bassett’s window when you came out of Dawson about an hour ago. So
you’d better come clean and tell me just what it’s all about.”
Barry considered a moment. Then he grinned sheepishly.
“Think you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, don’t you?” he asked.
“Never mind about that,” returned the other, soberly. “Just tell me one
thing, Barry. Does Clyde know where you hid the body?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know well enough what I mean,” answered Peaches, viewing the
other severely. “He’s got something on you. I don’t have to be a
detec-a-tive to know that. You’re afraid to turn around without being
sure beforehand that Allen approves of it. I’m no more curious than the
next guy, but――gosh!――this has got my goat! I’ve been wanting for weeks
to ask you, only I didn’t have the nerve. Now you’ve got to come across
with the whole dastardly tale. What claim has Allen got on you?”
“I don’t suppose,” answered Barry, slowly, “you’d call it a claim
exactly. It’s only that――well, you see, Peaches, I’m under a big
obligation to him, and that’s why I kinda feel that it’s up to me
to――to oblige him when I can.”
“What sort of an obligation?” demanded Peaches.
“Well, he――he saved my life.”
“Saved your life!” Peaches whistled his surprise. “_Allen_ did? What do
you know about that? How did he do it, for Pete’s sake?”
“It was summer before last, in Maine. His folks and mine have cottages
at Orchard Bluff. We were in swimming one day and I got sort of far
out. The tide’s kind of tricky there sometimes. There’s a current
that sets along the beach and swings out around Frenchman’s Head. I
didn’t realize I was so far from the beach at first, and when I did and
started back I couldn’t make much headway. I guess I got sort of scared
and nervous, and probably I didn’t get much of a stroke. Anyway, I
wasn’t making shore at all; just going down toward the Head. Clyde and
two other chaps were there, near the beach, and Clyde happened to miss
me and saw what was happening. So he swam out and――and helped me in.”
“I see,” said Peaches. “Allen must be a good swimmer. Better than you,
is he?”
“Why, I don’t know. I――I guess we’re about alike. Only, you see, I was
more tired that time.”
“Couldn’t have kept afloat much longer? Ready to give up when he
arrived?”
“Oh, no, but――I know what you’re getting at, Peaches. Of course I
mightn’t have drowned. I might have floated and worked my way in around
the Head. But I _was_ sort of nervous, and when you’re nervous――”
“You get over it if you’re any kind of a swimmer. Come on, tell the
truth. If Allen hadn’t ‘rescued’ you you’d have got ashore farther
along the beach. Only, he thought he was saving your life and you
didn’t like to tell him he wasn’t. Isn’t that about it?”
Barry looked pathetically uncomfortable.
“Maybe he didn’t actually save me from drowning,” he acknowledged, “but
he did come to my rescue, and he _thought_ I was drowning, and it would
have been just the same if I had been!”
“Oh, I’m not trying to detract from Allen’s stunt. What he did was
plucky, all right. But the main point, if you’ll only see it, is that
he _didn’t_ save your life, no matter what he thinks; and if he didn’t
you certainly don’t owe him a blamed thing!”
“Well, but――don’t you see――”
“Of course I do! He thinks he rescued you from death and takes good
care you don’t forget it. And you were too soft-hearted to tell him
then and――you never have. But if I were you I’d get rid of the notion
that I owed my life to him. I’d use my own judgment about things
instead of his. And if I wanted to play football, I’d play football!”
Barry sat silent but unconvinced. Finally: “You said yourself I
couldn’t tell Clyde the――the truth,” he protested. “And he thinks I owe
him something, naturally, so I’ve just got to show some gratitude!”
“All right,” answered Peaches, grimly. “But you’re not going to get out
of football to please him, my bucko, and you may take my word for it.
If you go to Major Loring with any cock-and-bull story like you tried
on me I’ll see him myself and tell him the facts.”
“That’s not fair,” Barry protested.
“Fair enough for me. If it comes to that, no one’s being fair. Allen
isn’t, and that’s a cinch! And you’re not, if you let the team down now
when it needs you. No, sir! you tell Allen that there’s nothing doing.
I suppose he’s afraid some of his swell friends will give him the
raspberry if he doesn’t get on the team. I hope they do. He’s trying
to train with a lot of sap-heads, anyway. I know the bunch. I started
in with them the first year I was here. They made me so sick I had to
quit. It would be the best thing in the world for Allen if they gave
him the shake. And you might tell him that, too.”
“He didn’t used to be so――so――” Barry sought unsuccessfully for a word.
“He’s been ‘so――so’ ever since I first knew him,” said Peaches,
harshly. “He’s been trying to make ‘society’ here right along. He and
that side-kick of his, Stearns. Either of ’em would lick my boot if
I’d asked ’em home for a week-end!” Barry looked decidedly shocked and
shook his head in remonstrance. “Let me tell you something,” pursued
Peaches. “The day you landed here and I saw you were under Allen’s
thumb I made up my mind to――well, get you out. You seemed a decent chap
and worth saving. That’s why I sort of haunted you for a day or two. I
could see that you didn’t quite approve of me and wondered why I didn’t
mind my own business.”
“I didn’t, really!” said Barry, earnestly. “I mean I didn’t wonder.”
“Anyway, you were perfectly polite,” chuckled Peaches. “Not that it
would have mattered to me if you hadn’t been. I’d have persisted in
my――may I say crusade? There were times when I was discouraged. I
acknowledge it. There were times when it seemed that Allen’s――let’s
see――domination was too much for me. And then the Major kidnapped
you for football and I could see a rift in the clouds. Several times
after that you showed a disposition――oh, faint, I own!――to act on
your own initiative and think for yourself. I began to have hopes for
you, Barry; I really did. But now――well, now you’re trying to have a
relapse.”
“It was very nice of you to interest yourself in me,” said Barry,
rather stiffly. Apparently he had not heard much of the latter part of
the discourse. “I’m afraid you’ve been badly bored at times.”
Peaches regarded him questioningly. Then, however, he smiled.
“Oh, well, I see what you mean, Barry. But you’re quite mistaken, and I
guess you know it. If you must have it, Mister Hoity-Toity, I have long
since fallen victim to your manly charms and――er――sterling character.”
“Shut up!” growled Barry. But he grinned, too. Then, hurriedly: “That’s
all right,” he went on, “but what am I going to do? I told Clyde I’d
see the Major and try――try to resign!”
“See him, then,” said Peaches. “Only, my young friend, don’t lie to
him.”
Barry sighed. “I don’t want to lie, Peaches, only――well――gee!――what can
I say?”
Peaches shrugged.
“Tell him you’ve decided to quit. If he asks you why, say it’s none of
his business.”
“Thanks,” muttered Barry, with deep sarcasm. Then, after a moment’s
silence: “Look here; how’d you know Clyde wanted me to quit? I didn’t
tell you that.”
Peaches viewed him pityingly.
“By the simple process of putting a couple of twos together. For a
fortnight I’ve seen it coming. You’ve been traveling fast and Allen’s
been standing still. The whole school knows that Major Loring’s
training you for the big event. Allen having the strangle-hold on you
that he has, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d begin to use it.
I’ve been looking for your tongue to protrude for several days. A while
ago I saw you coming out of Dawson looking like a pinch-hitter who has
just struck out. Then you tell me that owing to the failure of the
Canadian wheat crop or something, you’ve decided to quit playing. I
may have a slanting forehead and a weak chin, Barry, but somewhere a
faint spark of intelligence still glows.”
“Well――well, will you come with me to see the Major?”
Peaches reflected. Then he nodded.
“Yes,” he assented, “I’ll do that much for you. You shall have my moral
support in your hour of tribulation. Shall we go now? I think we’ll
find him in. This is the hour of the day he sharpens his knives and
heats his jolly vat of oil for the entertainment of innocent youths
desiring to resign from the football team.”
“I thought maybe I’d see him this evening,” said Barry, a trifle
faintly.
“Never put off until evening what you can do in the afternoon,” replied
Peaches. “That has been my guiding rule through life and to its strict
observance I attribute much of my success.” He arose with what seemed
to his companion indecent eagerness. “Take one last look at the dear,
familiar scene, Barry, and let us be gone. ‘And so, whate’er befalls
me, I go where duty calls me! Farewell, farewe-e-e――’”
Peaches’ vocalization ended abruptly as he dodged the waste-basket.