The Spirit of the School

nd balminess in the air that would have coaxed a hermit out of his cell. There was nothing of the hermit about Hansel and so he required very little coaxing. There was church i

dinner, restrictions were largely removed, and the fellows loitered or made excursions afield[37] about as they chose. Mr. Ames’s squad was always the larger of the two, since he was rather more p

ys feel like worrying him; and he’s not a half bad sort, either. Bobby, though, seems more l

n path across the green—a route which cut off a full quarter of a mile of the distance be

ss in the shade and fanning himself with his hat. “I wanted to make it my

3

forest across the dusty road to see how the chestnut crop was coming along. For a time the conversation, what little there was, was half-hearted and des

as an immediate and unanimous indorsement of the

have heard all of m

r, I ha

I,

r them all over,

you,” laughed the instructor. “But let m

ny one

o New[39] Haven as sub and got in

gination run away with you. I’ll not tell you anything more

ummer. He said Harvard was going all to pieces when you went in at quarter and that you just shook the men right toget

you,” said Mr. Ames somewhat embarrassedl

oy. “I was just there and heard it. I wanted to tell hi

ircumstances,” laughed the instructor.

was Higgins;

4

y the way, if you still want a story I can tell you one, and it’s about this same Mort Higgins. It isn’t exact

t’s

head,

ws! Mr. Ames is goi

ound when he walked, and when he shook hands with you, you felt as though your fingers[41] were tied to a pump handle and the pump was going until it ran down. He had black hair, coarse and long and all rumpled up. It used to fall down over his forehead, and he had a way of brushing it aside with his big hand as though he was trying to dash his brains out. He had a long nose and a long neck, and he always wore those turndown collars that made his neck look longer than it really was. His eyes

lly disliked anyone. He was one of the sort that can always find good in folks. No matter how mean a chap was, Mort could always point out a few good things about him. And, on the other hand, I don’t suppose there was a fellow in college who didn’t like Mort—whether they knew him or not

at I started out to tell about. There used to be lots of stories around Cambridge in those days about Mort. Som

please,” said

—at Turkey Creek Academy. I suppose it was some little village school in the backwoods of Mort’s native State. Wherever it was, it soon began to become celebrated. One day there was a notice in the Crimson—that’s the college daily, you know—saying that it was proposed to start a social club of Harvard men who had attended Turkey Creek Academy, and that a meeting for that purpose would be held that evening in Parlor A of one of the hotels in town. Well, for a couple of days everybody was talking and joking about Turkey Creek Academy; it got to be a byword.[44] A week later there was another notice in the Cri

e a notice[45] in the Crimson; and everyone used to watch for them. Finally, though, it dawned on the Crimson that it was being used to perpetrate a joke, and it turned Mort down; the Crimson, you know, is the most serious paper in the world outside of the Congressional Record! After that he used to post his notices up on the notice board in the union and the gym. One day there was a notice saying that at half-past twelve the Turkey C

ny story!” gurgled one of the audie

Ames. “I was going[46] to tell about Mort’s baseball experience, but I gues

isn’t late!” The instru

began to get a reputation as a heavy hitter, and, as the varsity was weak at batting, they nabbed Mort and took him to the varsity training table. But he spent most of that spring on the bench, for while at times he’d just about knock the cover off the ball, he wasn’t a bit certain, and there was no telling whether he’d make a home run or strike out; and usually it was a case of strike out with Mort. And in the field—they tried him at left

they’d let Mort take a hand, and it was a pretty sure thing that he’d stir up some excitement by getting a couple of two-baggers or a home run before he was through with the enemy’s pitcher. We used to laugh and cheer like anything when Mort went to bat. But the real fun came when he got to base. At base running he was like an elephant[48] in a forty-yards sprint. To see him try to steal

ere was nothing doing until the sixth, when Yale’s first man was hit with the ball and stole second on a bad throw down. The second man went out on a pop fly, and the third struck out. The next man got his base on balls, and then there was a three-bagger that brought in two runs. So the score stood

and having a high old time. The next man up was our first baseman. He was the slugging kind of a batter; if he hit the ball he made good, but he was easily fooled. Well, this time he wasn’t fooled. He cracked out a clean base hit over second and I started home. But there was a fine, swift throw to the plate and I had to go back to third—and I didn’t get there any too soon! And meanwhile the other fellow had got to second. And there we were; a man on thi

looked surprised, and the Yale crowd howled. Then he let the next one go by and the umpire called it a strike. My heart went down into my boots. Then Mort refused the next one. I can still remember the feeling of relief with which I heard the umpire say ‘Ball’! The Yale pitcher tied himself up again[51] and unwound and the ball shot away. And then there was a nice, clean-sounding crack, an

oo?” asked some one eag

to second, and second ran half way over to first and met Mort comin

arvard

nning. And that’s how Mort Higgins saved the day. Come on,

o their feet and started up the path, “that[52]

there myself,” answered the ins

ldly. But Hansel went along, and presently Bert forgot his resentment and the three spent a very pleasant two hours along the bank of the lake. Naturally, the talk soon got around to the subject of football, and the team’s chances of success in the final contest of the ye

nager. “It’s due[53] to happen either to-morrow or Tuesday night. You w

s it?” insi

ps before we can stop them. Our play is to keep them away, or, if they get there, to put them off. But if they once make the steps they’re pretty sure to stay there. It’s a lovely rough-house, isn’t it, Bert? Last year they did about as they

e of the head last year,” said Bert,

son had most of[54] his clothes torn off him before he got home. S

hased him inside the yard and he tried to dive through an open window and the window came

hen the raid’s going t

k. We have to be on guard. But we’ve got a dandy scheme fixed up for this time. I’d

Hansel. “I suppose I’ll

they mean to raid then, for Royle told me yesterday that young Gates, one of the Towners, told him tha

. “Anyhow, we’ll be ready for them whenever they come. They won’t

proved, t

ype="