START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTT BURTON, FORESTER*** E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 57298-h.htm or 57298-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/57298/57298-h/57298-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/57298/57298-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/scottburtonfores00chey Transcriberâs note: In this book, words and phrases originally in italics are enclosed by underscores _like this_. SCOTT BURTON, FORESTER [Illustration: âGood shot, old man,â he cried to Morgan.] SCOTT BURTON FORESTER by EDWARD G. CHEYNEY Illustrated by Norman Rockwell D. Appleton and Company New York London 1917 Copyright, 1917, by D. Appleton and Company Printed in the United States of America TO MY BROTHER Whose broad-minded views Have had an ever-present influence on my life THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED ILLUSTRATIONS âGood shot, old man,â he cried to Morgan By night they had ... camped within sight of the lights of Red Wing His instinct was to run ... but he stood there too terrified to move He waved his knife threateningly, and tried to warn Scott off SCOTT BURTON, FORESTER CHAPTER I âHello, Scotty, have you decided yet which one it will be?â Dick Bradshaw called, eagerly, as he ran up the walk to the old Burton home. He had been away for two weeks, and when he left, the selection of a forest school for Scott had been the all absorbing question. âYes,â Scott answered, âit was decided a week ago. You know there never has been any doubt in my mind. I picked out the Western college in the first place, but father and mother did not want me to go so far away from home. I persuaded them last week that it was the best thing to do, and they consented.â Dickâs face fell. âThat means I shall not see you for four years,â he growled. âOh no, Dick,â Scott answered quickly, ânot over three at the most, and possibly not over two. That was what persuaded father and mother to let me go. You see they may give me enough extra credit for that extra high school work and those three years of summer school we took, to enable me to squeeze through in two years. I have sent in my credits, and shall find out when I get there.â Dick brightened up a little. The boys had grown up together in the little New England village, the closest of friends, and the idea of a long separation was pretty hard, especially for the one who was to stay at home. They had always had the same tastes in books, studies and pleasures. Both were hard students and both preferred long walks in the woods and fields to the games that most boys play. These traits had kept them somewhat apart from the other boys, and thrown them almost exclusively on each otherâs society. âWhen do you go?â Dick asked. âEarly tomorrow morning,â Scott answered. âYou see it takes two days to get there. I was afraid you would not get back in time for me to see you at all.â âTomorrow!â Dick exclaimed indignantly. âWhy didnât you pick out Yale? You could have come home once in a while then, and we could have had a great time together there next year.â Dick was planning on taking some special work in biology at Yale the next season. Scott was stung by the reproach in Dickâs voice. âYou know perfectly well I would have done it if I could. Yale has a graduate school and I could not get in. Why donât you come out with me?â âMaybe I shall if you find out that it is any good. Why do you want to go to a place that you do not know anything about?â Dick remonstrated. âBut I do know something about it, Dick. I know that it is in a new country that I have never seen, that it has a good reputation, and that a large part of the work is given in camp. What more do you want?â âWell,â Dick answered, âthat camp part sounds good to me and if the biology is taught in a camp I may be out there with you next year. You find out about that and let me know. I have to be going now. I just came up on the way from the train to find out what you had decided. Mother is waiting for me. See you later.â And he hurried down the walk. âCome over after supper,â Scott called after him and walked slowly into the house. This thing of leaving Dick when he was taking it so hard was the toughest pull of all. He knew Dick through and through, and he suddenly realized that he did not know anything about any of the people where he was going. His intimate knowledge of boys was limited almost entirely to Dick, and he felt a certain timidity in meeting so many strangers. As he entered the old home where he had always lived he felt that it was dearer to him than he knew, in spite of the fact that he was so eager to leave it. His father was a doctor there in the little village of Wabern, Mass., a man devoted to his profession, which yielded a large amount of work with a small income. He had always taken it for granted that his only child would follow in his footsteps, and for many years he had tried in every way to interest the boy in his work. He had taken him on many a long drive on the rounds of his work and tried to impress on him the beauties of healing sickness and alleviating pain. It was not till Scott was a strapping big fellow of sixteen that the astonished father realized that his boy had drifted hopelessly away from the medical profession. He had noted with pride Scottâs collection of plants, bugs, small animals and rocks, and the boyâs love for such things pleased him. It came to him as a shock when he discovered that the boyâs point of view was entirely different from his own. For him the specimens were all related in some way to the medical profession; to Scott they represented only the different phases of nature. It was the make-up of the great âoutdoorsâ which interested him, and he longed to be a part of it. It was the opportunity of such a life that first attracted him toward forestry, and his mind once made up he bent all his energies to preparing for the work. His father and mother concealed their disappointment as best they could and helped him along in this unknown line of work. At last the time had come when a special course at college was necessary, and the question of which school had to be decided. Scottâs lack of a degree barred him from the graduate schools of the East, and in his heart he was rather glad of it. He knew every plant, animal and rock in that section of the country and was eager for new fields to conquer. The greater proportion of actual woods work was a further incentive. With these things in mind he had studied the catalogs of the different schools by the hour, and had finally decided on Minnesota. His parents had objected at first on account of the distance from home but they had finally yielded to his wish. And now the question was settled. His application had been accepted, Dick had given a grudging approval, and he was actually packing up to go. In the hall he met his father, a mild-eyed man of fifty, just returning from his daily round of mercy. âWell, Scott,â he said cheerfully, âyou are leaving the old nest and taking a pretty long flight for the first one. See that you fly straight, boy. Your mother and I have done all that we can to develop your wings, and the rest of it is up to you. Letâs go to dinner.â Mrs. Burton was waiting for them in the dining-room. She was very tired from the work of preparing Scott for his journey, and blue at the thought of losing him, but she smiled her sweetest smile, and did her best to cheer the boyâs last meal at home. There was nothing unusual about the dinner, but Scott felt a certain close companionship with his father and mother, an equality, that he had never felt before. It gave him a new feeling of confidence and responsibility that no amount of lecturing could have done. Before they arose from the table the doctor said: âHereâs something for you to remember, Scott. You already know that book knowledge is not everything. You know that a great deal can be learned from nature, but there is one important source of knowledge that you must not neglect. You are going where there will be hundreds of young men, men of all kinds and character. They will be a good sample of the men of the world, and it is important that you should know them. Do not do there as you have done here at home, pick one man for your constant companion and be indifferent to all the others. You must know them all. Study some of them for the good traits that you ought to have, and others for the bad traits that you want to avoid. You can learn something from everyone of them. You must learn from them how to take a manâs measure for yourself and not have to rely on the judgment of others. If you learn to judge men truly your success in other things will be pretty certain. âJust one thing more. You have insisted on taking up work that is different from the life I had always planned for you. Perhaps you think that I am hurt and resent it. That is not true. I want you to feel that I have every confidence in your judgment and ability to make a success of anything you undertake even when you choose something of which I am entirely ignorant. This new work should prepare you to make some use of wild land, as I understand it, and I am going to make you a proposition. âThat ten thousand-acre tract of cut-over forest in New Hampshire that your grandfather left us should be made to produce something. I am willing to give you this tract for your own on two conditions. The first is that you successfully complete your course and pass your Civil Service examinations as a proof of your training; and second, that you show your ability to pick responsible men for your companions. Of the latter I shall have to be the judge. Fill those two conditions and the land is yours.â For the life of him Scott could not find anything to say. It was the first time his father had ever spoken to him in that way, as one man to another and it choked him up queerly. He could not even thank his father for the offer. He was relieved when Dick Bradshaw came in and went with him to his room to help finish packing and look over his equipment. The two boys talked till almost midnight over the possibilities of the western country and the new things that would be found there. The necessity of Scottâs catching an early train finally forced them to separate with many a promise of a very active correspondence. Scott slept like a top till his mother called him at four oâclock. The train was due at five-fifteen, and everything had to be done in a rush. His mother preferred it so. Almost before he knew it he had eaten a hurried breakfast, had hastened to the station, and was looking out of the car window into the hazy morning with the brave tones of his motherâs voice still ringing in his ears, âGood-bye, Scott. Remember how you have lived and write me what you do. As long as you can do that you are safe.â All day long he sat with his nose almost glued against the windowpane noting every change in topography and speculating on the geological formation. Occasionally he thought of his fatherâs injunction and tore himself away from the window long enough to notice the people around him. The country outside was of much greater interest to him, but there kept ringing through his brain continuously, âI will give you that ten thousand-acre tract.â Surely no other boy had ever had such a chance as that. It was as big as many a German national forest. About noon of the second day he passed through St. Paul, and on to Minneapolis. A thrill passed through Scott as he realized that he was actually west of the Mississippi River. Scott hastened from the train with the rest of the passengers, and pushed his way through the crowded gate into the station. He was burning to see the College he had been dreaming about for so long. He had no idea where it was located but he felt certain that a College which had attracted him from such a great distance must be a matter of pride to all the citizens and very easily found. He walked to the first street corner and asked a passerby. âCan you tell me the way to the Forest School?â The stranger stopped abruptly. âThe what?â âThe Forest School.â âTo the Forest School,â the man repeated wonderingly. âNo, Iâm afraid I canât. I am a stranger here myself. Never heard of it.â Scott tried another man with a busy up-to-date air. âPardon me, can you tell me the way to the Forest School?â The man passed on with an indifferent look and paid no further attention to him. âHumph,â Scott thought. âCity manners seem to be different from ours at home.â He watched a few people pass by and selected for his next victim an elderly gentleman with a kindly face and a leisurely air. âPardon me, sir, can you tell me the way to the Forest School?â The old gentleman stopped courteously and apologized for not quite catching the question. Scott repeated it. The old man shook his head doubtfully. âNever heard of it, my boy. What sort of a place is it?â Scott was beginning to think that he must have come to the wrong city. However, the old gentleman was exceedingly polite, and the boy tried to explain. âIt is a school where they train foresters, sir.â âOh,â said the old gentleman in a rather doubtful tone. âStrange I have never heard of it. Letâs ask the policeman.â They consulted that dignitary, but he had never heard of it and could find no clue in his little yellow book. Suddenly the old man seemed to have an inspiration. âIsnât part of the University, is it?â he asked. âWhy, certainly it is,â Scott blurted indignantly. The ignorance of these people was remarkable. âOh well, then,â said the old gentleman, âthatâs easy. Take that car right there and get off at Fourteenth Street. You can see it from there.â Scott thanked him and hurried into the car. He felt that his troubles were over at last and he would soon be a duly registered embryo forester. The University loomed up big as he left the car at Fourteenth Street, and the gayly dressed students were wandering everywhere in the idleness of registration day. Scott tackled an amiable looking fellow and once more inquired the way to the Forest School. The amiable student stopped and grinned at him sympathetically. âWell now, old man, thatâs too bad. You are miles off your course.â Scottâs face fell. âWhy, isnât this the University?â he asked. âCertainly this is the University,â answered the wise one, âbut the Forest School is part of the Agricultural Department, and that is miles away at the end of yonder carline. Take the car back the way you came clear to the end of the carline, and youâll find the Agricultural College half a mile beyond that.â âThank you very much,â said Scott gratefully, âyou are the first person I have met in the whole city who seems to really know anything about it.â âDonât mention it, old man,â said his new friend with a bow. âYouâll get there in the end all right.â The ride back to the end of the carline seemed almost endless, but the fact that one of those splendid young fellows had called him âold man,â and the thought that he would soon be one of them cheered him up wonderfully. The car came to the end of the track at last and he walked down the road briskly, eager to be a full-fledged student and swagger like the fellow with the red shoes and the decorated sweater who had talked to him. He could see the buildings on the hill ahead, but was rather surprised to find a high board fence around the grounds; the gate, too, was locked. A man in uniform answered his knock. âIs this the Agricultural College?â Scott asked by way of an introduction, for he felt sure that it was. âNo, sonny,â the man answered with a broad grin, âthis is the County Poor Farm, and you are the fourth man them smart alecks have sent out here today. Now you get back on that car you just left and tell the conductor to put you off at the Agricultural College, and donât let anybody else steer you.â Scott thanked him with downcast mien, and trudged dejectedly back to the car. Visions of that gay young sophomore who had called him âold man,â and deceived him so cheerfully floated before him in a red haze. He wondered what his father would think of his judgment. He swore all kinds of vengeance, and it looked for a while as though the whole sophomore class was in danger. He drew back as the car passed the University for fear the sophomore might be waiting to see him go by. Sure enough there he was on the corner and Scott had a hard time to restrain himself from going out to thrash him then and there. He eyed the conductor suspiciously when he called the Agricultural College to try to detect whether he was in the general conspiracy against all freshmen. He did not feel nearly so sure of the real Agricultural College when he saw it as he had of the County Poor Farm. However, it was the right place at last, and a printed sign pointed the way to the registrarâs office. Nearly all the students he met on the long winding path leading up to the administration building were carrying suitcases, and most of them gazed nervously about them like strangers in a strange land. Scott threaded his way through the crowds of students grouped idly around the halls and stairway to a place in the long line which was crawling slowly past the registrarâs window. A young man wearing the badge of the Y. M. C. A. approached him and asked if he was looking for a room, but Scott remembered the trip to the county poor farm too vividly to take any more advice from a student, and refused to even discuss the matter with him. The crowd in the line was certainly a mixed one, and from their appearance he concluded that his father was right in saying that they were a good sample of nearly all the different kinds of people in the world. The large proportion of girls worried him a good deal till he found that they were registering for domestic science, an entirely separate course from his own. He had not been accustomed to the idea of coeducation, so popular in the West. In due time he reached the window and presented his permit. âScott Burton,â the registrar read in kindly tones, âof Wabern, Mass. I remember your case. You have a number of advanced credits. Letâs see. Here is the report of your case from the enrollment committee. They have allowed you credit for one semester of mathematics, four of language, four of rhetoric, four of botany, two of geology, two of zoology, and two of chemistry. That leaves you only elementary forestry, dendrology, mechanical drawing and forest engineering to complete the work of the first two years.â That was a little better than Scott had even dared to hope. He asked eagerly, âThen I can finish in two years?â âPossibly, you will have to see the Studentsâ Work Committee tomorrow about that. They may let you take some extra work on probation but you will have to drop it if your marks are not up to grade at the end of the first four weeks. In the meanwhile you will be registered as a freshman. Here is your registration card. See that it is filled in, and your fees paid by five P. M. tomorrow.â âThank you,â said Scott. âCan you tell me where I can get some information about a boarding house?â The registrar gave him one of the printed lists that the student had tried to give him a little while before, and turned to the next student in the line. With his registration card in his pocket Scott felt more certain of himself again. He was not only a student, he was almost a junior, and if the other students in the halls had happened to notice him they would have seen a very different looking boy from the one who had gone in a half-hour before. CHAPTER II Armed with the list of rooming houses furnished him by the registrar Scott set out in search of a room. His stock of money was limited, and he regretted that his old chum, Dick Bradshaw, was not there to share his room, and incidentally his room rent. For to Scott, who had always lived at home, and never associated very closely with many other boys of his own age, the selection of a roommate was a problem which he considered would require much thought and a thorough knowledge of his intended partner. His New England conservatism kept him from even dreaming of going in with a stranger. The search proved rather long and tiresome. The upper classmen had picked all the best rooms before they left in the spring the year before, and the assortment now available was not very attractive. Single rooms were hard to find at all and the prices something to inspire awe. Scott approached a rather attractive little house which stood back in a pleasing yard something like the one at his home. The usual sign, âRooms to Rent,â was not in sight, but he rang the bell and waited patiently for someone to answer it. Presently the door opened a crack and a silver-haired old lady eyed him curiously. Her face looked kindly enough but the sound of her voice made Scott almost jump. âWhat do you want?â she snapped. âI beg your pardon,â said Scott, âbut can you tell me where there are any rooms to rent around here?â âNo.â Like the crack of a pistol. âThey seem to be rather hard to find,â Scott remarked apologetically. âYes,â the old lady fired at him as she slammed the door. âI guess the people in this park want to live in their own houses.â Scott gazed at the closed door in astonishment. âWell,â he thought, âthere is one thing sureâI should hate to live in yours.â He was becoming discouraged, and was turning wearily away from the twelfth houseâalmost the last one on his listâwhen he nearly collided with a young fellow who was bounding up the front steps three at a jump. The landlady took pity on Scottâs weary look, and addressed herself to the newcomer. âMr. Johnson, do you know of any place where this young man can find a room?â The young man turned abruptly and ran his eye frankly over Scott. âWhatâs your course?â he asked. âForestry,â Scott answered, wondering what that had to do with it. âSure I do,â said Johnson. âCome on in with me. Thatâs my course and I am looking for a bunkie. Come on up and leave your suitcase and then you can see about your trunk.â Scott gazed with astonishment at this new species of being who would take on a secondâs notice a roommate whose very name he did not know. But that confident and carefree young gentleman was already leading the way up the stairs without a doubt as to the issue. Scott looked at the landlady to see what effect such a sudden proposition had made on her. He expected to find her wide-eyed and agape with astonishment; instead of that she had closed the front door and was disappearing down the hall. He would certainly have backed out if he had known how, but both the landlady and the stranger seemed to be so certain the deal was closed, that Scott, dazed by the swift passage of events and seeing no possible way out, followed helplessly up the stairs. âMaybe,â he thought, âitâs one of those dens you read about in the newspaper where young fellows are roped in in this way and robbed. If it is they will need more than that red-headed guy to do it. Dick could lick the shoes off of him and Dick never could box. They would not get very much if they succeeded,â he grinned, âthe railroads already have most of it.â When he entered the room indicated he found his new acquaintance already seated in a revolving chair near the table, reading a large poster. Without raising his eyes from the paper Johnson said, âYou may have the two lower drawers of the bureau, I already have my stuff in the others, and the right hand side of the closet. Better go back to the registrarâs office and tell them where to bring your trunk; they charge you storage awful quick at the depot.â And he continued to read the poster. Scott tried to look the room over carelessly as he thought anyone would who was used to renting a new one every week or so. He found that he was still holding his suitcase in his hand. He looked at his roommate to see if he had noticed it, but that indifferent young man was still absorbed in the poster and oblivious to his surroundings. Scott set the suitcase quietly in the corner and took another careless look around the room. âWell, I guess this will do,â he remarked flippantly. âIâll go see about the trunk.â As he was going out the door Johnson called after him, âHustle back and Iâll take you to our hash house. They are nearly all foresters there and a couple of them are seniors, too.â Scott hurried to the registrarâs office, left word about the trunk and started back to his newly acquired room and roommate, both of which he had obtained almost before he knew it and was not yet quite certain whether he wanted them or not. However, it was a great relief to feel that he had some place to go, and he rather thought that he liked it. As he was going down the steps a husky, sunburned fellow with a swinging gait and the free air of the woods joined him. âGetting straightened out?â he asked pleasantly. âYes,â Scott answered, with a readiness that surprised himself. âI got a room, a roommate and a boarding house, all this afternoon.â He was beginning to feel a little proud of it. âYou are lucky,â the other said. âWhere are you from?â âMassachusetts,â said Scott, a little proudly. He felt that it was rather a distinction to live so far away. He expected to see some show of astonishment from this stranger, but instead the answer astonished him. âI expect we are nearly the Eastern and Western limits of the School,â he said quietly. âI am from Honolulu. Not much timber left in Massachusetts, is there?â Ordinarily Scott would have been very diffident with a stranger who accosted him in this way, especially after such an experience as he had had that morning, but there was a personal magnetism about this tall, dark, gentlemanly fellow that made him open his rather lonesome heart. âNo,â he answered, ânothing much but second growth. How did you know that I was a forester?â âNothing very mysterious about that. Your green registration card is sticking out of your pocket. Well, here is where I leave you. So long.â Scott found his new home and walked in with an independent air of ownership that sent a thrill through him. Johnson was waiting impatiently for him. As soon as Scott appeared in the door Johnson grabbed his hat and started out. âHurry up, man. Youâre late. These hash houses arenât home. If you are late you get a short ration.â Scott took a hasty scrub at his car-stained face and hands, and they hurried away to the boarding house. Most of the men were already seated when they arrived. Scott waited for an introduction to the landlady to inquire whether he could stay there, but Johnson jerked out the chair next to his, looked at him curiously, and ordered him to sit down. âDonât you have to see the landlady here?â Scott asked. âDonât worry,â Johnson laughed. âSheâs probably spotting you now through a crack in the door, and youâll see her pretty regularly every Saturday night at pay time.â âHumph,â thought Scott, âIâd like to see anyone get into a boarding-house around home without giving his whole pedigree and paying a weekâs board in advance.â He added aloud to Johnson, âI should think a good many fellows would skip their board.â âNo,â said Johnson, âthere are not many fellows here who try it and most of them get caught.â When the rush of passing dishes was over Scott had a chance to look around the table. He was surprised to see what a husky, sunburned, independent looking crowd it was. Two of them, especially, seemed to be almost an Indian red, and directed the conversation with peculiar abandon. He was agreeably surprised to see that one of them was the Hawaiian who had walked down the street with him a few minutes before. He caught Scottâs eye and smiled pleasantly. Johnson caught the salutation and looked at Scott with an air of surprise and added respect. âI did not know that you knew him,â he said in an undertone, but his remarks were cut short by a peremptory command from another sunburned face at the end of the table. âJohnson, you havenât the manners of a goat. Why donât you introduce your friend?â âOh,â said Johnson, somewhat abashed. âFellows, this is my roommate.â âThatâs a fine introduction for him. Whatâs his name, pinhead?â Johnson looked wonderingly at Scott for a minute, grinned at the surrounding company, and burst out laughing. âBlamed if I know his name yet, I just got him this afternoon, and we have not had the time to explain the short sad histories of our young lives to each other yet.â Then to Scott, âYouâll have to introduce yourself, I guess.â âScott Burton, forester,â he announced with quiet dignity, and the sunburned senior acknowledged the introduction for the crowd. After dinner he talked for a little while with the Hawaiian and a few of the other men and went back to the room with Johnson. âHow did you get to know Ormand?â Johnson asked. âWhoâs he?â âWhy that fellow you spoke to at the table. Didnât you know him?â Johnson asked in surprise. âHe walked down the street with me when I was coming from the registrarâs office,â said Scott. âWho is he?â âGee,â said Johnson. âHe is president of the senior class and manager of last summerâs corporation.â âWhat do you mean by last summerâs corporation?â âWhy, when the juniors go up to the woods for the summer they form a corporation and elect one of the class to manage the business for the bunch. He bosses the whole crowd. Heâs the biggest man in the College and that other fellow who called me down about the introduction is Morgan, the next biggest. Funny I did not know your name, wasnât it?â âWell,â Scott said, âI should not have known yours if I had not heard other people talking to you. What class are you?â âWho, me?â said Johnson. âWhy, I am a freshman like you.â âThen how is it that you know all these people so well?â Scott asked. âOh, I went to prep school here, and knew them all last year. I have credit in a couple of courses,â Johnson added proudly, âand I have field experience to burn. I do not have to take any German this year or mathematics either.â âNeither do I,â said Scott. âOur high school is ahead of the ones here, and I have taken so much work in the summer that I got credit for nearly all the work of the first two years.â âThen youâre a junior?â asked Johnson in a more respectful tone. Respect for the upper classes was about the only weakness that Johnson allowed himself in that direction. âI suppose so,â said Scott; âthey told me at the registrarâs office that I was practically a junior, but would be classed as a freshman till I had completed my elementary forestry, dendrology and forest engineering.â âBeen around the country much?â âNo,â said Scott, âthatâs one reason why I came out here to College. Iâve seen every rock in the country around home, but I have never been away from there.â âThen you have never seen a real forest,â exclaimed Johnson. âOnly the woodlots on the farms.â âWhat sort of work did you do in the summer there?â âWent to summer school and loafed.â Scott, like most of the boys in the East, had always considered the holidays sacred to recreation, and had thought himself particularly virtuous for devoting six weeks of it to summer school each year. âDo you work in vacation time?â he asked. âYou bet,â said Johnson. âIâve worked every summer since I can remember, and every winter, too, for that matter. Iâve paid all my expenses at school for the past ten years.â Scott gazed at him in open wonder. âWhat do you do?â he asked. âWhat havenât I done would be easier. Iâve been âbull cookâ on a railroad construction crew in Montana, and driven teams on a slusher in Arizona; Iâve picked apples in Washington, and been a âriver pigâ on the drive here in northern Minnesota; Iâve carried a rod on a survey party in Colorado, and pushed straw in the harvest fields of North Dakota; Iâve tended furnaces, carried papers, and weighed mail, billed express and smashed baggage during Christmas vacation. Some of âem were tough and some of âem were cinches, but they have all netted me a good bunch of experience.â During the careless listing of his roommateâs experiences Scott had slowly settled back in his chair with a feeling of wondering admiration for Johnson and an overwhelming sense of his own helplessness. He eyed Johnsonâs thin freckled face, and ran his glance over his slight, wiry frame, and wondered what he himself, with all his strength, would do if he had to tackle such problems. It had never occurred to him that anyone but a born laboring man could do such things. The feeling of contempt which he had at first for Johnsonâs roughness gave way to a kind of new admiration for his ability and self reliance. âDo you play football?â Johnson asked suddenly. âNo, I never cared anything about it.â âBaseball?â âOnly a little.â âBasketball?â Johnson persisted. âNo.â âWell, where in thunder did you get that build if you have never worked and donât do any athletic stunts?â Johnson was searching for something to account for Scottâs five feet ten and one hundred and seventy-five pounds, his heavy shoulders and muscular neck. He had the Westernerâs contempt for the tenderfoot of the East. He was not at all surprised that he could not do anything, but was puzzled at his fine physique. âOh,â said Scott, âI got that wrestling, boxing and walking around the country. There was an ex-prizefighter who worked for father and he used to give me lessons in the barn every evening.â Johnson pricked up his ears. âA boxer,â he thought. âMaybe the man was not so helpless after all.â âYouâll have to box Morgan,â he said aloud, âand if you can do him, youâll have to fight for the College on rush day. Will you do it?â âIâll certainly try,â said Scott, and the East rose a thousand per cent in Johnsonâs estimation. The two boys talked on till nearly midnight and finally went to sleep with entirely new ideas of each other. Unconsciously the prejudices of generations had been broken down and their views broadened across half a continent. CHAPTER III Scott was gradually settling down in his new surroundings, getting accustomed to his new associates, who had struck him as being so totally different from the men he was used to, and becoming familiar with the routine of the class work. He found himself at a great disadvantage in competition with the other members of the class. He had been taught by good teachers, but their point of view had been different from that of the foresters who had taught the men with whom he was now thrown. These fellows had been looking forward to a definite end for several years and all their training had been with the ultimate object in view. They had a different view of the subjects from the one he had obtained from the academic men who had taught him. He found that they had a grip of the subjects and could apply them in a way that he could not. Moreover, he had a great deal of extra work to make up and he had been allowed to take it only on condition that if he was not up to the scratch at the end of the first six weeks he would have to drop it all. Not many men could have carried such a burden, and the chairman of the Studentsâ Work Committee had told him that he was foolish to attempt it. Most men would have either fallen short or have overworked themselves; but Scott did neither. He had always believed in system in his work. He allotted so much time to his studies and allowed nothing to interfere with them; he made it a point not to study for an hour in the evening after supper, and never looked at a book from Saturday noon to Monday morning. He knew that he was able to accomplish more in the long run in this way. As most of the student sports were scheduled for Saturday afternoon he was able to take in most of them and did not become stale. He had just closed his book one Saturday morning preparatory to going to lunch when Johnson bounced into the room in high feather. âCome on, Scotty, letâs go to the football game this afternoon. Itâs only Lawrence, and wonât be much of a game, but it will give us a chance to get a line on the team.â Scott agreed readily, the more readily because he had never seen a big football game. They ate lunch hastily, for it was already a little late and the game was scheduled a little earlier than usual. The car was crowded with people going to the field and when they got off the car they found the streets full of people flocking in the same direction. Johnson led the way into two good seats where they did not belong and succeeded in holding them against all comers. The stands were full, for though it was not considered one of the big games, it was the first game of the season, and the students all turned out to see their team in action. It was the basis for sizing up the chances for the team in the struggle for the Western supremacy. The stands were a brilliant mass of color and the cheer leaders were performing all kinds of contortions to wring the greatest volume of noise from the crowd. As they took their seats the door of the Armory opened and a squad of players trotted briskly onto the field. There was a restless movement of the crowd on the big stand and a few scattering cheers from the smaller stand opposite, but no organized yells. âIs that one of the teams?â Scott asked anxiously. âYes,â Johnson answered, leaning eagerly forward to size each man up as he took his place. âWhy donât they cheer them?â Scott asked in surprise. âThatâs the other team,â Johnson answered carelessly. âI should think that would be all the more reason for cheering them,â Scott said. Johnson turned a wondering look upon him, but was prevented from answering by a deafening yell from the whole stand in which they both joined heartily. Their own team had appeared. âHowâs that for yelling?â Johnson asked proudly. âRather discouraging for the other fellows,â Scott answered. âWell, thatâs what you want to do, isnât it? Look there, they are lining up already.â The referee had called the captains together, decided the choice of goal, and the two teams were taking their places. âTheir ball,â Johnson commented, intent on the field. The referee blew his whistle and there was a moment of intense silence as the blue line charged forward and the ball sailed far out on the kick-off. It was a splendid kick, clear to the corner of the field and high. It dropped neatly into a pair of maroon arms and the crowd cheered wildly. âWasnât that a dandy kick!â Scott exclaimed. âNow watch them run it back,â Johnson exulted. But they did not run it back so fast. One of the swift blue ends was on the man and downed him in his tracks. âThat manâs some fast,â Scott said. âYes,â Johnson said, âtoo fast. They ought to look out for him. Theyâll carry it back fast enough now; that line canât hold them.â The ball was snapped, and an attempt made at an end run, but the same man who had followed the kick downed the man for a loss. An attempt at center fared no better and the fullback dropped back for a kick. The ball went out of bounds almost in the center of the field. Then the real surprise came. The Lawrence team formed quickly, and by a series of lightning plays swept down toward the Minnesota goal. Nothing seemed able to stop them. The stand was as silent as the tomb. âWhy donât they yell?â Scott asked. âNow is the time the team needs it.â âWho could cheer such an exhibition as that?â Johnson asked in disgust. Suddenly the stand went wild. A Lawrence runner, rounding the end, far out beyond the other team slipped in a puddle and fell. The ball rolled toward the goal line and a Minnesota player fell on it on the five-yard line. âThat was hard luck,â Scott remarked when the cheering had subsided. âHard luck!â Johnson exclaimed. âWho do you want to win this game?â âMinnesota, of course,â Scott retorted indignantly, âbut to win on a thing like that does not do them any credit.â âKept âem from scoring, anyway,â Johnson answered doggedly. The ball was kicked into safety once more and the Lawrence team started on another rush for the goal. Again they seemed irresistible, and only a fumble on the ten-yard line saved a score. What had started as a practice game had developed into a real struggle for victory with Minnesota continually on the defensive. At the end of the first quarter neither team had scored. Again and again in the next period, the fast Lawrence team carried the ball through their heavier opponents only to lose it near the goal line by some slip of their own. Not once were they held on downs. But fate seemed to be against them, for the whistle blew at the end of the second quarter with the first down on the Minnesota two-yard line. No sooner had the teams left the field for the ten minutesâ rest between halves than the big University band formed in front of the grandstand and marched around the field playing lively airs to try to put some heart into the crowd. It did not succeed very well; the crowd seemed utterly beaten and without hope. âIs Lawrence a big college?â Scott asked when the music ceased. âNo,â Johnson groaned in disgust. âThey seem to have a mighty good team,â Scott continued. âYou mean we have a mighty rotten one,â Johnson retorted. âThey ought to bury Lawrence, and if they canât they ought to be ashamed of themselves.â âThey are doing the best they can,â Scott said, âand they ought to be supported. They canât help it if the other fellows are better.â âThat wonât stop them from getting licked,â Johnson growled. âWhat difference does it make if they do get licked?â Scott argued. âYou ought to give the other people creditââ he began, when there was a half hearted cheer and the teams trotted out on the field again. âNow letâs see if the âold manâ has put a bug in their ear.â Johnson said, leaning forward with renewed hope. The game started out pretty much as before, but not so fast. The ball was creeping steadily down into Minnesota territory when a poor pass carried it over the head of the Lawrence fullback, he fumbled in trying to recover it, and a Minnesota man got it. The crowd cheered the poor pass wildly. Scott looked around in astonishment. âWhat are they yelling for now?â he asked. âDidnât you see that pass?â Johnson asked excitedly. âDonât see anything to cheer in that, it was just a poor pass such as you could see on any corner lot.â âMeant ten yards and the ball to us,â Johnson answered shortly. He had made his own way in the world and had usually found the other fellowâs loss to be his gain. That seemed to be the turning point in the game. The light Lawrence team had expended its strength in the early part of the game. Their substitutes, as in most small colleges, were poor, and the overwhelming weight of the maroon team began to tell. Following up their advantage they carried the ball steadily down the field, crushing the lighter team before them. The crowd went wild with enthusiasm. The yelling was almost a continuous roar. But the little Lawrence team was game. On their five-yard line they took a brace and would not yield an inch. The big machine which had carried the ball surely, for almost the entire length of the field, lost it on downs, and saw it kicked far over their heads out to the center of the field. The crowd was still in an instant and there was even a slight tendency to hiss, but the better element instantly suppressed it. The third quarter ended and still there was no score. The teams changed sides amidst a deathlike silence. The next instant all was wild excitement again. The captain of the Minnesota team had broken away with a clean forward pass, and was speeding away down the field with no one between him and a touchdown but the little Lawrence quarter. Scott yelled with the loudest of them. âWasnât that a corker?â he screamed in Johnsonâs ear. The yelling ended, as suddenly as it had begun, in a groan. The little quarterback agily kept in front of the big runner, followed his every feint, and brought him to the ground with a crash. âBlame it,â Scott exclaimed. âWasnât that a beautiful tackle?â âBeautiful tackle?â Johnson raged. âI wish he had broken his neck.â This last remark must not be taken to represent the attitude of the majority of the crowd, but it fairly represented Johnsonâs attitude in everything but his own actions. The setback, however, was only temporary. The big team gathered itself together, and carried the ball over for a touchdown. Goal was kicked just three minutes before time was called, and the game ended with a score of seven to nothing in favor of Minnesota. The big crowd jostled slowly out of the gate and it seemed to Scott that for people who had been so wildly desirous of winning, they were very silent about it when it was accomplished. âThatâs what I call a good game,â Scott said. âThatâs what _I_ call a rotten
{'title': 'Scott Burton, Forester by Edward G. Cheyney', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}