"Good night," said the other freshman soberly.
"Good night," said Frank--and I felt in his voice all of the cheery obligation of friendship. He was expecting wonders of me.
Walking on alone, across the open gloominess of deserted paths and night winds in the shrubbery, a thousand foolish fears tramped by my side and sang into my ears. I had hidden my empty spirit from those two boys--but I could not hide it from myself. I wondered what sort of a fight was ahead of me, and how long it would last, and what would be the final result. Those two men, Sayer and Braley, were among the most influential of the cla.s.s. They were members of my senior society. They could hold me down by sentimental ties of brotherhood, much as Trevelyan had been held down by his fraternity mates; failing that, they could use their popularity, their clinch upon college opinion to force me literally into silence. They could run me out of college, if they pleased. I knew this, did not deny it to myself as I went forward to the first skirmish.
Once I turned around and almost retreated to my rooms. But the remembrance of the sting that was in Frank"s reproachful look would not let me do that.
So I came to the steps of the big Y. M. C. A. building. They were many, these white stone steps, and they shone in the moonlight with a mottling of hazardous shadows. I mounted them and went into the huge a.s.sembly hall on the first floor. I heard the awkward, self-conscious benediction and adjournment of the meeting--for they were all young fellows, and had not yet learned to be entirely glib towards their meetings--and stood aside to let them pa.s.s out. As the first of them went through the door and out upon the campus, they burst into the giddy laughs which moonlight conjures--and I heard them singing foolish glees--s.n.a.t.c.hes of song that were utterly pagan and gleeful, and far from the heated stuffiness of their prayer meeting. They seemed to have found their Kindly Light more easily in the open.
The man for whom I now waited had always been the leader of my cla.s.s; this year, he was the idol of the entire university. Captain of football, a "varsity baseball man, he had the finest, sincerest character that I had ever known. He was not merely popular, in our undergraduate sense. Undercla.s.smen worshipped him from afar, and uppercla.s.smen, who knew him and the life that he led, loved him and respected him with a love and respect which few men can ever win.
He and I had become friendly, lately. It was due, perhaps, to the fact that we now belonged to the same senior society. Before, I had worshipped from afar; now I knew him well and warmly--and, as I look back upon my college life, I am amazed to realize how much of his influence went into the making of it.
As he came out, I noticed how his broad shoulders filled the doorway and blocked out its light completely. But his face was above the shadows, and I had a sudden sense of comfort from the resolute kindliness that shone upon it.
"Fred," I said, "I want your help on something."
As president of the Y. M. C. A. he had a room allotted him in the building where he might sleep. I knew that he had a suite in his fraternity house, too--but he preferred to stay here, for some reason, in this smaller, simpler place, where he would be nearer his duties.
When he had me in the plain little den, sitting before the miniature wood fire which he heaped with broken twigs, he sat me down and gave me a few minutes of tactful silence. I was thinking it all out. I wanted to tell it to him fairly, concisely, with no imprecations, and yet with no weakening of att.i.tude. Then I did tell it, simply, just as the two boys had told it to me.
I saw Fred"s face grow troubled. Before I was through he had begun to walk up and down the little room with a nervousness that made his pace almost such a jog as football players use when they come out upon the field.
"You"re right," he said when I was done. "You"re so right that everything else connected with the incident is wrong--and that"s the hardest part for me to admit. You deserve to fight this out alone--it belongs to you. I wish I had a fight like yours to make. But if you"ll let me help you--?"
"Let you? Why, I _need_ your help!"
"Then you"ll have it. I"ll be glad--mighty glad to chime in with you--"
He stopped short, his tremendous frame red-lined in the fire"s glow, his cheeks above his square jaw as bright as the flames themselves.
I could not answer him sentimentally. My comfort and grat.i.tude were too deep, my suddenly gained encouragement too surging for the narrow outlet of words. But after a while we began to plan. We would fight it together--and immediately.
When I got up to go, his Bible was lying open at the beginning of the New Testament, with a ribbon and tiny silver cross to mark the place.
When Fred saw me looking at it, he must have felt some part of the strange, shivery misgiving which had come over me. For he took the ribbon in his fingers, so that the cross lay gleaming in his palm.
"It is Christ"s symbol," he said. "It is the sign of one who suffered--and who was a Jew."
Then, as if he must leave me no doubt of his meaning in my mind:
"Don"t worry. The cross won"t stand between us. Though--" His eyes travelled slowly to the shelf above the fireplace. "Look! There"s a symbol of _your_ religion, too."
So I looked. Gleaming bra.s.s, its seven uplifting arms gracefully curved, stood a--Menorah!
XIX
"BATTLE ROYAL!"
I awoke the next morning to an insistent knocking at my door. I sprang out of bed and opened it. In the hall, their dress showing signs of much haste, stood Sayer and Braley. They did not wait my invitation, but strode at once into the room and, throwing the rumpled covers from the bed, plumped down upon it.
"See here," said Braley, without prelude, "what"s this talk about Fred"s calling a special meeting of the senior cla.s.s for tonight? Do you know anything about it?"
I smiled my way out of a pajama top. "Really?" I exclaimed. "Well, I did hear Fred say something about it last night."
"Oh, so you talked it over with him? Did you ask for the meeting?"
I had thrown on a bathrobe. "Yes, I did. Why?"
"That"s what we want to know. Why, why?"
I looked up from tying the cord about my waist. "That"s just what I"m not going to tell. Not until the meeting."
"Well, perhaps we know."
"You probably do. You deserve to."
"What do you mean by that?" Sayer jumped up and towards me. He was doing his best to fight, I could see--but I would not give him the chance--not prematurely!
Braley waved a conciliatory hand. He was a large, stoop-shouldered fellow with long, light hair and an enormous forehead. He had the most important and sumptuous manners I have ever met.
"See here, now," he said, "you really must tell us all you know about this thing. You really must." He was very earnest about it. They were both uneasy, it was easy to see.
"I"ll tell you nothing," I said. "You will have to wait until tonight, and then----"
"Threatening us, are you?"
"No. I"m kind enough to warn you, that"s all. I don"t want you to go to the meeting unprepared."
"Oh, so it has to do with my remarks to the freshmen candidates, has it?"
"And mine?"
"I"ve given you all the warning that fair play demands," I said. "Look to your consciences for means of defense." And, flinging a towel over my shoulder, I darted away for my morning shower, leaving them in possession of the room. When I came back, a few minutes later, it was apparently empty, and I thought them gone.
I was almost dressed when I went into the clothes closet to select a tie from the rack I had there. There was a sudden rustle and movement of the clothes at the back of the dark little place. Two men closed in on me, dragged me into the depths of the closet. I reached out blindly, furiously. My fists. .h.i.t only against the rows of my own clothes hanging there. A couple of coat-hangers clattered down. I stumbled and fell over my satchel. Then the door slammed shut. As I lay there, stunned, in the darkness, I heard the key turning in the lock, from the outside. They had sealed me in.
I had no doubts but they had been Sayer and Braley. Though I had never imagined they would go as far as this--and the fools! what did they think they could accomplish by locking me up for the day?
It was easy enough to breathe in the tiny, black square. I was in no danger. I groped my way to the suitcase and sat down on it for a few minutes. My head pained me terrifically. My forehead was hot. I put my hand up to it and felt a fast-swelling bruise. My fingers grew wet with something warm. It wasn"t just perspiration.... I knew that--and that, in the struggle, I must have hit my head against one of the hooks. Or had one of them hit me in the dark with some sharp thing that he held in his hands?
I stood up again unsteadily, found the door handle--yes, it was locked.
I was in my stocking feet; I could not kick through a panel. I reached along the wall, found a hook. I flung the clothes from it, gave it both my hands and all my strength in a sudden pull. It gave way with a spurting of loosened plaster.
It was a large, heavy hook. It made a good ram. I crashed upon the two upper panels with it. One of them split at length--and when I rammed the ugly iron thing against it again, it broke into splinters and my arm went through it. Light came through dimly--and, three minutes later, I had knocked out the whole panel, climbed through and staggered out into the room.