On Your Mark! A Story of College Life and Athletics Page 20

  CHAPTER XIX

  PETE PUTS THE SHOT

  For a few days following the mysterious serenade on the fire-bellthere was an epidemic of mild colds throughout the college; and aseach fellow who had a cold was able and eager to tell--through hisnose--what had happened at the fire-house, it would seem that theremight have been some connection between the affliction and the midnightoccurrence. But no serious illness resulted, and so we may lenientlyassert that no harm came of Pete's joke.

  Not that any one knew it was Pete's joke, save the quartet and oneother. The one other was Mr. Guild, out at Hillcrest. When morningcame the severed rope hung in plain sight from the bell tower, andalthough it told clearly what had happened, yet it threw no lighton the identity of the culprit. Of course every one--townfolkespecially--declared it to have been a student prank, but nonesuspected Pete Burley, for it apparently entered no one's head thatthe bell might have been rung from Pete's room. The perpetrator waspopularly believed to have been hidden in some near-by yard.

  That Pete's innocence was never questioned was a lucky thing for Pete,because the faculty would have viewed the affair in the light of a laststraw, and Pete's connection with Erskine College would have ceasedthen and there. As it was, the affair remained forever a mystery.

  Mr. Guild heard the story a few days later, when the quartet drove outto Hillcrest in a rattle-trap carryall and spent the afternoon. Thiswas the second visit the fellows had made to the owner of the duckssince the beginning of the term. Mr. and Mrs. Guild had been in theSouth for two months, and after their return, in February, the snow hadmade the roads almost impassable. Hal and Tommy had been introduced onthe occasion of the previous visit and had been cordially welcomed. Mr.Guild enjoyed the story of the bell-ringing and laughed heartily overit.

  "That's a better joke, Burley," he said, "than that drowning businessof yours. That was a trifle too grim to be wholly humorous. And when Iremember the way I had the river dragged for your lifeless body, andexpected to see it every time the men drew the grapples up, I--well, Ihope your dinner the other night choked you."

  But it hadn't. The dinner had passed off very successfully, and savethat Hal had partaken of too much pie and had sat up in bed untilthree o'clock in the morning well doubled over, it had been an affairworthy of being long remembered. Even Pete, who claimed the right to beseverely critical, had found nothing to find fault with, save, perhaps,the fact that in winning the banquet he had unwittingly provided themoney to pay for it!

  The second week in March witnessed the return of the track teamcandidates to practise in the gymnasium. Spring was unusually latethat year--perhaps you recollect the fact?--and several feet of snowhid the ground until well toward the last of March. But meanwhilethe candidates, thirty-eight in number, were divided into two squadsand were daily put through chest-weight and dumb-bell exercises andsent careening around the running track. Allan, who since his failureto "make good"--in the language of the undergraduate--had beensomewhat disgusted and down in the mouth, with the return to practiseexperienced a renewal of faith in himself and his abilities. BillyKernahan laughed at his pessimistic utterances and assured him thatoutdoor work would do wonders for him.

  Meanwhile Hal was hard at work with the freshman baseball squad and wasturning out to be something of a "star" at the bat. Tommy, who duringthe winter months had found much difficulty in keeping himself busy,was as happy as a lark, since the awakening activity in athletics,the class debates and the final debate with Robinson afforded himopportunities to perform wonderful feats of reporting and gave himalmost as much work to do as even he could desire.

  Pete was left forlorn. Of the quartet he alone had no interest in lifesave study; and without wishing to be hard on Pete, I am neverthelessconstrained to say that in his case study as an interest was somethingof a failure. He managed to stand fairly well in class, but thiswas due rather to an excellent memory than to any feats of severeapplication. When, toward the last of March, the baseball men and thetrack team went outdoors, he was more deserted than ever. Hal and Allanwere inaccessible to him save in the evenings, and even then insistedon studying. As for Tommy----

  "You might as well try to put your thumb on a flea as to try and locateTommy," he growled aggrievedly. "I tried to meet up with him on Monday,and the best I could do was to find out where he had been last seen onSaturday. I haven't caught up with him yet, by ginger!"

  "Why don't you go in for something?" asked Hal. "Try baseball."

  "Baseball!" grunted Pete. "What do I know about baseball? It would takeme a month to learn the rudiments of the game. I'll go out for springfootball practise next month, but that only lasts a couple of weeks,they say, and after that I guess I'll pack up and go home."

  "Try golf," said Allan, with a wicked smile. Pete snorted.

  "I'd look well hitting a little ball with a crooked stick, wouldn't I?"he asked disgustedly. "No; I may be a blamed fool, but I know betterthan to make such a show of myself as that."

  In the end Pete found an interest, and the manner of it was strange. Ithappened in this wise.

  It was a few days before the class games. If his friends would not cometo him, Pete could, at least, go to his friends. And so he had got intothe way of walking out to the field in the afternoon and watching Halon the diamond or Allan on the track. Sometimes he had a word or twowith them; but at all events it was better, he thought, than mopingabout the college. The scene was a lively and, when the weather wasbright, a pretty one. To-day the sky was almost cloudless, the sunshone warmly and there was a quality to the air that made one want todo great things, but yet left one content to do nothing.

  When Pete approached the field he saw that the varsity and freshmanbaseball teams were both at practise, that the lacrosse candidates--whoseantics always amused him--were racing madly about at the far corner ofthe enclosure, and that the track men were on hand in force. The scenewas full of life and color and sound. Pete broke into song:

  Sam Bass was born in Indiana, it was his native home, And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam; He hit the trail for Texas a cowboy for to be, And a kinder-hearted feller you'd never hope to see.

  Pete's voice was untrained but hearty. Had the tune been more melodiousthe effect would possibly have been more pleasing. As it was, theadventures of Sam Bass were chanted--as they always have been wherePete came from--in a melancholy reiteration of some half-dozen notesthat threatened in the course of time to become terribly monotonous.

  Sam used to own a thoroughbred known as the Denton mare; He matched her in scrub races and took her to the fair. He always coined the money and spent----

  The song died away to a low rumble as Pete stooped and picked upa battered sphere of lead which lay on the sod before him. It wassurprisingly heavy and he wondered what it was. Then his gaze fell ona lime-marked circle a few yards away, and it dawned upon him that thething he held was a sixteen-pound shot, such as he had seen the fellowsthrow. Near-by the sod was dented and torn where the weight hadstruck. Pete hefted the thing in one hand and then the other. Then heraised it head-high and threw it toward the circle. It narrowly missedsmashing the stop-board. Pete took up his song once more:

  He started for the Collins ranch, it was the month of May, With a herd of Texas cattle, the Black Hills for to see.

  He picked up the shot again and looked about him. There was nobodynear, and of those at a distance none was paying him any attention. Sohe laid his pipe on the ground, balanced the shot in his right hand,stepped to the front of the circle and sent it through the air. Itdescribed a good deal of an arc and came down about eight paces away.Pete was sure he could beat that, so he strolled over and recoveredthe weight, and, humming lugubriously the while, strolled back andtried it over again. This time it went a few feet farther and Pete wasencouraged. He took off his coat and rolled his sleeves up, spat on hishands and seized that lump of lead with determination.

  Up near the finish of the mile, by the side of the track, Allan
was inconversation with Kernahan. Suddenly he stopped, smiled, and pointeddown the field.

  "For goodness' sake," he exclaimed, "look at Pete Burley trying to putthe shot!"

  Billy turned and watched. When the shot had landed, he asked:

  "Has he ever tried that before?"

  "No, indeed; Pete's stunt is football." Kernahan smiled.

  "Sure. I remember him now. Well, you try a few sprints of thirty yardsor so, and I guess that'll do for to-day. That stride's coming alongall right; don't be in too big a hurry. To-morrow do a slow mile and afew starts. Then you'd better knock off until the meeting."

  Allan nodded, turned and jogged away up the track. Billy strolledtoward Pete. When he drew near his ears were greeted with a plaintivewail:

  Sam Bass was born in Indiana, it was his native home, And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam; He hit the trail----

  Away sped the shot, and fell with a thud fully thirty feet distant.Pete grunted. Billy's face lighted. Pete wiped the perspiration fromhis brow with the back of one big hand and strolled after the shot.When he turned back he saw the trainer. He looked somewhat abashed andshowed a disposition to drop the weight where he stood. But he thoughtbetter of it.

  "Taking a little exercise," he explained, carelessly.

  Billy nodded.

  "Good idea," he said. "Don't throw it, but push it right away from youas though you were punching some one. You get it too high."

  "Oh, I was just fooling with it," said Pete.

  "I know; but you try it, and don't let it go so high."

  The first attempt was a dismal failure, the shot scarcely coveringtwenty feet. Billy's presence embarrassed the performer.

  "Try it again," said Billy. Pete hesitated. Then,

  "All right," he said, cheerfully.

  This time he did better than ever, and Billy paced off the distance.

  "About thirty-two feet," he announced. "That'll do for to-day."

  "Huh?" said Pete.

  "That's enough for this time. You don't want to lame your muscles, ifyou haven't done it already."

  "Oh, my muscles will stand it," answered Pete. "Do 'em good to getlame, I guess." But Billy shook his head.

  "No, that won't do. You leave off now and report to me to-morrow atfour-thirty."

  "What for?" asked Pete, in surprise.

  "For practise. We'll try you in the meet next Friday."

  "No, I guess not," said Pete, shaking his head. "If you had a ropingcontest I might try my hand, but these athletic stunts have me beat."

  "Never mind about that," answered the trainer, "you do as I say. Weneed you, and we're going to have you. Four-thirty, remember; and you'dbetter get some togs."

  He nodded and walked away. Pete, staring after him, expressed hissurprise by a long whistle.