‘THE JUNIOR LATIN SCHOLARSHIP.’
“The sunshine of mid-May streamed alluringly into the great stone portico of the old college of X——. The wide-winged gray edifice stood on a high terrace just under the crest of the hill, its ample windows looking down over the topmost boughs of ash and elm and maple over the roofs and spires of the little university town of X——, and out to the broad blue curve of the placid river. On the steps, lounged a group of students, members of the Senior and Junior years. Several of the loiterers stood close to the open, arched door, and from time to time glanced expectantly into the hall. A large black dog, a cross between Spitz and Newfoundland, lay in the centre of the hall, assiduously licking at a small but angry wound on his leg.
“At the farther end of the hall now appeared one of the professors. He stepped in front of the notice-board, and pinned a slip of white paper to the green baize-covered surface. In a moment the portico was cleared; and the men crowded in to read the announcement. They did not rush noisily, as Freshmen, or even Sophomores, might have done; but their eagerness was tempered with dignity. The Seniors, in particular, were careful to be properly deliberate; for announcements were expected by both classes, and this might prove to be merely a Junior list!
“It was a Junior list. Leaning on each other’s shoulders, the Juniors clustered around the board, while the Seniors lingered on the outskirts, and inquired with polite interest about the results. They were mindful that these Juniors would very soon be Seniors, and were therefore to be treated with a good deal of consideration. Then they dropped away in twos and threes, while the Juniors remained to take down the marks.
“The marks which excited so much interest were those of the third terminal examination in Latin. A Latin scholarship, of the value of one hundred dollars, was dependent on the results of three terminals, compulsory for all the Latin students of the Junior class, and on a special examination to be held at the very end of the term. This examination was open only to those declaring themselves competitors for the scholarship. It was generally expected throughout the college that the winner would be Bert Knollys, who, without effort, had gained a slight lead in the first two terminals, and whose ability in classics was unquestioned.
“At the top of the present announcement stood Knollys’s name with percentage of eighty-six. The second name on the list was that of J. S. Wright, with eighty-three to his credit.
“‘Wright’s pulling up! Five more points will put him ahead!’ was the remark of one man who had been figuring on his pad.
“Wright, a sharp-featured, sandy-haired fellow in the centre of the group, nodded his approval of this calculation. At the same moment, a slim youth of barely middle height, with laughing gray eyes and crisply-waving hair, ran up and peered eagerly through the throng of his comrades. Having deciphered his standing, he was turning away as abruptly as he had come, when some one said,—
“‘You’d better look out, Knollys! Wright is after you with a sharp stick!’
“‘I don’t doubt Jack can beat me if he tries!’ responded Knollys.
“‘Hold on a minute, Bert; I want to talk to you a bit!’ exclaimed a tall Junior by the name of Will Allison, extricating himself quickly from the crowd.
“‘Next hour, old man!’ cried Knollys, darting away. ‘I’ve got to catch Dawson in the laboratory, right off, and can’t wait a second!’
“Allison, who was Knollys’s most intimate friend, crossed the hall, and joined a Senior who was lounging in a window overlooking the terrace.
“‘It’s my firm belief, Jones,’ said he discontentedly, ‘that that cad, Jack Wright, is going to play Bert false!’
“‘How so, pray?’ inquired the Senior, in a tone of very moderate interest.
“‘Why, by going into the special exam., of course!’ replied Allison.
“‘And why shouldn’t he, as well as Knollys, go into the special examination?’ asked Jones.
“‘Oh, I thought every one knew about that!’ exclaimed Allison somewhat impatiently. ‘But it’s this way, since you inquire. Wright took the scholarship for our class last year—the Second Year Greek, you know. Well, Knollys was way ahead on the average of the terminals, and would have had a walk-over. As every man in the class knows, he can wipe out all the rest of us in classics without half trying. But Wright went to him, and made a poor mouth about being so hard up that he’d have to leave college if he didn’t get the scholarship. Bert has none too much cash himself; but in his generous way he agreed not to go in for the special exam. So Wright, of course, got the scholarship. In return he promised Knollys that he would not go in for the Junior Latin the following year. This suited Bert very well, as he wanted to put his hard work on his readings for the science medal. Under these circumstances, you see, he has been taking it rather easy in the Latin; and I have reason to believe that Wright has been working extra hard at it. Mark my words, he’ll go in at the last moment and catch Bert napping. But there’s not another man in college that I would suspect of such a caddish trick.’
“‘Well, for my part,” said the Senior, ‘I don’t greatly care which gets it. I grant you that Wright’s a cad; but I’m disappointed in Knollys!’
“‘Indeed! Poor Knollys!’ murmured Allison.
“‘Yes,’ continued the Senior loftily, ignoring the sarcasm; ‘in my opinion Knollys funks.’
“‘It seems to me, Jones,’ retorted Allison, ‘you forget certain incidents that took place when Bert Knollys was a Freshman, and you a Sophomore!”
“‘Oh,’ said the Senior, calmly looking over Allison’s head, ‘the worm will turn! But what I’m thinking about is his refusal to play foot-ball last fall. He’s quick, and sharp, and tough; just the man the team wanted for quarter-back, if only he had the nerve! Said he was too busy to train—indeed!’ and Jones sniffed contemptuously as he turned away to join some members of his own class, leaving Allison in a fume of indignation.
“At this moment Jack Wright, chancing to stroll past the big black dog, gave the animal a careless kick. The dog sprang at his assailant with a ferocious snarl. Much startled, Wright evaded the attack by dodging into a knot of his classmates; and the dog lay down again, growling angrily.
“‘Bran doesn’t seem to be quite himself!’ remarked a Senior, eying him narrowly.
“‘He’d be an ugly customer to handle if he started to run amuck,’ commented another Senior, chuckling at Wright’s discomfiture. ‘I wonder where he got that bite on his leg!’
“This was something which nobody knew; and the incident was promptly forgotten by all but Jack Wright, who thenceforth gave the animal a wide berth.
“As soon as Knollys came out of the laboratory, Will Allison told him his suspicions in regard to Wright, and urged him to put his energies upon the Latin. But Knollys was always slow to believe that a comrade could be guilty of treachery.
“‘I don’t think Wright is really such a bad lot, old man,’ said he; ‘only his manner is unfortunate, and he isn’t popular.’
“Just three days later appeared on the notice-board the announcement that B. Knollys and J. S. Wright were competitors for the Junior Latin scholarship! The examination was to take place on the following morning. Bert Knollys was hurt and indignant; his friends were furious; and Wright looked craftily triumphant over the prospect of so neatly getting ahead of a rival.
“Knollys was by no means prepared for such a contest as he knew Wright was capable of giving him; but his anger nerved him to the utmost effort. Returning in hot haste to his home in the outskirts of the town, he shut himself into his little study. All through the afternoon he toiled mightily over book and lexicon. About tea time he took a short walk, and then settled down for a night of solid “grind.” He was bound that he would win if it was in him.
“Toward two o’clock, however, eyes and brain alike grew dim, and the meanings began to mix themselves most vexatiously. He sprang up, snatched his cap, let himself out of the house noiselessly, and set forth to wake his wits by a brisk run.
“For the sake of the freer air he took a path traversing the hilltop toward the college. The path ran through the open pastures, and reached at length a rocky ridge just back of the cottage of Doctor Adams, the professor of classics. Here Jack Wright was boarding. As Knollys swung past along the ridge he glanced downward to the professor’s study window; and as he did so a light appeared therein. He halted instinctively; and the next moment his lip was curling with astonished contempt as he saw Jack Wright seat himself before the study table, and stealthily search the drawers. The top of the ridge was so near the window that Knollys, where he leaned against the fence, could see all that went on, as if he had been in the room. At last, after going through almost every drawer with frequent guilty, listening pauses, Wright found what he wanted, an examination paper! After making a hurried copy of it, he returned it to its place; and then, with his lamp turned very low, he stole out of the room.
“Bert Knollys’s first thought was to go at once to Doctor Adams, lay his complaint, and have Wright’s room searched before he could have time to destroy the stolen copy. Then it occurred to him that this would lead inevitably to Wright’s expulsion, and not improbably to his ruin. He therefore dismissed the idea. He hastened back home; tried to study, but found the effort vain; went to bed, and fell asleep without having arrived at any solution of the problem. In the morning he was equally undecided. Perhaps his best course would have been to go to the professor, declare a suspicion that the paper had been tampered with, and ask that a new paper be set. But he failed to think of this way out of the difficulty; and, at last, tired of worrying over it, he made up his mind to do nothing. He went in to the examination, wrote an unusually good paper, and came out feeling that there was yet a chance for him in spite of Wright’s previous knowledge of the questions. But on the day following was posted the announcement that Wright was the winner by a lead of three marks on the average for the four examinations.
“The affair was a grievous disappointment to Bert Knollys, and meant the upsetting of all his plans for the summer. He had counted on the scholarship money to enable him to take a long vacation trip with Will Allison. This scheme he had now to abandon; and Allison could not refrain from reproaching him for his misplaced confidence in Jack Wright. Furthermore, he was accused of petty jealousy by many students outside of his own class; and his popularity, undermined by Wright’s skilful insinuations, rapidly dwindled away. Smarting under the injustice, and seeing no satisfactory way to remove the misunderstanding, Knollys grew moody and depressed.
“The days slipped by quickly, and Commencement was close at hand. One warm afternoon, a number of the students were in the baseball field, where a practice match was in progress. The college Nine was strenuously preparing for the great Commencement Day match. Knollys, Allison, Jones, and a few others, were lying under the fence on the farther side of the field, while most of the spectators were grouped as close as possible to the players. Jack Wright was at the bat.
“Suddenly in the gate of the college barnyard, above the ball-field, appeared Bran, the dog. The hair lifted along his back-bone and on his neck, and a light froth showed about his half-bared teeth. He was a sinister and menacing figure as he stood there, a strange trouble in his wild, red eyes. After glaring uneasily from side to side for several minutes, he gave utterance to a yelping snarl, and darted down the hillside toward the field. The group under the fence observed him at once.
“‘What’s the matter with the dog?’ exclaimed Jones, in a tone of apprehension; and ‘Look at Bran!’ shouted some one else. The pitcher stopped in the very act of delivering the ball, and every eye went in the one direction. The dread truth was evident at once. On all sides arose the appalling cry, ‘He’s mad! Mad dog! Mad dog!’ and players and spectators scattered in sickening panic. As it were in the twinkling of an eye, the field was empty.
“But no! It was not quite empty! Turning in wild terror, and starting to run as he turned, Jack Wright tripped, fell, and snapped his ankle. He got up, and saw himself alone in the wide, sunny field. The dog had just entered the gate, and was making straight for him with foaming, snapping jaws. He strove to flee, but the shattered ankle gave way beneath him; and, with a piercing cry of horror, he dropped in a heap, burying his face in his hands.
“Knollys, like all the rest, had sprung over the fence at the first alarm; but at that despairing cry he sprang back again. There was no hesitation, no waiting to see what the others would do. Swift as a deer he sped out across the shining and deadly expanse. As he ran, he stooped to snatch up a bat which lay in his path. It was a question which would win in the awful race; and the crowd of fugitives, checking their flight, watched in spellbound silence.
“The dog arrived first, but only by a foot or two. As it sprang at Wright’s prostrate body Knollys reached out with a fierce lunge, and caught it between the jaws with the end of the bat. Biting madly at the wood, the animal rose on its hind legs, and in a flash Knollys had both hands clenched in a grip of steel about its throat.
“For a few seconds the struggle was a desperate one. The animal’s strength was great, and Knollys had all he could do to hold him at arm’s length. Then Will Allison arrived, panting, and conscience-stricken for his tardiness. He was followed by two or three others who had broken the spell of their panic. A couple of well-directed blows from the bat in Allison’s hands stunned the dog, and it was then speedily despatched.
“Breathing somewhat quickly, but otherwise quite cool, Knollys looked down upon Jack Wright’s gastly face.
“‘Glad I was in time, Wright!’ said he.
“‘Bert,’ cried Wright, in a shaking voice, ‘you won that scholarship! I just cribbed the whole paper!’
“To thank his rescuer, he felt, was not within the power of words; but reparation was in part possible, and his one thought was to make it.
“‘We won’t talk of that now,’ answered Knollys. ‘I know all about it, Jack! I saw the whole thing; and we just won’t say anything more about it, old fellow!’
“But Wright had fainted from the pain and the shock, and did not hear the forgiveness in Bert’s voice.
“The next day a letter went from Wright’s sick-bed to the president of the college. Wright wanted to tell everything; but on Bert’s advice he merely confessed that he had cribbed, without saying how, and resigned his claim to the scholarship. At Commencement, therefore, it was announced by the president that the Latin scholarship had been won by B. Knollys. Many conflicting rumors, of course, went abroad among the students; but to no one except Will Allison was the whole truth told. As for Wright, a new point of view seemed all at once to have opened before his eyes. The loftier standard which he now learned to set himself, he adhered to throughout the rest of his course, and then carried forth with him into what have proved very creditable and successful relations with the world.”
“Queerman has grown didactic,” said I. “That is surely not the tone for a canoe trip. Ranolf, it’s your turn to take the platform. Let us have something that is simple, unmedicated adventure!”
“I’ll tell you a bicycle story,” said Ranolf; “an unromantic tale of a romantic land. It is all about a bull and a bicycle in the land of Evangeline.”