Again the old Indian, Crowfoot, had disappeared, after his usual manner, without telling Frank whither he was going. Merry knew he might be in the vicinity, or he might be hundreds of miles away. Still, Joe had a remarkable faculty of turning up just when he was most needed.
Merry turned back into the little cabin, leaving the door open. He had been feeling of his chin as he stood in the doorway, and now he thought:
"A shave will clean me up. Great Scott! but I'm getting a beard! This shaving is becoming a regular nuisance."
Indeed, Frank was getting a beard. Every day it seemed to grow heavier and thicker, and he found it necessary to shave frequently to maintain that clean appearance in which he so greatly delighted.
Frank could wear old clothes, he could rough it with joy, he minded neither wind nor weather, but personal cleanliness he always maintained when such a thing was in any manner possible. To him a slovenly person was offensive. He pitied the man or boy who did not know the pleasure of being clean, and he knew[Pg 90] it was possible for any one to be clean, no matter what his occupation, provided he could obtain a cake of soap and sufficient water.
So Frank was shaving every day when possible. He now turned back into the cabin and brought out his shaving-set. On the wall directly opposite the open door hung a small square mirror, with a narrow shelf below it.
Here Merry made preparations for his shaving. Over a heater-lamp he prepared his water, whistling the air of the Boola Song. This tune made him think of his old friends of Yale, some of whom he had not heard from for some time.
A year had not yet passed since he had gathered them and taken his baseball-team into the Mad River region to play baseball. In that brief space of time many things had occurred which made it evident that never again could they all be together for sport. The days of mere sport were past and over; the days of serious business had come.
Frank thought, with a sense of sadness, of Old Eli. Before him rose a vision of the campus buildings, in his ears sounded the laughter and songs, and he saw the line of fellows hanging on the fence, smoking their pipes and chaffing good-naturedly.
With some men it is a sad thing that they cannot look back with any great degree of pleasure on their boyhood and youth. They remember that other boys seemed to have fine times, while they did not. Later, other youths chummed together and were hail-fellow-well-met,[Pg 91] while they seemed set aloof from these jolly associates. With Frank this was not so. He remembered his boyhood with emotions of the greatest pleasure, from the time of his early home life to his bidding farewell to Fardale. Beyond that even unto this day the joy of life made him feel that it was a million fold worth living.