Dick Randall, the Young Athlete

by Ellery H. Clark

Dick was the first to speak. "Jim," he observed, "this is great. This is what I call living. It's just as Mr. Fenton said; this is good enough as it is if we don't get any ducks."

Putnam nodded assent. "You bet it is," he answered, "but we'll get the ducks, too. We'll surprise Mr. Fenton, if we can." He was silent for a moment, then added, "Say, Dick, you've been here two months now. What do you think of the master anyway; and what do you think of the school?"

Dick did not hesitate. "I think they're both bully," he answered promptly. "At first I used to laugh at Harry Allen for the way he went on about Mr. Fenton. I thought it sounded pretty foolish; but everything he said is so. I can't imagine how any one could be much nicer. It's just as Allen told me once--he doesn't preach, you know; I hate the pious kind of talk like anything; but he's just--well, I don't know--just so darned square to a fellow, somehow. And then, if you try to do anything yourself--just in little ways, I mean--you've kind of got the feeling that he's on to it, right away. He never gives you any soft soap, either, but if you're trying to plug along about right, you've got a sort of idea that he knows it; and if you're up to something you oughtn't to be up to, you've got just the same feeling that he's on to that, too. It's hard to explain; it's just like--just as if--oh, well, confound it, Jim, I can't put it into words, but you know what I mean."

Putnam nodded. "Sure I do," he answered; "and it is hard to put into words just the way you say. That was the reason I asked. I wanted to see how it hit you, coming into the school new the way you have. But it's so, isn't it? He never talks about being good, or about doing your duty, or any of that sort of thing--he only makes a speech once a year, at commencement, and that's a short one. But I'll tell you what I guess the secret is. I could never have expressed it--I'm not smart enough--but my father was up here last year, at graduation, and I asked him afterward, when we got home, what he thought it was about Mr. Fenton that made every one like him so. He said that was an easy one; that every man, who really made a success of his life, had two things back of him. First, he was in love with his work, and second, he had high ideals about his work. And he said you couldn't talk with Mr. Fenton for five minutes, without seeing what an interest he took in his school, and in his boys, and that more than making scholars out of them, or athletes out of them, he wanted to make them into men. And I guess that's about what we were trying to put in words, and couldn't."

Dick thought hard; then nodded. "Well, I guess so, too," he answered, and then, after a pause, "But now look here, Jim, if that's so, what do you think about this business of class president? Because that's an awfully important thing for the school. It shows people at graduation the kind of fellow we want to put forward to represent the class; and the honor sticks to him in college, and really, you might say, in a kind of way all through his life. And you can't tell me that you think Dave Ellis is the fellow Mr. Fenton would honestly like to see elected president, now can you?"

Putnam shook his head. "No, I can't," he answered; "but that isn't up to Mr. Fenton, Dick; he never would interfere in anything like that. And I'll tell you why. I met a fellow last summer who was quite prominent here in the school four or five years ago. We got to talking about different things and finally I told him about Dave and the presidency. He said that the year he graduated there was a lot of feeling in his class over the election and that finally some of the fellows went to Mr. Fenton and asked him if he wouldn't use his influence to try and get the right man in. He told them that was something he couldn't do; that if school life did anything at all it fitted fellows to meet some of the obstacles they'd have to run up against later in their lives and that this was just one of the things they would have to do their best to work out by themselves without coming to him. And, of course, you can see, when you come to think of it, that he was right. It's just like a republic and a monarchy; we wouldn't want even as good a man as Mr. Fenton to rule us like a king. It's his part to get as much sense into us as he can, and if he can't make us smart enough to tell a good fellow from a bad one, why, that isn't his fault. We've got to take the responsibility for that ourselves."

"Yes, I see," Dick assented; "but it's too bad, just the same, if we elect Dave. Because he isn't in it with Allen as a fellow. Harry's white clear through. But it's funny about Dave. He's certainly got an awful following; and I suppose he's dead sure to win."

Putnam nodded. "Yes, I think he is," he answered; "and really you can't wonder at it, either. Athletics count for such a lot nowadays--too much, I think--and somehow if a fellow is a star athlete, that seems to blind every one to his faults. And then you know what they say--that nothing succeeds like success. And Dave's really done a lot for the school in an athletic way. And they all think he'll be the big winner this spring; they think he'll land the Pentathlon, and help win the track meet, and of course that all helps. And then he's got that kind of a don't-give-a-darn manner. It jars a lot of the fellows, of course, just as it does you and me, but then, on the other hand, with a lot of the younger boys, it goes in great style. I think they imagine it's just about the sort of air that a really great man ought to have. It's funny to see some of them trying to imitate it. No, Dave's got the inside track.

"Allen's the better fellow, of course--Harry's about as nice as they come--but I don't see how he can win. And it's queer, too, you know; but his being such a corker in a literary way hurts him just as much as it helps him. He doesn't mean any harm by the way he's quoting his old poets all the time, but it doesn't go with the crowd. You know how it is. If you don't know a thing, and the other fellow does know it, and you have kind of a guilty feeling all the time that you ought to know it and don't, why then you sort of square up with yourself by getting to dislike the other fellow for knowing more than you do. That's sad, but it's true. And yet, of course, as I say, right down at the bottom, there's no comparison between the two fellows. Allen's as fair and square as a die, and the most kind-hearted chap that ever stepped, nice to everybody, big boys and small. And Dave--well, I don't know. I wouldn't slander a fellow for anything, but I don't think I'd trust old Dave very far. Did I ever tell you about Ned Brewster and the daily themes?"

Dick shook his head. "No, I don't think you ever did," he answered. "What about it?"