CHAPTER

  1. [Waiting]
  2. [Ward Hill's Decision]
  3. [Mr. Crane's Examination]
  4. [A Call for Help]
  5. [A Warning]
  6. [The Beginning of the Struggle]
  7. [The Troubles are Increased]
  8. [Perplexity]
  9. [An Interview with Jack]
  10. [The Scene in Ripley's Room]
  11. [Jack Hobart's Project]
  12. [Mr. Crane's Words]
  13. [A Faithful Friend]
  14. [Ward Humbles Himself]
  15. [Outside Lessons]
  16. [The Beginning of the Great Game]
  17. [The End of the Great Game]
  18. [A Puzzling Question]
  19. [Jack's Sermon]
  20. [Down West Hill]
  21. [The Arrow and the Swallow]
  22. [The Mishap of the Arrow]
  23. [The Investigation]
  24. [Unexpected Visitors]
  25. [Jack Hobart's Proposition]
  26. [Conclusion]

WARD HILL THE SENIOR

CHAPTER I

WAITING

The little station at Rockford was the scene of the customary bustle and stir which appear in most country villages just before the arrival of the "afternoon train." The village idlers were assembled for the little break which came in the dull routine of the day. The shrill whistle of the approaching locomotive always brought a slight thrill in the hearts of these stolid watchers, as if something in the stir of the great region beyond their horizon was coming, if but for a moment; and when the train departed, so long as the cloud of smoke and dust remained behind it, it served to quicken the dull minds by the suggestions of the possibilities that lay in that unknown world so far away.

Doubtless the village idlers (the busy people of the little town had another term by which they called them) never realized that it was their imaginations to which the arrival of the morning and afternoon trains appealed, and yet it was that very faculty which was daily stirred, and for the arousing of which they waited with all the eagerness with which a toper is said to long for his morning dram. There was the excitement of waiting for the locomotive's shriek and the first puff of smoke that marked the approach of the cars in the distance, and this was followed by the departure, which left them in a state of curiosity and suspense, not entirely unlike that which the old Greek dramas imparted to the breathless audiences that followed them in their vast theatres. Then too there were the few passengers who were soon to leave Rockford, as well as the people who were waiting for the arrival of friends; and as a matter of course the ever-present small boy was very much in evidence, and as he "walked the rails" or leaped across the track, his delight seemed to be increased by the warning word which some one of the assembly occasionally gave him. At frequent intervals some farmer would drive up to the pen which joined the freight house, and with ungentle hands roughly push out the calves he had brought in his great wagon-box, and compel them to join the bleating herd soon to be carried away to the great city. Their piteous cries could be constantly heard by the waiting people, but they attracted little attention, although some occasionally expressed their disgust and anger at the brutal methods, which are all too common, of supplying the toiling people of the great cities with their meat. The thoughts of the coming train however, which now as usual was twenty minutes behind time, did not apparently permit any one long to dwell upon the sufferings, present or prospective, of the brute creation. They were all too eager for the "afternoon train" to come.

Among those who were waiting was Ward Hill. Apparently he was taking but little interest in what was going on about him. He nodded or quietly responded to the greetings he received from the waiting people, but that was all. Back and forth along the gravel path which led across the country road to the station, he walked, but he seldom took his eyes from the distant bend in the road where the smoke of the coming locomotive, he was well aware, would first appear. For Ward was expecting a friend to arrive by that same "afternoon train." Early that morning he had received a telegram, a most unusual experience in his life. Even now he could feel the thrill as he tore open the yellow envelope and read the words:

Am coming on afternoon train. Meet me at the station. SPECK.

Once more he took the message from his pocket and re-read it. He smiled as he placed it again in his coat and a softer expression came over his face. However the other boys in that far-away Weston school might feel toward him, Speck, or John Hobart, as his name had appeared in the catalogue, at least was true to him.