“Now, fellows, I’m a good way behind the rest of you in some of my studies. I’m younger than you—but that’s no matter. I’ll not ‘plead the baby act,’ anyhow. All of you can easily prepare yourselves for college between now and next fall. You probably don’t believe it, but so can I, and so I will. I have never set myself to study in earnest. I’m going to do it now. When we get home, I’ll bring to bear all that ‘obstinate pertinacity’ that you and Mrs. Dupont credit me with or blame me for—whichever way you choose to put it. If I don’t pass entrance examinations next fall with the best of you, you can count my share of the money as a voluntary contribution to the expenses of the mess. But you’d better not count on it in that way, I warn you.”
“Of course we hadn’t,” said Irv Strong, as Phil went below to look after things. “I’ve got a great, big, rosy-cheeked, candy apple at home, and I’ll wager it against the insignificant head of any fellow in the party—yours included, Ed—that when we five fellows present ourselves for our entrance examinations next fall, Phil Lowry will knock the spots out of every one of us.”
“You expect too much of him, Irv,” said Ed. “It isn’t fair. He’s from a year to two years behind us, and he is the youngest and most immature in the party.”
“Is he?” asked Irv, with challenge in his voice. “He may have been so when we left Vevay, but he isn’t now. He’s the oldest of us now and the most mature among us. You saw how he managed things in the woods, and how he handled Jim Hughes, and how he managed the difficult problem of the tarpaulin, and all the rest of it. I tell you, Ed, that, while Phil Lowry was much the youngest boy in this company when we made him ‘It’ for this voyage, he is several years older to-day than any of us. He may be a class behind some of you fellows in mere book work, but he won’t stay so long. I’ll tell you what, Ed, you’ll have to stir all your stumps to keep up with that fellow in college. He has got his mettle up now.”
“I believe that is so,” said Ed, thinking, and speaking slowly. “I hadn’t thought of it, Irv, but Phil has developed in his mind surprisingly during this voyage.”
“So much so,” replied Irv, “that nobody in this crew is his equal when it comes to real, hard, clear-headed thinking.”
“That is so,” said Ed, reflectively; “but in book study he is behind all of us because he is younger. He says he’ll catch up and—”
“And we now know him too well to doubt that he will do all that he says,” broke in Will Moreraud, whose admiration for Phil had grown day by day until now it scarcely knew any bounds. “But I say, fellows,” continued Will, “we’ve got to help Phil catch up. For that matter, there isn’t one of us that hasn’t a lame duck of some sort. Even you, Ed—”
“Don’t say ‘even’ me,” said Ed. “I’m in fact the worst of the lot. I’ve gone ahead of you fellows,—in my irregular fashion, of course,—but I’ve skipped a lot of things, and I’ve got to bring them up before I can pass my examinations for college.”
“That’s all right,” said Will, who was now enthusiastic. “Why shouldn’t we fellows form a ‘study club’ this fall, and work together? Of course the high school won’t and can’t prepare us for college by next year. But we can and will prepare ourselves; and now that Mrs. Dupont is out of the regular teaching harness, she’ll be delighted to help us. She will be in a positive ecstasy when she finds that five of ‘her boys’ have undertaken a job of this kind. By the way, let us stand up and bow low to Mrs. Dupont—the best and most loving teacher that any set of boys ever had or ever will have in this world!”