The cheers, the applause, the congratulations of friends who pushed and crowded to shake his hand meant nothing to Larry Kirkland. Fellows he had known and liked pounded him upon the back and shouted their congratulations and rejoicings over the victory. To hide his feelings he forced himself to smile and mutter thanks. To him the victory seemed all hollow and useless; and his years of struggling to achieve a place on the team and win his C appeared vain and futile, not worth the effort. He was facing stern realities now, and the achievements that had seemed to him all-important dwindled and appeared childish.
He was dressing hastily, taking little part in the boisterous celebration in the club house. The players, relieved suddenly from the strain, half-hysterical with joy over their victory, wrestled, pushed each other into the big swimming plunge, pounded each other with wet towels and hurled shoes and bats against the lockers in sheer delirium of gladness. They hugged each other, while each, trying to lift his voice above the others, yelled praise of the playing the others had done during the game. Larry, dressing rapidly at his locker, strove to escape unnoticed. Over on the opposite side of the row of lockers Harry Baldwin was dressing in sullen silence. He had not been allowed to have a part in the great game, and a sense of injustice rankled within him. Mentally he charged Larry Kirkland with treating him unfairly, although the truth was, Larry had forgotten him entirely, although he knew Helen Baldwin and her friends were waiting for Harry to dress. He must see Helen a moment before Harry joined her to tell her his plan. He threw his coat over his arm and hastened toward the door, hoping to escape unseen. The one thing he dreaded above all others was bidding good-bye to the fellows of the team. He feared if he attempted to say farewell he would break down. A lump was in his throat. He wondered whether they would miss him. He had resolved not to remain for commencement, not even to wait to receive the cherished C.
“Hey, you Larry!” roared Trumbull. “What are you trying to do? Going to ditch us for a skirt? Shame on you.”
The indignant outburst of the big fielder rallied the others and attracted their attention to Larry’s effort to flee. They seized upon him and dragged him back.
“Don’t fellows,” he pleaded. “I haven’t got time to celebrate right now—important business. I must hurry before she—before”——
“SHE,” howled Trumbull. “I knew it! Let’s throw him in the tank and make him unpresentable.”
“Not now, fellows,” begged Larry, struggling to get away. “Really, I’ve got to go.”
“All right,” vouchsafed his captors unwillingly. “If you will desert us, we’ll get even. Wait until the dinner to-night. We’ll make you give a speech and then hiss you.”
“So long, fellows! Hate to leave you,” Larry managed to say. There was a tug at his heart-strings, but he tried to smile, and backed out of the door dodging a shower of shoes and gloves that enabled him to hide agitation. Only Katsura saw something was wrong. He ran quickly after Larry, overtook him in the corridor, and laid his hand upon the captain’s arm.
“If it is any trouble in which I may help,” he said, “command me. I would like to help you.”