Boys of the Central: A High-School Story

by I. T. Thurston

“I’ll win that scholarship if it kills me to do it, just to make that crowd mad. It would make them mad enough to see their precious four worsted in the fight. And they shall see it, sure as fate!”

So ran St. John’s thoughts during that morning’s exercises. From that day, this one thought and purpose ruled him. He had never cared for athletic sports, and riding and driving were all the exercise he ever took, but now, the time spent in going to and from school was all that he was out of doors; and almost every moment of his waking time was given to study. Long after midnight he worked, going over and over what he already knew, lest possibly, some point might have been forgotten or slighted.

The other four boys were working hard too, but they were so accustomed to out-of-door sports and exercise, that it never occurred to them that they could give them up. So they kept their brains and bodies in good working order, while St. John grew, week by week, more worn and weary.

“His royal highness looks rather seedy—eh,” Reed said one day to Clark, and the latter answered:—

“I think he’s working too hard.”

St. John’s ears, sharpened by his nervous anxiety, caught both question and answer, and resented anyone’s thinking that he needed to work harder than any of the others. Up to this time he had been coldly indifferent to his classmates, but now he began to hate them all. He told himself that they were all banded against him, and that not one of them wanted him to win. And this was true. He had made not the slightest effort to gain their friendship, while the others were all prime favorites. Even Clark was happily conscious that the boys were friendly to him now; all except St. John and Lee. Lee’s Southern prejudice had not yet died away, and in his heart he still regarded Clark as a coward.

The competition for the prize scholarships was not confined to section D. There were two girls’ sections, and one other boys’ section in the senior year, and in each of these there were scholars who were quite as eager to win the prizes as were the boys in section D.

And in section D also there were other competitors besides the five who stood highest in the class. These were what Reed had called the “second fiddles,” and their chance lay in the fact that neither St. John, Gordon, nor Hamlin would accept the scholarships, should they win them, as all three of them were planning to enter some of the larger and more prominent colleges. They wanted the honor of winning the prizes, but it was generally understood that the prizes themselves would go to the next lower in class, while the whole class to a boy, always excepting St. John, was now determined that D should be the banner section this year. None were more eager for this last than Crawford and Freeman. Both of them were trying to live down the previous year’s record. They could hope to win no prizes, but they could do their share towards raising the general record, and this they were trying to do.

As the sunny May days slipped away and examination time approached, the strain of the competition began to tell upon many of the pupils. Four in section D stood so nearly together that Mr. Horton himself could not see that one had any better chance than the others.

“I never had four such students in one class,” he said to Professor Keene one day. “So far as perfect recitations go, there is nothing to choose between them. When St. John first entered, he was away ahead in Latin, but the other three have been steadily overtaking him, and now it all rests on the examinations.”