"Another Hicks mystery," groaned Butch, holding the two letters
thoughtfully. "And father and son are in it, But if Hicks don't get his B,
it will be a shame. Say, I know—"
A few moments later, good-hearted Butch Brewster, in the behalf of his
sunny comrade, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., was making to the Gold and Green
eleven and Coach Corridan, as eloquent a speech as that blithesome youth,
two weeks before, had made in defense of the condemned and ostracized Thor!
He read them the two letters of Hicks' beloved Dad, and told how the cheery
collegian wanted to win his B for his father's sake; graphically, he
related Hicks, Sr.'s, great ambition, and how Hicks, Jr., for three years
had vainly tried to make good at some athletic sport, and to win his
letter. Big Butch, warming to his theme, spoke of how T. Haviland Hicks,
Jr., letting the students believe that he entered every event in the track
meet of his Freshman year just for fun, had been trying to find his event,
and train for it; he explained that the festive youth, ever sunny-natured,
under the good-humored jeers of his comrades, who did not know his real
purpose, really yearned to win his B.
"You fellows, and you, Coach," he thundered, "all know how Hicks, unable
to make the 'Varsity, has always done humble service for old Bannister,
cheerfully, gladly; how he keeps the athletes in good spirits at the
training-table, and is always on hand after scrimmage to rub them out. He
is chock-full of college spirit, and is intensely loyal to his Alma Mater.
Why, look how he rounded up Thor—he ought to have his B for that!"
Thanks to Butch's speech, the Gold and Green football stars, most of whom
were Hicks' closest friends, saw the scatter-brained, happy-go-lucky
youth in a new light; his eloquent defense of John Thorwald had shown old
Bannister that he could be serious, but the knowledge that T. Haviland
Hicks, Jr., even as he made a ridiculous farce in athletics, was ambitious
to win his B, just to make his Dad happy, stunned them. For three years,
the sunny Hicks' appearance on old Bannister Field, to try for a team, had
meant a small-sized riot of jeers and good-natured ridicule at his expense;
but Hicks had always grinned à la Cheshire cat,—and no one but good
Butch Brewster, all the time, had known how in earnest the lovable
collegian was.
"Now," concluded Butch, "Hicks may win a B in track work, if he gets a
first place in the high-jump, and if so, O.K., but if he does not—"
"You mean—" Monty Merriweather—understood, "if he fails, then the
Athletic Association ought to—"
"Present him with a B!" said Butch, earnestly, "as a deserved reward for
his faithful loyalty and service to old Bannister's athletic teams. Don't
let him graduate without gaining his letter, and making his Dad realize a
part of his ambition—a two-thirds vote of the Athletic Association can
award him his letter, and when all the students know the truth about his
ridiculous fiasco on Bannister Field, and realize the serious purpose
beneath them all, they—"
"We'll give him his B!" shouted Beef, loudly, "If he fails in track work
next spring, we'll vote him his letter, anyway!"
Out in the corridor, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., returning from Skeet
Wigglesworth's room and entering his own cozy quarters, could not help
hearing the conversation, as the doors of both his den and the room across
the corridor were open. A great love for his comrades came to his impulsive
heart, and a mist before his eyes, as he heard how they wanted to vote him
his B in case he failed to win it in track work; he thrilled at Butch's
speech, but—
