John Thorwald, slowly tearing open the letter that had come that night,
and had lain, unnoticed, on the study-table while he wrestled with his
geometry, turned suddenly. The Human Encyclopedia's vast earnestness and
the strange query he had fired at Thor, surprised even that stolid mammoth.
"Why, what do you mean, Theophilus?" spoke Thor slowly. "A square deal?
Why, I owe them nothing! I sacrifice my time for them, leaving my studies
to go out and waste precious time foolishly on football. Why—"
"I mean this," Theophilus kept doggedly on, his earnest desire to stir Thor
conquering his natural timidity. "You were brought to old Bannister by
Hicks, who made a great mystery of you, so we knew nothing of you; but the
fellows all thought you were willing to play football. Then, after they
got enthused, and builded hopes of the championship on you, came
your quitting. Hicks defended you, Thor, and changed the boys' bitter
condemnation to vast admiration, by telling of your life, your father's
being a castaway, your mother's dying wish, your toil to get learning, and
your inability to grasp college life. Then from gratitude to Mr. Hicks you
started to play again—naturally, the students waxed enthusiastic, when you
ripped the 'Varsity to pieces, but now you may be dropped by the coach,
after tomorrow, because you don't play for old Bannister, and your
indifference kills the team's fighting spirit. You do not care if you are
dropped; it will give you more time to study, and relieve you of your
obligation, as you so quixotically view it, to play because Mr. Hicks will
be glad; but—think of the fellows.
"They, Thor, disappointed in you, their hopes of your bringing by your
massive body and huge strength the Championship to old Bannister shattered,
are still your friends—they of the eleven, I mean especially, for, as yet,
the rest do not know you may be dropped. And the fellows came beneath your
window tonight to cheer you; they will do so, Thor, even if you are dropped
and they know that you will not use that prodigious power for their Alma
Mater in the big games; they will stand by you, for they understand! Just
think, old man; haven't the fellows, despite your rude rebuffs, tried
to be your comrades? Haven't they helped you to get settled to work and
assisted you with your studies? Why, you have been a big boor, cold and
aloof, you have upset their hopes of you in football, and yet they have no
condemnation for you, naught but warm friendliness.
"You are not giving them or yourself a square deal, Thor! You won't even
try to understand campus life, to grasp its real purpose, to realize what
tradition is! The time will come, Thor, when you will see your mistake; you
will yearn for their good fellowship, you will learn that getting knowledge
is not all of college life. You will know that this 'silly foolishness' of
singing songs and giving the yell, of rooting for the eleven, of loyalty
and love for one's Alma Mater, is something worth while. And you may find
it out too late. Oh, if you could only understand that it isn't what you
take from old Bannister that makes a man of you, it is what you give to
your college—in athletics, in your studies, in every phase of campus life;
that in toiling and sacrificing for your Alma Mater you grow and develop,
and reap a rich reward!"
Could T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., Butch Brewster, and the Gold and Green eleven
have heard little Theophilus' fervent and eloquent appeal to John Thorwald,
they would have felt like giving three cheers for him. They loved this
pathetic little boner, who, because of his pitifully frail body, could
never fight for old Bannister on gridiron, diamond, or track, and they
tremendously admired him for working for his college and for the redemption
of Thor. Timorous and shrinking by nature, whenever his Alma Mater, or a
friend, needed him the Human Encyclopedia fought down his painful timidity
and came up to scratch nobly.
It was Theophilus whose clear logic had vastly aided T. Haviland Hicks,
Jr., to originate The Big Brotherhood of Bannister, in 1919's Sophomore
year, and quell Roddy Perkins' Freshman Equal Rights campaign. In fact, it
had been the boner's suggestion that gave Hicks his needed inspiration.
And, a Junior, Theophilus had been elected business manager of the
Bannister Weekly, with Hicks as editor-in-chief as a colossal joke. The
entire burden of that almost defunct periodical had been thrust on those
two, and, thanks to the grind's intensely humorous "copy," the Weekly had
been revived and rebuilt. And Theophilus, in writing the humorous articles,
had been moved by a great ambition to do something for old Bannister.
"Look at me, Thor!" continued Theophilus Opperdyke, his puny body dwarfed
as he faced the colossal Prodigious Prodigy. "A poor, weak, helpless
nothing! I'd cheerfully sacrifice all the scholastic honor or glory I ever
won, or shall win, just to make a touchdown for the Gold and Green, just to
win a baseball game, or to break the tape in a race for old Bannister!
And you—you, with that tremendous body, that massive bulk, that vast
strength—you won't play the game for your Alma Mater, you won't throw
that big frame into the scrimmage, thrilled with a desire to win for your
college! Oh, what wonderful things you could do with your powerful build;
but it means nothing to you, while I— Oh, you don't care, you just won't
awaken; and, unless you do, in tomorrow's game you'll be dropped from the
squad, a disgrace."
John Thorwald-Thor, the Prodigious Prodigy, that Gargantuan Freshman of
whom Bannister said he possessed no soul—stirred uneasily, shifted his
vast tonnage from one foot to the other, and stared at little Theophilus
Opperdyke. That solemn Senior, who had not seen the slightest effect his
"Missionary Work" was having on the stolid Thor, was in despair; but he did
not know the truth. As Hicks had once said, "You don't know nothing what
goes on in Thor's dome. There's a wall of solid concrete around the
machinery of his mind, and you can't see the wheels, belts, and cogs at
work!"
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., with all his keen insight into human nature, had
failed utterly to diagnose Thor's case, had not even stumbled on the true
cause of that young giant's aloofness. The truth was unknown to anyone,
but there was one natural reason for John Thorwald's not mingling with his
fellows of the campus-the blond Colossus was inordinately bashful! From his
fifteenth year, Thor had seen the seamy side of life, had lived, grown and
developed among men. In his wanderings in the Klondike, the wild Northwest,
in Panama, his experiences as cabin-boy, miner, cowboy, lumber-jack, and
Canal Zone worker, he had existed where everything was roughness and
violence, where brawn, not brain, usually held sway, where supremacy was
won, kept, and lost by fists, spiked boots, or guns! In his adventurous
career, young Thorwald had but seldom encountered the finer things of life,
and his nature, while wholesome, was sturdy and virile, not likely to be
stirred by sentiment; so that now, among the good-natured, friendly boys of
old Bannister, he, accustomed to rude surroundings and rough acquaintances,
was bashful.