T. Haviland Hicks, Senior

by James Raymond Elderdice

"I might as well be showing moving-pictures to the inmates of a blind
asylum," he growled on one occasion, "as to persuade you to quit acting
like a lunatic! You, a Senior—acting like an escaped inhabitant of
Matteawan! Bah!"

Big Butch Brewster, drawing a chair up to the davenport, assumed the manner
of a physician toward a recalcitrant patient, while Beef carefully stowed
the banjo in the closet and Deacon Radford, an interested spectator, sat
on the bed. The happy-go-lucky Hicks, at a loss to account for the strange
expressions of his comrades, tried to arise, but the football captain
pinned him down with one hand.

"Seriously, Hicks," spoke Butch, "your saengerfest came at a lamentably
inopportune time! I regret to Inform you that old Bannister faces another
problem, with regard to Thor, and unless it is solved, I fear—"

"Thor has balked again?" gasped the dazed Hicks, whom Butch now allowed to
sit up, as he showed interest. "Has the engine of destruction stalled?
Why, as fast as we get him lined up, off he slides at an angle! Well, you
fellows did perfectly right to bring this baffling problem, whatever it is,
to me. What is the trouble—won't Thor play football?"

The irrepressible Hicks was bewildered at hearing that a new problem
regarding Thor had arisen, and, naturally, he at once connected it with
football, since the big Freshman had twice balked in that respect. Since
his awakening, effected by Theophilus' missionary work, his last appeal,
and Thor's letter from his father, Thor had earnestly striven to grasp the
true meaning of college life, to understand campus tradition. No longer did
he hold aloof, boning always, in his lonely room. Instead, he mingled with
his fellows, lingering with the team for the skylarking in the shower-room
after scrimmage, turning out for the nightly mass-meeting. Often, as the
youths practiced songs and yells on the campus, Thor's terrific rumble was
heard—some had even dared to slap his massive back and say, "Hello, Thor,
old man!" and the big Freshman had responded. It was evident to all that
Thorwald was striving to become a collegian, and knowing his slow, bulldog
nature, there was no doubt as to his ultimate success; hence T. Haviland
Hicks, Jr., was vastly puzzled now.

"Oh, Thor hasn't backslid!" smiled Beef. "You see, Hicks, it's this way:
Owing to Mr. Thorwald's losing the five thousand dollars, Thor, as you
know, is working his way at Bannister. Well, with his hustling, his studies
and football scrimmage, he simply does not have a minute for the other
phases of college life, for the comradeship with his fellows—"

"Here is his day's schedule," chimed in Deacon, referring to a paper: "Rise
at four-thirty A. M. Hustle downtown to tend several furnaces until seven.
Breakfast at seven. Till nine, make beds and sweep dormitory rooms.
Nine till three-fifteen P. M., recitation periods and dormitory work,
sandwiched. Then until supper, football practice, and nights study. Add
to that waiting on tables for the three meals, and what time has Thor to
broaden and develop, to take in all the big things of campus existence, to
grow into an all-round college man?"

T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., wonderful to chronicle, was silent. He was
reflecting on the irony of fate; as Deacon said, now that Thor had
awakened, and earnestly wanted to be a collegian, he had no time to enter
into campus life. Glad at being able to stay at old Bannister, to keep on
with his studies, climbing steadily toward his goal, and finding a joy in
his new relationship with the students, the ponderous Thorwald had flung
himself into his hustling, as the youths called working one's way at
college, with zeal. To the huge Freshman, toil was nothing, and since it
meant that he could keep on with his study, he was content. The collegians
vastly admired his grim determination; they aided all they could with
his studies, and helped with his work, so he could have more time for
scrimmage, and yet another phase of the problem came to Hicks.

It seemed unjust that John Thorwald, after his long years of hard physical
toil, and his mental struggles, often after hours of grinding work, at the
very time when the five thousand dollars from Henry B. Kingsley's heirs
promised him a chance to study without a body tortured and exhausted,
should be forced again to take up his stern fight for knowledge. And it
was cruel that Thor, just awakening to the true meaning of college life,
striving to grasp campus tradition, and eager to serve his Alma Mater in
every way, should have so little time to mingle with his fellows. He should
be with them on the campus, on the athletic field, in the dorms., the
literary society halls, the Y. M. C. A. He should be realizing the golden
years of college life, the glad comradeship of the campus. Instead, he must
arise in the bitter cold, gray dawn, and from then until late night toil
and study unceasingly.

"It's a howling shame!" declared the serious Hicks, a heart full of
sympathy for Thor. "Just as he wakes up and is trying to understand things
at old Bannister, bang! the Norwhal is blown up by a stray mine, and
down goes his dad's money. Why didn't Mr. Thorwald get the five thousand
transferred to the Valkyrie? Oh, if that money hadn't gone down to Davy
Jones' locker, Thor would be awakened and have time for college life, too!"