“My dear Miss Elinor, he was probably born in some Kansas cabin and has practiced killing snakes all his life. Not a very elevating feat. Let's go down and explore Lagonda Ledge now before the other snake comes in for the coroner's inquest.”
And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus and on to the town beyond it.
“You are hard on snakes, Burleigh,” Dr. Fenneben said as he welcomed the country boy into his study. “A bull snake is a harmless creature, and he is the farmer's friend.”
“Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend of mine,” Vic replied.
He was overflowing the chair recently graced by Professor Burgess and clutching his derby as if it might escape and leave him bareheaded forever. His face had a dogged expression and his glance was stern. Yet his direct words and the deep richness of his voice put him outside of the class of commonplace beginners.
“Are you fond of killing things?” the Dean asked.
The ruddy color deepened in Vic Burleigh's brown cheek, but the steadfast gaze of his eyes and the firm lines of his mouth told the head of Sunrise something of what he would find in the sturdy young Jayhawker.
“Sometimes,” came the blunt answer. “I've always lived on a Kansas claim. Unless you know what that means you might not understand—how hard a life”—Vic stopped abruptly and squeezed the rim of his derby.
“Never mind. We take only face value here. Fine view from that window,” and Lloyd Fenneben's genial smile began to win the heart of the country boy as most young hearts were won to him.
Burleigh leaned toward the window, forgetful of the chair arms he had striven to subdue, the late afternoon sunlight falling on his brown face and glinting in his auburn hair.