February came in at Hillton as though resolved to make up for its brevity by strict attention to business, and dealt out snow and sleet with a lavish hand, and bullied the elements, which had begun to show signs of relenting, into a state of sullen ferocity. For days together the sun never so much as showed its face through the leaden clouds, and the winds howled spitefully across the yard. It was the sort of weather which, as Trevor explained one afternoon, while staring dolorously out the window, fairly drove a fellow to study. The river retained its armor of glaring ice, and the white-winged yachts passed and repassed continuously, without, however, eliciting anything but the most grudging admiration from Dick. The hockey team went to Marshall and triumphed decisively over St. Eustace, who, minus Jenkins and the freckle-faced Billings, was shorn of her strength. And, as though that was not glory enough, Hillton and her old rival met in debate in the town hall at Hillton and the former won a fourth consecutive victory by proving to the satisfaction of three staid and reverend judges that the development of the arid West would prove of more benefit to the United States than the construction of an isthmian canal.
Work in the cage had begun for the baseball candidates, and Carl Gray was very busy. Ambitious youths who were striving for places on the track team held forth three afternoons each week in the gymnasium, and a spirit of athletism seized upon the school world. The first squad of crew candidates had graduated from weights to machines, while the second squad, swelled by eight recruits since its first assembling, were still in the throes of preliminary training. Professor Beck had “hooked” the promising upper middle boy of whom he had spoken to Dick; several candidates, inclusive of the unfortunate Perry, had been dropped, and Coach Kirk had paid his first visit to the academy, had looked the fellows over undemonstratively, and had gone his way again. To-day, a bleak and dismal Thursday, the machines were occupied, and Professor Beck was watching the performances of the eight youths with dissatisfied mien.
“Lengthen out, Waters, lengthen out; that’s better. Crocker, your recovery’s too slow; put some ginger into it; this is no place to go to sleep. Four, put more drive into your legs; that’s the way. Stroke, hit it up a little!” And Dick, in obedience to the command, quickened his stroke. When the rest had gone Beck turned to Dick: “Hope, what’s the matter with Taylor? This is the third day he’s been absent. We can’t have that. You must speak to him, and tell him that he’ll have to attend to business better.”
And Dick promised and went off laggingly to the task. He found Taylor in his room in a boarding-house in the village.
He was stretched out on a couch reading when Dick entered in response to a loud “Come in.” He appeared surprised when he looked up and saw who his visitor was, but rose to the demands of the occasion.
“Hello, Hope, glad to see you. Sit down. Been ice-yachting lately?”
Dick replied gravely that he had not, and then heroically plunged into the subject of his visit.
“Look here, Taylor,” he said, “I wish you’d try to be a little more careful about training. You missed work again to-day. This makes the third time it’s happened in the last two weeks. Can’t you do better than that?”
Taylor frowned and yawned lazily before he answered.
“I’m glad you’ve mentioned it, Hope. The fact is, I’ve been thinking about chucking it. I can’t see how I’m going to go in for rowing this year and hope to pass spring exams. That’s what the trouble is, old chap. I’ve been digging hard all afternoon”—adding, as he saw Dick glance at the magazine in his hands—“just this minute laid my Greek aside and took up this to—er—ease my brain.” He stopped and smiled amiably across.