“Who’s Remsen; the football man?”
“Yes, he used to coach the eleven. He’s a jolly nice fellow, and awfully popular here. He’ll probably talk some, too. I hope he does; he’s worth hearing. You’ll go, won’t you?”
“If I’m wanted; though, if I’m not going to be on the team, I don’t see what use——”
“Of course you’re going on! So shut up and keep chipper. I promised Beck to go to his room at five, and it’s nearly that time. Don’t get blue, old chap; we’ll fix it all right!”
When the door had slammed to after Don the boy at the window sat a long while looking out on to the darkening landscape. The river grew to a deep violet with steel-gray ripples. The marsh became filled with shadows, and the sun dropped behind the purple hills and left the twilight cold and colorless. With a sigh and a shake of his broad shoulders Wayne jumped up, pulled down the shades, and lighted the gas. He seized the first book that came to hand, a Greek Testament, and settled himself resolutely in the armchair.
“If Beck won’t give me another show,” he muttered as he found his place, “I’ll go ahead and train on my own hook. And I’ll cut that old mile down to five minutes even if I have to work all day. And then they’ll have to take me on!”
[CHAPTER XXI]
REMSEN’S PLEDGE
The tiny hall in Society House was crowded when Wayne and Don entered at a little before eight. All the candidates for the track team, the crew, the football team, and the baseball nine were there, and a group of five graduates were talking together by the stage. At the latter Wayne looked with some curiosity. Gardiner topped them all by half a head. Kirk, the old baseball player, looked like a pygmy beside him. Don pointed out the others: Barret, the renowned hurdler; Burns, once a famous sprinter; and Kenyon, holder of the intercollegiate two-hundred-and-twenty-yard record. Paddy joined them and the three found seats near the front. Then Dave entered and squeezed into a three-inch space between Wayne and Paddy.