Cummins was generally known as “Chas,” from his habit of signing himself “Chas. L. Cummins.” He declared that Charles was far too long to spell out. He played left guard and played it well if erratically. In a way, he was difficult to get along with, for he considered himself a law unto himself, and it was no unusual thing for him to veto a coach’s instructions, which, up to a certain point, the coach stood for. The others were at outs with him half the time, but liked him through all. Oddly enough, even the timidest youngster he ever bullied and brow-beat in practice was strong for him afterwards. It was no secret that he was holding his position on the first team by little more than an eyelash, for Brodhead was hot on his trail and Coach Driscoll had put up with more of Cummins’ calm insurrection than was agreeable to him. In appearance “Chas” was a broad, heavily-built giant with much red-brown hair that never was known to lie straight, eyes that nearly matched the hair and a round, freckled face that was seldom neutral. It was either scowling savagely or grinning broadly. For his part, Myron preferred Cummins’ scowls to his smiles, for the smiles generally held mischief. Usually the two encountered each other only on the playfield in the afternoon, but one morning a few days after the Cumner game Myron, walking back to the room after a chemistry class, sighted Cummins coming out of Goss Hall.
“Gee, there’s that pest!” he muttered, and, contrary to school regulations, started on a short cut across the grass in the hope of avoiding him. But it was not to be. Cummins had sighted his prey.
“O Foster!” he called.
Myron nodded and kept on.
“Tarry, I prithee! I wouldst a word with thee, fair youth!”
“Go to thunder!” murmured Myron. But Cummins headed him off without difficulty.
“S’pose you know,” he said, “that we can both be shot at sunrise for walking cross-lots like this. Where do you room?”
“Sohmer,” answered Myron briefly.
“Ho, with the swells, eh? Lead on, Reginald! I would visit thy fair abode in yon palace!”
“Not receiving today, thanks,” said Myron. “I’ve got some work to do.”