The Crimson Sweater

by Ralph Henry Barbour

Roy finished the last of his examinations on Thursday afternoon, and, while he would not learn the results until next week, he was hopeful of having made a better showing than in the winter. Afterwards he went to the limit of his prison on the river side and watched from a distance the placing of the course flags for the race.

Presently from down the river the brown-shirted crews swept into sight, rowing strongly in spite of their weariness. They had finished the last work before the race, although in the morning there would be a half-hour of paddling. Number 2 in the first boat was splashing a good deal as the slim craft headed toward the landing, but it probably came from weariness rather than from poor form. The second crew looked pretty well done up and the coxswain's "Let her run!" floated up to Roy long before the landing was in sight. After that they paddled slowly in and lifted their shell from the darkening water as though it weighed a thousand pounds.

From behind Fox Island, well over toward the farther shore, a row of white shirts caught a shaft of afternoon sunlight and Roy watched the rise and fall of the oars as the Hammond four returned home at a good clip closely pursued by the second crew. Then, on his own side of the river, a single scull crept into view around the point and Mr. Buckman, handling the long sweeps with an ease and rhythm that seemed the poetry of motion, his little brown megaphone bobbing from the cord about his neck in time to his movements, shot his craft up to the landing. Then, save for the launch gliding across to the Hammond side, the river was empty and long lanes of sunlight were disappearing, one by one, as the sun sank behind the purple hills.

Roy had not watched baseball practice since that first afternoon. Brother Laurence's advice might be very excellent, but a chap couldn't always follow it; there were moments when the grins wouldn't come. And, somehow, when Chub confided to him that evening that things were looking up, and couldn't help showing some of the cheerfulness he felt, Roy was more lonesome and out of it than ever.

The next morning after breakfast Doctor Emery announced that every student must be in the dormitories at ten o'clock and have his trunk and cupboard open for inspection; Mrs. Emery would examine the boys' clothing and take away for repairs such garments as needed them. The announcement was something of a surprise to the older boys, for never before had such an examination been made. It was the custom for the boys to lay aside each week whatever clothing needed mending, cleansing or pressing, but a general inspection was something unprecedented. Many fellows made up their minds to get upstairs as soon as possible and remove certain things from their trunks; firearms and sensational literature, for instance, were prohibited and subject to confiscation if discovered.

Roy's heart leapt when he heard the announcement and he couldn't help glancing at Horace. The latter youth, however, had apparently not heard it, for he was talking away with Whitcomb at a great rate and his countenance showed no sign of dismay or uneasiness. But Roy made up his mind to be near Horace's trunk when Mrs. Emery looked through it! As he had nothing in his trunk he was unwilling for the authorities to see, he didn't go to the dormitory after breakfast. Instead, he crossed over to the gymnasium in the hope of finding Chub there. But Chub wasn't to be discovered, and Roy mooned about the campus for the better part of an hour and then went up to the dormitory. It was pretty well filled and the fellows were getting a good deal of fun out of the occasion. Jack Rogers called across and told him he wanted to see him after inspection. Horace Burlen had his trunk open and was sitting nonchalantly on the side of his cot. Mrs. Emery soon appeared and, with Mr. Cobb in attendance, began her rounds. The whole thing looked rather perfunctory to Roy. Perhaps the fellows' garments were in good condition; at least, few of them were laid aside for mending. When Mrs. Emery reached Horace's trunk Roy sauntered carelessly over and looked on. He imagined that Horace looked a bit uneasy when Mrs. Emery began taking his clothing out of the till.

"Your things are in nice condition, Horace," she said. "Now what's underneath?"

"There's nothing much there," answered Horace. "Everything's all right, Mrs. Emery."

"Well, I guess we'd better look at them and make sure," was the pleasant reply. "Just lift out the till, please."

Horace obeyed with ill-grace, and Roy, his heart beating hard, edged nearer. Garment after garment came out to be piled neatly on the floor and finally the last one appeared. The trunk was empty and the crimson sweater was nowhere in sight!