In fact, he had so many executive sessions with the principal that new-comers were usually informed he was "Doctor Walker's private secretary." Rumor stated that a member of the entering class was accustomed to lift his hat when Seton spoke to him!
Even at football the boy could not be depended upon.
In practice and in minor games his play was wonderful. But he was likely to lose his nerve in a close struggle. It was not that he was actually afraid. He had physical courage, only his confidence did not meet the requirements of a "forlorn hope." Once start him with the ball, and he was all right, seemed perfectly reckless of himself, made those "phenomenal rushes" that capture a grand stand by storm.
But he seemed unwilling to run after he had failed once or twice to gain ground. When sharp work was needed, he was not sure of catching the ball, and might even trip himself up in getting under way.
Besides, the managers continually complained that he was irregular about training.
This was Buck Harris at the time when steady-going, self-contained Mark Alden first showed an interest in him. Buck never told exactly how it happened, and no one ventured to ask Reddy.
But it came to pass, after one of Buck's numberless escapades, near the beginning of the fall term, that he moved his personal effects into the large corner room on the second floor where Alden had planned to reign alone during Senior year.
The escapade in question was unusually serious. The "wild set" had destroyed some abandoned buildings belonging to a farmer in the lower village. The owner did not love the Blackwood boys, and vowed to push the case to the extreme of the law.
"Jest let me git one o' them pesky young villyuns behind the bars 'nd I'll be satisfied!" he told the postmaster.
Now it chanced that Seton Harris was identified as the particular "villyun" whom he was most anxious to prosecute. Money would not satisfy the man, and matters looked black for the culprit.