CHAPTER III
UNCOMFORTABLE GLORY
Sam Parker was disposed to think little and say less of the incident of the runaway horse. He had come out of the affair with some credit and a slightly sprained wrist, but he made no mention of either at home or at the Safety First Club. At school a somewhat vague report was circulated that there had been a frightened horse and a very good “stop”; but none of the pupils happened to have been about at the time of Sam’s exploit, and the story went the rounds without bringing in his name. Sam was quite content with this; and as he did not see Paul Varley for several days, he regarded the episode as a closed chapter.
Meanwhile he was working hard at his books. He stood well in his classes, though he headed none of them; and he had an incentive for study.
Sam expected to spend the last year of his preparation for college at St. Mark’s, a famous school for boys. He was to go there in the autumn, after completing the third year of his course at the town high school; and inasmuch as his father’s consent to this arrangement had not been easily won, he prized it all the more highly. It had been granted, indeed, only after a series of adventures had satisfied Mr. Parker that his son was possessed of certain valuable qualities of self-reliance and discretion. Sam, reasonably, was greatly pleased with the outcome, and his satisfaction was increased by the fact that both Step and Poke were to be sent to St. Mark’s with him, while it was by no means impossible that one or two others of the club might join the colony. He looked forward eagerly to his year at the big school, but with a sensible understanding that good scholarship would be much to his advantage.
Sam lacked the mathematical talent of the Shark, just as he had no such peculiar knack as Step showed in Greek. The tall youth shone in translations from the tongue of Xenophon and Homer in a manner which was wholly inexplicable to his friends—as they frequently remarked with much feeling. In Latin Step was a mediocre performer; his French left much to be desired, but when it came to Greek—“Why, he eats it alive!” was Poke’s admiring declaration. Sam, being without such special genius, found none of his studies very easy—and, no doubt, profited the more in mental drill because he had to work for what he gained. His class rank was good, if not distinguished; and he stood well with the school principal and the other instructors, who saw that he was an influential fellow among his mates, including many who were not of the charmed circle of the club.
Trudging to school one morning—it was several days after the affair of the runaway—Sam fell in with Poke, who appeared to be in a curious mood. Ordinarily, Poke was a cheery soul, and good-natured, but this day gloom was upon him. He answered Sam’s hail with something very like a growl; and when they fell into step, he groaned unmistakably as response to the other’s remark that it “wasn’t such a bad morning.”
Sam looked at him wonderingly.
“What’s the row?” he asked.
Poke dug his hands deeper into his pockets, and sank his chin in his coat-collar.
“Oh, nothing!” He said it as dismally as if everything had gone wrong.