know it now they mighty soon will. They say you gave away the fellows who hazed you the other night. I don't know whether you did or didn't, and I don't want you to tell me. I don't care. You can play football, and that's enough for me. I wouldn't care this year if you had stolen the cupola of School Hall. I have nothing to do with what you are off the football field. If you'll do your honest best there I'll stick to you as long as you live. Will you?"
"Yes," answered Roy.
"Good! Shake hands! Now let's go on."
"About that hazing affair, though," said Roy as they left the seat. "I'd like to tell you – "
"I don't want to be told," answered Jack curtly. "If you told on Burlen and the others maybe you had reason, and if you're a decent sort of a chap they'll get over it in time. If you didn't you've got nothing to worry about. If a chap plays fair and square fellows pretty soon know it. See you at supper. So long."
Jack turned down the path toward the Cottage and Roy ran up the steps of Burgess Hall with a lighter heart than he had had for several days.
CHAPTER V
CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF
Roy had stayed to speak to Mr. Buckman after the geometry class had been dismissed, and so, when he reached the entrance of the hall on his way out, he found the broad granite steps well lined with boys. Nearly a week had passed since the hazing episode and the beginning of the present ostracism, and during that period Roy had become, if not used to it, at least in a measure inured. The smaller boys – the Juniors – were the worst, and they, Roy felt certain, were being constantly egged on by Horace Burlen and his chums, of whom Otto Ferris was apparently the closest. Horace himself refrained from active animosity. When he met Roy he pretended to consider the latter beneath notice and did no more than sneer as he turned his head away. But Otto never allowed an opportunity to be mean to escape him. And to-day, an opportunity presenting itself, he seized upon it.
Roy, looking straight ahead, passed down the steps, trying hard to forget that well nigh every eye was fixed upon him. He had reached the last step but one and the ordeal was almost over when Otto saw his chance. The next instant Roy had measured his length on the gravel path below and his books and papers lay scattered about him. He scrambled to his feet with blazing cheeks and eyes and strode toward Otto. The latter, too, got to his feet, but showed no overmastering desire to meet the other. Instead he retreated a step and began to look anxious.
"You tripped me up," charged Roy angrily.
"Who tripped you up?" asked Otto. "You fell over my foot. You ought to look where you're going."
Some of the older boys, their sympathies aroused by Roy's fall, moved between the two. The youngsters gave vocal support to Otto until commanded to "cut it out." Roy attempted to push by one of the boys, but was restrained.
"Run along, Porter," counselled the peacemaker. "It was a shabby trick, but you won't do any good by scrapping."
"Supposing you keep out of it," suggested Roy angrily.
"Now don't you get fresh," answered the other warmly. "You can't scrap here, so run along as I told you. I dare say you only got what was coming to you."
"He deserved it, the sneak!" cried Otto, who, divided from the enemy by strong defences, had recovered his bravery. Roy heard and threw discretion to the winds. He ducked under the arm of the boy in front of him and had almost reached Otto when he was caught and dragged back. Otto, standing his ground because he could not retreat, looked vastly relieved. Roy struggled in the grasp of his captors.
"You let me go!" he cried. "It's none of your affair. Why don't you let him look after himself, you bullies?"
"That'll do for you, freshie," responded one of the older boys named Fernald. "Don't you call names or you'll get in trouble."
"You'd better do as he says," counselled a quiet voice at Roy's side. "There wouldn't be any satisfaction in licking Ferris, anyway; he's just a coward. Come along and pick up your books."
There was something quietly compelling in the voice, and Roy, ceasing to struggle, looked about panting into the round, good-humored face of a boy of about his own age.
"Come on," said the boy softly. And Roy went.
Together they rescued the scattered books and papers, while on the steps discussion broke out stormily; Otto was being "called down" by the older boys and volubly defended by the youngsters.
When the books were once more under his arms Roy thanked his new friend and, without a glance toward the group on the steps, turned toward the dormitory. When he had gone a few steps he became aware of the fact that the round-faced boy was beside him and looked about in surprise.
"I'm going your way," said the other smilingly. "Going to get my sweater on and go out in the canoe awhile. Do you paddle?"
"No, I never tried it," answered Roy, rubbing the blood from his knuckles where they had been scraped on the gravel and shooting a puzzled glance at the other.
"Well, never too late to learn," responded his companion cheerfully. "Come along down and take a lesson. It's a dandy day for a paddle."
"Thanks, but I've got to study a bit."
"Oh, leave that until to-night. No practice, is there?"
"No, most of the fellows went to Maitland with the first eleven."
"Maitland will beat us, probably. We always lose the first two or three games. Why didn't they take you along?"
"Didn't need me, I guess. Bacon is the regular quarter, you know."
"Yes, but I don't see why they need to play him all through the first game. Well, here we are. Get a sweater or something on and meet me down here."
They had paused on the landing outside the Junior Dormitory and Roy hesitated. Then,
"You live here, do you?" he asked.
"Yes, I have a corner bed by the window, and last year, when they wanted to put me upstairs, I kicked. So they let me stay; told me I could be useful keeping an eye on the kids. You'll come, eh?"
"Well, I – I guess so. It's good of you to ask me."
"Not a bit. I hate to go alone; that's all."
He turned smilingly into the dormitory and Roy went on upstairs, got rid of his books and scrambled into his red sweater. It wasn't necessary to pass School Hall on the way down to the river, and Roy was glad of it. He felt that in losing his temper and slanging the older fellows on the steps he had also lost ground. Instead of making friends he had possibly made one or two new enemies. Then the realization that the boy beside him was showing himself more of a friend than any other fellow in school, with the possible exception of Jack Rogers, brought comfort, and, in a sudden flush of gratitude, he turned and blurted:
"It was mighty nice of you to take my part and I'm awfully much obliged."
"Shucks, that wasn't anything! I'm always for the under dog, anyhow – if you don't mind being called a dog."
"No," answered Roy. Then he added a trifle bitterly, "I guess some of them call me worse than that."
"Oh, they'll get over it," was the cheerful reply. "Just you pay no attention to 'em, mind your own affairs and look as though you didn't give a rap."
