CHAPTER XIII A WANING STAR

The next morning, when Rob saw Carle swinging merrily off after chapel with a pair of irresponsible cronies, he judged that the twenty dollars had been found and the crisis averted. This was true. Unfortunately, however, the first successful effort, under spur of special necessity, to override the school decree as to study hours encouraged him to repeat the act of contempt a few days later. This time he made the most of the glamour of heroism attached by some boys to the reckless defier of authority. His triumph was short-lived. It is a peculiarity of this unsubstantial tribute of admiration that it is given, not for breaking the rules, but for daring to break them and for escaping unscathed. The maladroit who tries the heroic and is detected meets only contempt and derision. Carle was[Pg 137] detected and put on special probation—the last stage on the outward way.

It is not impossible for a boy, even at this dangerous point, to take a new grip and by steady pulling draw himself gradually back to a position of safety. This thought was Poole's only comfort, who now, desperately anxious for his pitcher, was ready to undergo any sacrifice if it would but avail to save his man. All forces possible were brought to bear on Carle himself and his surroundings. His friends were urged to try to stiffen him up. Mr. Graham's counsel and assistance were sought. The Principal gladly gave the encouragement to Poole that he would have given to any boy interested in steadying another in the right way; but at the same time he suggested that fellows whose moral energy needs to be bolstered up by extraneous means almost always prove a poor reliance on the athletic field. He did not say, as he might have done, that no amount of skill can make up for lack of grit and determination and honest effort; and that the sooner a trifler is disposed of, the less the ultimate disappointment will be. Poole, though himself[Pg 138] above reproach, was not ready for such a doctrine. He saw only that the nine must have a pitcher, and that Carle was a star who must be kept in school by all fair means. To all other considerations the captain was blind.

Owen, among the rest, was pressed into this crusade, though as Carle took very little notice of him, it was hard to see of what use he could be to the cause. In spite of his pity for Mr. Carle, he could not arouse himself to the desired pitch either of personal interest or of patriotic feeling. He knew Ned too well to cherish any delusion about his character; after four months of drifting in self-indulgence with the current, it was quite unlikely that Carle would have the strength to reverse his course and force his way inflexibly against it. And as for the school's need of a pitcher, Rob had, as we know, his own reason for regarding Carle as not indispensable.

So the last fortnight of the winter term crept by, with Carle under watch and ward to prevent critical offence. He was coached in his lessons, guarded from undesirable visitors, showered abundantly with moral advice, earnestly admon[Pg 139]ished of his loyal obligations to the school. Flattering as this distinction was, it had its unpleasant side. In the first place Carle had to work—and work had become for him the least attractive way of spending his time. Secondly, a dreary prospect stretched before him: he must continue to work like a man pumping for his life; for if he slackened pace or relapsed into his old habits, special probation became immediately "severed connection." Thirdly, there was no fun in it, and no likelihood of fun. His disgust with the position grew more intense as the days dragged painfully along.

The events of these days which especially concern this narrative may be briefly enumerated.

Another plague visited the Pecks. Number four was chemical, not zo?logical in its character, and while its effect lasted it seemed more severe than any of its predecessors. If you wish to know what it was like,—I advise strongly against the experiment,—pour two ounces of sulphuretted hydrogen into an open dish in a closed room. As Duncan reported sadly to Owen the next day, "It smelt like the concentrated essence of rotten eggs, as if a whole car-load of 'em had been stewed[Pg 140] down into a spoonful." After this Duncan openly declared for peace, but Donald hardened his heart. Owen, once more appealed to, approached Payner again, but the avenger was obdurate. He would not take the apology of one for both, and he would not undertake to distinguish between two indistinguishables; they were both bad until both were good.

The names of the prize winners in composition were read aloud in chapel. Two were awarded prizes and one received honorable mention. When Mr. Graham announced that he was about to read the names, Rob felt a thrill of sudden emotion, and, dropping his eyes like a timid girl abashed at public praise, listened expectant, half convinced that the next moment the glances of his neighbors would be aimed at him. And when the names of the fortunate were read, with no Robert Owen among them, and the applause burst forth about him, he kept his gaze still fixed upon the floor, penetrated through and through with shame at his presumption. In a moment, however, he held up his head and joined in the[Pg 141] clapping with a vehemence that added a second or two to its length. Why should he care? He had as much right to try for the prize as any one. Nobody knew he had tried anyway, except Simmons, and Simmons would keep quiet.

The Chapel Stairs.

So Rob jostled his way downstairs with the crowd, and strove to think no more of his disappointment. It kept recurring, however, in heavy moments during the Greek recitation, and once he was almost caught napping by a stray question as he dwelt longingly on the satisfaction he might have had in making the announcement to his father. A prize for an essay would have been an antidote for a whole season of parental objections to baseball!

That morning was blue all through. Simmons's well-meant commiseration buried him still deeper in the dumps. He brooded in unreasonable discouragement over the fancied failures of the year. The relay prize, his only success, had come to him in defeat through the efforts of another. In baseball he was to be numbered among the substitutes; his scholarship was mediocre; he possessed none of the qualities which bring popu[Pg 142]larity. Then he bethought himself of Carle, and the dangers of popularity and success as exemplified in the career of that youth, and felt some comfort. Mediocrity was at least safe.

Meanwhile Carle was losing interest in the cause. He was often sullen, and gave small and sometimes ungracious co?peration to those who were trying to help him. The glories of school life were no less attractive to him; he was as ambitious as ever to be the shining light of the baseball season, but the seriousness of the obstacles was growing clearer. To turn square about, work hard, shun extravagant friends, husband the pennies, do without every luxury,—this was his prospective life if he held on at Seaton. Was it worth while, even for the sake of the baseball? Carle, who was possessed of nothing resembling Spartan fortitude, had his doubts.

During the last week a further change set in. He became secretive where he had been confidential, and shy where he had formerly courted attention. He received important letters from his father without giving a hint of their contents; he had two interviews with the Principal, as to[Pg 143] which the baseball people could get no information. A dealer in second-hand furniture called on him by appointment when his room-mate was absent. He cashed a check and paid certain bills.

The school broke up for the short spring recess on Tuesday morning early enough to permit those fortunate ones who lived at accessible points to catch the eleven o'clock train out of town. The candidates for the nine remained behind to take advantage of the recess for practice. Comans, Carle's room-mate, who lived in Massachusetts, got off on the first train. In the afternoon Carle had his usual practice with Borland.

On Wednesday the first mail brought to Robert Owen a letter from one of his correspondents in Terryville, which contained one short passage more interesting than all the rest: "They say Ned Carle is coming home to stay. His father says he's disappointed in the school; it's too expensive and they don't make the boys work as they ought to."

Could it be true? Was Carle really going to leave? The baseball crowd surely knew nothing of any such plan.

[Pg 144]

Rob jammed his hat on his head and hurried over to Carter 13. The door was locked; his knocks roused only hollow echoes. He ran downstairs and stampeded across the yard. At the gate he met Poole.

"I was coming to see you," Rob began eagerly. "I've just had a letter from a friend of mine at home. There's something in it that'll interest you." He read the passage aloud. "What do you think of that?" he asked, lifting his eyes in serious question to the captain's face.

"Rot!" exclaimed Poole, contemptuously. "I don't believe a word of it. Why, he was pitching to Borland yesterday afternoon!"

"But I couldn't raise him this morning," said Rob, his eagerness somewhat chilled.

"Oh, he wouldn't sneak off like that without a peep. Let's hunt him up and see what he says about it."

They crossed the yard in silence and ascended the stairs in Carter; Rob ashamed of his credulity, Poole clinging to his assurance, yet secretly agitated at the frightful possibility. As they neared Room 13, Poole, who was ahead, perceived[Pg 145] that the door was ajar, and turned about with a triumphant smile.

"It's all right; he's here," he called, giving a whack at the door that opened it wide.

But inside stood revealed, not Carle, but Jenks, the second-hand furniture man. The visitors gaped at him for a moment in speechless astonishment.

"Where's Carle?" demanded Poole, recovering himself.

"On his way home, I expect. He was going by the early train this morning."

Rob threw at his companion a significant glance, but Poole was gazing at the speaker with staring eyes and open mouth.

"Has he sold his things to you?" asked Rob.

"All he didn't take with him. He arranged with me to call for 'em this morning. He ain't coming back, you know."