CHAPTER VI

THE BEGINNING OF THE STRUGGLE

A single glance as he came within sight of the field at once showed Ward that the nine were already in their places, and were playing against a scrub team. Henry was guarding first base, Jack was on second, and his own position in left field was held by the new boy, Ripley.

Ward understood it all now; it was the intention of Tim Pickard and his friends to "freeze him out."

He thought for a moment bitterly of the success he had had in the game with the Burrs in the preceding year, and how in their enthusiasm after the game was ended, his mates had carried him about on their shoulders, and the cheers for Ward Hill had been given with a will.

And it had all been sweet to Ward too. Vanity seemed to have been intended as a part of the original make-up of every son of Adam, and while many times it becomes a source of weakness, more frequently it is an element of power. Almost every boy is prone to look upon his own father, for example, with a confidence and admiration he gives no other man, and rightly too. The belief in one's own ability to do things is no slight element in the possible success which he may achieve. But out of proportion, or not in its proper place, or when permitted to become a controlling power, vanity never fails to become a source of weakness.

This had been as true with Ward Hill as it had been with Big Smith, although the manner in which it became manifest was so different. To measure one's self justly, to decide honestly what can be done and what cannot, is ever an element of power, and one of the very best lessons, as it is almost the first of the necessary ones, to be gained as a boy goes out from his own home, where his good qualities have frequently been exaggerated and his poorer ones ignored; and to learn that there are other boys as bright as he, is a difficult but necessary process. A school is the most thoroughly and the most honestly democratic place in all this world, and if a boy finds that there he is not popular with his mates, instead of blaming them he needs very carefully and honestly to look within himself to discover the causes. It is frequently said that the source of Caesar's success was his ability to discover what he could not do and to govern himself accordingly; while the cause of Napoleon's downfall is said to have been his inability to perceive what Caesar saw. But Ward Hill that afternoon was not thinking either of Caesar or Napoleon. He was troubled most of all about Ward Hill and the fact that he had been left off the Weston nine.

His mortification was not diminished when he discovered that both Henry and Jack were in their regular positions. Now he understood the meaning of the change in Jack's manner. While he was angry he was not inclined to blame him, for he understood clearly the disposition of the light-hearted lad, and knew that he was never one to stand long against an appeal of almost any kind.

But Henry's action troubled him. He had professed so warm a friendship, and apparently had been so eager to have their former relations restored, that he could not understand now why he should not have spoken to him before of the change in the nine. Perhaps Ward's bitterness was a little more intense from the consciousness he had that there was no better player in the Weston school than he knew himself to be. That, however, did not alter the fact that he had been left out, and doubtless intentionally too.

Ward's first impulse was to turn quickly and leave, before his presence had been discovered. Suddenly changing his decision, he quietly turned about and striving to appear unconcerned advanced and joined the line of boys who were watching the game. He tried desperately to ignore the glances which were cast at him from the boys in the line, but he could not entirely succeed. Nor could he fail to hear some of the words which were spoken to some of the new boys concerning himself.

Just then the side was out, and as the members of the nine came slowly in from the field Tim Pickard spied him. His face lighted up with a malicious smile as he turned to his companions and said: "Here's Ward Hill, fellows. He used to be a decent sort of a player. Can't we find a place for him on the scrubs? The nine needs all the practice it can get, and he'll help us out."

"I don't care to play to-day," said Ward quietly, although he felt his cheeks flush as he spoke.

His mortification was not diminished when he saw a sardonic grin appear upon Tim's face and the brutal boy turn and wink meaningly at his fellows.

Ward stood his ground boldly, however, although in his heart he felt that he was something of a martyr. It was not just clear to him what the cause of his suffering was, but his disappointment and mortification, with which was mingled a feeling of anger, were uppermost. Not yet did he clearly see that he was reaping the harvest of the seed he had sown in the preceding year. All that came to him now was the consciousness that he was being treated unjustly, and his whole soul rebelled, although he felt entirely powerless to change the condition of affairs.

"Never you mind, Ward," said Jack consolingly, as he sought his friend's side as soon as the game was resumed, "it's all going to come out right in the end."

Ward smiled a little bitterly, but made no other reply.

"Tim's got backing enough to keep you off from the nine now, but it won't last long. We've just got to have you when it comes to the game with the Burrs, and that's all there is about it. Tim knows that as well as any one, and if he wants to he can't keep the fellows back then."

"Perhaps he can't, but it takes two to make a bargain. Maybe I sha'n't be so eager as you seem to think I will. I can't do as some of the fellows do, be just the same to everybody, no matter how they act toward me."

"I know it," said Jack quietly as he picked up a bat, having heard his name called, and advanced to face the pitcher.

"It's a shame, Ward!" said Henry who now came up to him. "It's a shame, that's what it is! I didn't know anything about it till I came down on the field. I supposed of course you were to have your regular place on the nine. If there's no place for you, there's no place for me either. Tim Pickard might as well understand that now as at any other time."

Ward's feelings were somewhat soothed by Henry's words, and he deeply regretted the manner in which he had just spoken to Jack.

It was too late then to recall his words, and he turned to his chum and said: "No, old fellow, you're not going to leave the nine on my account. That would make it all the worse for me, don't you see? You keep on for a while, anyway. I'm going up to see Mr. Crane now. I think I've had all the exercise I want, at least for to-day."

Henry said nothing more, though he was strongly inclined to leave with Ward. He understood thoroughly the sensitive nature of his friend and appreciated fully the suffering which he must be undergoing now. But somehow he felt powerless to aid him, and after watching him until he disappeared from sight he turned with a sigh and waited for his turn to bat to come.

Ward walked proudly away from the field. He was determined to permit no one to witness his shame, for he felt humiliated and angry. How was it, he thought, that such fellows as Tim Pickard could hold and wield such an influence on the boys? He was not liked, of that he was certain, and yet in spite of that fact no one in the school apparently had more followers. Why had Dr. Gray permitted such a fellow to re-enter the school? He had been expelled once; why should he not have been kept away entirely? The school certainly would be the better for his absence.

Ward Hill had yet to learn that "Tim Pickards" were not confined to the Weston school, but that in every place and condition some one stands who apparently blocks our way and prevents us from being our best and truest selves.

However, Ward was honest enough to feel the force of the thought which immediately followed. Perhaps if Dr. Gray had been only just, more boys than Tim Pickard might have been prevented from coming back to the Weston school. Where would he himself be but for Dr. Gray's kindness?

The thought did not tend to lessen his own bitterness, however, and when at last he entered East Hall and rapped upon the door of Mr. Crane's room the lad felt utterly wretched. It did seem as if all things were working together for bad, as far as he was concerned.

Mr. Crane quickly opened the door, and if he read the expression of misery upon Ward's face he was too wise to mention it. He greeted him cordially, and as Ward took the proffered seat, he at once began to talk cheerfully of the life and work of the school.

He spoke quietly--for Mr. Crane was never one to bestow praise cheaply--concerning the work which Ward was doing, and succeeded in drawing from the troubled lad so many of his opinions on matters pertaining to his home life and experiences in Rockford, that in spite of himself Ward felt his anger and mortification disappearing for the time, and was soon feeling quite at his ease.

As soon as he perceived that the cloud had passed, Mr. Crane led the conversation on to the subjects which he knew were in Ward's mind, and although he did not speak one word directly of them, Ward found himself wondering how much and what the teacher really knew of his troubles. He seemed to understand boys almost instinctively, and as Ward listened, his admiration for the quiet, self-possessed man increased each moment.

"In school life," said Mr. Crane, "there are always two forces which mostly aid a fellow when he is in trouble, or is trying to build himself up after a fall. One of these is to feel that there is some one looking up to him and perhaps depending upon him in many ways. Dr. Arnold was accustomed to say that the tone of the school life at Rugby was always largely determined by the older boys themselves. What they were and what they did became the standards for the younger fellows. I think the great teacher was exactly right. I have seen many a fellow here who was careless, and perhaps worse, when he was in the lower classes, completely changed when he became a senior. The very fact that he knew the younger boys were looking up to him, as he himself had looked up to those who had been above him when he first entered the school, has served to draw out his very best qualities. Yes, I am convinced that there is nothing which so helps a boy to become a man as to feel that he is responsible for some one besides himself."

Ward sat silent as Mr. Crane talked, wondering all the while whether he had learned anything directly concerning him. Certainly he was describing the very condition which had appealed very strongly to Ward after Little Pond's conversation with him a few nights before this time.

"What was the other thing which helped a fellow, Mr. Crane?" said Ward at last, looking up at his teacher as he spoke. "You said there were two."

"Yes, there's another great help, and that is his anger."

"His anger? I don't think I understand you, Mr. Crane."

"What I mean is this. At times the only force which will rouse one and compel him to do his level best is to be aroused by some strong feeling of anger."

"But I thought that was something which was wrong," replied Ward. "I never heard any one speak like that before."

"Perhaps not," said Mr. Crane quietly, yet smiling as he spoke. "And yet I firmly believe no boy, or man either for that matter, ever yet did a great thing without having a feeling of strong anger at the time. I'm not talking of your irritable men, nor of bad-tempered men. But there are some things which thoroughly arouse a good man, and the better he is the more will he be aroused. One who evidently knew of what he was speaking boldly encouraged us all to 'abhor that which is evil.' The picture of the peaceful Man of Nazareth in the temple with a scourge in his hands often comes up before me. Do you know, Hill, I have never cared much for the faces some men have painted as being that of that wonderful Man. For myself, I should like to see just how he looked, that quiet, dignified, gentle soul, when he was aroused as he was in the temple. It would be an inspiration to me, I know, in some of the conflicts that go on within me at times."

As Ward still sat silent, Mr. Crane after glancing quietly and keenly at him, went on. "Yes, Hill, that's exactly what I mean. No man does his level best until he is thoroughly aroused, and nothing rouses him like a just anger. Why, think of Washington at Monmouth, when he first discovered the cowardice or treachery of Lee. His anger must have been as terrible as it was sublime, and what a wonderful effort he made then and there. Or you can think of Martin Luther in his anger. What would he ever have accomplished if he had not been roused almost to madness by the sight and knowledge of what was going on about him? It is true of every great man and of every good man too, for when you sum it all up no one ever becomes a good man--I don't mean 'goody-goody,' but I do mean a good man--without being at the same time a great man too."

"Do you mean a fellow is to be angry at what he sees inside of himself or what he sees going on around him?" asked Ward quickly.

"In a sense I mean both," replied Mr. Crane. "There isn't one of us who doesn't do things, or is tempted at least to do them, for which he despises himself, and in my opinion he never rises much above them till he comes to have this feeling of anger of which I've just been speaking."

"I think I understand what you mean, Mr. Crane," said Ward rising from his chair. "I never looked at it so before, but you've helped me, helped me more than I can tell you. I think it was just to hear you say what you have been saying to me that I must have come here, Mr. Crane."

"Come again then, Hill. Come whenever you wish. I shall always be pleased to see you."

Ward, as he walked slowly on toward West Hall, of course could not see the smile on Mr. Crane's face as he stood by the window in his room and watched the departing lad, nor perhaps would he have understood it if he had seen it. But Mr. Crane apparently was not displeased at the effect of his words on his pupil, and soon resumed the work which had been interrupted by his entrance.

Ward was thinking deeply as he walked along the path. A new and unusual expression was upon his face, and as he ran up the stairs and stopped before his door, he took the key from his pocket, and said aloud to himself, "Ward Hill--the senior." Just what he meant by the expression he did not explain, perhaps he did not know.

He unlocked the door and started to open it. There was a slight resistance, and leaning against it he pushed the harder.

The door then flew open, but the opening was followed by a crash which might have been heard throughout the building. Chairs, tables, pitchers, lamps, and all the various belongings of the room, had been piled against the door and fallen in a confused mass all about. The room was in complete disorder. The carpet had been torn up, and even the curtains taken from the windows. The bedding was in the middle of the room, and the water from the pitchers had been poured over it. Even the beds had been taken apart and the pieces were scattered about over the floor.