CHAPTER XIII
PETE WRITES HOME
"Of course," said Allan, "we're not terribly poor, but it's going tomake a good deal of difference to us."
The new term was three days old and Allan and Pete were sitting infront of the stove in Pete's study. The stove was a recent additionto the furnishings, and installed more in deference to his friends'demands than from any desire of his own. Pete didn't mind a littlecold; just so long as he could find enough water under the ice inthe pitcher to wash with, he was satisfied. But Allan and Hal andTommy made disparaging remarks about his heating arrangements andostentatiously kept their hats and coats on while visiting him, and soPete bought a base-burner and a half ton of coal.
"What mine is it?" asked Pete.
"The Gold Beetle. Ever hear of it? It's out in your State."
"Is it at Rico?" asked Pete.
"Yes, that's the place. Didn't you say you were there last summer?"
"Yes, and I know--something about the mine." Pete looked thoughtfullyat the flames dancing behind the mica. "Fact is," he continued, "theold man is interested in it."
"Really? Then don't you think it will be all right? He wouldn't haveanything to do with a poor mine, would he?"
"Well, the trouble is you can't always tell whether a mine's good orbad. The old man's got stock in all kinds; some of it's good, some ofit isn't worth the paper it's printed on. I've got a lot of that kindmyself. I used to think I was something of an investor. Now, this GoldBeetle; what's probably happened to that is that the pay ore has givenout. It very often does. A mine'll run thousands to the ton for two orthree years, sometimes twenty, and then all of a sudden the lode willjust naturally peter out. I guess that's what's happened to the Beetle.I remember pretty well how it lies. There are paying properties allaround it, and maybe if they went on or opened up new drifts they'dcome across fresh lodes; or maybe they wouldn't; it's just a gamble. Idare say the stockholders aren't willing to put any money into it. Howmuch stock do your folks hold?"
"I don't know exactly. Pretty nearly half of it, I think."
"Too bad! I'll ask the old man, when I write, what he thinks about it."
"I wish you would. Maybe if he owns some of it we could--could kind ofget together and--and do something," said Allan, vaguely but hopefully.
"Maybe," answered Pete, thoughtfully. "Meanwhile----"
"Meanwhile I've got to find some way of making a little money; enoughto pay my board, at any rate. And that's why I ought to leave thetable, Pete, and go back to commons, where I can feed for less."
"But we can't let you do that. Now, look here; you don't eat very much.What's the sense in your paying as much as I do, who eat twice as much?That's plumb foolish! I ought to pay at least eight dollars and yououghtn't to pay a red cent over four; and that's the way it's going tobe after this."
"No, it isn't," Allan replied. "If I stay, I'll pay my share, andthat's six dollars, Pete. I went over yesterday to see if I couldn'tget a place in Brown Hall as a waiter, but there aren't any vacancies;they told me they had two applications for every place."
"But you wouldn't like to wait on table, would you?"
"It isn't a question of liking. I've heard tell of lots of ways ofearning money in college, but none of them seem very practical for mycase."
"Well, look here; you figure out how much money you'll need for therest of the year and let me know."
Allan looked puzzled.
"What good would that do?"
"I'll lend it to you. Now, shut up! I haven't offered to give it toyou, have I, you chump? You can pay me back any time you like; thereisn't a bit of a hurry. And I've got a whole lot of money in bank fromlast term. Somehow, it's mighty hard to get rid of money up here. Youneedn't say anything to any one about it; it'll just be between you andme. That's all right, ain't it?"
"No, it isn't all right, Pete, but it's awfully good of you, and Iwon't forget it in a hurry."
And although Pete threatened and coaxed and called names, he was atlast forced to abandon the proposition. And in the end it was Tommywho, learning of Allan's quandary, made the suggestion which led to ameasure of success.
"I knew a fellow at school who used to go around to the fellows' roomsat night and sell sandwiches and wienerwursts and made good money,"said Tommy. "Wouldn't care for that, though, I guess?"
Allan acknowledged that he wouldn't.
"Then there was a fellow I heard of who was agent for a sporting-goodsfirm and sold on commission. He worked up quite a trade, but it tookhim a good while to do it. Then there was a fellow had a rentalbusiness: rented rooms and got a commission from the landladies; but hedid most of his business in the fall. Then--" Tommy paused, struck by abrilliant thought. "You might try for a place on the Purple," he cried."They elect new men in March. If you got a place, you'd make fair moneyfrom March on to the end of the year. That's what I did last year, andI made enough to pay my board."
"But I don't know anything about reporting, Tommy," Allan objected."Besides, I'm not a hustler like you."
Tommy looked disappointed. He thought for a minute in silence. Then--
"I tell you, Allan," he said, "I'll see Stearns. He's track-teamcaptain, you know. I'll tell him that if you don't find something todo, you won't be able to stay here. And he won't want to lose you,you can bet, because he's set his heart on winning from Robinson thisspring."
"But I don't know that that would be quite true," Allan objected."Because, even if I don't find any work, maybe I'll be able to hang onhere somehow to the end of the year."
"Well, I won't lie to him," said Tommy, "but I'll fix him so he'll findsomething; you see if I don't."
He lifted Two Spot off his lap and deposited her on the desk, where shesubsided contentedly against a pile of books and purred on as thoughnothing had happened.
"Happy little bunch of fur, isn't she?" asked Tommy. "If she's toogreat an expense to you, I'll take her off your hands."
"Indeed, you'll not!" answered Allan. "While there's a loaf left in thehouse, she shall have the crust."
"Scratch him, Kitty! Say, did Pete tell you he'd gone out for thefreshman hockey team? Won't he be a sight on the ice?"
"He says he can skate," answered Allan. "All I know is, I don't want tohave the thingamabob--puck--when he's bearing down on me."
"Are you going to play?"
"No; I'd like to, but I guess I won't have time. Besides, I don't skatevery well."
"Skating isn't everything in hockey," said Tommy, wisely. "I can skatemyself. I can make the ice look like a picture in a book or a map ofChina; but last year, when I went out for the freshman team, I wasnearly slaughtered. Leroy butted me into the boards and somebody elsecracked me over the shins with his stick and another chap trippedme up--accidentally, _of_ course--and I slid thirty-one feet orthereabouts on my head. The hair didn't grow back for a month. I quit.Life was too precious."
"Wise youth!" commented Allan. "But we mustn't miss seeing Pete play.Let's go over to the rink to-morrow, if there is any ice."
"All right. And I guess there'll be ice; it's cold enough now to freezea door-knob. Going down to Pete's this evening? I'll see you there,then. So long. Good-by, Two Spot, my angel child!"
Tommy's plan bore fruit. Allan had a visit from Walter Stearns nextday, and two days later Allan was giving two hours out of eachtwenty-four to clerical work in the office of the Erskine CollegeAthletic Association.
The work, which consisted chiefly of answering letters from ProfessorNast's dictation--Professor Nast was chairman of the AthleticCommittee--was ridiculously easy, if somewhat uninteresting, and seemedout of all proportion to the remuneration, which was one dollar anhour. There were five working days in the week for Allan, and as aresult he was earning ten dollars a week--twice as much as he hadhoped for. And all the time he was disturbed by a haunting thoughtthat, when all was said and done, he was not really earning the money.But it seemed absurd to find fault with his good fortune so long as hisemployers were satisfied, and so
he offered no objections. Afterwardshe marveled at his blindness.
About this time Pete wrote one of his semi-occasional letters to hisfather. He wasn't much of a letter-writer, and the epistle as a wholewould not interest us, but a portion of it merits attention.
"I remember (he wrote) that you said in New York you'd been down townto a meeting of the Gold Beetle stockholders, and that they had votedto stop work on the mine. I didn't know then that Allan's folks wereinterested in it. I guess they haven't dismantled yet, and so it isn'ttoo late to change your mind. I guess you have enough stock in itto control it; if you haven't, the Wares' shares will give you thewhip-hand. I want you to have them go ahead with the Gold Beetle andfuss round some. A couple of months' work won't break anybody. You cancharge your share of it up to me. There must be pay ore somewhere onthe property. Look at all the gold that's coming out all around it.Allan's folks need the money. It's about all the income they have. Ifthat stops, his sister will have to give up her college, and so willAllan. Allan's my side partner, and I'm not going to have him losewhat property he has without another try. Let me know right away aboutthis."