On Your Mark! A Story of College Life and Athletics

  CHAPTER V

  "MR. PETER BURLEY, BLACKWATER, COL."

  Hal Smiths dropped in after dinner that evening and Allan brought theconversation around to the subject of Burley, whose performance duringpractise had been the chief topic at the dinner-table.

  "Why, Poor was awfully pleased at my suggestion," said Hal, "after Ifound him. It was after twelve then, and I'd chased half over collegelooking for him. He said he wasn't very good at persuasion and thoughtBurley would require lots of it; so he asked me to see him. Poor's apretty good little chap, so I went. Burley was awfully decent. Said hehad never played and had never even seen the game until he came here;said he hadn't been able to find out what it was all about, but that ifwe wanted him to try it, why, of course, he would. Said he thought itlooked like pretty good fun, and got me to sort of explain it a bit.One thing he wanted to know," laughed Hal, "was whether you could hit aman if he didn't have the ball."

  "Well, he played it for all it was worth this afternoon," said Allan,smiling. "You heard about it, didn't you?"

  "No; what was it? I sat on the side line all afternoon, and waited toget a whack at State University. What did Burley do?"

  So Allan told him, and Hal laughed until the tears came.

  "Oh, he's a genius, he is!" he said.

  After a minute of chuckling, he went on:

  "Look here, Allan, I think you'd rather like him if you got to knowhim. He's--he's rather a decent sort, after all. I didn't take to himat first, of course, but--and I don't say now that he's the sort ofchap you'd want to ask home and introduce to your people; he's kind offree and easy, and you couldn't be sure he wouldn't drink the catsupout of the bottle or slap your governor on the back--but he's--well,there's something about him you can't help liking," he ended, with anapologetic tone.

  "Maybe I would," answered Allan, pleasantly. Hal looked surprised.

  "He's given up the class secretaryship, you know," he announced.

  "Why?"

  "I don't know for sure, but Poor says he told him it was because hedidn't think he'd be here much after the holidays."

  "Where's he going?" asked Allan.

  "Don't know. Funny idea, to come to college for half a year. Maybe----"

  There were footsteps on the porch, the front portal opened with acrash, and an imperative knock sounded on the room door. Allan jumpedto his feet. Could it be fire? he wondered, shooting a bewilderedglance at Hal. He hurried to the door just as the hammering beganagain, more violently than before. Hal raised himself uneasily from theMorris chair, prepared for the worst. Allan called, "_Come in!_" andthe door was flung open.

  Entered Tommy Sweet!

  "You thundering idiot!" bawled Hal. "I thought it was at least theDean! You can make more-- Hello, Burley! Glad to see you."

  "This is Mr. Burley, Allan," Tommy was saying. "Brought him around'cause I wanted you to know each other. Mr. Ware--Mr. Burley."

  Allan felt his hand enveloped in something large and warm andvise-like. He felt his fingers crushed together, thought he could hearthe bones breaking--and still managed to smile painfully, but politely,the while. Then Burley had dropped his hand and was saying:

  "I've wanted to know you ever since I saw you win that running racethe other day. Came around here and left a card on you, but I guess youdidn't find it."

  Allan murmured his appreciation, but remained silent as to the "card."

  "I told Sweet here that you'd win that race. Offered to bet himanything he liked. He wouldn't bet, though." Peter Burley took thechair proffered by Hal and carefully lowered himself into it.

  "They told me you carried me over to the tent," said Allan. "Muchobliged, I'm sure."

  "Welcome," answered the other, heartily. "You didn't weigh anything tomention."

  "Not as heavy as the freshman team, eh?" asked Tommy. Burley lookedapologetically around the circle.

  "I suppose every one's heard of that fool thing?" he asked.

  "Just about every one, I guess," laughed Tommy.

  "That comes of trying to do something you don't know how to do. Thisfellow Smiths here came around to my shack the other day and said theclass wanted me to play football because I weigh some. Well, ginger! Ididn't know anything about the thing, and I told him so. But he wouldhave it that I must play. And look what happens! I make a measly showof myself right out there on the range in front of the whole outfit!"

  "No harm done," said Hal. "You did what you tried to."

  "No, I didn't. There was a little cuss there in a Derby hat wouldn'tlet me. I was going to take that half-backed fellow down to the otherend and throw him over the line. That's what I was going to do. Theydidn't tell me I had to slap him on the chest and butt him with myhead."

  "But, you see," explained Allan, "he called 'Down' just when you beganto lug him off."

  "That's what they said. I was supposed to let go of him when he saidthat, but I just thought he was throwing up the sponge and wanted me tolet him down. If I'd known he could have spoiled it by yelling 'Down,'I'd have held his mouth shut."

  This summoned laughter, and Burley glanced around at the others inwide surprise. Allan felt surprise, too. Was Burley really quiteso unsophisticated as he seemed, he wondered, or-- His glance metBurley's. The big fellow's right eyelid dropped slowly in a portentouswink. Allan smiled. His question was answered. While the others enteredinto an explanation and discussion of the rules and ethics of football,Allan studied the Westerner.

  Peter Burley looked to be, and was, twenty years of age. In form he wasremarkably large; he was an inch over six feet tall, and weighed 203pounds. Nowhere about him was there evidence of unnecessary fat, buthe was deep of chest and wide of shoulder and hips. His hands and feetwere large, and the latter were encased in enormously heavy shoes.

  When it came to features, Burley was undeniably good-looking in acertain breezy, unconventional way. (Allan soon found that Burley'sbreeziness and absence of convention were not confined to his looks.)Burley's hair was brown, of no particular shade, and his eyes matchedhis hair. His nose was big and straight and his mouth well shaped. Hischeeks were deeply tanned, but showed little color beneath. His usualexpression was one of careless, whimsical good nature, but there was anearnest and kindly gleam in the brown eyes that lent character to theface. He talked with a drawl, and pronounced many words in a way quitenovel to Allan. But--and this Allan discovered later--when occasionrequired, he was capable of delivering his remarks in a sharp, incisiveway that made the words sound like rifle-shots. At the present momenthe was talking with almost exaggerated deliberateness.

  "Sweet says you and he went to a preparatory school together," he said,turning to Allan. "I wish my old man had sent me to one of thosethings. What was your school like?"

  Allan told him of Hillton, and Tommy and Hal chimed in from time totime and helped him along. It was a large subject and one they liked,and half an hour passed before they had finished. Burley listened withevident interest, and only interrupted occasionally to ask a question.

  "How'd you happen to come to Erskine?" asked Tommy, when the subjecthad been exhausted. Burley took one big knee into his hands andconsidered the question for a moment in silence.

  "Well, I'll tell you," he said at last. "You see, I had a go atthe university over in Boulder; that's near Denver," he explained,parenthetically. "But we didn't get on very well together, the facultyand me, and I was always turning up at the ranch. Well, the old man gottired of seeing me around so much; said he'd paid for my keep at theuniversity, and I'd ought to stay there and get even with the game.But, ginger! the corral wasn't big enough. Every time I'd try to begood, something would come along and happen, and--first thing I knew,I'd be roaming at large again. So the old man said he guessed what Ineeded was to get far enough away from home so I wouldn't back-trailso often; said there wasn't much doing when I went to college Mondaymorning and showed up for feed Thursday night. First he tried taking myrailroad pass away; but when I couldn't scare up the money, I rode homeon a freight. I go
t to know the train crews on the D. & R. G. prettywell long toward spring. When vacation came, we all agreed to callit off--the faculty and the old man and me. So I went up to Rico andfooled around a mine there all summer. When----"

  "What was the name of the mine?" asked Allan, eagerly.

  "This one was the Indian Girl. There's lots of 'em thereabouts. The oldman----"

  "Say, is the 'old man' your father?" asked Tommy.

  "Yes; why?"

  "Nothing, only I should think he'd lick you if he heard you calling himthat."

  "Oh, he doesn't mind. Besides, he isn't really old; only about forty.He calls me Kid, too," he added, smiling broadly. "Well, in the summerhe wanted to know where I'd rather go to college--Yale, Harvard,Princeton, Pennsylvania; he said he didn't care so long as it wasfar enough away to keep me from diggin' out for home every week andpresenting myself with vacations not down on the calendar. Well, therewas a fellow up at the mine named Thompson; he was superintendent.I was helping him--or thought I was--and so we got to be pretty goodfriends. He was a nice little fellow, about as high as a sage-bush, andas plucky as a bulldog. Well, he went to college here about ten yearsago, and he used to tell me a good deal about the place. So, when theold man said, 'Which is it?' I told him Erskine. He said he'd neverheard tell of it, but so long as it was about two thousand miles fromBlackwater he guessed it would do. And that's how. Now you talk."

  "That's the first time I ever heard of choosing a college because itwas a long way from home," laughed Hal. "I'd like to meet that fatherof yours."

  "Better go back with me Christmas," said Burley. Hal stared at himdoubtfully, undecided whether to laugh or not. "Of course," continuedBurley, carelessly, "we haven't got much out there. It's pretty muchall alfalfa and sage-bush around Blackwater. But the hills aren't far,and there's good hunting up toward Routt. You fellows all better come;the old man would be pleased to have you."

  Hal stared wide-eyed.

  "Aren't you fooling?" he gasped.

  "Fooling?" Burley echoed. "Why, no, I ain't fooling. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing; but of course we couldn't do it, you know; at least, I'mplumb sure I couldn't." Hal looked doubtfully at the others.

  "Nor I," said Allan. "I only wish I could."

  "Same here," said Tommy, wistfully. "I'd give a heap to have thechance."

  "Sorry," answered Burley. "Perhaps in the summer, or some other time,when you haven't got anything better. I suppose your folks want you athome Christmas?"

  "Y-yes," replied Hal, "but it isn't altogether that; there's theexpense, you see."

  "Oh, it wouldn't cost you anything much," said Burley. "It's all on me.You'd better say you'll come."

  Hal's eyes opened wider than before.

  "You mean you'd pay our fares--all our fares--out to Colorado andback?" he asked.

  "Sure. We'd only have about a week out there, but we could do a lot ofdamage in a week."

  Hal was silent from amazement. Allan stammered his thanks. Tommy merelysat and stared at Burley, as though fascinated. The latter translatedsilence into assent.

  "Well, we'll call it fixed, eh?" he asked, heartily.

  "Thunder, no!" exploded Hal. "We couldn't do that, Burley. We'reawfully much obliged, but, of course, if we went out there to visityou, we'd pay our own way. And I don't believe any of us could dothat--this Christmas, at least."

  "Oh, be good!" said Burley. "Now, look here; I'd let you do that muchfor me."

  "But we couldn't," said Allan.

  "Well, you would if you could, of course; wouldn't you, now?"

  "Why--er--I suppose we would," Allan faltered.

  "Well, there you are!" said Burley, triumphantly. "That settles it."

  It took the others some time to prove to him that it didn't settle it,and Burley listened with polite, but disapproving, attention. When theargument was concluded, he shook his head sorrowfully.

  "You're a lot of Indians!" he said. "You're not doing the square thingby me, and I'm going to pull my freight." He drew himself out of thechair and rescued his big felt hat from beneath it. There was a generalpushing back of chairs. "You and Mr. Ware must come around to my tepeesome night soon," Burley told Hal, "and we'll have another pow-wow.Seems like I'd done all the chinning to-night." He shook hands withAllan, who strove to bear the pain with fortitude and only grimacedonce, and said in quite a matter-of-fact way, "I guess you and I aregoing to be partners. Good night."

  Allan muttered that he hoped so, and after the three visitors had takentheir departures he examined his hand under the light to see if bruisesor dislocations were visible.

  "I wonder," he asked himself, with a rueful smile, "if he shakes handsvery often with his partners?"