Page 22 of Full-Back Foster


  CHAPTER XXII

  MYRON COMES BACK

  "Afraid I've spoiled your beauty sleep, Myron," said the visitor."Sorry, but I've been up so long I forgot how early it was."

  "What--what are you doing over here?" gasped Myron.

  "Looking for you, of course," replied Andrew easily as he seated himselfon the bed. "Nice quarters you've got. Next time, though, I wish you'dlocate further up on the alphabet. It's a long way to the M's!"

  "Are you crazy or--or am I?" asked Myron helplessly.

  "Neither, I hope," answered the visitor calmly. "You see, I set out tofind you on the telephone and had to call up about twenty hotels beforeI got the right one. I started with the A's and you, as it happened,were among the M's."

  "What did you want to find me for? Who sent you?"

  "Well, I suppose you might say that Joe sent me. At least, he had theidea first. After that, I sort of sent myself."

  "You might have spared yourself the trouble," said Myron defiantly. "I'mnot going back!"

  Apparently Andrew didn't hear that. "Joe was all fussed up, like ahen who's hatched out a duck. He came around about half-past eightand loaded me with money and handed me my hat, so to speak. Got inhere around five-thirty. You didn't show up at the station for theseven-twelve, so I changed my money into nickels and proceeded to makethe telephone company enormously wealthy. You've cost me--or, rather,Joe--a lot of money, Myron." Andrew shook his head sadly. "And I'm notsure you're worth it, either."

  "I didn't ask him to spend money on me," said Myron sulkily. "He hadn'tany business butting in, anyway. It's my own affair. If I want to leaveschool I've got a right to, and----"

  "Back up! Who told you that?"

  "Told me what?" asked Myron blankly.

  "That you had a right to leave school."

  "Why, no one told me! But it's so!"

  "No, sir, it isn't," said Andrew emphatically. "You haven't any moreright to leave school than a soldier has to leave his post, or apoliceman his beat. Not a bit more, Myron."

  "That isn't so," answered the other excitedly. "It isn't the same atall. Duty is one thing and--and staying where you don't get a squaredeal's another. My folks have a right to take me away from Parkinsonwhenever they want to!"

  "Have they taken you out?"

  "No, they don't know yet. But they will when I ask them to."

  "That's all right, then. What your folks do is another matter, old man.It's what you do that I'm talking about. Why do you say you haven't hada square deal?"

  "Because I haven't! Look at what Jud did to me! First of all, they mademe take too many courses, courses I didn't want to take at all, someof them. Then when I couldn't keep them up just as--just as they thinkI ought to, they came down on me! Jud says I can't play football. Justbecause Addicks has it in for me. Addicks calls on me twice as often asany other fellow in class. I hate Latin, anyway. I didn't want to takeit this year. Next year would be time enough. Driscoll made me work likea slave, and I didn't have time enough for all the things I'm supposedto study, and Jud socked it to me. I'd been trying for a month to get onthe team, and now, just when I was sure of a place, Jud springs this!Call that a square deal? I don't!"

  "Well, it's sort of tough luck, old man. How long are you off for?"

  "He wouldn't tell me. Said we'd wait and see, or something. He can wait.I'm through."

  "Still, I don't see how you're helping things much by running away,"said Andrew mildly. "If you want to play on the team you'll have to doit by mail, won't you?"

  "Oh, I'm done wanting to," answered Myron roughly. "I'm done with thewhole rotten place."

  "And Joe and me? I see."

  "I didn't say I had anything against you and Joe," retorted Myronindignantly. "Or--or some other fellows. The fellows are all right.It--it's the school. The way they do things. They don't give you achance. They aren't fair."

  "So you even up by not being fair, too?"

  "What do you mean by that?" asked Myron, glowering.

  "Why, you get mad because you think faculty has treated you badly, andthen you turn around and treat other folks badly."

  "What other folks?" asked Myron.

  "Your friends, the football team and, through that, the whole school."

  "How do you make that out?" Myron demanded, frowning.

  "Well, take Joe and me, for instance. We're in the picture. You let ustake a liking to you, which we wouldn't have done if we hadn't thoughtyou a good, square sort, the sort that does his duty even if it lookshard. Then when duty gets a bit tiresome you kick us in the shins andrun away. Same way with the team. You went out for it and the coach andthe rest spent time and effort on you. They thought you were a squaresort, too. They wouldn't knowingly make a poor investment any more thanJoe and I would. Then, when you hit a snag, you repudiate your debt tothem and beat it. You had a chance to make a good player of yourselfand win a position on the team and help bring about a victory for theschool. Because you get mad with Jud, you tell the school to go to thedickens. In other words, Myron, old man, you're a quitter."

  "I'm not!" cried the other desperately. "You're making it out all wrong!Besides, it wouldn't make any difference to the school if I stayed. I'mout of football."

  "I don't see it. You're out of football until you get back your classstanding. The right thing to do is to get it back as soon as you can.It's your fault that you lost it. There's no use kidding yourself,Myron. You got in trouble with Addicks because you didn't play fairwith him. You got in trouble with Jud for the same reason. Now you won'tplay fair with the rest of us. Think it over."

  "It's not so, Andy! I tell you I didn't have time to study that beastlyLatin! Joe knows I didn't. I was too tired at night. I couldn't!"

  "If that's really so you should have told Driscoll to let up on you. ButI think the trouble was that you didn't make the best use of the timeyou had. You have two hours every morning, to my certain knowledge, whenyou've no classes, and I've never heard of you making use of them forstudy."

  "It's all well enough for you to preach," retorted Myron bitterly. "You_like_ the wretched stuff! You don't have any trouble with it. I do.I--even if I went back I'd never catch up in class."

  "Oh, yes, you would. I'll guarantee that. I'll promise you that you'llbe in good standing with Addicks by next Saturday."

  Myron stared, surprised, doubtful. "How?" he asked at length.

  "I'll look after the 'how,' old man."

  "You mean you'll tutor me again?"

  Andrew nodded. Myron dropped his gaze to the counterpane. A minuteof silence followed during which the ticking of Myron's watch on thebedside table sounded loudly in the room. Then said Andrew briskly:"There's a New York train at ten, I think. That'll give you time forbreakfast and let us catch the one-something back. You get your bath anddress and I'll go down and buy a paper. Don't know but what I'll have abite more myself. My breakfast was a trifle sketchy. How long will yoube?"

  Myron continued to study the counterpane. Another silence ensued.Finally, though, it was broken by Myron. "Twenty minutes," he said in alow voice.

  It was dark when they stepped off the train at Warne. As they did so aform detached itself from the lamp-lit gloom of the platform and a voiceasked cautiously: "That you, Andy?" Then Myron felt a hand tugging athis suit-case, and: "Let me have it, kiddo," said Joe. "We'll go over toAndy's and leave it there until tomorrow. Better not take any risks."

  They skirted the end of the train, avoiding publicity as much as waspossible, and made their way toward Mill Street. Only when they werea block from the track was the silence broken again. Then Andy asked:"Everything all right, Joe?"

  "I think so. But I'm sure glad you didn't leave it until the next train.I'd have had nervous prostration long before that! I had the dogs outthree times and fed them. There wasn't anything else to do. Maybethey've bust themselves eating, but it can't be helped. That kid over inWilliams--Wynant or something--has a grouch a mile long, Andy. You'llhave to kiss him, I guess, before he will ever smile
again! How are you,kiddo?"

  "All right, thanks," answered Myron rather constrainedly.

  "That's good. By the way, I had to give the impression that you werehaving dinner out somewhere. So if any one mentions it you'd better playup."

  "Who did you tell?" asked Myron.

  "I don't think I exactly _told_ any one, but I let Jud Mellen go awaywith the idea."

  "Was he looking for me?"

  "Yeah, wanted you to hurry up and get back to work," replied Joecarelessly. "I told him that if you weren't back inside a week I'd bustevery bone in your body."

  "He will be," said Andrew grimly. "If he isn't you may bust mine!"

  Just before supper time Joe beat a tattoo on the portal of Number 16Goss. Chas Cummins' voice bade him enter. Joe, however, only stuck hishead into the room, and, nodding to Brown, said in a deep, mysteriouswhisper: "_Yes-s-s!_" Then he closed the door and went off down thecorridor, chuckling. In Number 16, Brown raised his brows and lookedinquiringly at his chum.

  "Batty?" he asked.

  A day passed before Joe and Myron breathed freely. By Monday evening itseemed quite safe to assume that Myron's absence had passed undetected.They went across town and brought the suit-case home then, Joe, however,transferring certain articles, such as Myron's pyjamas, to his pocketsin case some inquisitive member of the faculty should insist on lookinginside the bag. But none challenged and the suit-case went back to thecloset and Myron's toilet articles to their places, and the episode wasclosed. The two spoke of it but briefly. That was Sunday night, as theywere preparing for bed. Then Joe remarked conversationally: "You're acrazy loon, kiddo, aren't you?" After a moment of reflection Myron said"Yes," quite humbly.

  "Sure are," agreed Joe, tossing his trousers in the general direction ofa chair. "Any time any guy accuses you of having sense, you knock himdown. I'll stand by you. Still, you have your uses, and I'm glad to seeyou in our midst again. How about being here, now that you are!"

  "Tickled to death," owned Myron a bit shamefacedly.

  Joe chuckled. "Knew you would be," he said. "We ain't--aren't such a badlot when you take us, right. Good night, kiddo."

  "Good night, Joe. I--you--I mean, thanks!"