Frank Armstrong at College

  CHAPTER III.

  THE CODFISH CREATES NEWS.

  Golden October, slipping rapidly by, found our boys settledcomfortably in their college life. The first week was a hard onefor them all, but as time went on they adjusted themselves to theirsurroundings, began to make acquaintances and easily dropped into thedaily routine of work and play. Frank and Jimmy had gone out for theFreshman football team, and the latter was now a recognized member ofthe squad with great hopes for the future.

  Frank had been unfortunate. On the third day of practice he twistedan ankle and had been obliged to sit on the side-lines watching hisfellows boom along under instruction of the coach while he saw hischances gradually growing slimmer. To-day he had gone out again andafter half an hour again wrenched the bad ankle. It would be anotherweek at least before he could think of playing.

  "You are the best representation of Gloom I ever saw pulled off,"said the Codfish that night as Frank hobbled into the room afterdinner at Commons, and threw himself into a chair.

  "My jinx seem to be working overtime," returned Frank, "and myguardian angel is out visiting somewhere. Did you ever see suchluck?" and he deposited the injured leg on the chair in front of him.

  "Bad judgment, my boy, bad judgment. You should have gone in for theless strenuous sport of rowing as I have," admonished the Codfish.

  "A lazy, sit-down job and one for which you are peculiarly fitted,"broke in Jimmy Turner.

  "Ah, but my boy, if you can win your Y sitting down, isn't it betterthan to be mauled by bear-cats every day? I belong to the antisweatbrigade."

  "The only Y you will ever get is the one you find in your soup,"Jimmy flung at him.

  "Stranger things than that have happened, Mr. Turner."

  "Yes, blue moons, for instance."

  Codfish, fired by the general fever for something to do outside ofthe classroom, had indeed enlisted himself as a candidate for thecoxswain of the crew, because, as he said, "You only had to sitstill, pull ropes now and then and talk." He had been out as one ofthe coxswains and had shown some aptitude in spite of the fact thathe knew nothing whatever about rowing.

  "I'm paralyzed with amazement," said Frank, looking the Codfish overquizzically, "that you ever got ginger enough into your system toeven do sit-down work."

  "Well, you see it was this way," returned the crew squad-man,crossing one thin leg over the other. "I went down there to the boathouse one day, merely to look on, to see----"

  "To see how the young idea was shooting, eh?" grunted Jimmy.

  "Precisely. And when the coaches saw me they were struck with mypeculiar--ahem----!"

  "Unfitness!"

  "Wrong again, the phrase I was going to use was, 'peculiar fitness,'fitness, do you get it? for the job, and begged me to help them out."

  "And you helped?"

  "What could I do? Other things are claiming my attention but I couldnot see rowing go to the bad down there, so I accepted as gracefullyas I could."

  "And now things are in a rotten state?"

  "For the second time, wrong and always wrong. They are improvingdaily. Of course, I'm not in the first boat yet, it would havecreated too much jealousy, but I have assurance from headquartersthat I will be moved into the coveted position of cox of the Freshmancrew as soon as it has been picked."

  "Heaven help the first Freshman crew then," groaned Jimmy.

  "Little do they realize the honor that is shortly to descend uponthem," returned the Codfish, complacently. "I have some originalideas about steering a shell which will practically assure them ofthe race next June."

  "And they are?"

  "Why cast pearls before swine? The scheme will be revealed to you indue season," and the Codfish pulled a pad of paper toward him andbegan to scribble on it industriously.

  "You didn't know, perhaps, that I've decided to go out for the_News_, did you?" said the Codfish, scratching away with his headtilted on one side.

  "Aren't you a little late in the undertaking?" inquired Frank. "Thatis something of a job for even an intelligent man."

  "For an ordinary intellect, yes, but for me a mere bagatelle, orbag-of-shells, as the ancients have it."

  "Heeling the _News_ means hours and hours of shacking," said Frank."Have you seen those pale ghosts of heelers flitting around by dayand by night on bicycles?"

  "O, yes, that's the ordinary way, I know. I shall deal only inscoops, which, if you follow me, means a 'beat' on all the otherfellows."

  "It's a difficult business, sonny."

  "On the contrary, a cinch. Watch your Uncle Dudley. Simply mind overmatter. You boneheads wouldn't understand my reasoning processes if Iexplained, so why explain? But I say, when is David Powers expectedin this burg?"

  "Arrives on the morning train from New York," said Frank. "Got in onthe _Olympic_ last night from the other side. Began to think he waslost."

  "Good old Davey. And he's going to be in Pierson?"

  "Yes, right across the hall from us."

  "Good, I can use him in my _News_ ambitions. Now I guess I'll runacross to the _News_ office and tell the editors I'm ready to startwork."

  "I hope they kill you," Jimmy shot after him as the door banged.

  Half an hour later the Codfish was back in the room.

  "Well, what happened?" both boys demanded.

  "What do you suppose?"

  "They fired you out after one good look at you."

  "On the contrary, they welcomed me with open arms. Assignment Editoris a peach. He recognized my ability at once."

  "How?"

  "O, kind of naturally doped it out for himself. General bearing Ihave, I s'pose. Poor Freshman bunch heeling the _News_ now, he toldme, and that makes my chances better."

  "O, you egotist, you blithering egotist," laughed Jimmy.

  "No, no, not egotism, just merely confidence. Now if I were on theFreshman football squad, I'd just simply know I was going to make theteam, and that's all there'd be to it. I'd make it. Mind over matter,my boy, mind over matter, as I was telling you."

  "And when do you begin?" inquired Frank.

  "O, I'll knock off a little something in the morning. I've an hourafter ten-thirty recitation. I asked the Assignment Editor to save mea column on the front page, in view of a scoop I contemplate. Hand methat paper, Turner," indicating the evening paper which lay on thefloor at Jimmy's feet.

  Turner tossed it over to him, and Codfish at once buried himself inits columns. After ten minutes' reading, the Codfish slapped his kneewith a resounding slap and gave evidence of excitement.

  "What's up, old top?" inquired Frank, looking up from his book.

  "Basis for a scoop first lick out of the box," was the answer.

  "And what?"

  "O, read it in the _News_ day after to-morrow," and the Codfishsettled himself to lay out his plans. He had come across an itemwhich suggested something in the way of a story which would attractthe attention of the whole college.

  Nothing was seen of the Codfish the next day. He explained to hisroommates that he had taken two cuts and had gone into the suburbs onan exploring expedition. He had hardly time to welcome David Powerswho arrived in due season, and was properly installed among hisbelongings in the room across the hallway. But the following morningas with Frank and Jimmy he strolled across the Campus to Osborn Hallfor the first recitation after Chapel, he proudly exhibited a copy ofthe _News_. On the first page in black type was emblazoned the head:

  EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERY.

  BONES OF PREHISTORIC ANIMAL UNEARTHED BY WORKMEN PRESENTED TO YALE MUSEUM.

  SAID TO BE MOST IMPORTANT FIND IN RECENT YEARS.

  Then followed a description of the bones which were represented tobe those of a prehistoric horse of a species not before known to thepaleontologists. The article ended with the information that thebones had been carefully preserved, and had been presented, or wouldshortly be presented, to the Yale Museum by the _News_ representativewho had had a prominent part in their recovery.

&nb
sp; The Codfish puffed out his chest as Frank and Jimmy scanned thearticle. "What do you think of your humble roommate now, eh, what?Didn't I tell you to read it in the _News_?"

  "So that's what bit you the other night?"

  "Sure. The ordinary eye would have passed that item over without athought, but I saw possibilities in it. You never saw so many bones,"he added. "Fine bones, perfectly fine bones, just as good as any overin the Museum, and a lot whiter than most of them."

  "Yes, but who told you they belonged to the prehistoric horse?"

  "O, the foreman of the gang. He was a keen guy, I tell you, knew allabout the game and got me so enthusiastic that I bought the wholebunch for ten dollars. They'll have a chance to mull over them up atthe Museum in a day or two."

  "More likely they are the remains of some poor bossy," said Jimmy,"who laid down and died yesteryear."

  "You are the most disgusting pessimist I know," said the Codfish inhigh dudgeon. "Haven't they as good a chance to be old-fashionedbones as anything? Anyway I got the story in and a credit of fivethousand words at least on the scoop. The fact that I bought them andpresented them to the Museum should be worth another bunch of creditto me, but I'll work that up into a new story that will knock theireye out."

  "But Lord help you if you've put the _News_ in wrong," said Frank.

  "Tush, tush," was all that Codfish would say, "don't discourage theefforts of a budding genius."

  Several days later three expressmen might have been seen carryingmost carefully a gigantic packing box labeled:

  RELICS--WITH CARE.

  and addressed to the Peabody Museum. Behind it marched the Codfish.

  "Round the back way," he commanded. "You can't get in the frontway. Easy there. You're carrying the most important thing you everhandled."

  "It's darn'd heavy," grunted one of the men.

  "That's because it's so valuable," admonished the guardian of thebox. "Don't drop it, on your life; it's a prehistoric horse."

  "Well, if it is, give me a historic one. He must be solid stone."

  "No, only solid bone, like your head. Easy there!"

  Stumbling and grunting the men carried the box as gingerly as theycould around to the back of the Museum.

  The Codfish left his precious possession, and hunted around in thegloomy depths of the basement of the Museum among the giant bones oflong extinct mammals which lined the corridors.

  "They must all be ossified here," he muttered to himself, but ashe was about to give up the search for something living in thatforbidding cavern, he came upon an apron-clad man who looked him overcuriously.

  "Well," said he of the apron.

  "I'm looking for the bone man," said the Codfish somewhat abashed.

  "You're in the wrong museum, you want the dime kind."

  "No, I don't. I want the bone professor."

  "O, the bone professor, eh? Well, I'm the man," he said, while thesuspicion of a smile crossed the pale features. "What's wanted?"

  "Got a bunch of bones out here for you, great stuff, too."

  "Whose bones?"

  "O, it's something that will interest you. I've presented them to theMuseum."

  "You have, eh? That's kind of you. Didn't you think we had enough?"glancing around at the tiers of cases and the tons of uncased boneslying on the floor.

  "O, but you've got nothing like these. These are the whitest bonesyou ever saw, belonged to a prehistoric horse or something of thatkind. Don't you read the _News_? Take a look at them. Where do youwant them put?"

  The "bone professor" called a workman who, with a hatchet, soon hadthe cover of the packing case ripped off, exposing the great find ofthe Codfish.

  "This is a poor joke," said the professor, the danger light beginningto flash in his eye. "Take them out of this."

  "Why, aren't they good bones? Didn't they belong to a prehistorichorse?"

  "A prehistoric jackass, and you are a direct descendant," shoutedthe professor. "I won't have you or your bones around here. You'vedug up a domestic animal cemetery somewhere. Off with them," and heturned on his heel and plunged into the basement without so much asanother look at the discoverer of the prehistoric horse.

  "And to think that I paid ten dollars to get them here," reflectedthe Codfish. "Science can go hang in the future. Here," to the driverof the wagon, "take this blooming box of bones away somewhere andlose it forever."

  "It'll take five dollars to lose it right," said the driver, whowith his two assistants, had hung around, grinning broadly at thediscomfiture of the friend of science.

  "It's worth five to have it lost," said the Codfish as he went intohis pocket for the necessary bill, "and if I ever see it or youagain, beware of your life."

  "We'll take it to the soap factory, eh?"

  "No chance," said the Codfish gloomily. "The bones are not old enoughfor the Museum and too old for the factory. Eat them if you want to,only get rid of them somehow. I'm off," and he strode out to Highstreet in a rage. But the Codfish had the newspaper man's sense, andthat night wrote an article for his paper which explained that thefind was only "semiprehistoric, and as such did not have the valuethat it was first supposed to have in spite of the authority of thefirst testimony."

  The Codfish did not know till later that his prehistoric storiesnetted him less than nothing, for he was docked ten thousand words bythe _News_ board for handing in an article which contained so muchmisinformation.

  In such ways do the Fates trip up even unselfish friends of science.