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Page 3
But Peter John was undeterred by the guying of his mates, and when he
had first declared his intention to go to college his words had been
received as a joke. But it was soon discovered that in whatever light
they might be received by others, to Peter John himself they were the
expression of a fixed purpose; and so it came to pass that he too had
passed the entrance examinations and was duly enrolled as a member of
the freshman class in Winthrop College.
When his determination had been accepted by his mates, some of them had
made use of their opportunities to enlarge upon the perils that lay
before him--perils for the most part from the terrible sophomores who
were supposed to be going about seeking their prey with all the
fierceness of a roaring lion. Peter John had listened to the marvelous
tales that were poured into his ears, but so far as his expression of
face was concerned, apparently they had been without effect.
Nevertheless, deep in his heart Peter John had stored them all and his
fear of the class above him had increased until at last just before he
departed from home he had written to his friend Will Phelps informing
him of his fears and begging that he and Foster would meet him at the
station and protect him from the fierce onslaughts, which, he confessed,
he expected would await him upon his arrival. This letter Will Phelps
had found at the little post office when he made inquiries for his mail,
and upon his return to his room it had provided the basis for the
conversation already recorded.
"We'd better go right down to the station, then, Will," Foster had said.
"All right. Peter John will be in mortal terror if he shouldn't find us
there. He probably believes the sophs will have a brass band and knives
and guns and will be drawn up on the platform ready to grab him just the
minute he steps off the car."
"Not quite so bad as that," laughed Foster. "But we'll have to help the
poor chap out."
"Sure. Come on, then," called Will as he seized his cap and started
toward the hallway.
"Hold on a minute. Wait till I lock the door."
"'Lock the door?' Not much! You mustn't do that."
"Why not?"
"It isn't polite."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Foster.
"Just what I'm telling you. Freshmen mustn't lock their doors, that's
not the thing. The janitor told me not to, because the sophs will take
it as a challenge to break it in. He said the college had to put sixty
new locks this summer on the doors here in Perry."
"Looks as if something had happened for a fact," said Foster slowly, as
he glanced at some huge cracks that were plainly visible in the panels.
"Sure 't'll be safe?"
"It'll be all right. The janitor says so. Come on! Come on, or we'll be
too late!"
The two boys ran swiftly down the stairway (their room was on the third
floor of the dormitory) and soon were on the street which was directly
in front of the building. As they walked rapidly in the direction of the
station, which was a half-mile or more distant from the college
buildings, the sight which greeted their eyes was one that stirred the
very depths of their hearts. The very buildings themselves were
impressive, some old and antiquated, dating back a century or more and
venerable with age, and others new and beautiful, the recent gifts of
some loyal alumni. From the huge clock in the tower of the chapel rang
out the chimes which announced that the hour of two was come and gone.
The beautifully kept grounds, the stately buildings, the very leaves on
the huge elms that grew about the grounds were all impressive at the
time to the boys to whom the entire picture was new.
In the wide street that led directly through the midst of the college
buildings, were passing young men of their own age, some of whom would
suddenly stop and grasp with fervor the hands of some students just
returned from the long summer vacation. From the windows of the
dormitories could be seen the faces of students who were leaning far out
and shouting their words of greeting to friends on the street below. The
September sun was warm and mellow, and as it found its way through the
thick foliage it also cast fantastic shadows upon the grass that seemed
to dance and leap in the very contagion of the young life that abounded
on every side. The very air was almost electric and the high hills in
the distance that shut in the valley and provided a framework for the
handiwork of nature, lent an additional charm to which Will Phelps was
unconsciously responding.
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