Part 6 (2/2)
”Rah! Rah! Rah-rah-rah! Thor! Thor! Thor!” Captain Brewster, through a big megaphone, roared; ”Fellows--What's the matter with Thor?”
And in a terrific outburst which, as the Phillyloo Bird afterward said, ”Like to of busted Bannister's works!” the enthusiastic collegians responded:
”He's--all--right!”
Then Butch, apparently in quest of information, persisted:
”Who's all right?”
To which the three hundred or more youths, all seemingly equipped with lungs of leather, kindly answered:
”Thor! Thor! Thor!”
Still, though the Phillyloo Bird declared that this vocal explosion caused the seismographs as Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and in Salt Lake City, Utah, to register an earthquake somewhere, it had on the blond Freshman a strange effect. The vast mountain of muscle lumbered heavily across the room, gazed down at the howling crowd of collegians without emotion, then slammed down the window, and returned to study.
”Good night” called Hicks. ”The show is over! Let him have another yell, boys, to show we aren't insulted; then we'll disband!”
Considering Thorwald's cool reception of their overtures, which some youth remarked, ”Were as noisy as that of a Grand Opera Orchestra,” it was quite surprising to the students, in the morning, when what occurred an hour after their serenade was revealed to them. As the story was told by those who witnessed the scene, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., Butch, Beef, Monty, Pudge, Roddy, Biff, Hefty, Tug, Buster, and Coach Corridan after the commotion subsided, retired to the sunny Hicks' quarters, where the football situation was discussed, along with ways and means to awaken Thor, when that colossal Freshman himself loomed up in the doorway.
As they afterward learned, several excited Freshmen had dared to invade Thor's den, even while he studied, and give him a more or less correct account of T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s masterly oration in his defense. Out of their garbled descriptions, big John Thorwald grasped one salient point, and straightway he started for Hicks' room, leaving the indignant Freshmen to tell their story to the atmosphere.
”Hicks,” said Thor, not bothering with the ”Mr.” required of all Freshmen, as his vast bulk crowded the doorway, ”is it true that Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., wants me to play football? He has been very kind to me, and has helped me, and so have you, here at college. After a year of study, I should have had to stop night-school, but for him--instead, I got another year, and prepared for Bannister. I did not know thatdesired me to play, but if he does, I feel under obligation to show my great grat.i.tude, both for myself and for my father,”
A moment of silence, for the glorious news could not be grasped in a second; those in the room, knowing Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr.'s, brilliant athletic record at old Bannister, and understanding his great love for his Alma Mater, knew that Hicks, Sr., had sent Thor to Bannister to play football for the Gold and Green, though, as he had written his son, he would not have done so had he honestly believed that another college would suit the ambitious Goliath better.
”Does he?” stammered the dazed T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., while the others echoed the words feebly, ”Yes, I should say he !”
For a second, the ponderous young Colossus hesitated, and then, as calmly as though announcing he would add Greek to his list of studies, and wholly unaware that his words were to bring joy to old Bannister, he spoke stolidly.
”Then I shall play football.”
CHAPTER VII
HICKS STARTS ANOTHER MYSTERY.
”Fifteen men sat on the dead man's chest-- Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the Devil had done for the rest-- Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!”
T HAVILAND HICKS, JR., his chair tilted at a perilous angle, and his feet thrust gracefully atop of the study-table, in his cozy room, one Friday afternoon two weeks after John Thorwald's return to the football squad, was fathoms deep in Stevenson's ”Treasure Island.” As he perused the thrilling pages, the irrepressible youth tw.a.n.ged a banjo accompaniment, and roared with gusto the piratical chantey of Long John Silver's buccaneer crew; Hicks, however, despite his saengerfest, was completely lost in the enthralling narrative, so that he seemed to hear the parrot shrieking, ”Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” and the wild refrain:
”Fifteen men sat on the dead man's chest-- Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!”
He was reading that breathlessly exciting part where the cabin-boy of the Hispaniola, and Israel Hands have their terrible fight to the death, with the dodging over the dead man rolling in the scuppers, the climbing up the mast, and the dirk pinning the boy's shoulder, before Hands is shot and goes to join his mate on the bottom; just at the most absorbing page, as he tw.a.n.ged his beloved banjo louder, and roared the chantey, there sounded, ”Tramp--tramp--tramp!” in the corridor, the heavy tread of many feet sounded, coming nearer. Instinctively realizing that the pachydermic parade was headed forroom, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., rushed to the closet, murmuring, ”Safety first!” as usual, and stowed away his banjo. He was just in the nick of time, for a second later there crowded into his room Captain Butch, Pudge, Beef, Hefty, Biff, Monty, Roddy, Bunch, Tug, Buster, Coach Corridas, and Thor, the latter duo bringing up the rear.
”Hicks, you unjailed public nuisance!” said Butch Brewster, affectionately.
”We, whom you behold, are going for to enter into that room across the corridor from your boudoir, and hold a football signal quiz and confab. We should request that you permit a thunderous silence to originate in your cozy retreat, for the period of at least a hour! A word to theis sufficient, so I have spoken several, that even you may comprehend my meaning,”
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