Read Ebook: Scott Burton Forester by Cheyney Edward G Edward Gheen Rockwell Norman Illustrator

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Ebook has 1297 lines and 66990 words, and 26 pages

The old gentleman stopped courteously and apologized for not quite catching the question.

Scott repeated it.

The old man shook his head doubtfully. "Never heard of it, my boy. What sort of a place is it?"

Scott was beginning to think that he must have come to the wrong city. However, the old gentleman was exceedingly polite, and the boy tried to explain. "It is a school where they train foresters, sir."

"Oh," said the old gentleman in a rather doubtful tone. "Strange I have never heard of it. Let's ask the policeman."

They consulted that dignitary, but he had never heard of it and could find no clue in his little yellow book.

Suddenly the old man seemed to have an inspiration. "Isn't part of the University, is it?" he asked.

"Why, certainly it is," Scott blurted indignantly. The ignorance of these people was remarkable.

"Oh well, then," said the old gentleman, "that's easy. Take that car right there and get off at Fourteenth Street. You can see it from there."

Scott thanked him and hurried into the car. He felt that his troubles were over at last and he would soon be a duly registered embryo forester. The University loomed up big as he left the car at Fourteenth Street, and the gayly dressed students were wandering everywhere in the idleness of registration day.

Scott tackled an amiable looking fellow and once more inquired the way to the Forest School. The amiable student stopped and grinned at him sympathetically. "Well now, old man, that's too bad. You are miles off your course."

Scott's face fell. "Why, isn't this the University?" he asked.

"Certainly this is the University," answered the wise one, "but the Forest School is part of the Agricultural Department, and that is miles away at the end of yonder carline. Take the car back the way you came clear to the end of the carline, and you'll find the Agricultural College half a mile beyond that."

"Thank you very much," said Scott gratefully, "you are the first person I have met in the whole city who seems to really know anything about it."

"Don't mention it, old man," said his new friend with a bow. "You'll get there in the end all right."

The ride back to the end of the carline seemed almost endless, but the fact that one of those splendid young fellows had called him "old man," and the thought that he would soon be one of them cheered him up wonderfully. The car came to the end of the track at last and he walked down the road briskly, eager to be a full-fledged student and swagger like the fellow with the red shoes and the decorated sweater who had talked to him. He could see the buildings on the hill ahead, but was rather surprised to find a high board fence around the grounds; the gate, too, was locked. A man in uniform answered his knock.

"Is this the Agricultural College?" Scott asked by way of an introduction, for he felt sure that it was.

"No, sonny," the man answered with a broad grin, "this is the County Poor Farm, and you are the fourth man them smart alecks have sent out here today. Now you get back on that car you just left and tell the conductor to put you off at the Agricultural College, and don't let anybody else steer you."

Scott thanked him with downcast mien, and trudged dejectedly back to the car. Visions of that gay young sophomore who had called him "old man," and deceived him so cheerfully floated before him in a red haze. He wondered what his father would think of his judgment. He swore all kinds of vengeance, and it looked for a while as though the whole sophomore class was in danger.

He drew back as the car passed the University for fear the sophomore might be waiting to see him go by. Sure enough there he was on the corner and Scott had a hard time to restrain himself from going out to thrash him then and there. He eyed the conductor suspiciously when he called the Agricultural College to try to detect whether he was in the general conspiracy against all freshmen. He did not feel nearly so sure of the real Agricultural College when he saw it as he had of the County Poor Farm. However, it was the right place at last, and a printed sign pointed the way to the registrar's office.

Nearly all the students he met on the long winding path leading up to the administration building were carrying suitcases, and most of them gazed nervously about them like strangers in a strange land. Scott threaded his way through the crowds of students grouped idly around the halls and stairway to a place in the long line which was crawling slowly past the registrar's window. A young man wearing the badge of the Y. M. C. A. approached him and asked if he was looking for a room, but Scott remembered the trip to the county poor farm too vividly to take any more advice from a student, and refused to even discuss the matter with him. The crowd in the line was certainly a mixed one, and from their appearance he concluded that his father was right in saying that they were a good sample of nearly all the different kinds of people in the world. The large proportion of girls worried him a good deal till he found that they were registering for domestic science, an entirely separate course from his own. He had not been accustomed to the idea of coeducation, so popular in the West.

In due time he reached the window and presented his permit.

"Scott Burton," the registrar read in kindly tones, "of Wabern, Mass. I remember your case. You have a number of advanced credits. Let's see. Here is the report of your case from the enrollment committee. They have allowed you credit for one semester of mathematics, four of language, four of rhetoric, four of botany, two of geology, two of zoology, and two of chemistry. That leaves you only elementary forestry, dendrology, mechanical drawing and forest engineering to complete the work of the first two years."

That was a little better than Scott had even dared to hope. He asked eagerly, "Then I can finish in two years?"

"Possibly, you will have to see the Students' Work Committee tomorrow about that. They may let you take some extra work on probation but you will have to drop it if your marks are not up to grade at the end of the first four weeks. In the meanwhile you will be registered as a freshman. Here is your registration card. See that it is filled in, and your fees paid by five P. M. tomorrow."

"Thank you," said Scott. "Can you tell me where I can get some information about a boarding house?"

The registrar gave him one of the printed lists that the student had tried to give him a little while before, and turned to the next student in the line.

With his registration card in his pocket Scott felt more certain of himself again. He was not only a student, he was almost a junior, and if the other students in the halls had happened to notice him they would have seen a very different looking boy from the one who had gone in a half-hour before.

Armed with the list of rooming houses furnished him by the registrar Scott set out in search of a room. His stock of money was limited, and he regretted that his old chum, Dick Bradshaw, was not there to share his room, and incidentally his room rent. For to Scott, who had always lived at home, and never associated very closely with many other boys of his own age, the selection of a roommate was a problem which he considered would require much thought and a thorough knowledge of his intended partner. His New England conservatism kept him from even dreaming of going in with a stranger.

The search proved rather long and tiresome. The upper classmen had picked all the best rooms before they left in the spring the year before, and the assortment now available was not very attractive. Single rooms were hard to find at all and the prices something to inspire awe.

Scott approached a rather attractive little house which stood back in a pleasing yard something like the one at his home. The usual sign, "Rooms to Rent," was not in sight, but he rang the bell and waited patiently for someone to answer it. Presently the door opened a crack and a silver-haired old lady eyed him curiously. Her face looked kindly enough but the sound of her voice made Scott almost jump.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"I beg your pardon," said Scott, "but can you tell me where there are any rooms to rent around here?"

"No." Like the crack of a pistol.

"They seem to be rather hard to find," Scott remarked apologetically.

"Yes," the old lady fired at him as she slammed the door. "I guess the people in this park want to live in their own houses."

Scott gazed at the closed door in astonishment. "Well," he thought, "there is one thing sure--I should hate to live in yours."

He was becoming discouraged, and was turning wearily away from the twelfth house--almost the last one on his list--when he nearly collided with a young fellow who was bounding up the front steps three at a jump.

The landlady took pity on Scott's weary look, and addressed herself to the newcomer. "Mr. Johnson, do you know of any place where this young man can find a room?"

The young man turned abruptly and ran his eye frankly over Scott. "What's your course?" he asked.

"Forestry," Scott answered, wondering what that had to do with it.

"Sure I do," said Johnson. "Come on in with me. That's my course and I am looking for a bunkie. Come on up and leave your suitcase and then you can see about your trunk."

Scott gazed with astonishment at this new species of being who would take on a second's notice a roommate whose very name he did not know. But that confident and carefree young gentleman was already leading the way up the stairs without a doubt as to the issue. Scott looked at the landlady to see what effect such a sudden proposition had made on her. He expected to find her wide-eyed and agape with astonishment; instead of that she had closed the front door and was disappearing down the hall. He would certainly have backed out if he had known how, but both the landlady and the stranger seemed to be so certain the deal was closed, that Scott, dazed by the swift passage of events and seeing no possible way out, followed helplessly up the stairs.

"Maybe," he thought, "it's one of those dens you read about in the newspaper where young fellows are roped in in this way and robbed. If it is they will need more than that red-headed guy to do it. Dick could lick the shoes off of him and Dick never could box. They would not get very much if they succeeded," he grinned, "the railroads already have most of it."

When he entered the room indicated he found his new acquaintance already seated in a revolving chair near the table, reading a large poster. Without raising his eyes from the paper Johnson said, "You may have the two lower drawers of the bureau, I already have my stuff in the others, and the right hand side of the closet. Better go back to the registrar's office and tell them where to bring your trunk; they charge you storage awful quick at the depot." And he continued to read the poster.

Scott tried to look the room over carelessly as he thought anyone would who was used to renting a new one every week or so. He found that he was still holding his suitcase in his hand. He looked at his roommate to see if he had noticed it, but that indifferent young man was still absorbed in the poster and oblivious to his surroundings. Scott set the suitcase quietly in the corner and took another careless look around the room.

"Well, I guess this will do," he remarked flippantly. "I'll go see about the trunk."

As he was going out the door Johnson called after him, "Hustle back and I'll take you to our hash house. They are nearly all foresters there and a couple of them are seniors, too."

Scott hurried to the registrar's office, left word about the trunk and started back to his newly acquired room and roommate, both of which he had obtained almost before he knew it and was not yet quite certain whether he wanted them or not. However, it was a great relief to feel that he had some place to go, and he rather thought that he liked it. As he was going down the steps a husky, sunburned fellow with a swinging gait and the free air of the woods joined him.

"Getting straightened out?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes," Scott answered, with a readiness that surprised himself. "I got a room, a roommate and a boarding house, all this afternoon." He was beginning to feel a little proud of it.

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