Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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De Forrest handed him the slip of paper and ап- swered: “You needn't be so surly about it, Scott. A fair trade is no robbery. You have the better of the deal. You ought to throw in a few medals to boot.” This was too much for Scott, who cried: Get out, damn you, before I kill you! De Forrest got out in a hurry. Lamont, Longstreth and Richardson were interested auditors of the conversation. When De Forrest left Scott's room, Lamont whis pered excitedly, We'll follow him. I think I know just what his game 15.” The three stealthily descended the stairs after De Forrest. The latter struck out across the campus to- ward the residences of the faculty. In his wake they followed. De Forrest wended his way in and out through the buildings until he reached the residence of Skeets Murray, the Dean. There was a ring of anger in Lamont's voice as he spoke to the others. The unspeakable cad! Just what I thou ght. He's gone to inform the Dean. Scott will be declared a professional tomorrow for selling his prizes. That dis- grace is a thousand times worse than the one he evaded. Fellows, we can't let De Forrest get away with that. He's got the cups, that's conclusive evidence that Scott asked for them before tomorrow and then sold them to him. We can't inform the Dean of the truth of the affair, because we'll all get fired out for gambling. Think, will you? Think! We've got to do some- thing. We can't let Don go under like that. De Forrest had reached the residence of the Dean. It was after ten, but the latter was still up and the trio saw De Forrest admitted. The three were in a panic. Something had to be done and done quickly if they were to avert the worst scandal ever perpetrated at Andover. Poor Don, murmured Longstreth. if it’s all up with him. It looks as It seemed as if Then suddenly his face Lamont was plainly nonplused. Scott must take his medicine. lighted in a bright smile. We'll fool him yet,” he almost shouted in an ecstasy of joy, and, with that, he outlined his plan to the oth ers. The magnitude of its scope astounded them. “It’s big, said Lamont; but it's the only way out. Are you with me, or shall I go it alone? The two chorused their eager support and they fairly raced across the selfsame path which Scott had taken but a short while before. They found the same window as did the first. in- truder. Ву the moon's rays they sighted the pile of trophies in the center of the room. They stood as И awed. “I hate to do it, said Lamont, but it's got to be done. Come on, take an armful. Lamont had unearthed а bag on the way across and the trophies were carefully placed in it. “There will be some terrible howls when this is found out in the morning,” whispered Richardson, as the three made their exit, leaving the window half open. They returned unseen to Lamont's room, where the latter took the bag and buried it in a long unused trunk, where no one would ever be likely to hunt. De Forrest had stated his case well—so well that ruin and disgrace awaited Don Scott on the morrow. Skeets Murray’s ideas of honor were rigid. That De Forrest's disclosures affected a boy whom he liked very much personally did not alter the Dean's de- termination one whit to carry out the steps which his code demanded. On De Forrest leaving, Murray said: “This is the most serious charge ever preferred against an Andover athlete. I do not know what to make of it. It seems impossible that such a fellow as Scott should stoop to such a thing. Still, the evidence is indisputable and I shall attend to it in the morning. Scott slept away, all unthinking of the skein set to enmesh him. De Forrest proceeded to his room, where he rested serenely in the knowledge of Scott's disgrace the next day. The next day's events followed in trip-hammer order. One of the final tableaux was set in Dean Mur- ray's office. A messenger came to De Forrest's room with a per- emptory command to report to Dean Murray at the office immediately. Worried beyond an extreme which he did not care to show, De Forrest hastened to the Dean's office. As he entered the sanctum of Andover's head-mas- ter a sense of calamity brooded over him. Murray turned and began in a sarcastic tone, which fairly shriv- eled the other: De Forrest, I gave you more credit than to try to ‘put over’ anything like this. Why, a two-year-old baby would know enough not to try anything as thin as this little nightmare of your fancy.” De Forrest endeavored to interrupt, but with a gesture of contempt Murray stilled him. “Мау I ask what you have done with the other trophies? You are just a common thief. Did you think that I was brainless enough to believe your tale after what I’ve seen this morning? If you return the cups, Í promise immunity; but if not, you're through at Andover.” “A thief,” sputtered De Forrest, indignantly. What do you accuse me of?” Murray's sarcasm became more vitriolic. “Тһе game's up, De Forrest. I have no sympathy Гог a common thief and also а perjurer. I gave some credence to your tale last night, but when I entered here this morning, found the window open and the twelve cups taken, I needed no further confirmation

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The governor refuses to send any more until broke. the first of the month. Frankly, I can't pay you.” De Forrest's truculent countenance became still more forbidding, as with unbridled malice he said: So that's the way it stands. The governor's wise to his son's antics and closes down on the money bags However, I want that money, and there's only one thing which will save you from being fired out of college, both by your father and the ignominy of your position as a bluffer, if I choose to divulge. This is the proposition. His eyes refused to meet the unwav- ering look of Scott as he continued. Scott, Г want those two cups which you won to- day. Had a thunderbolt struck him Scott could not have been more dazed. He turned alternately hot and cold and involun- tarily made as if to spring at De Forrest's throat. That anyone could stoop to so low an act was in- comprehensible to him. He meant to show this cur how such a fellow should be treated. At the change which he had wrought in the other's bearing, De Forrest stepped toward the door. His ashen face showed the fear in which he held Scott in his present mood. You dog, ground out Scott, you come to me with that vile offer. Get out of my room before I throw you out. Shaking like an aspen leaf, the other hastened to comply, but, with his hand on the door, he essayed a parting shot. Remember, Scott, it means the end of your college career. It means your finish at Andover. What are two cups to you? No one will be the wiser. I want them because I promised to bring back to my folks the two trophies which you won and which I was supposed to have won. They don't know I've quit the game. My father was a track star. If he knows Гуе failed he'll be heart-broken. What do you say? You'll never miss them.” Scott hesitated. His father's threat to withdraw him from college seemed distant and dim. That De Forrest would expose him he had no doubt. Не form- ulated a plan of action. Why not exchange his two trophies for the slip of paper. If De Forrest's tale was true, he was in no danger. Att any rate, forestall- ing De Forrest would give him some respite in which he could raise money enough to redeem the cups. They would be only out of his hands a few days at the most, or even a few hours. If De Forrest had conceived a plot to do him fur- ther harm it was unfathomable to him. His story was logical. Should he give up his college career rather than stretch his principles for a short time? It would not besmirch his athlete standing. Eager to carry his point, De Forrest burst uncere- : moniously into his train of thought. “There's no alternative. You accept or you're through for good. Scott determined to risk everything on one stroke. “АП right, he said. Remain here and I'll get the cups. Without further ado he grabbed his hat and coat and bolted through the door. Breathing more easily, De Forrest sat down weakly in a chair and lighted a cigarette with a trembling hand. Synchronously, in the adjoining room Bruce Lamont arose from his cramped position’ at the keyhole of the connecting door and flung himself on the bed. “That of all things. I never would have believed it of Don Scott, he groaned. What can have hap- pened to him?” As he began thinking more rationally the thought came to him that Scott was playing a game deeper than De Forrest's. Lamont never for a moment entertained the thought that De Forrest's story was true. He knew that De Forrest’s departing look the night of the poker game boded no good to Scott. On their way to Scott’s room after the hilarious cele- bration, Longstreth and Richardson stopped to pick up Lamont in his room. His grave face convinced them that something was badly wrong. Не did not respond to their good-natured raillery, but sat with unseeing eyes on the floor. Should he take these two into his confidence? Could they be trusted? He knew the transfer of the cups did not end the little drama being enacted in the other room. It would be well to have two such staunch ad- mirers of Scott on his side. Lamont’s reticence only served to accentuate his two friends’ curiosity. Lamont decided to tell them everything, and he did. Luckily for De Forrest's mind Richardson's and Longstreth’s anathemas and execrations did not reach his ears. “Со easy, fellows,” whispered Lamont. He's in there yet, pointing to the next room. “We'll stay here and await developments. Scott's promise to get the two cups was in itself a hazardous undertaking. With a score of others, the trophies rested on a case in the Dean's inner office, ready to be presented after chapel exercises on the morrow. Scott kept in the shadow of the clustered buildings and reached the office of the Dean. It was the work of a moment to find a window carelessly left open by the absent-minded professor. With a twinge of mental torture, he selected his two hard-earned prizes, and carefully closing the window he retraced his steps to the dormitory. De Forrest had not moved. A complacent smirch overspread his callow features as Scott re-entered with the trophies. Scott eyed him repellently, loathingly, as if he were near a snake. Не said: “Неге are the cups; now give me that I. O. U.”

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that your story was a base fabrication of les to ruin Scott. I'll give you an hour to return the cups. If in that time they are not forthcoming, your connections with this campus are broken. I want nothing from you. Go. It is enough that one of my students should do anything as unbelieveable as thi s. I have no more to say. De Forrest turned abjectly away from that adaman- tine countenance. He saw not the faintest ray of hope in it. He had been tricked! Some unseen forces had worked against him. Murray believed that he had stolen the cups and had concocted a plot to disgrace Scott. He cursed the folly that entangled him in his own trap. He had been outwitted. There was noth- ing to do but follow the path which he had allotted for Scott. An hour later, without a farewell to anyone, Layton De Forrest slunk out from the campus to the railroad station. He never knew who it was that convicted him. His evil plans had brought nothing but his own down- fall. Skeets Murray never divulged the story which he believed was the true one of the robbery and he never knew that each of the cups found its rightful owner, since everyone was pledged to secrecy. He returned the two cups to Scott without any explanation. Scott's gratitude to his three friends for their act was boundless. He could only say: Ive learned my lesson. Мо more gambling for mine.” The Wanderings of a Central Senior PauL MorrirT—CLass PROPHET As the sun was going down over the Jersey shore, our vessel pulled out of the wharf to deep water under the guidance of many little tugs. I, the class wanderer, at once retired to my stateroom to make ready for supper. “аз call for supper; last call, came from the dining room, and as Í passed to the table I recognized the head waiter as Bennie Shachat of the class of January, 1917. Not being very hungry, I left the table, so Bennie, anxious to please, took me to the kitchen and pointed out Ciccone, Rocco and Rontondi, juggling long strips of spaghetti over the oven; but most interesting of all was Nicholas Fausto, with an apron tied about his middle, drying dishes. | returned to the deck to see the glare of the Statue of Liberty, but no sooner had I reached the rail than I heard a familiar voice telling in a loud pitch of a great deed its owner had performed. Seated on a coil of rope, and dressed in a short sailor jacket, was Abe Wohl, still shouting about himself. I retired for the night, but, being thirsty, pushed a button for a porter and, to my surprise, the door opened. Sammy Kalb stood before me, dressed all in white. These surprises were enough for one day, so I turned in. During the night a storm came up, and I felt so sick that I rang for a physician. In walked the ship's doctor, Mr. Fogle, followed by a nurse, who proved to be Lillian Offen. With their gentle treatment I came around all right and was quite able to view the performance which was in store for the following day. By that time the storm had abated somewhat, but the heavy weather kept the people indoors. In the afternoon the performance was staged and Í took my place in the audience. The curtain was raised and short-legged Ernest Porter waltzed on the stage with his seven-foot wife, Eleanor Mendel, and an abun- dance of ancient eggs came from all directions. They made a very striking pair. When the ship came within sight of land we pre- pared to go ashore. The customs officers were very rough, and the English bobbies were horrid, but my face lighted up when I saw a familiar bobbie leaning up against a lamppost. As I passed him I recognized Rus Torrey reading an English grammar. Thirty years had passed but Torrey's interest in English had not passed. Shine! Shine! was the cry that drowned the noise of the rattling vehicl es, and then I beheld Wil- liam Morgenstern on his knees, using the polish freely. Hurrying to the station, I bought my ticket and boarded a train for London. As I was sitting near the window waiting for the train to depart, I noticed a tattered individual picking up papers. On close in- spection it proved to be Joe Fingerhut. Little had we ever thought that Joe would stoop to such things. After a ride of an hour we pulled into the great metropolis. I immediately set out for a first-class hotel. There in the vestibule, gray with age, was Le Roy Stein selling pasteurized milk chocolate s. Conversing with him, I learned that a great suffrage parade was due about this time, and from the sound of a big bass drum I knew it couldn't be far away. Sure enough, down the street paraded William Lif- shutz at the head of a column, carrying a banner. He