University of Nashville - Garnet and Blue Yearbook (Nashville, TN)

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hung helplessly in a sling, but his voice was exultant with the throb of victory, and his face took on some of the savage beauty it had worn that day on Peabody Field when, with lowered head and eyes aflame with the light of battle, again and again he had charged the enemy's line, and by the fierce onslaughts of his mighty strength, had torn such disastrous gaps in their stubbornly resisting ranks that his most popular designation henceforth would be The Ram. The little boy listened in ecstatic silence, never once taking his shining eyes from his hero's face. His cheeks grew pinker and pinker, and his yellow curls bobbed faster and faster, as he rocked his fat, little body back and forth in nervous excitement. When the story came to an end he drew a long breath. Oh, I wish I was big like you! Ever night when I says my prayers I asks de Lord to make me grow a big boy, but He don't pay a speck o' 'tention. The grieved droop of the baby mouth silenced the laugh that trembled on the Fresh- man's lips. , Don't you worry, you'll grow big soon enough, 'he soothed. H NVhen? C'is'mas? Will I be growed a big man C'is'mas? Sure! Some of these Christmases you will. Robert William Dodge capered gleefully around the room. H I'm a-goin' to be des like you, only I'm a-goin' to have my 'hair cut bald-headed, like papa's. I'm a-goin' to play football an' have mens wide me 'round on their shoulders, an' I'm a-goin' to have my arm b'oke -his eyes resting enviously on the sling- an' I'm agoin' to have oyster suppers ever night. Oh, I'm a-goin' to do ever single fing you do! The hot blood flamed in John Loyd's face. He turned it away from the adoring child's eyes. It had pleased him to hear the fellows laugh at the angle of the boy's cap, and jest about his understudy, but his careless boy nature had never-before felt the significance of the word. His understudy! U Ever single ling you do! 'l The thought was hateful! Run along home, kid, your supper'll be cold. The boy's face fell, but he slipped obecliently from his partner's knee. At the door he paused for his usual, courteous leave-taking: H Come to see me. One, two, three, four, five, sixg one, two, three, four, live, six, seven--sixty-seven! John Loyd counted idly. A sudden consciousness stirred him: H Why, it's us, and it must be a big fire, for that's the second alarm. The heavy wheels of the hose-cart rumbled past. A sudden, piercing cry came up from the street below, so shrill with tenor, so full of reproachful pain, that the big Freshman's heart stood still, his trembling limbs refused their support and he fell upon his knees, press- ing his hands upon his ears to shut out that stricken cry. Tender hands lifted the form of the little understudy, who had indeed gone home. . It was an awful night. John Loyd choked in his room. He walked the streets until day- light, then locked himself in his room and slept for hours-the sleep of exhaustion. The afternoon sun wakened him at last. He arose and washed himself and changed his clothes. The white crepe fluttering on the door across the street seemed to beckon him, and he answered its call.

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We wuzn't hurtin' nuff1n'. We taked off ever single dish, we wuz singin' ' Standin' on the Pwomises,' and we wuz des a-playin' 'at the table wuz the pwomisesf' Ah, well, sometimes bigger men than you hanker for a visible support when they make shift to stand on the promises. He spoke lightly, but his big chest rose in a half-stifled sigh, and his deep voice held a hint of hidden things. The boy looked at him curiously. Big men don't cwy, he said. But they do sometimes, when they are lonesome and homesick and discouraged, and everybody makes fun of 'em. His glance wandered to the latest indignity-the morning mail had brought it-a highly colored drawing of a big, broiled lobster. On its reverse side was printed in bold lettering a single, significant sentence: I was once green myself. The hurt to his pride had been healed somewhat by the kindly tact of Williams, the coach, whose trained eye detected in the big Freshman measureless possibilities for the team. He had not attempted to disguise his amusement at the clever conceit, but his comment had in it the ring of honest conviction. Don't get mad, and don't feel bad. You are green, but you've got the stuff in you that'll make the whole push green with envy, when once you are through the fire. I think we'll want you on the team. Remember, you are to practice with us to-morrow at three. The big Freshman's heart bounded anew as he remembered, and he set his lips in a straight line. I will make the team! I'm going to play football, boy, do you hear? he said with such energy that the little boy lost his balance on the foot-board of the bed. It didn't hurt, he said defiantly, and escaped penitent but unwelcome caresses by a backward movement toward the door. H Come to see mef' he said politely. But I don't know your name nor where you live. I'm Wobert William Dodge, an' I live at 50 University Avenue, an' yesterday I had a birfday, an' muver buyed me a candy walkin' stick, an' de man sayed to get up on de scales, an' I did, an' I'm forty years ole, an' I weigh four pounds. Well, I'm john Loyd, and I live in this room, and I'm twenty years old, and I weigh two hundred pounds, paraphrased the man. The boy held out an impulsive little hand. That's why I like you-'cause you's so nice and big. I wanter be pardners with you. The big palm closed warmly over the moist, fat, little one. And so it was that the Freshman found his first partner. ' After a few days there was no lack of others who wished to be pardners with him, for, after his first practice game, the fortunes of the country giant took on a boom. The axe and the plow had been kind. II AT early dusk of the day that had set john Loyd's name in the list of college heroes, in the light of the Thanksgiving fire, the little partner sat upon the big partner's knee, listening to the story of the great game. The storyteller's powerful right arm, in bindings of plaster,

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They looked into his drawn, white face, and left him alone in the quiet room where his little partner lay sleeping the dreamless sleep, the prints of angel fingers on the white purity of his dimpled cheeks, on the silent eloquence of his pale lips smiling their loving Come to see me into the face bent over them with passionate reproach. John Loyd knelt long in the still, sweet room, and when at last he left it, his face had in it a beauty it had never held before. By some holy mystery of soul activity, out of the hours of bitter, self-accusing grief, and out of the peace that had come to him through the message of the smiling lips, there had been born in him the soul of a man. gy