CHAPTER VDUD LOSES HIS TEMPER
“Winter,” observed Jimmy very disgustedly one morning toward the last of February, “is sure ‘lingering in the lap of spring,’ as the poet hath it. Between you and me, Dud, I guess winter’s fallen asleep there! Here it is almost March and everything’s still covered up with snow or ice. Or water,” he added a second later, his gaze falling to the pools of melting snow that lay in the hollows of the campus.
The windows were wide open and the air that came in, while chill and damp, still, somehow, held a suggestion—or perhaps a faint promise—of spring. But the sky was leaden, between the walks the sod was hidden under patches of dirty snow or ice that had begun to melt a little and the whole morning world had a tired and bedraggled look. Jimmy, still attired in pajamas, shivered and turned disapprovingly away. Then his gaze fell on Dud and the disapproval increased, for Dud, half awake a moment before, had nestled down on therumpled pillow again and was sleeping peacefully. Jimmy was righteously indignant.
“Wake up, you sluggard!” he bawled, pulling the clothes from the other. “Here I’ve been talking to you for five minutes, saying perfectly gorgeous things, and you haven’t heard a word! Get up, you lazy loafer, and hear the birdies sing—or sneeze! Come out of there!”
Dud came out, rather in a heap, blinking confusedly, and strove to pull the clothes from the bed to his shrinking form on the floor. But Jimmy was merciless, and Dud was forced to arise grumblingly and rub his sleepy eyes.
“Wh—what time is it?” he yawned.
“Never mind what time it is,” replied Jimmy severely. “It’s time you were up and doing——”
“‘With a heart for any fate,’” murmured Dud poetically if sleepily. “What day is it?”
“Great Jumpin’ Jehosophat!” exclaimed Jimmy. “He doesn’t even know the date! It’s a Tuesday, darling, and the month’s February, and the year——”
“Then it’s today practice begins,” said Dud. “I knew there was something.” He arose and sought his bath robe. “I’ll bet it’s awfully early. I don’t hear anyone up.”
“You hear me up,” responded his roommate. “As a matter of fact, I don’t know just what timeit is, because you forgot to wind the clock and my watch has stopped and I couldn’t find yours. But it must be long after six——”
“Six!” grunted Dud in deep disgust. “What do you go pulling me out of bed at six for? I’m going back again!”
“I said it was long after six. Where’s your watch? Have a look at it.”
Dud discovered that article at last dangling over the back of a chair, it having escaped from a pocket, and in more mollified tones informed Jimmy that it was twenty to seven. In the corridor a door opened and slippered feet pattered toward the bathroom. Jimmy set his watch and the clock, found his own robe and then, pausing at the door, asked solicitously:
“How’s the old arm, Dud?”
“Sore,” was the answer. Dud bent it and flexed it—it was his right one—and observed it scowlingly. “It’s lame all the way to the shoulder.Ouch!And the shoulder’s lame, too!”
“Too bad,” said Jimmy. “I was afraid you might overdo it, Dud.”
“Well, whose silly idea was it, anyway?” demanded Dud indignantly. “Who suggested practicing every day, I’d just like to know?”
“I did, of course, but I didn’t tell you to do too much of it and lame yourself, did I? What you’vegone and done, Dud, is catch cold in it. You ought to be mighty careful that way. You ought——”
“Oh, dry up,” grumbled Dud. “You make me tired. If you know so pesky much about it, why didn’t you say something before? I wouldn’t have caught cold in it if you hadn’t insisted on slopping around in that rink yesterday with the water up to your ankles! No wonder I caught cold!”
“Well, you’ll have to lay off a few days, old chap. It’ll be all right again, I guess.”
“That’s fine, isn’t it, when I’ve got to report for practice this afternoon?”
“You won’t have to pitch, though,” responded Jimmy consolingly. “Just do the setting-up stuff. Come on and get your bath.”
“I don’t want any bath,” muttered Dud, still feeling of his pitching arm with cautious fingers. “You go ahead.”
“Dud,” said the other severely, “you’ve got a grouch. You must have got out of bed the wrong way.”
“I did, when you pulled me out,” was the pointed reply. “And who wouldn’t have a grouch, I’d like to know? I’ll have a fat chance to do any pitching, won’t I?”
“You can tell ’em you lamed yourself, can’t you? Cheer up, Dud, and come ahead before the crowd gathers. I’ll rub it for you when we get back.”
“Huh! I guess that’s what’s the matter with it now. You nearly killed me last night with your old massaging, as you called it.”
“It may hurt a little,” said Jimmy earnestly, “but it’s awfully good for you. It’s regular Swedish stuff, Dud. I learned it from a chap at home who works in the gym. We ought to have some liniment, though. I wonder if that liquid dentifrice stuff of yours would do.”
“I’ll do my own rubbing, thanks,” replied the other ungraciously. “If it hadn’t been for you——”
“Help!” wailed Jimmy, hurrying through the door. Then came the sound of quick scurrying in the corridor, and Dud, still mooning on the side of the bed, guessed that Jimmy and some other chap were racing for a bathtub. Dud hoped the other fellow would win. He continued to explore the lamed muscles of his arm for several minutes, finding a grim satisfaction in the twinges of pain he evoked. Finally, however, he slung the cords of his bath-robe together and dejectedly followed the others down the corridor. As luck would have it, three other youths were awaiting their turns at the tubs, while Starling Meyer reached the washroom at the same moment Dud did. Star fixed a haughty and scornful glare on the younger boy.
“I’m ahead of you,” he announced briefly.
Most any other time Dud would have acquiesced without a murmur, but this morning his peevishness made him combative and courageous. “Like fun you are,” he replied scowlingly.
A perceptible thrill went through the other members of the waiting group. Dud Baker and Star Meyer were going to have a scrap! They had heard of Dud’s fighting reputation, and now they were to witness an example of that youth’s quality! They almost held their breaths in the excitement, their round eyes traveling from Star to Dud and back again expectantly. Star frowned portentously.
“We’ll see,” he remarked coldly.
“You bet we’ll see,” agreed Dud, a strange recklessness taking possession of him. Somehow this morning Star didn’t look nearly so formidable, perhaps because his eyes were still heavy with sleep or because the flaming red bath-robe in which he was enveloped was so palpable an affront to good taste. Star stared an instant in perplexed surprise and then deliberately turned his gaze away from Dud’s pugnacious countenance, indicating contempt and scorn and several other things that riled Dud still further. From the cubicles holding the tubs came the rush and splash of water and the voices of the bathers. No healthy boy ever bathed silently, and the four in the tubs were, judging from the sounds, remarkably robust! Jimmy was chanting a football pæanat the top of his lungs, another boy was singing something remarkably tuneless and repetitional and the other two were exchanging badinage across the partition at the tops of their voices.
After a moment one of the doors opened, a very pink-hued youth emerged and it was the turn of one of the interested trio. Oddly enough the latter showed a strange disinclination to avail himself of his prerogative. Instead he offered in a whisper to let one of the others precede him. But the reply was a shake of the head, the boy not even removing his fascinated gaze from Dud.
There was nothing for it but to go then, and the youth went, disappearing behind the door most reluctantly. Star moved impatiently from one foot to the other. “You fellows in there, get a move on,” he advised loudly. “We’ve been waiting here ten minutes.”
“Keep on waiting, old chap,” replied Jimmy, interrupting his song. “Don’t know who you are, but you’re an awful fibber. I say, Dud, are you there?”
“Yes,” growled Dud.
“Hand me a piece of soap from the stand, will you?”
Dud wanted to say no, but thought better of it and ungraciously crossed the washroom and secured a cake of soap. “Catch,” he called.
“Stop it!” squealed Jimmy. “Don’t chuck! Here, pass it in.” The door opened a bit and Jimmy’s face appeared in the slit. “Squeeze in,” he whispered. “I’m through.”
Dud thrust the door open and entered, and Jimmy quickly bolted it again. “Who’s out there?” he whispered. But before Dud could inform him Star Meyer’s voice was raised in indignant protest.
“You can’t do that, Logan! It isn’t Baker’s turn. There are three of us ahead of him. You come out of there, Baker!”
“I only took half a bath, Star,” replied Jimmy amiably. “I’m letting Dud have the other half.”
“Yes, you are! No funny business now! Here, Benson, it’s your turn. Go ahead in. They can’t do that.”
Benson, a slim, unaggressive youth, stared at Star in alarm. “I—I’m in no hurry, thanks, Meyer. I—I’d just as lief wait, thanks.”
“Then you, whatever your name is, it’s your tub!”
The second boy shook his head and grinned. “I don’t like that one,” he replied diplomatically. “The plug leaks. I’ll wait.”
Star scowled and looked doubtfully at the closed door. For some reason intense quiet prevailed. Not a splash was heard. “Then if you fellows won’ttake it,” he said resolutely, “it’s my turn. That’s my tub, Baker. You’d better come out of there.”
“I’ll be out when I’ve had my bath,” was the truculent reply, followed by a sound very much like that caused by a hand descending approvingly on a bare shoulder. Star strode across and rattled the door, but the only response was the gurgling of water as the plug was withdrawn.
“I’ll report you to Mr. Gibbs,” announced Star loftily. “You’re supposed to take your turn. You’d better let me in there.”
Just then the door opened and Jimmy came out. Star drew back a step and Dud quickly shot the bolt again. Jimmy smiled sweetly and carelessly at Star. “Don’t be a grouch, old man,” he said. “There’s lots of water yet.”
Star fell back on his haughty attitude and observed Jimmy as from Olympian heights. Jimmy chuckled. “Great stuff, Star,” he approved. Then he nodded affably to the round-eyed Benson and took himself gracefully from sight. At that moment another cubicle emptied itself of its occupant and Star, swallowing his wrath, absent-mindedly entered it, leaving the two waiting youths to scowl blankly at the closed door. After a moment Benson ejaculated in a careful whisper: “Hog!” The other boy nodded agreement. “I thought he and Baker were going to scrap,” he confided sotto voce. “Gee,I wish they had. And I wish Baker had done him up! He’s just a big bluff, that’s what he is!” From the further cubicle came the sound of song. Dud was regaining his temper.