Cattle-Ranch to College Part 30

"I wanted to, but I guess not now." Somehow John's resolve seemed rather foolish in the presence of this kindly faced man with the high forehead.

"Why? What is the trouble?"

"Oh, I changed my mind."

"What's your reason?" persisted the professor. "You don't look like a fellow who changes his mind with every wind."

His manner was so kindly, his interest so evident, that John let go his reserve and told of his ambitions and hopes and then of the futility, as he thought, of a fellow at his age beginning at the very lowest rung of the ladder when boys much younger than he were so far advanced. This applied not only to actual schooling but to all the little things wherein he saw he was different from these town-dwelling youngsters.

Mr. Marston was interested. He invited John to call and see him after school. "I think we shall be able to talk our way out of this difficulty," he said, as the boy bade him good-by.

At the appointed hour John appeared, eager to be convinced but altogether dubious. Professor Marston received him cordially, and, taking him into his private office, talked to him "like a Dutch uncle,"

as John a.s.sured Gray afterwards. He spoke to him out of his own wide experience, told him of men who had worked themselves up to a high place from small beginnings by determination and hard work. He showed John that he believed he could do the same, and finally brought back the confidence in himself which for a time had been banished.

"How did you come out?" called Gray as John burst into the hotel, his face beaming, his eyes alight--confidence in every gesture.

"Bully!" exclaimed he. "I'm going to start right in."

"That's the way to talk," said his friend, delighted at his good spirits.

"Professor Marston is going to help me, and I'm to get some one to night-herd me; between the two I'm going to round up all those things and put my brand on 'em. I mean," he hastened to explain, as he realized that Gray might not be up on all the cow-punchers' phrases, "I hope to put away in my mind some of the things that go to make up book-learning."

Whereupon Gray volunteered to act as his night-herder, as John called his tutor. The offer was gladly accepted, and the two went out to get the school books which Mr. Marston had recommended.

John's first day was, as he expected, an ordeal. He was sensitive, and it tried his soul to stand up with the primary cla.s.s--he almost a full-grown man. He heard the remarks spoken in an undertone that pa.s.sed from lip to lip when he stepped forward with the youngsters, and he would have been glad to be able to get his hands on the whisperers and bang their heads together; but he only shut his firm jaws together a little tighter, clinched his hands, and drew his breath hard.

He did not even know the multiplication table, but under Gray's coaching he picked it up very rapidly. Mr. Marston made everything as easy for him as possible, and under the considerate aid of these two he made great strides in his mental training. His application and capacity for work was tremendous, and the amount he got through quite astonished his teachers.

The jeers of his schoolmates, however, not always suppressed, drove him more and more to himself. Gray, Professor Marston, and "Lite" were his only companions. "Lite" was now living in clover; never in his short life had he imagined such ease, so much provender, and so little work; he was therefore fat and exceedingly lively, so that when John was astride of him his master was able to show his schoolmates his absolute superiority in one thing at least.

As he advanced in his studies and demonstrated his ability as a horseman and a boxer (he soon had an opportunity to show that he knew how to "put up his hands") the respect of his schoolmates increased--at least that of the boys did--but it was only the kindly glances from one girl's big soft eyes that saved the whole of girl-kind from complete repudiation on his part.

John's first visit to a church was an event that he did not soon forget.

It was at Professor Marston's invitation. He came early, and as he told Gray afterward: "The millionaire took me clear up front. My clothes were stiff and my shoes squeaked, and I know everyone in the place was looking my way." The music was strange to him; the only thing familiar was "Old Hundred," and even that "had frills on it," he a.s.serted. The form of service was new and the good clothes of both men and women oppressed him. The sermon, however, he could and did appreciate. A sermon was the only part of a religious service he had ever listened to.

From time to time hardy missionaries visited the cow-camps and sheep-ranches, and he had often been one of the congregation that, rough though they were, and little as they appreciated what they heard, listened respectfully to the good man's sermon. John had often on such occasions, after the preacher had finished and gone away, mounted on the wagon tongue and repreached the sermon, using his own words but the same ideas. He was therefore able to appreciate and enjoy this sermon preached in what seemed to him a most elaborate house of wors.h.i.+p. This was his first attendance at a "fancy church," and it was the last open one for a long time. In the evening he was wont to steal in, in time to hear the sermon, he excusing himself thus: "I can't do it all at once; I'll have to learn their ways first."

The dinner at Professor Marston's which followed his first church-going was a red-letter occasion of another kind. John's earnestness and sincerity always made friends for him, and he speedily won the heart of Mrs. Marston. She took great interest in the boy and gave him many hints as to the ways of civilized life, so tactfully that he could feel only grat.i.tude.

He left her home full of content; he had discovered a new phase of life--to him a heretofore closed book--the "home beautiful."

John Worth was a good student, a hard, conscientious worker, and with the aid of his friend Gray and his instructor he made more and more rapid progress. As spring advanced, he began to hear talk about "vacation"--a word the meaning of which was strange to him.

When he found out what it was he wondered what new wrinkle would be "sprung" on him next. But it was a serious thing to him; he could not afford to stay in town and do nothing--he wanted to keep on with his work.

Professor Marston called him into his office just before school closed, and after learning of his difficulty suggested that he get a job during the summer and come back to school in the fall, when he would give him work that would pay his necessary expenses while he kept on with studies. John's heart was filled with grat.i.tude, but his benefactor would not listen to his thanks, and bade him good-by and good luck.

The boy went away thinking he was indeed in luck. The only trouble was to secure a job for the summer. This problem was speedily solved by Gray, who proposed that they should try to join a party of tourists that were to visit Yellowstone Park, and act as guides and guards. To their great joy they were able to accomplish this, and soon after the commencement festivities they rode out with the tourist outfit. John always had pleasure in remembering one of the number, a fearless, undaunted rider who won his admiration then, and still more later, when he became Colonel Roosevelt of the "Rough Riders." John in his old cowboy dress and mounted on Lightning was happy enough; as for the horse, he fairly bubbled over with joy and gladness. He showed it in his usual unconventional fas.h.i.+on by trying to throw John "into the middle of next week," but his master understood him well and took all his pranks good-naturedly, sitting in the saddle as if it was an every-day occurrence and not worth bothering about.

The boy's leech-like riding attracted the attention of his employers at once and especially one--a young Easterner named Sherman, who was a college man.

The summer's experience was a very pleasant one; compared to the work and hards.h.i.+p that John had formerly endured this was child's play.

On the long summer evenings young Sherman would often join John while he was keeping his vigil over the saddle stock, and they would have long talks, John telling of his experiences with Indians, cattle, and horses, while Sherman in turn told of college life, its advantages and pleasures, and the hard work connected with it.

Shortly before the time set for the return of the party, Sherman, who had learned to respect and like John greatly, said: "Suppose you study hard next fall and spring and prepare for college. If you can bone up enough to pa.s.s the examinations I think I can get you a scholars.h.i.+p."

The proposition took John's breath away, but he was not the kind of a boy to be "stumped," and when they separated he a.s.sured Sherman that he'd do "some tall trying."

The party of tourists among whom John was soon broke up. Sherman went East after exacting a promise from John to "carry out that deal."

John returned to ---- and to the academy, his path now marked out clearly before him and a prize worth striving for at the end.

CHAPTER XXI.

TWELVE HUNDRED MILES AWHEEL TO COLLEGE.

The academy reopened with some new pupils and many old ones. John shook hands with his few friends, glad to get back, and, with firm determination to carry out the purpose that now possessed him, started to work.

Professor Marston kept his word about the winter job, and John was duly installed as janitor of the building, with opportunity to make extra pay by sawing wood and doing errands.

He was fully occupied, as may well be imagined, and poor Lightning, though sure of good care, missed the companions.h.i.+p that both he and his master delighted in. John foresaw that he would not be able to keep the horse, and he finally decided what to do with him. He would give him his freedom.

One day the boy took him out on the prairie some distance from the town.

"Lite, old boy," he began, rubbing his nose and patting him, "we've had good and bad times together, and we've been good friends, but we've got to separate now."

He took off the saddle and bridle: "Take care of yourself, old boy."

The horse looked at him a moment inquiringly; then curvetted around a minute in high glee; but as he saw his much-loved master leaving him he turned and followed, refusing to be cast off. "Go back, Lite," John commanded, waving his hat to scare him. "Go back!" But the little horse refused to leave him, and followed him back to town, where he was taken in and petted again. John was touched to the heart by this loyalty and affection.

Next day a stableman took him out among the range horses and dismissed him. This time he stayed, and John never saw or heard of him afterward.

That was a wrench.

Lightning gone, John allowed himself no pleasures, but instead took every bit of work that came his way, whether it yielded money or knowledge.

He joined the Debating Society and made it a duty to do his best when called upon. Toward spring, as wood sawing became scarce, he took to delivering morning papers to the more distant parts of town; and in order to do this more quickly he hired an old bicycle, learned to ride it, and made his rounds just after daybreak on that. So he was able to get back to the school house and study a while before opening up.

"I don't see how you do it all, Worth," said Professor Marston.

"Well, I couldn't, I guess, if I didn't have a big stake to work for. If I keep my present school work up and study this summer I'll get into college this fall," and John told him of the offer Sherman had made him.

"I hope your friend won't forget," the Professor suggested, fearing that his pupil was building high hopes on an insecure foundation.

"He won't forget; he's not that kind."