The Great Brain At The Academy Part 1

The Great Brain at the Academy.

John D. Fitzgerald.

CHAPTER ONE.

Tom Spots a Card Shark

WHEN MY BROTHER TOM began telling people in Adenville, Utah, that he had a great brain everybody laughed at him, including his own family. We all thought he was trying to play some kind of a kid's joke on us. But after he had used his great brain to swindle all the kids in town and make fools of a lot of grownups n.o.body laughed at my brother anymore.

I think that was why just about everybody in townexcept his own family was glad to see Tom leave Adenvilleon September 1, 1897. And I couldn't help thinking thatPapa must have felt kind of relieved too, although hedidn't show it. Papa was editor and publisher of the Aden-ville Weekly Advocate and was considered one of thesmartest men in town. But some of the shenanigans Tomhad pulled with his great brain were enough to make Papafeel like a blooming idiot. Now he wouldn't have to worryabout men dropping into his office to complain that Tomhad swindled their sons. Mamma cried a lot at the depotbut she also must have felt at least a little relief. Shewouldn't have to worry for the next nine months aboutmothers telephoning her to complain about Tom. Thetruth of the matter, though, was that although Tom hadbeen a junior-grade confidence man since he was eightyears old, he had never realty cheated anybody. With hisgreat brain he simply devised schemes that made peopleswindle themselves.Tom and my eldest brother Sweyn were bound for theCatholic Academy for Boys in Salt Lake City. We onlyhad a one-room schoolhouse in Adenville, where Mr.Standish taught the first through the sixth grades. Anyparents wanting their kids to get a higher education had tosend them to Salt Lake City. Tom was only eleven goingon twelve but so smart that Mr. Standish had let him skipthe fifth grade. Sweyn was two years older and going backto the academy for his second year. A stranger who saw usthree brothers together would never have guessed we wererelated. Sweyn looked like our Danish-American mother,with blond hair and a light complexion. I had dark unrulyhair and dark eyes, just like Papa- Tom didn't look likeeither Mamma or Papa unless you sort of put them to-gether, and he was the only one in the family who hadfreckles.Tom promised to write to me every week. The firstletter I received told me how he had spotted a card sharkon the train. I didn't find out all the details, though, untilmy brothers came home for Christmas vacation. Then I gotSweyn to tell me what had happened and later Tom toldme what had happened. But there was something wrong.Sweyn didn't mention several things Tom told me. AndTom d;dn't mention his invention for trains which Sweyntold me all about. That is why I figure the only way to tellwhat really happened is to put their stories together andtell it in my own way.Tom admitted he felt down in the dumps as the trainpulled out of Adenvilie. I couldn't blame him. It was thefirst time he had ever been away from home- I knew whenI became old enough to go to the academy that I wouldprobably bawl like a baby."Go ahead and cry," Sweyn said as the train left thedepot. *Tt is nothing to be ashamed about. I know I didlast year my first time away from home."Tom sure wanted to cry but he'wasn't going to giveSweyn the satisfaction of knowing it. "Maybe I don't feellike crying," he lied."Pardon me," Sweyn said sarcastically. "I just thoughtbeing separated from Mom and Dad and our kid brotherfor the first time might make you feel sad. Well, I knowsomething that will make you cry. You won't be able toswindle the kids at the academy and get away with shenan-igans like you pulled in Adenville. Those Jesuit priests arestrict."Sweyn's superior big-brother att.i.tude was beginningto get on Tom's nerves. "You are just jealous of my greatbrain," he said. "It is warm in here. I'm going to open awindow.""You do and you'll get a cinder in your eye," Sweynsaid.That was enough to make Tom open the windoweven if he got ten cinders in his eyes. He had never letSweyn boss him around at home and he wasn't about tostart now. Sure enough, he got a cinder in his eye. Hepulled his head inside quickly and shut the window."What did I tell you?" Sweyn said."Take the corner of your handkerchief and get itout," Tom said."Say please," Sweyn said, smiling and pretending heenjoyed seeing Tom suffer."Never mind," Tom said. "I'll go to the washroomand get it out myself.""I was just joking," Sweyn said, taking out his hand-kerchief.He got the cinder out of Tom's eye just as the con-ductor came into the coach. The conductor was a bigruddy-faced man wearing the traditional blue uniformand cap with a big gold watch chain across his vest. Whenhe came to them he took their tickets and placed two bluestubs under the metal tabs on the seats. Then he looked atTom's red eye-"I see it didn't take you long to learn not to open awindow on a train, sonny," he said.Being called "sonny" always made Tom angry. "Myname is Tom Fitzgerald, not sonny," he said. "And Ican't help wondering why they don't put screens on coachwindows so pa.s.sengers won't get cinders in their eyes.""Well now, Tom Fitzgerald." the conductor said, "itjust so happens that on the newer coaches on the main linewe do have screens on the windows. But you still can'topen a window when the train is moving.""Why not?" Tom asked."Smoke from the locomotive would get into the pas-senger cars," the conductor said."They could fix it so all windows could be openedwithout any cinders or smoke getting into the pa.s.sengercars," Tom said, although he didn't have the least idea ofexactly how it could be done."And just how would they do that?" the conductoraaked. "I'm sure the president of this railroad and of everyother railroad would be delighted to know."Tom didn't miss seeing the conductor wink at theother pa.s.sengers. He tapped his index finger to his tem-ple. "I'll put my great brain to work on it," he said, "andlet you know when you finish collecting tickets.""I'll be back," the conductor said. "I wouldn't misshearing this for the world."All the pa.s.sengers in the coach except Sweyn began tolaugh. Sweyn felt so embarra.s.sed that he slid way down inhis seat. "You have only been on this train for about tenminutes," he said, "and you've already made us the laugh-ing stock of everybody in this coach.""They won't be laughing very long," Tom said, con-fident that his great brain would not let him down."You must be plumb loco," Sweyn said with disgust."They have engineers with years of experience designingtrains. If there was any way to open windows without get-ting cinders and smoke into the pa.s.senger cars they wouldhave invented it."Do you think that made Tom give up? Heck no."The men who built Conestoga wagons and prairieschooners never thought of putting brakes on them," hesaid. "Thousands of emigrants who came West had tochain their rear wheels when going down a grade. Thenone day one of them got tired of chaining his wheels. Heused a shovel handle, a couple of two-by-fours to

CHAPTER TWO.

Tom at the Throttle

ALL WEEK I WONDERED what could possiblyhave happened to Tom on his first train ride that made itthe most exciting experience of his life. When I finally re-ceived his second letter I understood why he had said thatall the kids in town would turn green with envy. When Ishowed the kids the letter they didn't actually turn greenany more than a yellow-bellied coward has a yellow belly.But you never saw such a bunch of envious kids in yourlife.When Tom came home for the Christmas vacationwith Sweyn he told Papa, Mamma, Aunt Bertha, our four-year-old foster brother Frankie, and me all about riding in21.the locomotive from Provo to Salt I'ake City. Hearing himtell it was ten times more exciting than reading about it.Tom's great brain had already figured this out. He chargedthe kids two cents apiece to enter our bam and listen tohim personally tell about his exciting experience. Andevery kid in town from four years old to sixteen was there.I, of course, had to get Sweyn's side of the story, whichwas a little different from Tom's story. But by puttingboth together I can tell just about exactly what did hap-pen:After collecting his three dollars from the gratefulpoker players Tom went to the other end of the smokingcar and sat down beside the candy butcher. He collectedthe seventy-five-cents worth of candy that the man owedhim."Why do they call you a butcher?" he asked."It is a show business slang word," the candy butchersaid. "In vaudeville and burlesque theaters men who sellcandy during intermission are called candy butchers.When men began selling candy and things on trains thename just stuck.""I don't see how you make any money,*' Tom said."The train fare must eat up all the profits.""I ride the trains free," the candy butcher said. "Myrun is from Cedar City to Ogden and back."Tom returned to his seat and dumped fifteen five-cent bars of candy on it. "I made a deal with the candybutcher," he told Sweyn. "He let me sell the rest of ourlunch if I'd buy candy with it. I got seventy-five cents.""Half of that lunch was mine," Sweyn said. "You gottwenty cents from the salesman and seventy-five centsmore, which makes ninety-five cents. You can have the odd22.nickel because you did all the work. Just give me my forty-five cents in cash."Poor old Sweyn was a dreamer if he thought he wasgoing to talk The Great Brain out of forty-five cents."If I remember correctly," Tom said, "you told me Iwas a conniver for selling part of the lunch and Mammawould have a fit if she knew about it. I sure as heck don'twant it on my conscience that I made a conniver out of myown brother and made him partly responsible for ourmother having a fit. So I will just keep all the profits andmy conscience will be clear. But dividing the profits andgiving my brother some candy are two different things.Help yourself to as many bars as you can eat."Sweyn knew when he was beat. He helped himself toa chocolate bar and a peanut bar. Tom put one bar ofcandy in his pocket. Then he got down his suitcase andput the remaining twelve bars of candy between his cloth-ing.Sweyn stared at him bug-eyed. "Just what do youthink you are doing?" he asked."If the fellows at the academy are only allowed tencents worth of candy every four weeks," Tom said, "Ishouldn't have any trouble selling these five-cent bars ofcandy for a dime each. And once I get my candy storegoing I'll make a fortune.""Have you gone plumb loco?" Sweyn asked. "Whatcandy store?"Tom closed his suitcase and put it back on the rack."The candy store I'm going to open at the academy," hesaid, rubbing his hands together. "I'll double my moneyon every bar of candy I sell.""No you won't," Sweyn said. "There is no possible23.way for you to smuggle enough candy into the academyto start a candy store. And I'm not going to let you smug-gle in even those twelve bars. I'll tell Father Rodriguezthey are in your suitcase."Tom was as flabbergasted as a duck who discovers itcan't swim. "Do you mean to tell me you would inform onyour own brother?" he asked."I can't help it," Sweyn said. "I promised Mom andDad that I would keep an eye on you. And if you get intoany trouble they are going to blame me."Tom munched on his bar of candy while he put hisgreat brain to work. "I sure feel sorry for you if you dotell," he finally said. "That would force me to tetl all thekids at the academy that my big brother is a tattletale. Andthat, S.D., will make you about as popular as a skunk in aparlor."Sweyn was beat and knew it. "That's blackmail," hesaid. "But all right. I want a signed statement from you thatany trouble you get into at the academy is your own fault.I'll need it to show to Mom and Dad when you get ex-pelled.""That is fair enough," Tom said.He got down his suitcase and removed a notebookand pencil from it. Holding the suitcase on his knees hewrote:To Whom It May Concern:No matter what happens to me at the CatholicAcademy for Boys I take all the blame personally.T. D. FitzgeraldHe tore the page from the notebook and handed it toSweyn. "Does that satisfy you?" he asked.24.Sweyn read the note. "I'm satisfied," he said.Tom was no dummy. He handed the pencil andnotebook to Sweyn. "Now write what I tell you," he said."To whom it may concern: I promise not to interfere withanything my brother does at the Catholic Academy forBoys. And sign it."Sweyn wrote the statement and handed it to Tom."I'm not interfering," he said. "Just giving you somebrotherly advice. Every once in a while they have an in-spection at the academy. The priests search your locker,desk, suitcase, and any other place you might hide candyor magazines we aren't supposed to read or anything elsethat might be forbidden.""That is my worry now, not yours," Tom said. Thenhe took the three silver dollars from his pocket and beganjingling them in his hand."Where did you get all that money?" Sweyn asked, asastonished as could be.Tom told him about the marked deck of cards andthe poker players. Sweyn couldn't help feeling a little en-vious. Tom had made a neat profit of four dollars andtwenty cents on his first train ride and twenty-five cents ofthat was formerly Sweyn's money. Papa had often saidwhen a person starts to envy another person the devil isright there to whisper in his ear. Right then the devil waswhispering to Sweyn how he could get even."The money won't do you any good at the academy,"he said. "There is no place to spend it.""What's the matter with spending it outside the acad-emy?" Tom asked."We only get outside the walls one day every fourweeks," Sweyn said. "Father Rodriguez or one of the other25.priests is always with us even then. And all you can spendis ten cents for candy.""If you can't spend any money, where do you go?"Tom asked."Sometimes the priests take us on a nature-study hikeor a picnic," Sweyn said. "Sometimes we just go sight-seeing or to the museum or art gallery. And once in awhile as a treat we get to go to the Salt Lake Theater. Buy-ing a ticket to get in is the only way you can spend anymoney.""What about sports?" Tom asked.Sweyn was really enjoying the look of dismay onTom's face. "What sports?" he asked. "The only athleticsat the academy is one hour of calisthenics in the gymna-sium on school days. And the gym is nothing but an oldbarn with a hardwood floor."By this time Tom was almost wis.h.i.+ng he had beenborn a Mormon or a Protestant. "You never told Papa andMamma it was like a prison," he said."I'm no crybaby," Sweyn said. And then he reallypoured salt in Tom's wounds, "Thank the Lord this is mylast year at the academy, because they only have the sev-enth and eighth grades. Next year I'll be going to highschool in Pennsylvania and living with some of Papa's rel-atives. And while I'm enjoying myself there I promise I'llthink of you often, little brother, and of how you are suf-fering at the academy."Tom felt so down in the dumps he didn't even getangry at the "little brother" bit. Sweyn made the academysound as if all the students had to wear striped-suits withnumbers on them. He knew there was only one thing todo.26."No candy, no sports, no nothing," he said. "I guessI'll have to put my great brain to work on it and get somechanges made at the academy.""The only thing you will change will be yourself,"Sweyn said, "from an enrolled student to an expelled stu-dent. The Jesuit priests are plenty sharp because they havebeen dealing with boys for years. You won't be able to putanything over on them."Did that discourage Tom? Heck no. He was con-fident he could make life easier for himself and the otherkids at the academy.A few minutes later Mr. Walters came into the coach."Provo is the next stop," he called out. "There will be atwenty-minute stopover for pa.s.sengers to get something toeat. The dining room is located right next to the depot."Sweyn stood up when the train stopped. "I'm, going toget a gla.s.s of milk and piece of pie in the dining room," hesaid."Go ahead," Tom said. "I'm not hungry."Tom wasn't just twisting a Iamb's tail trying to makeit bark like a dog when he said he had to learn all abouttrains by the time he arrived in Salt Lake City. But howcould he if he didn't get to ride in the locomotive? Herealized it was something every kid dreams about but onlyone in a million ever gets to do.He got off the train with Sweyn and walked up towhere the locomotive was preparing to take on water andcoal. He had seen many locomotives in Adenville but thiswas the first time it had entered his mind that they werethings of beauty. The locomotive had the number 205 onthe round bra.s.s plate on its nose, a s.h.i.+ny bra.s.s bell, awhistle and headlight, a blue steel belly, and gigantic27.wheels. With smoke coming from the smokestack andsteam escaping from the cylinders it was almost as if thelocomotive was a living thing.Tom walked back and waited for Mr. Walters tocome out of the stationmaster's office."Think they will ever have it so pa.s.sengers can eatright on a train?" he asked."It is coming, Tom," the conductor said. "We alreadyhave sleeping cars on the main line invented by a mannamed Pullman. And a man named Fred Harvey is work-ing on a dining car that will serve hot meals right on thetrain.""You sure have taught me a lot about trains," Tomsaid. "But I'll never know all I should unless you fix it so Ican ride in the locomotive from here to Salt Lake City."'T can't do that, Tom," Mr. Walters said. "It isagainst regulations."The conductor didn't know it but he had walkedright into Tom's trap."It is also against regulations to let card sharks operateon trains," Tom said. "This Harrison fellow could havegone on cheating pa.s.sengers for years if it hadn't been forme. And you can report how these crooked decks of cardsare marked at the factory so other conductors will knowhow to spot them. I figure the railroad owes me somethingfor that."Mr. Walters nodded. "When you put it that way," hesaid, "I agree the railroad owes you a ride in the locomo-tive. But you'll get your clothes all dirty."Tom was so happy he wanted to do a little dance."I've got a rain slicker and rain hat in my suitcase I canwear."28."Go get them," Mr. Walters said. "But come up tothe locomotive on the other side of the train. I don't wantthe stationmaster to see you. I haven't time to explain tohim right now."Sweyn was back in his seat when Tom entered thecoach. He stared bug-eyed as Tom opened the suitcaseand put on his rain slicker and hat."Have you gone plumb loco?" he asked. "It isn't rain-ing. And even if it was you can't get wet in here.""I'm going to ride in the locomotive and don't wantto get my clothes dirty," Tom said."In a pig's eye," Sweyn said."Just make sure you take my suitcase off the trainwhen we get to Salt Lake City," Tom said.Poor Sweyn just sat there with his mouth open as hewatched Tom leave the coach.Tom ran around to the other side of the train and upto the locomotive. He could hear Mr. Walters talking tothe engineer."Got a pa.s.senger for you. Ed, from here to Salt LakeCity," the conductor said. "He is a boy about eleven ortwelve years old. He has a curious mind and will ask you alot of questions.""I get it," Ed said. "He must be the son of some bigshot on the railroad.""I haven't time to explain now," Mr. Walters said."Just make sure he gets off on the opposite side from thedepot so the stationmaster doesn't see him. You'll find himwaiting on the other side now."A moment later the engineer put his head out of thecab window. "Come on up to the deck, boy," he said.Tom was so excited he almost slipped and fell as he29.climbed into the cab of the locomotive. The engineer waswearing blue overalls, a blue s.h.i.+rt, and a blue cap with along visor. He had a red bandanna handkerchief tiedaround his neck. The fireman was dressed the same but hisface, hands, and clothing were covered with coal dust."My name is Ed," the engineer said, "and the fire-man's name is Bill. What is your name, boy?""Tom Fitzgerald," Tom answered.The engineer scratched his forehead. "Funny," hesaid, "but I never heard of any big shot on this railroadby that name."Tom knew he'd better change the subject quickly."Why did you tell me to come up to the deck?" he asked."I thought only boats had decks.""The platform of a locomotive is called the deck byrailroad men," Ed answered. "Now stand back from thegangway so Bill can slug the firebox."Tom stepped back. He watched the fireman use theend of a scoop shovel to open the door of the firebox. Hewas surprised at the intense heat coming from the burningcoal. He watched Bill stoke the firebox with coal takenfrom the tender."That ought to take care of it until we get to Salt LakeCity," Bill said, shutting the door of the firebox."We are going to have to pound her to make up forthe few minutes we are late," Ed said.Tom was puzzled. "I understood 'gangway' meantthe rear part of the deck," he said. "And I knew when youtold Bill to slug the firebox you wanted him to put morecoal in it. But what do you mean by 'pounding' her?""It is railroad talk meaning we've got to get all thespeed we safely can out of this locomotive," Ed said. "See30.that cord? The one on the left? It rings the bell to let pas-sengers know we will be leaving in a few minutes. Don'tyank on it too hard or the bell will just spin around. Youcan tell by the feel of the cord and the sound of the bellwhen you are doing it just right."Boy, oh, boy, was Tom in his glory. He never expectedthey would let him ring the bell. He had heard locomotivebells many times in Adenville. But the sound of the bellon engine number 205 as he rang it was the most beautifulsound he had ever heard."That's enough," Ed said. "I've got to look out thecab window now so I can see when the conductor gives usthe highball. 'Highball' is another railroad term, Tom,meaning the arm signal to start. Get your hand on thatother cord that blows the whistle. Give it two quick pullswhen you hear the conductor call 'All aboard.* "By this time Tom was more excited than a dog chas-ing a rabbit. In a couple of minutes he heard Mr.Walters calling, "All aboard!"Tom jerked the cord twice and heard two short blastsfrom the steam whistle. "Do we start now?" he asked."Not until the conductor gives me the arm signal," Edsaid. "There it is. Now grab that handrailing so you don'tfall."Tom took hold of the handrailing. He watched theengineer release the air brakes. Ed turned a valve, then puthis left hand on a bar about two feet long with a roundhandle on one end."This used to be called a Johnson bar," Ed said, "butnow we call it the throttle. The farther I push it forwardthe more steam pressure it will release to the cylindersand the faster we will go. I take it nice and easy so we31.don't jerk the cars we are pulling until we get under way.A steam locomotive is about the simplest machine everinvented. But each one is just a little bit different. Youtake this one. I have to sort of coax it and drive it by thefeel of the throttle."The train began to move as Ed slowly pushed thethrottle forward."Why do you say it is a simple machine?" Tom asked."It has a firebox into which we put coal to burn," Edsaid as the train began to pick up speed. "This heats thewater in the boiler, producing steam. The steam is re-leased to each cylinder and its pressure pushes the pistons.The pistons are attached to rods which are connected withthe drivers. The steam pressure in the cylinders moves thepistons back and forth, and this moves the rods that makethe drivers go around.""Why do you call the wheels 'drivers'?" Tom asked."Because they are the wheels that actually drive thelocomotive," Ed answered. "This is an American type4-4-0 locomotive which means the drive wheels are four-and-a-half feet high. The drivers on a locomotive built topull a freight train are smaller, which gives the wheelsmore pulling power. And on fast pa.s.senger trains they uselocomotives with larger drivers because the bigger thedrivers the faster a locomotive can go."Tom was getting used to the rocking motion of thelocomotive and he let go of the handrail. "How fast willnumber 205 go?" he asked."She will do a mile a minute on a straightaway," Edanswered. "And Walters was certainly right. You do havea curious mind."Tom didn't want the engineer to get bored answer-32.ing questions. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I must learn allabout locomotives by the time we reach Salt Lake City. Iwon't ask any more questions if you don't want me tothough.""Go ahead and ask all the questions you want," Edsaid."What is the fastest a train will go?" Tom asked,quickly taking advantage of the offer."Engine number 999. pulling the Empire State Ex-press between Syracuse and Buffalo, New York, ran ameasured mile at one-hundred-twelve-and-a-half miles perhour back in 1893," Ed said."Boy, oh, boy!" Tom exclaimed. "That is really trav-eling.""We are coming to a road crossing," Ed said. "Grabthe whistle cord and give three long blasts."Tom pulled the cord. He discovered as long as heheld it down the whistle kept on blowing and when he let.i.t up the whistle stopped.A few minutes later Ed spoke to the fireman. "Weare coming to that bad curve now, Bill," he said. "I'm go-ing to take it ten miles above our usual speed. You knowwhat to do."Tom was astonished as he saw Bill go to the side of thecab opposite the engineer, place his hands against it, andpush."As long as you are here, Tom," Bill said, "give me ahand so engine number 205 doesn't tip over."Tom stood beside Bill and began to push. He couldhear Bill grunting as if using all his strength as they wentaround the curve. Tom pushed as hard as he could untilhe heard both Ed and Bill laughing.33."Don't feel bad about it, Tom," Ed said. "I had agreen fireman one time who fell for it too. And to makeup for playing a little joke on you, I'm going to let youdrive engine 205. No sense in riding in a locomotive if youcan't tell your friends you drove one. Get over here infront of me and put your left hand on the throttle andyour head out the tab window."Tom did as he was toid."We've got a straightaway coming up now for a fewmiles," Ed said. "I'm going to give it all old number 205has got."Tom felt Ed pus.h.i.+ng the throttle forward. With hishead out the cab window and the wind whistling in hisears, it seemed as if they were flying."I'm going to take my hand off the throttle now," theengineer said. "Hold her steady. There you go, Tom.You are now driving number 205 at sixty miles an hour."Tom said later that was the happiest moment of hislife. Many times in his life he had made his great brainwork like sixty. But this was the first time he had everactually traveled at sixty miles an hour. Ed only let himdrive the locomotive for about a minute but that wasenough.It was with a feeling of regret that he said good-bye toEd and Bill when the train arrived at the depot in SaltLake City."Good-bye and thanks," he said. "I'll remember bothof you and number 205 for the rest of my life.""Bill and I enjoyed having you with us," Ed said."When we were boys your age we both used-to dreamabout riding in a locomotive. I guess that is why we be-came railroad men."34.Tom climbed down the iron rungs of the locomo-tive to the ground. Then he went around the train tomeet Sweyn.Tom was just about the happiest kid in the worldright then. But he sure as heck wasn't a happy kid for long.And if he'd known what lay ahead of him that day hewould have probably climbed back into the cab of thelocomotive and just kept on going.36.

CHAPTER THREE.

Off on the Wrong Foot

I WAS SURPRISED when Tom wrote me that hehad got off on the wrong foot at the academy but that itwasn't anything serious. For my money, any trouble TheGreat Brain got into had to be serious. Papa was hopingthe Jesuit priests would reform Tom. That to me was likehoping the priests would gel rid of the freckles on Tom'sface. I found out I was right when Father Rodriguez sentthe first monthly report on Tom's and Sweyn's progressand deportment. These reports were sent to the parentsof all students every month.Papa always stopped at the post office at the end ofhis day's work, but he never opened the mail until after37.supper. Mamma said it was because Papa didn't want tospoil his appet.i.te if there was any bad news in the mail.It was a good system because Papa wouldn't have been ableto eat a bite if he'd read the report on Tom before supper.Papa waited until after the dishes were put away andthen read the reports aloud to Mamma, Aunt Bertha, andme in the parlor. He read the report on Sweyn first andwhen he finished he looked as pleased as a rabbit with twocarrots. But by the time he finished Tom's report hischeeks were so blown up with anger I thought he wouldblow his teeth right out of his mouth."I'll wager they expel him and send him home!" heshouted, waving the report in the air like it was a red flagand he was a bull-Mamma took it very calmly. "He just needs time toadjust," she said."Adjust?" Papa cried. "The Great Brain will have adifficult time adjusting in heaven." And then he added,"If he ever gets there."I didn't blame Papa for being so upset. The reportwas in polite language but made it very plain that if Tomdidn't mend his ways he would be sent home. I didn't getall the details of what had happened until my brotherscame home for the Christmas vacation. And, of course,what Tom told me and what Sweyn told me and whatFather Rodriguez wrote in his report were three slightlydifferent stories. So I have to be sort of a detective tofigure out exactly what happened.Tom met Sweyn on the platform in back of the depotin Salt Lake City. If there was any truth in that businessabout people turning green with envy Sweyn would have38.been the color of our gra.s.s in the summertime."I thought you were joking," he said, "until the con-ductor told me you were actually riding in the locomotive.How did you ever pull that off?""When a fellow has a great brain, anything is pos-sible," Tom said, taking off the raincoat and hat."Well, you had better put your great brain to workon a way to get cleaned up before Father O'Malley seesyou," Sweyn said. "You look like a chimney sweep withthat soot and coal dust all over your face. Maybe you cansneak into the washroom in the depot and wash up."But Tom didn't get a chance to wash up. FatherO'Malley was waiting for them just inside the doorway ofthe depot. He was a middle-aged man wearing the tradi-tional black robe and hood of a Jesuit priest. The hoodwas pushed back on his neck, revealing a head that wasbald except for a fringe of hair around the edges. Therewas a braided cord around his waist and a crucifix hang-ing from a chain around his neck. His cheeks were rosyred, as if somebody had just pinched them."Welcome back, Sweyn," he said as they shookhands. "I trust the good Lord gave you a pleasant journeyfrom Adenville." Then he looked at Tom. "And this mustbe your brother Thomas, who doesn't look as if he had apleasant journey at all.""I rode in the cab of the locomotive from Provo,"Tom said proudly, still thrilled by the ride."Did you now?" Father O'Malley said. "That issomething I've always wanted to do. You must tell me allabout it some time, Thomas.""Please don't call me Thomas," Tom said. "It soundskind of sissified. Please call me Tom instead."39."I doubt if anyone would call your patron saint,Thomas, a sissy," Father O'Malley said. "However, Iwill call you Tom if you prefer. But Father Rodriguez maytake an entirely different point of view.""Speaking of Father Rodriguez," Sweyn said, "can mybrother wash up before we go to the academy?""I'm sorry, Sweyn," the priest said. "But my ordersare to deliver the out-of-town boys exactly the way theyarrive. If it wasn't for this rule they would all want towash up, clean the dirt from beneath their fingernails, puton a clean s.h.i.+rt and necktie, and anything else that mighthelp make a good first impression on Father Rodriguez."Sweyn looked at Tom. "That means on your first dayyou'll get demerits," he said.Did that bother Tom? Heck no."It was worth getting demerits to ride in a locomo-tive," he said.He followed Sweyn and the priest out of the depot towhere several horse-drawn liveries were waiting. Theirdrivers were soliciting customers by proclaiming goodaccommodations and free transportation to the varioushotels. Father O'Malley stopped when they came to a sin-gle horse hitched to a buggy with two seats. He got intothe front; seat and Tom and Sweyn climbed into the rear."Have you ever been to Salt Lake City before, Tom?"the priest asked."No, Father," Tom answered."Then I shall give you a very short tour of it," thepriest said.Father O'Malley drove without speaking until theycame to Temple Square. "The six-spired gray granitebuilding is the Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of40.Latter-day Saints," he said. "Construction was begun in1853 but it wasn't completed until forty years later. Thebig building with a roof that resembles the back of a hugetortoise is the Mormon Tabernacle. The acoustics are re-markable. You can drop a pin at one end and hear it dropat the other end two hundred feet away."Tom had read all about the temple and tabernacle.But what excited him most were the horse-drawn street-cars, the tall buildings, and the crowds of people as theydrove down Main Street.They left the business district and Father O'Malleypointed out Saint Mary's Academy for Catholic Girls andthe Presbyterian Westminster College. After seeing thesetwo schools Tom was very disappointed when they arrivedat the Catholic Academy. Sweyn had told him it had oncebeen the home of a wealthy Catholic who had donated itto the Jesuits for a school. Tom didn't blame the wealthyCatholic for not wanting to live there anymore. It mighthave been a nice neighborhood at one time but now thebig homes had been turned into cheap rooming housesor torn down to make way for factories and warehouses.The academy itself was a three-story wooden buildingwith dormer windows in the attic, making it look fourstories tall. Its white paint was a dirty gray color from thesmokestacks of surrounding factories and so blistered withage that it was peeling from some of the boards. One sideof the academy was flush up against the sidewalk. Theother three sides were enclosed within a high rock wallthat had a gate at the front entrance.Tom had to admit the grounds looked nice with treesand shrubs and a green lawn. But one thing surprisedhim. There were statues of saints all over the place. It41.looked as if every Catholic in Salt Lake City had donateda statue of his patron saint. A gravel circular driveway ledup to the entrance, where there was a huge statue of SaintIgnatius Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus."Well, Tom," Father O'Malley said as they stopped atthe entrance. "What do you think of the academy?""Well, if you don't mind my saying so, Father,"Tom said, "I think it could use a little more paint and afew less statues.""You are so right," the priest agreed. "But I supposewe should thank the Lord that enough money was donatedto remodel the home into an academy. You boys go rightin. Father Rodriguez is expecting you. I must return thishorse and buggy to the livery stable."Tom followed Sweyn up stone steps and into theacademy. They entered a long hallway with white paintedwalls and a highly polished hardwood floor. There was astatue of Saint Paul in one corner, one of Saint Anthonyin another corner, and between them a statue of the Vir-gin Mary with child. Sweyn put down his suitcase andpointed to a large room at the left. It was furnished withchairs and tables and there were bookcases filled withbooks covering two of the walls."That is the library and visiting room," Sweyn said."On the same side down the hall is the dining room andbeyond it the kitchen. On the right is Father Rodriguez'soffice and next to it his bedroom. Then comes the chapeland the bedrooms of the other priests. The stairway at theend of the hall leads up to the cla.s.srooms on the secondfloor and the dormitory on the third floor. Maybe you cansneak up to the washroom and clean up before we seeFather Rodriguez."42."It wouldn't do any good," Tom said. "Father O'Mal-ley is sure to mention to him how I look.""We will leave our suitcases here," Sweyn said. Thenhe walked over and knocked on a door that had a bra.s.splate on it reading:FATHER RODRIGUEZ.SUPERINTENDENT."Come in," a baritone voice called.If Tom had known what that deep voice had instore for him, he would have taken Sweyn's advice andtried to sneak upstairs. But the trouble was that Tomjudged all Jesuit priests by the only priest he knew, FatherJoe- His real name was Father Giovanni but n.o.body couldp.r.o.nounce it right so everybody called him Father Joe.He was known as "the priest on horseback" because he cov-ered such a big territory all over southwestern Utah.Father Joe only came to Adenville once a year for oneweek. During that week he baptized Catholic babies, mar-ried Catholics, and held confessions and ma.s.ses in theCommunity Church because we didn't have a Catholicchurch in Adenville. Father Joe was a regular fellow whosmoked cigars and wasn't above taking a nip now and then.During Father Joe's last visit to Adenville Tom hadborrowed books from the priest about the Society of Jesusand spent hours questioning Father Joe. Tom believed hehad to know all about the Jesuits because he was going toa Jesuit academy.He learned that the Society of Jesus was founded in1534 by Saint Ignatius Loyola and six companions inParis. They submitted a const.i.tution for the religious or-der to Pope Paul III in 1540. It was approved a year later43.and Saint Ignatius was elected general of the order. Thesociety grew in numbers until the 1660s and 1670s, whenmonarchs jealous of the Jesuits' power suppressed the or-der in the Spanish dominions and in France. Later PopeClement XIV dissolved the order and it ceased to existexcept in Russia. It was reestablished in 1814 by Pope PiusVII and became the largest religious order in the Catho-lic church.The Jesuits distinguished themselves in three fields:their foreign missions, Jesuit schools, and their study ofthe arts and sciences. They were the first Christian mission-aries to live with the American Indians, where they wereknown as the Black Robes. They preached Christianityand taught many Indian chiefs the French and Englishlanguages.Tom learned that it took sixteen years to become aJesuit priest. A novice had to spend two years in spiritualtraining and then take the three vows of chast.i.ty, poverty,and obedience. He then became a scholastic. He spent fiveyears studying the arts and sciences, five years teaching,three more years of theological study, and finally anotheryear of spiritual training before he could be ordained aJesuit priest.Oh, yes, Tom knew a great deal about the Jesuits.But what he didn't know was that the only resemblancebetween Father Joe and Father Rodriguez was that bothof them were Jesuit priests.The superintendent was sitting behind a desk in avery spa.r.s.ely furnished office when Tom entered withSweyn. The only furniture was the desk and a chair and alarge bookcase. There was a large crucifix on the white44.wall behind the desk and near it a narrow board with apeg, from which hung a ring of keys. There wasn't even acarpet on the floor. Tom began to think that if this wasthe best they could do for the superintendent, the studentsmust have to sleep on the floor.Father Rodriguez was a man Tom judged to be aboutforty-five. The priest was wearing the traditional blackrobe with the hood pushed to the back of his neck. He hadjet-black hair and a swarthy complexion inherited fromhis Spanish ancestors. But the dominant impression Tomhad of the superintendent were the eyes and the face. Theeyes were as black as wet coal and the stern face looked asif it would break if the priest smiled."Welcome back to the academy, Sweyn," he said inhis deep voice. "I see that G.o.d has treated you well duringyour vacation.""Thank you, Father," Sweyn said. "I am happy to beback. May I present my brother Tom, I mean, Thomas."Father Rodriguez stared at Tom with those coal-black eyes. "Well, Thomas, what have you to say for your-self?" he asked."I guess you mean about the way I look," Tom said."I rode in the cab of the locomotive from Provo to SaltLake City. And please, I would rather be called Tom, notThomas."If Tom expected the superintendent to react thesame way as Father O'Malley, he was as mistaken as a rab-bit Chat challenges a hound dog to a fight."We expect our students to be presentable when theyarrive," the priest said sternly. "Your punishment for ar-riving in this condition will be five days of peeling potatoes45.in the kitchen. And here at the academy, Thomas, you willbe known by the name you were baptized."Tom didn't think the priest was being fair. It was agreat honor to ride in a locomotive. Father Rodriguezacted as if it was no more than riding a horse.At home Papa always encouraged us boys to speak upif a punishment seemed unfair. So Tom said, "I don'tthink I should be punished for doing something every kidin the world dreams of doing.""What you think and what I think are two differentmatters," Father Rodriguez said shar