They were still cheering in front of Oxford that afternoon when Dan left the gymnasium with Mr. Payson and set off up the hill. It was already twilight and the windows of the dormitories were becoming quadrangles of pale yellow. Both Mr. Payson and Dan were very silent on the way up the path, and it was not until the former paused in front of Merle Hall, where a footpath began that led him across the fields toward the village, that the silence was broken. “Still think you’d rather not take that vacation I spoke of?” Mr. Payson asked then.
“I’d much rather not,” Dan answered.
“All right. Good night.”
“Good night, sir. I guess I won’t be down this evening.”
“No, I’ll see you to-morrow.”
Mr. Payson ran down the footpath and Dan continued around by The Prospect. He felt a little bit uncomfortable. Perhaps Payson was right and he ought to get away from the school[257] for a day. Although he insisted to the coach that he was feeling all right, he fully realized that he was in a rather disordered condition. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep for nearly a week, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be hungry and if someone had come up behind him and said “Boo!” he would have jumped a foot in the air. He dreaded Saturday more than he had ever dreaded anything in his life, and yet he would have given anything he possessed or hoped to possess if he could have had Saturday come to-morrow. The Broadwood game had taken on the aspect of a dozen visits to the dentist all rolled into one nightmarish lump! For the life of him he couldn’t see how it was possible for his team to win that game. Not one fellow played as he should, the plays Payson had given them were weak, and certain defeat stared them in the face. Dan wished he had never accepted the captaincy!
When he reached the head of the stairs he saw that the door of Number 28 was wide open. A flood of yellow light filled the end of the hall. Probably Gerald had callers, he thought irritably, and he didn’t want to have to talk with anyone this evening. Luckily, however, it would soon be supper time. But when he entered the room he found Gerald, a thick ulster on and a cap in his[258] hand, quite alone. Dan’s coonskin coat lay over the back of a chair.
“I thought you’d never come,” said Gerald gayly. “Put your kitty-coat on and don’t stand there staring. You’re going to dinner with me to-night.”
“No, thanks, Gerald,” said Dan. “I—I don’t feel up to it.”
“You will when you get there,” replied Gerald, seizing the fur coat and holding it invitingly open.
“I’m tired,” demurred the other. But nevertheless he worked his arms into the sleeves and Gerald clapped a cap onto his head:
“Come on. The car will be here in a minute. We’ll take a spin first and get up an appetite.”
Dan’s face lighted. An automobile ride sounded good. “But I’ll have to see Collins and get leave,” he said undecidedly.
“No, you won’t. That’s all fixed. There’s the car now. Come on!” On the way downstairs Gerald said: “By the way, I asked Tooker to come along and bring another fellow. You don’t mind, do you? I thought we might as well fill the car while we were about it.”
Dan did mind, but didn’t say so. In front of Clarke stood a big black touring car, its searchlights already casting white floods of light along the gravel drive. The chauffeur left the seat as[259] the boys came down the steps and stood at attention, touching his cap to them.
“Hello, Higgins!” said Dan. “How are you?”
“Nicely, Mr. Dan. You’re well, sir, I hope?”
“Fine and dandy, Higgins,” replied Dan, feeling at the moment that this was really so. Gerald spoke for a moment in low tones with Higgins and then took the driver’s seat, remarking in what seemed an unnecessarily loud tone: “We’re going to take a ride first, Higgins. Get on the running board and I’ll take you as far as the station.”
“Very well, sir.”
Gerald honked the horn and in a moment two boys appeared from around the corner of Clarke. Each carried a bag in his hand. One proved to be Ned Tooker and the other was Kendall Burtis.
“I asked them to spend the night with me,” explained Gerald carelessly to Dan. “You fellows dressed warm enough?” he asked them.
“I’ve got on everything I own,” replied Ned as they dropped their bags on the floor of the tonneau and climbed in. Dan took the front seat with Gerald, Higgins slammed the door and mounted the running board and the big car slid noiselessly down the circling drive. At the station it slowed down and Higgins jumped off,[260] touched his cap and said, “There’s about eighteen gallons in her, Mr. Gerald.”
“All right, Higgins. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
Away shot the car again, across the bridge and into the main street of Greenburg. “One way’s as good as another, I guess,” said Gerald. “Any special place you want to go to, Dan?”
“No, I don’t care where you go.” He snuggled down into his coat, crossed his feet and sighed contentedly. “Just keep her going, Gerald.”
The car slowed down and passed through the town cautiously, jouncing gently over the cobbles, past the lighted stores and around the clanging trolley cars. Then a turn to the left and the town was behind them and the salty breeze of the Sound met their faces. The big lights bathed the road ahead and Gerald’s fingers pulled at the throttle lever. The engine began a steady hum and the air swept past them, damp and cold.
“Warm enough back there?” asked Gerald over his shoulder.
“Warm as toast,” answered Ned. “Let her go.”
The road was almost straight and nearly deserted at this time of night and the big car ate it up at forty miles an hour. Dan forgot his troubles[261] and his nerves. The moist air smoothed away the furrows from his forehead and he half closed his eyes and leaned back against the soft cushions contentedly.
On and on they went. Now and then the Sound became visible across the flats. Then there was a rumble as a bridge swept underneath them and they slowed down and hummed quietly through a small village. A turn to the right and the air was warmer and the smell of salt water and seaweed gave place to the odor of autumn woods. It was quite dark save for the light from the car. A long hill sprang up before them and the car took it with a fine rush, and then purred gently down the other side. Dan thought that Gerald was getting pretty far from home and that they would all be late for dinner at Sound View, but he didn’t care and he said nothing. Occasionally Gerald spoke of the engine or the speed, but for the most part it was a very silent quartette. The clock on the dash pointed its hands to twenty minutes past six as Gerald slowed down at the junction of four roads.
“I wonder which way we go,” he muttered. “Is there a sign post there, Dan?”
“I don’t see any,” replied Dan sleepily.
“Neither do I. I think this road to the right is the one we want. Tooker, put your hand in[262] the flap on the door next to you and see if the blue book is there, will you?”
Ned found it and passed it over and Gerald held it under the dash light and found the map he wanted. “That’s right,” he said at last. “Just as I thought. Here you are, Tooker.”
Ned took the book back and the car slid around the corner and began its busy song again. Ten minutes more went by and they c............