The Crimson Banner : $b A story of college baseballMoffat, William D. (William David)
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The Crimson Banner : $b A story of college baseball
Moffat, William D. (William David)
Baseball stories; College sports -- Juvenile fiction; College students -- Juvenile fiction
“Well, I’m not,” I said, rising quickly, “for that is just what I am
studying now. Here, let us tackle it together. I can help you along
faster, for I have it all fresh in my mind. Besides, it will serve me
for preparation for my own examination.”
“Will you do that?” asked Ray.
“Why, certainly. I don’t want to waste your time talking. Let us put
our heads together, and I will help you finish up your Junior year
work.”
“All right, Harry, that’s a capital idea. Make up your mind to stay
here tonight, and we will do up the whole thing while we are at it.
Throw off your coat, and draw up your chair. Here is a pencil and some
paper.”
I joined him at the desk, and we were soon deep in our work. So
absorbed were we that we scarcely noticed the flight of time. It was
therefore with a start of surprise that I looked at the clock as we
finished our work.
“Well, who would have thought it!” I exclaimed. “I wouldn’t have
believed that I had been here more than two hours, and yet look at the
time. It is nearly four o’clock.”
I rose and went to the window. Off in the east, the first gray streaks
of dawn were appearing. Over our work we had sat the night nearly
through. Ray was leaning back wearily, his hands behind his head, his
eyes closed.
“See here, Ray,” I suddenly exclaimed, “have you been at your books
this late every night?”
He did not answer me. Approaching him and looking more closely into
his face, I discovered that he had fallen sound asleep, sitting
bolt upright in his chair. This, in itself, was answer enough to my
question. I shook him gently by the arm. He started and looked up.
“I said it was very late, Ray. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Why, no,” he answered. “I didn’t hear another thing after you closed
the book.”
“Ray, you must be careful,” I said. “Four o’clock is bad enough for one
night, but it doesn’t pay to repeat it, as I am sure you have. You will
make yourself sick, and then you won’t be any good, either for playing
baseball or speaking honorary orations――you notice I put playing
baseball first,” I added with a laugh.
“Oh, don’t you fear. I won’t get sick,” he answered. “I own I am
tired, for I have been keeping late hours――or _early_ hours you might
call them, for a week, but then I had to in order to get in shape for
examinations. All I need is some sleep and I will be as fresh as ever.
This is Friday night; after tomorrow these late hours will be over,
and then I can get plenty of rest.”
“Well, see that you do, for you evidently need it,” I said. “Come on
and get to sleep now without more delay.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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