He was trying to loose the wire rib-joint from Dennie's hair,which the dampness was rolling in soft little ringlets about her forehead and neck.
Half-consciously,he remembered the same outline of rippling hair,as it had looked in the glow of the October camp fire down in the Kickapoo Corral when she was telling the old legend of Swift Elk and The Fawn of the Morning Light.She smiled up at him consolingly.
Dennie was level-headed,and life was always worth living where she was.
"I'll be your rain beau."He took her arm to assist her down the steps.
So courteous was his action,she might have been a lady of rank instead of old Bond Saxon's daughter carrying her own weight of a sorrow greater than Lagonda Ledge dreamed of.
As the two walked slowly homeward under the dripping shelter of the trees,Vincent Burgess felt a sense of comfort and pleasure out of all keeping for a man in love elsewhere.
Victor Burleigh watched them from the shadow of the portico column.
"I believe Trench is right.He insists that Burgess likes Dennie,or that he is mean enough to deceive Dennie into liking him.
A man like that ought to be killed--a scholar,and a rich man,and Dennie such a brave little poor girl with a kind,weak-kneed,old father on her heart.Norrie ought to know this,but who am I to say a word?""Victor Burleigh,won't you release the fair princess from the tower?"a girl's voice called.
Vic turned to see Elinor framed in the half-way window of the south turret.
And in that dripping shadowy light,no frame could want a rarer picture.
"I've fallen into the pit and am far on the road to perdition,"Elinor said."I hurried down this way from choir practice and Uncle Lloyd's gone and left the lower door locked.
It thundered so,and Dennie didn't come into the study,and nobody heard my screams.But if I perish,I perish,"she added with mock resignation.
"If you'll let up on perishing for half a minute,Rapunzel,I'll to the rescue,"Vic cried,"if I have to climb the dome and knock the per aspera out of the State Seal and come down through the hole,per astra ad aspera."And then he rushed off to find an unlocked exit to the building.
From the Chapel end of the circular stairs,he called presently.
"Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds.
Rise to the surface,fair mermaid."
Elinor came up the winding stair into the dimly lighted chapel at his call.
The two had avoided each other since the April day in the glen.
They were not to blame for this chance meeting now.
"When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy,call me,Elinor,"Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda.
"If I show you sometimes how to look up and find the light,as you showed me the Sunrise beacon on the night of the storm out on West Bluff,you may be glad you heard me.See that glow on the dome!
You would have missed that down in Lagonda Ledge."A level ray from a momentary cloudrift in the western sky smote the stained glass of the dome,lighting its gleaming inscription with a fleeting radiance.
"But the light comes rarely and is so far away,and between times,only the cave,and the dark ways behind it leading to the river,"he said gravely.The sorrow of hopelessness was his tone.
"Not unless one chooses to burrow downward,"she replied softly.
"Let's hurry home.Tomorrow you will be `Victor the Famous'again.
I hope this shower won't spoil the ball game."As night deepened,the rain fell steadily.Up in Victor Burleigh's room Bug Buler grew drowsy early.
"I want to say my pwayers now,Vic,"he said.
The big fellow put down his book and took the child in his arms.
Bug had a genius for praying briefly and for others rather than for himself.
Tonight he merely clasped his chubby hands and said,reverently:
"Dear Dod,please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is,for Thwist's sake.Amen-n-n."When he fell asleep,Victor sat a long while staring at the window where the May rain was beating heavily.At length,he bent over little Bug and pushed back the curls from his brow.
Bug smiled up drowsily and went on sleeping.
"As good as folks think I am,Bug!"he mused."You have gotten between me and the rattlesnakes that were after my soul a good many times,little brother-of-mine.As good as folks think I am!
Do you know what it costs to be that good?"Ten minutes later he sat in Lloyd Fenneben's library.
"I have come for help,"he said in reply to the Dean's questioning face.
"I hope I can give it,"Fenneben responded.
"It's about tomorrow's game.There are sure to be some professional players on the other team.I want Sunrise to win.
I want to win myself."Vic's voice was harsh tonight.
And the Dean caught the hard tone.
"I want Sunrise to win.I want you to win.There will probably be some professionals to play against,but we have no way of proving this,"Fenneben said.
"What do you think of such playing,Doctor?"Vic asked.
"I think the rule about professionalism is often a strained piece of foolishness.It is violated persistently and persistently winked at,but so long as it is the rule there is only one square thing to do,and that is to live up to the law.You should not dread any professionalism in the game tomorrow,however.You'll bring us through anyhow,and keep the Sunrise name and fame untarnished."The Dean smiled genially.
Burleigh's face was very pale and a strange fire burned in his eyes.
"Dr.Fenneben"--his musical voice rang clear--"I'm only a poor devil from the short-grass country where life each year depends on that year's crop.
Three years out of four,the wind and drouth bring only failure at harvest time.Then we starve our bodies and grip onto hope and determination with our souls till seedtime comes again.I want a college education.
Last summer burned us out as usual within a month of harvest.
Then the mortgage got in its work on my claim and I had to give it up.