The Argosy, December 1905 — page 106: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

84 He was attempting to reach the far- ther shore. He struck out, but’ suddenly desisted, and, frantically waving one hand in the air, again went down. “ Jehosophat! ” exclaimed Jenks Jen- kins. “ He’s gone under again.” “Tt’s all right,’ said Tomlinson. “He can feel bottom there, and he’ll come up again.” They ran down-stream. Their view was somewhat obstructed by the scrub willows that skirted the river, but they kept a sharp outlook. Finally Tomlinson, scared just a bit himself, called out. | “Gussie!” he yelled. you, Gussie? ” There was no response. “Gussie! ”- yelled the three. *‘ Gussie Smith! ” All this had taken place in almost the space of time that it takes to tell it, yet, when a man is struggling in the water a minute is a long time. The three stood still and looked into one another’s faces. “Where are “Smith! Smith!” they repeated, their eyes fixed on the place where he had last appeared. “Smith! Oh, Smith!” They heard nothing but the ripple of the muddy waters; saw nothing but the surface of the stream. No hands, no head appeared—no Gussie Smith. Half an hour later three bedraggled men, talking wildly and incoherently among themselves, staggered across the fields toward the college buildings. These men were men who had leaped incontinently into the stream and wadded up and down, calling for “Smith! Smith! Gussie Smith! ”—men whose eyes were strained with much peering into the dusk up and down the stream; men who had darted here, there and everywhere in search of the man they could not find. “Great heavens!” wailed Bully Whitehead, as they neared their hall. “This is simply awful!” A mighty groan went up from the other two. A student passed them, looked at them in surprise, and then hustled off his hat. THE ARGOSY. For the first time since Gussie Smith had disappeared they remembered their disguises. Wildly they tore them off, wildly plunged into the darkness of the big stone building, and sought the room of Tomlinson. They ate no supper. talked with bated breath. What to do about it? question. Jenks Jenkins suggested going to the faculty at once and telling the story. The other two said no. They ad- vised waiting a day or two, at least; there was time enough to own up to the ghastly truth. ‘T'o-morrow they could go down to the stream, and They shuddered. They lighted no light; they did not go to bed; they sat in the darkness all night long and talked. It is likely that those three saw more of one another’s souls that night than they ever thought to see. The next day they made a hopeless search. ‘T'he river was more swollen, more turbulent, and heavy stones even were being washed from the bank and carried part way down the stream. The three men all that day wandered aimlessly among their fellows and through the town. ‘They had a secret. Did they dare divulge it? Kach had reason to ask himself this question the next morning, for it was then that Birdseye University was elec- trified with the news. For the New York Light, the morn- ing edition of which reached the college town at 8 A. M., contained’a full account of the affair. It mentioned but one name, and that was the name of Charles Augustus Smith. It was headed by the startling words: “ Birdseye Freshman Hazed to Death.” The faculty was paralyzed. The president at chapel demanded of his students the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. No man answered, no man stirred; for Tomlinson, Jenkins and Whitehead had frantically agreed to. keep quiet, to say nothing. They sat and That was the COMMICLOOolkX (C©@