"Why seek ye to question the
ways of T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.? You have your Prodigious Prodigy--your
smashing full-back is distributing the 'Varsity over the scenery with
charming nonchalance that promises dire catastrophe for other teams, once
he makes the regulars, so--"
At that dramatic moment, just as Butch Brewster glanced at Hicks'
alarm-clock, to start the minute of grace, a startling interruption saved
the gladsome youth from having to make a decision. A heavy, creaking tread
shook the corridor, and the squad beheld, looming up in the doorway, Thor.
He was not in football togs, and as he started to speak his fair face as
stolid and expressionless as that of a sphinx, Captain Butch Brewster
stepped toward him.
"Thor!" he exclaimed, seizing the blond Colossus by the arm, "You aren't
ready for the scrimmage; hustle over to the Gym. and get on your suit."
But John Thorwald, as passive of feature as though he announced something
of the most infinitesimal importance, and were not hurling a bomb-shell
whose explosion, was to shake old Bannister terrifically, spoke in a
matter-of-fact manner: "I shall not play football--any more,"
"What!" Every collegian in Hicks' room, including that dazed producer
of the Prodigious Prodigy, chorused the exclamation; to them it was as
stunning a shock as the nation would suffer if its President calmly
announced, "I'm tired of being President of the United States.
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