Where had it all gone--that fine zest for life, that eagerness to know other lives and other conditions, that readiness for whole-souled comradeship with which he had come to Yale? Where was the pride he had felt in the democracy of the class, when he had swung amid the torches and the cheers past the magic battlements of the college, one in the class, with the feeling in the ranks of a consecrated army gathered from the plains and the mountains, the cities and villages of the nation, consecrated to one another, to four years of mutual understanding that would form an imperishable bond wherever on the face of the globe they should later scatter? And, thinking of all this young imagination that somehow had dried up and withered away, he asked himself again and again:
Across the campus Buck Waters and Dopey McNab, returning from their marauding expedition, came singing, arm in arm:
"_Oh, father and mother pay all the bills,_ _And we have all the fun._ _That's the way we do in college life._ _Hooray!_"
The two pagans passed without seeing him, gloriously, boyishly happy and defiant, and the rollicking banter recalled in bleak contrast all the stern outlines of the lives of seriousness he had felt for the first time.
At first he revolted at the extremes. Then he considered. Even their life and their point of view was something unknown. It was true he was only a part of the machine of college, one of the wheels that had to revolve in its appointed groove. He had thought of himself always as one who led, and suddenly he perceived that it was he who followed.
A step sounded by him, and the winking eye of a pipe. Some one unaware of his tenancy approached the steps. Stover, in a flare-up of the tobacco, recognized him.
"Hello," said the other, hesitating shyly.
"It's Stover," said Dink. "What are you doing this time of night?"
"Oh, I prowl around," said Brockhurst, shifting from one foot to the other.
"Not at all," said Stover, pleased at this moment at the awe he evidently inspired. "I got sort of restless; thought I'd come out here and smoke a pipe. Amusing old spot."
"I like it," said Brockhurst. Then he added tentatively: "You get the feeling of it all."
"You're hitting up a good pace on that _Lit_ competition," said Dink, unconscious of the tone of patronage into which he insensibly fell.