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Updated: June 27, 2025
Oh, hang it, I'm all in." And Bost sat down in the road. A hundred yards on we noticed Ole slacken speed. "It's sinking through his skull," said Harris eagerly. In another minute he had stopped. We picked up Bost again and ran up to him. He surveyed us long and critically. "Das ban qveer masheen," he said finally. "Aye tenk Aye lak Aye skoll be riding back in it.
Some day we felt that the normal school would come down and beat us. That would be the limit of disgrace. After that there would be nothing left to do but disband the college and take to drink to forget the past. But Bost changed all that in one year. He didn't care to show any one how to play football. He was just interested in making the player afraid not to play it.
Of course you do. Did I tell you to stop in the middle of the field? What would Muggledorfer do to you if you stopped there?" "Yu ent tal me to go on," said Ole sullenly. "Aye go on, Aye gass, pooty qveek den." "You bet you'll go on," said Bost. "Now, look here, you sausage material, to-morrow you play fullback. You stop everything that comes at you from the other side. Hear?
"He doesn't know enough to stop!" yelled Bost, rushing up to the fence. "Hustle up, you fellows, and bring him back!" Three or four of us jumped the fence, but it was a hopeless game. Ole was disappearing up the campus and across the street. The Muggledorfer team was nonplussed and sort of indignant.
I like I skoll understand all das har big vorts yu make." "You'll understand them, I don't think," moaned Bost. "You couldn't understand a swift kick in the ribs. You are a fool. Understand that, muttonhead?" Ole understood. "Vy for yu call me fule?" he said indignantly. "Aye du yust vat you say." "Ar-r-r-r!" bubbled Bost, walking around himself three or four times. "You do just what I say!
"Not'ing more bot tree imuttics, an' small drop ludnum," said Mafuta. "Three emetics," said Tom, "and some laudanum; come, I'll try these. Mix the whole of 'em in a can, and be quick, like a good fellow; I'll have one good jorum whatever happens." "Bot yous vil bost," said Mafuta remonstratively. "No fear. Do as I bid you." The Caffre obeyed, and Tom swallowed the potion.
Ole had tramped on us and had climbed over the auto. Force wouldn't do, that was plain. "Where are you going, Ole?" we pleaded as we tore along beside him. "Aye ent know," he panted, laboring up a hill; "das ban fule game, Aye tenk." "Come on back and play some more," we urged. "Bost won't like it, your running all over the country this way." "Das ban my orders," panted Ole.
When it was all over we went back to the gymnasium feeling righteously triumphant, and had another hour with Bost in which he took us all apart without anæsthetics, and showed us how Nature would have done a better job if she had used a better grade of lumber in our composition. That day made the Siwash team. The school went wild over the score.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, several years since, said to the reporter of a Boston paper that base-ball was one of the sports of his college days at Harvard, and Dr. Holmes graduated in 1829. Mr. Charles De Bost, the catcher and captain of the old Knickerbockers, played base-ball on Long Island fifty years ago, and it was the same game which the Knickerbockers afterward played.
"How you fellows can live there when you might spend your days in Bost " The door slammed. Mr. Carleton was gone. Shrugging his shoulders Mr. Bob Cabot glanced at the clock. He had just about time to dash off a necessary letter, dress, and get to the University Club. "Hannah!" he called. A small dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway.
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