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Updated: June 23, 2025
Brayton was for a number of years president of the Cleveland Board of Underwriters, but resigned on leaving the city for New York, as already narrated. On coming to Cleveland Mr. Brayton united with the First Presbyterian church, and has continued his connection with that denomination in the various societies in the city until the present time, and has been a worthy and consistent member.
To the two new arrivals the corporal spoke as though he had conceived an intense dislike for these two boys. Later, Dick and Greg discovered that it was merely the way in which all candidates were treated by the cadet officers. "You'll draw your bedding and other things presently," said Brayton coldly. "In the meantime you will remain here until you are ordered out.
Mid-day passed; the sun fell toward the mountains, and once more came the fierce impulse to see her, even though he must stalk into the Brayton cabin. Again, half-crazed, he started impetuously through the brush, and shrank back, and stood quiet. A little noise down the path had reached his ear.
Now, am I going to be submitted to that humiliation by two fellows I've always liked and considered my friends?" "Is the football situation as bad as that?", asked Dick seriously. "Bad?" repeated Brayton gloomily. "Man, it's rotten! Today is Thursday. Saturday we have to meet Lehigh. That's a team we can usually beat.
By the time that the afternoon's practice was over fully fifty Army officers were on the sides, watching the work, for word had traveled by 'phone and the gathering had been a quick one. "Prescott! Holmes!" called Brayton sharply, after the practice was over. "You'll play on the Army team tomorrow. Lieutenant Carney says so.
After the early discouragements of the game that seemed luck enough. Lieutenant Carney was the personal embodiment of joy as he recalled the signal of Brayton and the sullen headshakes of Prescott and Holmes. "That was a ratty and clever piece of acting, to throw the visitors off their guard!" chuckled the Army coach. No time was lost in lining up again.
A train of reflection followed for Brayton was a man of thought and he unconsciously lowered his book without altering the direction of his eyes. As soon as the volume had gone below the line of sight, something in an obscure corner of the room recalled his attention to his surroundings. What he saw, in the shadow under his bed, was two small points of light, apparently about an inch apart.
"The class president can't name his own substitute." "Silence!" commanded Brayton, turning on his roommate. "Of course the class president can delegate his duties, temporarily, to another." "Take this matter in charge, Mr. Anstey," begged Dick, turning to the Virginian. "Mr. Dodge," continued the Virginian, "be good enough, suh, to pay good heed to what I have to say.
Brayton had remained in the family, set up his bench in one end of the building across the road, and there for a generation made the boots of the countryside, followed in the trade by his son, the "Uncle Joe" who at eighty-five had laid down the hammer and the last a year prior to our coming.
"It has been fearful work trying get the interest up this year," continued Brayton with a reminiscent sigh. "So many good man have been dodging the squad! Even Haynes, who is the best we have at left end, ducked this afternoon. Caesar's ghost may know what Haynes was doing with his time -I don't. But I don't believe he was boning."
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