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Dimly then rose up before him the picture of Victor Burleigh on the rainy May night when he stood beside little Bug Buler's bed Victor Burleigh, with his white, sorrowful face, and burning brown eyes, telling in a voice like music the reason why he must renounce athletic honors in Sunrise. Burgess had been unconsciously exultant over the boy's confession.
The tiger light was in the yellow eyes as never before and the stern jaw was set, as Victor Burleigh hurried away. And this was the man who, such a little while ago, was debating with himself over the quiet possession of Bug Buler's inheritance. Truly the Mastery comes very near to such as he.
Bond Saxon is not a man to hate anybody when he is sober." "Is you Don Fonnybone?" Bug Buler's little piping voice from the doorstep haled the Dean. "I finked Vic would turn, and he don't turn, and I 's hungry for somebody. May I go wis you, Don Fonnybone?" The baby lips quivered. Lloyd Fenneben held out his hand and Bug put his little fist into it. "Where shall we go, Bug?
She had put her dimpled hands on his arms as they stood there, and the brave courage of her upturned face called back again the rainy May night, and the face of Victor Burleigh beside Bug Buler's cot, and his low voice as he said: "I cannot play in tomorrow's game and be a man."
Say all you please about her, you can't hurt my feelings." "If only the Reliance is at Buler's we can get her and go to the cabin flying," went on Jack. "If not, we'll do the best we can. Maybe Denny can stand them off until we arrive." "Say, what's the matter with up and telling these fellows we know who they are, and who we are," suggested Walter.
Victor Burleigh with little Bug Buler's fat fist clasped in his big, hard hand walked out of the college door that afternoon with the unconscious baptism of the student upon him, the dim sense of a fellowship with a scholarly master of books and of men.
In the meanwhile Denny came to his cabin. Then came the unexpected help in the shape of a tow from the plotters themselves. "They left us at Buler's," said Jack, "and then we had our own troubles. We tried to get a boat to come on, for the Dixie still refused to move. But we couldn't get one for love or money, and it was too rough to row."
"Oh, if you can land us anywhere near Buler's Pavilion, it will answer," said Jack, naming a place not far from the entrance to the bay, and not far from where they were at that moment. "Buler's Pavilion!" cried Ed. "Why that's " "It's probably closed, by this time, I know that!" answered Jack, quickly, giving Ed a sly kick. "But we can get somebody up, I guess."
Then, in a tense whisper he hissed into Ed's ear: "These are the men after Denny. I know them by their boat. Don't let on who we are. We're going to Buler's." "Sure, we can rouse somebody up if they are closed," answered Ed, quickly falling in with Jack's scheme. "That will do us, all right," he added to the men. "That is, if it won't be too much out of your way." "Not at all," said one.
Vic's face was ashy, for his anger matched his love, and both were parallel to his wonderful physique and endurance. In his fury, the temptation to throttle the man who had wronged him was gaining the mastery. "Vic, oh, Vic, they're waiting for you. Turn on! Don't hurt him, Vic." Bug Buler's pleading little voice broke the momentary stillness.
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