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Updated: June 18, 2025
Then we shivered a shake or two apiece and got ready to retire from this vain world for somewhere between thirty and ninety days. Just about that time Petey Simmons blew down to the college, bursting with information. He demanded a meeting of the Athletic Council at once and of us three sterling athletes as well. We were all in order in ten minutes. "Fellows, it's this way," said Petey.
Petey was a Senior and his deep studies in rhetoric during his four years in the frat had given him a great power of expression. He turned to the despairing Crawford and reduced him to a cinder with one look.
He wasn't a Freshman yet, but he could give points to all the college in the matter of explosive clothes and nifty ways of being expensive to Dad. He couldn't get along without coat-cut underwear long before we had heard of it, and you could tell by looking at his shoes just what the rest of the school would be wearing in two years. That was Petey all the way through.
A little twinge of loneliness touched Tessibel's heart. Her friend would not be at the church that day. When she came within sight of the chapel, she bent and petted Pete. She took his head between her gloved hands and looked into the lovely eyes shining out of his ugly face. "Go home, Petey dearie," she said. "Tessibel air goin' to church. They don't let dogs in God's house, honey."
James, the champion featherweight fusser of the school, followed. He carried a campchair and a hot-water bottle. Petey Simmons, five feet four in his pajamas, and Jiggs Jarley, champion catch-as-catch-can-and-hold-on-tight waltzer in college, came next.
In his belt he had a revolver which couldn't have been less than two feet long. Petey was a little fellow, with one of those nineteen-sizes-too-large voices, and when he turned the full organ on you would have thought old Mount Vesuvius had wakened up and rumbled into the room. "Howdy, Reverend," he thundered. "We jest come along to take you on a little ride over to college.
"You don't mean to say they will derail the train!" he said anxiously. Then I knew that Petey was going to win my dress suit. I assured the Reverend pshaw, I'm tired of saying all that! I'm going to save breath. I assured Diggsey that derailing was the kindest thing ever done to trains by Siwash students, but that as his hosts we would stand by him, whatever happened.
"He's traveling," snorted Petey; "traveling to improve his mind. Hopeless job. He's one of those quarter-sawed old beef-eaters who stop thinking as soon as they've got their education. He's the editor of a missionary publication, he told me, and he is writing some articles on Heathen America.
He looked a lot more when he saw a counter with a fine assortment of chewing tobacco and pipes on it. That, Petey whispered to me, was his masterpiece. He had borrowed the whole thing from a corner grocery store.
Ole rubbed his eyes with his free hand and looked down at the morsel hanging on to the other. "Shake, Ole!" insisted Petey. "You went through it better than I did when I got it." I saw the rudiments of a smile begin to break out on Ole's face. It grew wider. It got to be a grin; then a chasm with a sunrise on either side. He looked up at us again, then down at Petey.
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