The Whip Hand: A Tale of the Pine Country
in
the darkness ahead, somewhere beyond the white of the breakers, a big
steamer is pounding herself to pieces on the bar. So he buttons his coat
and shifts the reins and swears at the horses. He seems to swear easily,
this young fellow; but he is thinking of the poor devils on the big
steamer, lashed to the mast perhaps, if the masts are still standing;
and he is wondering how many of them will ever ship again.

A huge bonfire lighted up beach and breakers. Around it huddled a motley
crowd, students in rain-coats or sweaters, sober citizens and residents
of the north shore, fishermen, and all the village loafers. But the
students were in the majority and were making most of the noise. It was
they who had built the fire, raiding fences and wood-yards to send up
a blaze that should tell the poor fellows out yonder of the warmth and
comfort awaiting them on shore--if they should ever get in through the
surf. They were cheering, too, giving the college yells and shouting
out inspiriting messages--as if any noise below the sound of a gun or
a steam fog-horn could hope to be heard over the roar of the lake! But
this was a great occasion and must be made the most of.

Of course no such body of students could act in concert without a
recognized leader; and the young man who claimed the honour could be
distinguished at a glance. Now issuing orders to the foragers, now
mounting the pile to adjust with a flourish the top barrel and to pour
out the last can of kerosene, now heading the war-dance around the
crackling fire or leading the yells with an improvised baton, always in
evidence, as busy and breathless as though his labours had an aim--was
a long-faced, long-legged student. He wore a cap that was too small to
hide his curly chestnut hair. His face was good-natured, if flushed with
the responsibilities of his position. His rain-coat thrown aside, he
stood attired in a white sweater with a wide-rolling collar, and a pair
of striped trousers that fitted close to his nimble legs.

“Hi, there! Here they come!”

A small boy was shouting. He had been stationed on the bluff; and now
he was sliding down, using his trousers as a toboggan on the steep clay.

“Here they come!”


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