Rev. Fr. Francis J. Finn - Claude Lightfoot: Or How the Problem Was Solved (with Supplemental Reading: Confession: Its Fruitful Practice) [Illustrated]

My God! cried the atheist, jumping back and falling against Jordan. Whats that?

Copyright 1893 by Benziger Brothers, Inc., New York.

Retypeset and published in 2003 by TAN Books, a division of Saint Benedict Press, LLC.

ISBN 978-0-89555-712-4

Library of Congress Control No.: 2001-132398

Cover illustration 2002 by Phyllis Pollema-Cahill. Cover illustration rendered expressly for this book and used by arrangement with Wilkinson Studios, Chicago.

Cover design by Peter Massari, Rockford, Illinois.

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

TAN Books
Charlotte, North Carolina
www.TANBooks.com
2003

Its so hard to imagine almost any small boy changing into a man, but in most you can see a faint streak of seriousness. But Claude strikes me as being the concentrated essence of small boy, and I cant even begin to imagine how or when hell change.

Page 16

CONTENTS

Chapter I

IN WHICH CLAUDE PUZZLES FRANK ELMWOOD

T HAT newcomers a queer boy, observed John Winter.

Hes lively as a kitten, said Rob Collins. Ive been keeping an eye on him ever since the beginning of recess, and I dont think theres a square foot of ground in the college yard he hasnt passed over. Hes tripped up five or six fellows already and just managed to get off being kicked at least twice. I think, added Rob solemnly, and bringing into use the latest knowledge he had gleaned from a passing fit of attention in Chemistry class, I really do think that hes one of the Mercury Compounds.

Whereupon Frank Elmwood, the third of the group, rang a chestnut bell, in answer to which Rob indignantly disclaimed any attempt at joking.

Look, exclaimed John, breaking in upon the playful dispute of these two bosom friends, your Compound of Mercury is going to get into trouble, Im afraid; hes fooling around Worden!

Worden will kick him, sure, prophesied Rob.

Yes, and hard, too, the overgrown bully, commented Frank, with a certain amount of bitterness in his voice and a frown upon his pale, energetic face.

The three speakers were leaning at ease against the storm door which opens upon the playground of Milwaukee College [that is, Academy]. It was ten oclock recess, and the yard was everywhere alive with moving human figures. Like birds of swift passage, baseballs were flying through the air in all directions, and, on the run, of course, the multitudinous legs of small boys were moving from point to point. During recess the younger students seldom condescend to walk but, yielding to their natural and healthy inclinations, spend that quarter of an hour in a state of what is for the most part breathless animation. But among all these flying figures, the newcomer was eminently conspicuous. He seemed to move upon springs which, in their perfection, just fell short of wings.

On the way to Worden, he startled Charlie Pierson, the quietest lad in the college, by leaping clean over his shoulders. Charlie had been standing engrossed in watching a game, his head bent forward, his hands clasped behind his back and, fortunately for the nonce, his legs spread so as to afford him a good purchase for the shock, when, without warning, the young madcap came flying over his head.

Confound your cheek! cried Charlie, the lazy, benevolent smile on his face almost disappearing; if I catch you, Ill pound your muscle till its sore! And as he spoke, he took after the dancing madcap.

Whoop! Hi! Hi! Catch me, sang out Robs Chemical Compound, as with his head craned so as to keep his pursuer in sight, he broke into a swift run, followed heavily and clumsily by Charlie, who was not given to hard exercise.

Now it so happened that Dan Dockery, a lively lad and intimate friend of Charlie, had been intently watching the proceedings of the young vaulter. Taking advantage of the fleeing boys position of head, Dan planted himself, without being observed, in the path of the runner. As he had desired, a collision followed. Dan staggered back a few steps, while the lively youth bounded to one side like a rubber ball, rolled over and over, rose with a spring and a bound and, before Charlie could catch him, sprang away and dashed head first into the stomach of no less a person than the bully Worden.

For the moment, Worden lost all power of speech, but retained sufficient presence of mind to grasp his unwitting assailant in a vise-like grip.

Thus caught in the toils, the newcomer set about a process of wriggling and squirming which it is difficult to imagine and impossible to set down. Legs and arms writhed and bent, while the whole body twisted and turned in every conceivable posture, till the eye became dazed and blurred in following the swift changes. But Worden, still choking and gasping, held on grimly. The small boy who butted him in the stomach was not likely to forget the incident to the last day of his life.

You wretched little rowdy! he began, recovering his breath and endeavoring to put his captive into a position where he could best be kicked, Ill teach you a lesson.

By way of reply, the small boy effected a miraculous wriggle which brought him through Wordens legs and rendered the intended operation of kicking, for the time being, impracticable. But Worden still preserved his hold and at once made a strenuous effort to bring the wriggler back into position.

At this point Pierson and Dockery, who despised Worden, as bullies are wont to be despised by the small boy, came to the rescue.

They sang in unison,

Worden, Worden
Went a-birdin
On a summers day:
Worden, Worden, went a-birdin
And the birds they flew away.

And then by way of chorus, a dozen youngsters in the vicinity chimed in with

Worden, Worden went a-birdin
And didnt he run away.

This was too much for the hero of these doggerels: releasing his intended victim, he started off in chase of his serenaders.

The cause of all this disturbance now made directly for the trio, who were still leaning against the storm door.

What a stout pair of legs hes got! exclaimed Collins. And he moves with such ease. I never saw a little chap in knee breeches yet that looked so strong and so graceful.

Yes, assented Elmwood. And at the same time, he has such a sunny face: its a healthy face too. Its not too chubby, and his complexion is really fine.

And look at the smile he wears, continued John Winter. Its what I would call sympathetic.

Ahem! grunted Rob.

I mean, said John coloring, that it makes you feel jolly and gay to look at it. You can see from the straight way he holds himself and from his build that hes a mighty strong little chap. He looks sunny thats the word. His hair is really sunny. Hes really a pretty boy.

Pshaw! growled Frank, sunniness may be the right word, but prettiness certainly isnt. Almost any little boy, whos dressed well and whos not thoroughly bad, looks pretty. But this little chap is interesting.

Hallo, Specksy! cried the object of these remarks, who had been staring at his critics for full half a minute.

Rob and John joined in a laugh at Franks expense. Though only seventeen, Frank wore spectacles.

Hallo, Sublimate of Mercury!

Youre another, and twice anything you call me! came the quick answer. I say, I like this school immensely. Theres a yard to it where a fellows got room enough to move around in.