The strains came down to the youth on the campus through
the giant oak trees that half obscured the facade of "old Brighton."
Over on the athletic field a bunch of freshmen "rookies" of the
school battalion were being put through the manual of arms by an
instructor. Jack could hear the command: "Present arms!"
"I guess that means me," he said to himself. And why not? Hadn't
Joe Little and Harry Corwin and Jimmy Hill left school to join the
aviation service? Weren't Jed Flarris and Phil Martin and a bunch
of Brighton boys in Uncle Sam's navy? And hadn't Herb Whitcomb and
Roy Flynn made history in the first-line trenches? Yes, the boys of
Brighton were doing their bit.
In another moment Jack had crushed the newspaper into his pocket---his
decision made---jumped from the bench under the old oak tree and was
speeding across the campus in the direction of the main dormitory
entrance. Without waiting for the elevator he leaped the steps, three
at a time, running up to the third floor, and thence down the corridor
to No.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25