purveyor of it was unaware of what Sprool's Commentaries said about the
Alexandrian heresy? Was not he, Jim Hartigan, a more eloquent speaker
now, by far, than Silas McSilo, who read his Greek testament every
morning? And he wrote to the Rev. Obadiah Champ: "It's no use. I don't
know how to study. I'm sorry to get up in the morning and glad to go to
bed and forget it. I'd rather be in jail than in college. I hate it more
every day." But Jim had given his "wurd as a mahn" and he hammered away
sadly and sorrowfully as one who has no hope, as one who is defeated but
continues to fight merely because he knows not how to surrender.

CHAPTER X

Escape to Cedar Mountain

It is generally admitted that a college offers two main things, book
learning and atmosphere. Of these the latter is larger and more vital,
if it be good. If the college lose ground in either essential, the loss
is usually attributable to a leading set of students. Coulter was losing
ground, and the growth of a spirit of wildness in its halls was no small
worry to the president. He knew whence it sprang, and his anxiety was
the greater as he thought of it. Then a happy inspiration came. Jim's
dislike of books had intensified. He had promised to study for one year.
According to the rules, a student, after completing his first year,
might be sent into the field as an assistant pastor, to be in actual
service under an experienced leader for one year, during which he was
not obliged to study.

To Jim this way out was an escape from a cavern to the light of day, and
every officer of Coulter College breathed a sigh of relief as he packed
his bag and started for the West.

It was in truth a wending of the Spirit Trail when Jim set out; as if
the Angel of Destiny had said to the lesser Angel of Travel: "Behold,
now for a time he is yours. You can serve him best." Jim's blood was
more than red; it was intense scarlet. He hankered for the sparkling
cups of life, being alive in every part--to ride and fight and burn in
the sun, to revel in strife, to suffer, struggle, and quickly strike and
win, or as quickly get the knockout blow! Valhalla and its ancient
fighting creed were the hunger in his blood, and how to translate that
age-old living feeling into terms of Christianity was a problem to which
Jim's reason found no adequate answer. He talked of a better world, of
peace and harps and denial and submission, because that was his job. He
had had it drilled