--you took
Professor Burgess gently by the throat and told him you meant to play
anyhow. You stood your ground like a man, for your own sake and for the
honor of Sunrise. Stand like a man for your own sake and the honor of
Sunrise, now. Go to Professor Burgess and take him gently--by the hand,
this time--and tell him you do not mean to play, and why you cannot."

Burleigh sat still as stone, his face white as marble, his wide-open
eyes under his black brows seeing nothing.

"But our proud record--the glorious honor of this college," he said at
length, and back of his words was the thought of Victor Burleigh, the
idol of Sunrise, dethroned, where he had been adored.

"There is no honor for a college like the honesty of its students. There
is no prouder record than the record of daring to do the right. You
could get into the game once by a brute's strength. Get out of it now by
a gentleman's honor."

Behind the speech was Lloyd Fenneben himself, sympathetic, firm,
upright, before whom the harshness of Victor Burleigh's face slowly gave
place to an expression of sorrow.

"My boy," Fenneben said gently, "Nature gave us the Walnut Valley with
its limestone ledges and fine forest trees. But before our Sunrise could
be builded the ledge had to be shapen into the hewn stone, the green
tree to the seasoned lumber, quarter-sawed oak--quarter-sawed, mind you.
Mill, forge and try-pit, ax and saw and chisel, with cleft and blow
and furnace heat, shaped them all for Service. Over our doorway is
the Sunrise initial. It stands also for Strife, part of which you know
already; but it stands for Sacrifice as well. You are in the shaping.
God grant you may be turned out a man fitted by Sacrifice for Service
when the shaping is done."

Burleigh rose, silent still, and the two went out together. At the
doorway, he turned to Fenneben, who grasped his hand without a word. And
once again, the firm hand clasp of the Dean of Sunrise seemed to bind
the country boy to the finer things of life. It had done the same on
that day after the Thanksgiving game when he sat in Fenneben's study,
and understood for the first time what gives the right to pride in
brawny arm and steel-spring nerve.

After Burleigh left him, Lloyd Fenneben stood for a long time on his
veranda in the light of the doorway watching the steady downpour of the
warm May rain. As he turned at length to enter the house a rough-looking
man with rain-soaked clothing and slouched h