The Cruise of the Dazzler | Page 4

the examinations of the coming
day.
Entering his room, he locked the door and sat down at a desk most
comfortably arranged for a boy's study. He ran his eye over his
text-books. The history examination came the first thing in the morning,
so he would begin on that. He opened the book where a page was
turned down, and began to read:
Shortly after the Draconian reforms, a war broke out between Athens
and Megara respecting the island of Salamis, to which both cities laid
claim.
That was easy; but what were the Draconian reforms? He must look

them up. He felt quite studious as he ran over the back pages, till he
chanced to raise his eyes above the top of the book and saw on a chair a
baseball mask and a catcher's glove. They should n't have lost that
game last Saturday, he thought, and they would n't have, either, if it had
n't been for Fred. He wished Fred would n't fumble so. He could hold a
hundred difficult balls in succession, but when a critical point came, he
'd let go of even a dewdrop. He 'd have to send him out in the field and
bring in Jones to first base. Only Jones was so excitable. He could hold
any kind of a ball, no matter how critical the play was, but there was no
telling what he would do with the ball after he got it.
Joe came to himself with a start. A pretty way of studying history! He
buried his head in his book and began:
Shortly after the Draconian reforms--
He read the sentence through three times, and then recollected that he
had not looked up the Draconian reforms.
A knock came at the door. He turned the pages over with a noisy flutter,
but made no answer.
The knock was repeated, and Bessie's "Joe, dear" came to his ears.
"What do you want?" he demanded. But before she could answer he
hurried on: "No admittance. I 'm busy."
"I came to see if I could help you," she pleaded. "I 'm all done, and I
thought--"
"Of course you 're all done!" he shouted. "You always are!"
He held his head in both his hands to keep his eyes on the book. But the
baseball mask bothered him. The more he attempted to keep his mind
on the history the more in his mind's eye he saw the mask resting on the
chair and all the games in which it had played its part.
This would never do. He deliberately placed the book face downward

on the desk and walked over to the chair. With a swift sweep he sent
both mask and glove hurtling under the bed, and so violently that he
heard the mask rebound from the wall.
Shortly after the Draconian reforms, a war broke out between Athens
and Megara--
The mask had rolled back from the wall. He wondered if it had rolled
back far enough for him to see it. No, he would n't look. What did it
matter if it had rolled out? That was n't history. He wondered--
He peered over the top of the book, and there was the mask peeping out
at him from under the edge of the bed. This was not to be borne. There
was no use attempting to study while that mask was around. He went
over and fished it out, crossed the room to the closet, and tossed it
inside, then locked the door. That was settled, thank goodness! Now he
could do some work.
He sat down again.
Shortly after the Draconian reforms, a war broke out between Athens
and Megara respecting the island of Salamis, to which, both cities laid
claim.
Which was all very well, if he had only found out what the Draconian
reforms were. A soft glow pervaded the room, and he suddenly became
aware of it. What could cause it? He looked out of the window. The
setting sun was slanting its long rays against low-hanging masses of
summer clouds, turning them to warm scarlet and rosy red; and it was
from them that the red light, mellow and glowing, was flung earthward.
His gaze dropped from the clouds to the bay beneath. The sea-breeze
was dying down with the day, and off Fort Point a fishing-boat was
creeping into port before the last light breeze. A little beyond, a tug was
sending up a twisted pillar of smoke as it towed a three-masted
schooner to sea. His eyes wandered over toward the Marin County
shore. The line where land and water met was already in darkness, and
long shadows were creeping up the hills toward Mount Tamalpais,

which was sharply silhouetted against the western sky.
Oh, if he, Joe Bronson,