To keep myself still at white heat, I showered
blows on him. To my surprise, he fell back.
"Wait--wait," he protested in a small voice, "I--I was just fooling."
* * * * *
After Vinton left, my blood still pouring through my veins in a
triumphant glow, I sat on the ground by the side of my tent-floor and
composed a poem....
That afternoon Barton's office boy was sent to me, as an emissary of
peace.
"The boss wants to see you in his office."
"Tell your boss that my office is down here. If he wants to see me he
can come here."
The boy scurried away. I was now looked upon as a desperate man.
* * * * *
And I was happy. I sang at the top of my voice, an old ballad about
Captain John Smith, so that Barton could hear it through the open window
of his office....
"And the little papooses dig holes in the sand ...
_Vive le Capitaine John!_..."
I leaped into the lake, without even my gee-string on, and swam far out,
singing....
* * * * *
Late that evening, Barton came to my tent ... very gently and sweetly
... he no longer called me John or Johnnie ... I was now Mr. Gregory. He
asked me, if he rented the plot back from me, would I go in peace? I
replied, no, I meant to stay there till the middle of September, when
the fall term opened at Mt.
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