Repository: UIHistories Project: Book - Banks of the Boneyard (Charles Kiler) [PAGE 28]

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32

On the Banks of the Boneyard

shoes too tight for my feet, I had no choice but to vault over the fence into the hog pen. Of course I lit on a sleeping hog who was just as surprised as I was—but no dirtier than I became after rolling over in that pen; picking myself up I performed another vault and ran through a grape arbor, reaching the kitchen door just as Dick Chester and Jerry Bouton came around the corner of the house with murder in their eyes. Consternation is the word that describes my sudden appearance in that kitchen; Mrs. Gamble dropped a plate she was wiping, a colored woman screamed but had sense enough to slam and lock the kitchen door and I was safe for the time being. My girl appeared on the scene accompanied by two seniors, Wesley Briggs, leader of the band in which I played, and the late Professor N. A. Weston, editor of the Illini and holder of the record in the hammer throw, which record stood unequalled for half a century. Weston was six feet four in height, well built, quite active, and a very handy man to have around at this crucial moment. Besides being entirely able to take care of himself and several other people in a fight, he was a mortal enemy of the two boys who were laying for me. All I could ask my friends to do was to help clean up my clothes and to get my girl and me out to the waiting carriage; the hasty scrubbing I got took off some of the hop-pen silt but by no means removed the smell. Then Messrs. Briggs and Weston took their senior canes which had leaden heads, and escorted Belle and me out to the carriage. When the door to that vehicle was opened we were shocked and surprised to find that the cushions had been saturated with the potent and very efficient tear producer called "Eye Water," a product of the chemical laboratory that opens the tear ducts in the eyes and causes weeping as well as distress. I have always blamed John Chester for this stunt. He says his father, who owned the carriage, also blamed him, but he swears he had nothing to do with that dastardly crime. Well, the only means of transportation left to Belle and me was to hoof it or take a street car. It was a twomile walk but we considered it seriously because we knew that any street car we might take would be bombarded all the way to Urbana. Briggs and Weston agreed that they would get us to the street car at the Doane House but that was as far as they would go; we reached the car all right because of the efficient body guards, and rejoiced when we saw two friends on board, Mrs. Julian and Mrs.