it again," Elinor exclaimed.

"Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope
never to see it again," her companion responded.

"But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me," Elinor insisted.

"My dear Miss Elinor, he was probably born in some Kansas cabin and has
practiced killing snakes all his life. Not a very elevating feat.
Let's go down and explore Lagonda Ledge now before the other snake
comes in for the coroner's inquest."

And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus
and on to the town beyond it.

"You are hard on snakes, Burleigh," Dr. Fenneben said as he welcomed
the country boy into his study. "A bull snake is a harmless creature,
and he is the farmer's friend."

"Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend
of mine," Vic replied.

He was overflowing the chair recently graced by Professor Burgess and
clutching his derby as if it might escape and leave him bareheaded forever.
His face had a dogged expression and his glance was stern.
Yet his direct words and the deep richness of his voice put him outside
of the class of commonplace beginners.

"Are you fond of killing things?" the Dean asked.