After leaving college I tried to please him by tackling one thing
after another that he set me to do. On the square, I had no head
for business. I made a mess of everything. The governor got sore.
He kept ramming the harpoon into me till I just couldn't stand it.
What little ability I possessed deserted me when I got my back up,
and there you are. Dad and I had a rather uncomfortable half hour.
When I quit--when I told him straight out that I was going West to
fare for myself, why, it wouldn't have been so tough if he hadn't
laughed at me. He called me a rich man's son--an idle, easy-going
spineless swell. He said I didn't even have character enough to be out
and out bad. He said I didn't have sense enough to marry one of the nice
girls in my sister's crowd. He said I couldn't get back home unless I
sent to him for money. He said he didn't believe I could fight--could
really make a fight for anything under the sun. Oh--he--he shot
it into me, all right."

Dick dropped his head upon his hands, somewhat ashamed of the
smarting dimness in his eyes. He had not meant to say so much.
Yet what a relief to let out that long-congested burden!

"Fight!" cried Thorne, hotly. "What's ailing him? Didn't they
call you Biff Gale in college? Dick, you were one of the best
men Stagg ever developed. I heard him say so--that you were the
fastest, one-hundred-and-seventy-five-pound man he'd ever trained,
the hardest to stop."

"The governor didn't count football," said Dick. "He didn't mean
that kind of fight. When I left home I don't think I had an idea
what was wrong with me. But, George, I think I know now. I was
a rich man's son--spoiled, dependent, absolutely ignorant of the