T. Haviland Hicks Senior

Haviland Hicks Senior, by J.
Raymond Elderdice

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Title: T. Haviland Hicks Senior
Author: J. Raymond Elderdice
Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8550] [Yes, we are more than one

year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on July 22, 2003]
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK T.
HAVILAND HICKS SENIOR ***
Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, Charles Franks and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
T. HAVILAND HICKS SENIOR
BY J. RAYMOND ELDERDICE
TO MASTER LLOYD ELDERDICE
CONTENTS
I. HICKS--WILD WEST BAD MAN II. "LEAVE IT TO HICKS" III.
HICKS' PRODIGIOUS PRODIGY IV. QUOTING SCOOP
SAWYER'S LETTER V. HICKS MAKES A DECISION VI. HICKS
MAKES A SPEECH VII. HICKS STARTS ANOTHER MYSTERY
VIII. COACH CORRIDAN SURPRISES THE ELEVEN IX.
THEOPHILUS' MISSIONARY WORK X. THOR'S AWAKENING
XI. "ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL" XII. THEOPHILUS
BETRAYS HICKS XIII. HICKS--CLASS KID--YALE '96 XIV. THE
GREATER GOAL XV. HICKS HAS A "HUNCH" XVI. THANKS
TO CAESAR NAPOLEON XVII. HICKS MAKES A RASH
PROPHECY XVIII. T. HAVILAND HICKS, JR.'S HEADWORK XIX.
BANNISTER GIVES HICKS A SURPRISE PARTY XX. "VALE,
ALMA MATER!"
T. HAVILAND HICKS, SENIOR

CHAPTER I
HICKS--WILD WEST BAD MAN
"Oh, a bold, bad man was Chuckwalla Bill-- An' he lived in a shanty on
Tom-cat Hill; Ten notches on the six-gun he toted on his hip-- For he'd
sent ten buckos on the One-way Trip!"
Big Butch Brewster, captain and full-back of the Bannister College
football squad, his behemoth bulk swathed in heavy blankets and
crowded into a narrow bunk, shifted his vast tonnage restlessly. He was
dreaming of the wild and woolly West, and like a six-reel Western
drama thrown on the screen in a moving-picture show, he visioned in
his slumbers a vivid and spectacular panorama.
The first lurid scene was the Deserted Limited held up at a tank station
in the great Mojave Desert by a lone, masked bandit who winged the
dreaming Butch in the shoulder, the latter being an express guard who
resisted. After the desperado, Two-Gun Steve, had forced the engineer
to run the train back to a siding, he had ordered Butch to vamoose.
Quite naturally, then, the collegian next found himself staggering
across the arid expanse, until at last, half dead from a burning thirst,
seeking vainly for a water-hole, the vast stretch of sandy,
sagebrush-studded wastes shimmered into a gorgeous ocean of
sparkling blue waters. Then, as he collapsed on the scorching-hot sand,
helpless, the cool water so near, suddenly the scene shifted.
In quick and vivid succession, Butch Brewster beheld a burning
stockade besieged by howling Indians, and a frontier town shot up by
recklessly riding cowboys on a jamboree. Then he became a tenderfoot,
badgered by yelling, shooting roisterers, and later a sheriff, bravely
leading his posse to a sensational battle with that same Two-Gun Steve
and his gang, entrenched in a rock-bound mountain defile.
Finally, he stood with hands above his head in company with other
passengers of the Sagebrush Stagecoach, while a huge, red-shirted
Westerner with a fierce black mustache and a six-shooter in each hand
belching bullets at Butch's dancing feet, roared out huskily: "Oh--I'm a

ring-tailed roarer (bang-bang)! I'm a rip-snortin', high-falutin',
loop-the-loopin' bad man (bang-bang)! I'm wild an' woolly, an' full o'
fleas, an' hard to curry below the knees--I'm a roarin' wild-cat, an' it's
my night to howl (bang-bang)! Yip-yip-yip-yeee!"
Big Butch, opening his eyes and starting up, gazed about him in sheer
surprise; for an instant, in that state of bewilderment that comes with
sudden awakening, he almost believed himself in a Western ranch
bunkhouse, and that some happy cowboy outside roared a grotesque
ballad. He gazed at the interior of a rough shack built of pine boards,
with bunks constructed in tiers on both sides. There were figures in
them--Western cowboys, perhaps. Then it seemed, somehow, that the
voice drifting from the outside