“No, I am not going to start packing.”

“I can break your neck with one twist,” and he illustrated that feat with a turn of one large hand in the air.

He came slowly in, head down, as if to pick me up and throw me down.

I waited till he was close, then gave him an upward rip with all my might, a blow on the forehead that made the blood flow, and staggered him with consternation.  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.  Hebron.

Then he asked me, would I just join forces with him,—­since we must put the movement above personalities....

We had a long talk about life and “Nature” ideals.  The man showed all his soul, all his struggles, to me.  And I saw his real greatness and was moved greatly.  And I informed him I would antagonise him no longer, that, though I would not give up the desirable site, otherwise, I would help him all I could.

Then he said he would be glad to have me stay, and we shook hands warmly, the moisture of feeling shining in our eyes.

* * * * *

As the time for my return to school drew near, I was in fine physical condition, better than ever before in my life.  I was still somewhat thin, but now it could be called slenderness, not thinness.  And I was surprised at the laughing, healthy, sun-browned look of my face.

I felt a confidence in myself I had never known before....

* * * * *

I had a flirtation with a pretty, freckle-faced girl.  She worked in Barton’s “factory,” and she used to come down to my tent where I sat reading, with only my trunks on,—­during the noon hour,—­and ask me to read poetry aloud to her.  And I read Shelley.  She would draw shyly closer to me, sending me into a visible tremour that made me ashamed of myself.