At the sound of his voice the diver disappeared. Bob laughed and felt a
trifle better.
He reviewed himself dispassionately. He could not but admit that he had
tried hard enough, and that he had courage. It was just a case of
limitation. Bob, for the first time, bumped against the stone wall that
hems us in on all sides--save toward the sky.
He fell into a profound discouragement; a discouragement that somehow
found its prototype in the mournful little lake with its leaden water,
its cold breeze, its whispering, dried marsh grasses, its funereal
tamaracks, and its lonesome diver.
X
But Bob was no quitter. The next morning he tramped down to the office,
animated by a new courage. Even stupid boys learn, he remembered. It
takes longer, of course, and requires more application. But he was
strong and determined. He remembered Fatty Hayes, who took four years to
make the team--Fatty, who couldn't get a signal through his head until
about time for the next play, and whose great body moved appreciable
seconds after his brain had commanded it; Fatty Hayes, the "scrub's"
chopping block for trying out new men on! And yet he did make the team
in his senior year.
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