Hugo descended the spiral iron staircase. He was breathing with ease. Woodman stared at him. "Lessee you jump."
Hugo was familiar with the distances for jumping made in track meets. He was careful not to overdo his effort. His running jump was twenty-eight feet, and his standing jump was eleven feet and some inches. Woodman's face ran water. His eyes gleamed. "Danner," he said, "where did you get that way?"
"I mean--what have you done all your life?"
"Two hundred and eleven pounds," Woodman muttered, "run like an Olympic champ--jump like a kangaroo--how's your kicking?"
"Come on outside. Hey, Fitz! Bring a ball."
An hour later Fitzsimmons found Woodman sitting in his office. Beside him was a bottle of whisky which he kept to revive wounded gladiators. "Fitz," said Woodman, looking at the trainer with dazed eyes, "did you see what I saw?"
Fitzsimmons scratched his greying head. "Well, Woodie, I seen a young man--"
"I saw a young man come into the gym an' undress. He looked like an oiled steam engine. I saw him go and knock hell out of three track records without even losing his breath. Then I seen him go out on the field an' kick a football from one end to the other an' pass it back. That's what _I_ seen."
Woodman nodded his head. "So did I. But I don't believe it, do you?"
"I do. That's the man you--an' all the other coaches--have been wantin' to see. The perfect athlete. Better in everything than the best man at any one thing. Just a freak, Woodie--but, God Almighty, how New Haven an' Colgate are goin' to feel it these next years!"
Fitz wasted no time. He telephoned to the registrar's office. "Mr. H. Danner," said the voice of a secretary, "passed his examinations with the highest honours and was admitted among the first ten."
"He passed his entrance exams among the first ten," Fitzsimmons repeated.
"God!" said Woodman, "it's the millennium!" And he took a drink.
Late in the afternoon of that day Hugo found his room in Thompson Dormitory. He unpacked his carpet-bag and his straw suitcase. He checked in his mind the things that he had done. It seemed a great deal for one day--a complete alteration of his life. He had seen the dean and arranged his classes: trigonometry, English, French, Latin, biology, physics, economics, hygiene. With a pencil and a ruler he made a schedule, which he pinned on the second-hand desk he had bought.