The Challis messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1912-current, 1924-03-12

hopes that were not, however, con.
cerned with scholastic achievement
He himself had been a popular grid
iron star, and he cherished a fond am
bition that Milo would develop a sim
ilar bent. To be sure, there had been
no signs along the way Indicative of
such leanings. Leadership of his prep
school debating society and appoint
ment as class valedictorian did not
necessarily imply a capacity for ex-
pert tackling or 90-yard runs.
Therefore, having dropped in on his
son expectedly shortly after his en-
trance to his own alma mater, Paige
was perhaps unjustifably disappointed
that Milo had not even tried out for
the freshman team.
"You know my wishes in this mat
ter" he fumed. Heaven knows I've
brought you up with the football idea.
Football is the finest
Milo, sprawled disrespectfully on a
couch, held up a deprecating hand.
Don't get started, dad. Don't get
started. I'll grant you nave a foot
ball complex. But, really, I've a right
to my own inhibitions. Say, have you
read that last poem by"
1t was his fathers turn to inter-
rupt Poem? Poem? Do l look like
a man that reads poems? And what's
the matter with your eyes? 1 detest
those black gogglesl"
Milo touched them affectionately.
"They add distinction, dad. I'm sorry
not to attain your ideal of a collegian,
but just at present 1 am much more
interested in 'vers libres' than in the
Wanted pigskin."
Paige rose, glanced at his son,
grabbed his hat from the table, and
staked to the door. In the act of
passing out, he paused, turned, and
flung back a few last words. "Re-
nounce football if you like. Wear a
contraption on your face that hides
what little individuality you have.
Even go out for Phi Beta Kappa. But,
for the love of heaven, don't go to the
dogs on poetry The door slammed.
The battle between father and son
waged internationally for the next
three years. The older man made no
effort to conceal the fac. that he was
keenly disappointed in his son, while
the younger one withdrew into a pro-
tective reserve and never made a con-
fidant of his father, or attempted to
win him over.
The autumn of his sons last year,
Paige made a point of running down
for each weekend game, but made
no effort to obtain his sons company
to the field. Occasionally. however,
he went around afterwards and bored
him to death rehashing plays and mis-
plays.
1t was we'll along toward the end |
of the season that he once again, so |
to speak. boiled over. Imagine" he |
said scornfully, "a hard-boiled bust |
ness man Ike myself having for a
son a man that has no use for ath-
letics. For that matter, have you
ever mixed up in anything really red
blooded? Gosh. Milo. don't you ever
break loose? Get out with the boys
and kick up your heels Queer advice
from father to son, but, honest, it
hurt me to see you cut up
and do something really wild, you
know"
Left alone, Milo chuckled. The old
man had played into his hands. Want
ed him to do something out of the or
linary, did he? Suppose he really
lid. Well, his rash parent would have
only himself to blame. He wondered
f he could persuade Marjorie TO CO.
operate.
Marjorie had been playing large
,art in Milos young life recently, but
IS she not only read but wrote poetry
he had not mentioned her existence TO
lis father. Sooner or later, of course
lie would know, as there could be but
me outcome OF the affair. and that a
one. if Milo had the say.
But now his father had given him
IN idea. True, Marjorie was more
n less busy rehearsing for society
harity play in which she had small
inging parr in one of the groups.
,ould she be won over to his little
cheme? He arose and went to find {
ut.
The following Saturday was sched- ]
led the big game of the year. There
,as tacit understanding that Milo
yould meet his father afterwards at
is hotel room and go out to dinner
18th him.
At the end of the first half, Paige
Jumped back in his seat in disgust.
hree to nothing in favor of the Wis
ors. Fumbles, misplays. stupidity
led like to wiring the neck of Stat
,rd, the new coach. In the midst of /
is grumblings, an usher appeared .
it'll a note. Detaching his mind with
ificulty from the game, he opened 1t.
-aving sead it twice, he swore silently.
Dear Dad-Am clipping with the
ppin who sings third from the end II
ont row-Milo.' n
Its brevity was brutal. And, worst :
; all, he saw it as a boomerang IN =,
hich his ill-chosen words came home ~
roost. Not that he would bear any 1