"What a wonderful voice, Vincent. It makes one want to hear it again," Elinor exclaimed.

"Yes, and what an overgrown pile of awkwardness. It makes one hope never to see it again," her companion responded.

"But he killed that snake in a way that looked expert to me," Elinor insisted.

"My dear Miss Elinor, he was probably born in some Kansas cabin and has practiced killing snakes all his life. Not a very elevating feat. Let's go down and explore Lagonda Ledge now before the other snake comes in for the coroner's inquest."

And the two passed down the stone steps to the shady level campus and on to the town beyond it.

"You are hard on snakes, Burleigh," Dr. Fenneben said as he welcomed the country boy into his study. "A bull snake is a harmless creature, and he is the farmer's friend."

"Let him stay on the farm then. I hate him. He's no friend of mine," Vic replied.

He was overflowing the chair recently graced by Professor Burgess and clutching his derby as if it might escape and leave him bareheaded forever. His face had a dogged expression and his glance was stern. Yet his direct words and the deep richness of his voice put him outside of the class of commonplace beginners.