In the ordinary run of things, he
should step into the thick of the fight between Porcupine and me, and
side with me with all his colors flying. By so doing, he might be worthy
the position of the head teacher, and vindicate the principle of wearing
red shirts.
I told the head teacher that I had not divulged the secret to anybody
but was going to fight it out with Porcupine. Red Shirt was greatly
perturbed, and stuttered out; "Say, don't do anything so rash as that. I
don't remember having stated anything plainly to you about Mr.
Hotta....... if you start a scrimmage here, I'll be greatly
embarrassed." And he asked the strangely outlandish question if I had
come to the school to start trouble? Of course not, I said, the school
would not stand for my making trouble and pay me salary for it. Red
Shirt then, perspiring, begged me to keep the secret as mere reference
and never mention it. "All right, then," I assured him, "this robs me
shy, but since you're so afraid of it, I'll keep it all to myself." "Are
you sure?" repeated Red Shirt. There was no limit to his womanishness.
If Red Shirt was typical of Bachelors of Arts, I did not see much in
them. He appeared composed after having requested me to do something
self-contradictory and wanting logic, and on top of that suspects my
sincerity.
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