Marty was not a Christian. J.W. had been a church member for years, and
early in his course he had faced and accepted all that being a Christian
seemed to mean to a high-school boy.

There had been hard places to get over; some of the boys and girls were
merciless in their unconscious tests of his religion. Some were openly
scornful, and others sought by indirect and furtive means to break his
influence in the school. For he had no small gift of leadership, and he
cared a good deal that it should count for the decencies of high-school
life. By senior year the sort of trouble that a Christian boy encounters
in school was almost all ended, but it had been more through his dogged
resistance to opposition than because of any special zest in Christian
service.

And then came the announcement of Win-My-Chum week, with J.W.
confronted by two stubborn facts. He had only one real chum, and that
chum was not a Christian. Pastor Drury had let fall a remark, a month
before the Week, to the effect that any Christian who had a chum could
dodge Win-My-Chum week, but he couldn't dodge his chum. When the week
was past, the chum would still be on hand.

Think as he would, there was no honest way of escape from whatever those
facts might require of him, so J.W., long accustomed to go ahead and
take what came, had known himself bound by the obligations of this
matter also, days and days before the activities of Win-My-Chum week
began.

The two were out one Saturday on the north road. They had been up to the
woods on Barker's Hill for nuts, and with good success. The day was
warm, the way was long, and there was no hurry. When they came to the