moment. He would read law with a zealousness that would win approval. In the glow of Carlos Dix's companionship he would drink in legal knowledge. Eventually he would pass his bar examinations. Other men had done it who had not passed years at college—Lincoln, for instance. In the rapture of the bright pictures his fancy created, the State University became something hazy and remote.
He welcomed the start of final examinations. They marked the last step that need be taken before he progressed to the great outside world. Hammond and Littlefield moaned over the "stiffness" of the papers, Perry King breezily set them down as "easy stuff," but Praska slowly plowed his way through them prepared to do the best he could. Thursday afternoon the ordeal was over. He left the school and debated on the sidewalk whether to go down at once and ask Carlos Dix about that job. In the end he decided to wait until the examination marks were announced. If he stood as high as he hoped it would be that much easier to induce the lawyer to take him in.
Next day, with examinations over, the school fell into a backwater of relaxation. Praska spent a good part of the morning reading "Moby Dick," Herman Melville's absorbing story of the sea and the search for the white whale. At noon, as
