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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:33:30 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:33:30 -0700 |
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diff --git a/26985-h/26985-h.htm b/26985-h/26985-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9dfb8fe --- /dev/null +++ b/26985-h/26985-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9590 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Killykinick, by Mary T. Waggaman. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.8em; margin-bottom: 0.8em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KILLYKINICK ***</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<h1 style='text-align:center; font-size:1.4em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>KILLYKINICK</h1> +<p style='font-size:1.2em;'>By MARY T. WAGGAMAN</p> +<p>Author of</p> +<p>“Billy Boy,” “The Secret of Pocomoke,”</p> +<p>“White Eagle,” “Tommy</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:6em;'>Travers,” etc.</p> +<p>THE AVE MARIA</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:2.2em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>NOTRE DAME, INDIANA</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>Copyright, 1917</p> +<p>By D. E. HUDSON, C. S. C.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:2em;'>KILLYKINICK.</p> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>I.—The “Left Overs.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It was the week after Commencement. +The corridors, class-rooms, and +study hall of Saint Andrew’s stretched +in dim, silent vistas; over the tennis +court and the playground there brooded +a dead calm; the field, scene of so +many strenuous struggles, lay bare +and still in the summer sunlight; the +quadrangle, that so lately had rung to +parting cheer and “yell,” might have +been a cloister for midnight ghosts to +walk. The only sign or sound of life +came from the open archways of the +Gym, where the “left overs” (as the +boys who for various reasons had +been obliged to summer at Saint Andrew’s) +were working off the steam +condensed, as Jim Norris declared, to +the “busting” point by the last seven +days.</p> +<p>A city-bound college has its limitations, +and vacation at Saint Andrew’s +promised to be a very dull affair indeed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +The “left overs” had tried +everything to kill time. At present +their efforts seemed bent on killing +themselves; for Jim Norris and Dud +Fielding, sturdy fellows of fourteen, +were doing stunts on the flying trapeze +worthy of professional acrobats; +while Dan Dolan, swinging from a +high bar, was urging little Fred +Neville to a precarious poise on his +shoulder.</p> +<p>Freddy was what may be called a +perennial “left over.” He had been +the “kid” of Saint Andrew’s since he +was five years old, when his widowed +father had left him in a priestly +uncle’s care, and had disappeared no +one knew how or where. And as +Uncle Tom’s chosen path lay along +hard, lofty ways that small boys could +not follow, Fred had been placed by +special privilege in Saint Andrew’s to +grow up into a happy boyhood, the +pet and plaything of the house. He +was eleven now, with the fair face +and golden hair of his dead girl-mother, +and brown eyes that had a +boyish sparkle all their own.</p> +<p>They looked up dubiously at Dan +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +now,—“daring Dan,” who for the last +year had been Freddy’s especial chum; +and to be long-legged, sandy-haired, +freckle-nosed Dan’s chum was an +honor indeed for a small boy of eleven. +Dan wore frayed collars and jackets +much too small for him; his shoes +were stubby-toed and often patched; +he made pocket money in various +ways, by “fagging” and odd jobbing +for the big boys of the college. But +he led the classes and games of the +Prep with equal success; and even +now the Latin class medal was swinging +from the breast of his shabby +jacket.</p> +<p>Dan had been a newsboy in very early +youth; but, after a stormy and often +broken passage through the parochial +school, he had won a scholarship at +Saint Andrew’s over all competitors.</p> +<p>“An’ ye’ll be the fool to take it,” +Aunt Winnie had said when he +brought the news home to the little +attic rooms where she did tailor’s +finishing, and took care of Dan as well +as a crippled old grandaunt could. +“With all them fine gentlemen’s sons +looking down on ye for a beggar!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></p> +<p>“Let them look,” Dan had said +philosophically. “Looks don’t hurt, +Aunt Win. It’s my chance and I’m +going to take it.”</p> +<p>And he was taking it bravely when +poor Aunt Win’s rheumatic knees +broke down utterly, and she had to go +to the “Little Sisters,” leaving Dan to +summer with the other “left overs” at +Saint Andrew’s.</p> +<p>“Swing up,” he repeated, stretching +a sturdy hand to Fred. “Don’t be a +sissy. One foot on each of my shoulders, +and catch on to the bar above +my head. That will steady you.”</p> +<p>Freddy hesitated. It was rather a +lofty height for one of his size.</p> +<p>“You can’t hold me,” he said. “I’m +too heavy.”</p> +<p>“Too heavy!” repeated Dan, laughing +down on the slender, dapper little +figure at his feet. “Gee whilikins, I +wouldn’t even <i>feel</i> you!”</p> +<p>This was too much for any eleven-year-old +to stand. Freddy was not +very well. Brother Timothy had been +dosing him for a week or more, and +these long hot summer days made his +legs feel queer and his head dizzy. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +was rather hard sometimes to keep up +with Dan, who was making the most +of his holiday, as he did of everything +that came in his way. Freddy was +following him loyally, in spite of the +creeps and chills that betrayed malaria. +But now his brown eyes flashed +fire.</p> +<p>“You’re a big brag, Dan Dolan!” he +said, stung by such a taunt at his size +and weight. “Just you try me!”</p> +<p>And catching Dan’s hand he made +a spring to his waist and a reckless +scramble to his shoulders.</p> +<p>“Hooray!” said Dan, cheerily. +“Steady now, and hold on to the bar!”</p> +<p>“Do you feel me now?” said Fred, +pressing down with all his small weight +on the sturdy figure beneath him.</p> +<p>“A mite!” answered Dan. “Sort of +like a mosquito had lit on me up there.”</p> +<p>“Do you feel me now?” said Fred, +bringing his heels down with a dig.</p> +<p>“Look out now!” cried Dan, sharply. +“Don’t try dancing a jig up there. +Hold to the bar.”</p> +<p>But the warning came too late. The +last move was too much for the half-sick +boy. Freddy’s head began to turn, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +his legs gave way—he reeled down to +the floor, and, white and senseless, lay +at Dan’s feet.</p> +<p>In the big, book-lined study beyond +the quadrangle, Father Regan was +settling final accounts prior to the +series of “retreats” he had promised +for the summer; while Brother Bart, +ruddy and wrinkled as a winter apple, +“straightened up,”—gathering waste +paper and pamphlets as his superior +cast them aside, dusting book-shelves +and mantel, casting the while many +an anxious, watchful glance through +the open window. The boys were +altogether too quiet this morning. +Brother Bart distrusted boyish quiet. +For the “Laddie,” as he had called +Freddy since the tiny boy had been +placed six years ago in his special +care, was the idol of the good man’s +heart. He had washed and dressed +and tended him in those early years +with almost a woman’s tenderness, and +was watching with jealous anxiety as +Laddie turned from childish ways into +paths beyond his care. Dan Dolan +was Brother Bart’s especial fear—Dan +Dolan, who belonged to the rough +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +outside world from which Laddie had +been shielded; Dan Dolan, who, despite +tickets and medals, Brother Bart +felt was no mate for a little gentleman +like his boy.</p> +<p>“They’re quarely still this morning,” +he said at last, giving voice to his fear. +“I’m thinking they are at no good.”</p> +<p>“Who?” asked Father Regan, looking +up from the letter he was reading.</p> +<p>“The boys,” answered Brother Bart,—“the +four of them that was left over +with us.”</p> +<p>“Four of them?” repeated the +Father, who, with the closing of the +schools, had felt the burden of his +responsibilities drop. “True, true! I +quite forgot we have four boys with +us. It must be dull for the poor +fellows.”</p> +<p>“Dull!” echoed Brother Bart, +grimly,—“dull is it, yer reverence? +It’s in some divilment they are from +morning until night. There’s no rule +for vacation days, as Mr. Linton says; +and so the four of them are running +wild as red Indians, up in the bell +tower, and in the ice pond that’s six +feet deep with black water, and scampering +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +over the highest ledge of the +dormitory roof, till my heart nearly +leaps from my mouth.”</p> +<p>“Poor fellows!” said Father Regan, +indulgently. “It’s hard on them, of +course. Let me see! Colonel Fielding +and his wife are in the Philippines, +I remember, and asked to leave Dudley +with us; and Judge Norris +couldn’t take Will with him to Japan; +and there’s our own little Fred of +course,—we always have him; and—”</p> +<p>“That dare-devil of a Dan Dolan, +that’s the worst of all!” burst forth +Brother Bart. “It’s for me sins he +was left here, I know; with the Laddie +following everywhere he leads, like +he was bewitched.”</p> +<p>“Poor Danny! Aren’t you a little +hard on him, Brother Bart?” was the +smiling question.</p> +<p>“Sure I am, I am,—God forgive me +for that same!” answered Brother +Bart, penitently. “But I’m no saint +like the rest of ye; and Laddie crept +into my heart six years ago, and I +can’t put him out. Wild Dan Dolan +is no fit mate for him.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” asked Father Regan, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +gravely, though there was a quizzical +gleam in his eye.</p> +<p>“Sure, because—because—” hesitated +Brother Bart, rather staggered +by the question. “Sure ye know yerself, +Father.”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t,” was the calm reply. +“Dan may be wild and mischievous—a +little rough perhaps, poor boy!—but +he will do Freddy no harm. He is a +bright, honest, manly fellow, making a +brave fight against odds that are hard +to face; and we must give him his +chance, Brother Bart. I promised his +good old aunt, who was broken-hearted +at leaving him, that I would +do all I could for her friendless, homeless +boy. As for mischief—well, I +rather like a spice of mischief at his +age. It is a sign of good health, body +and soul. But we must try to give +it a safer outlet than roofs and bell +towers,” he added thoughtfully. “Let +me see! If we could send our +‘left overs’ some place where they +could have more freedom. Why—why, +now that I think of it” (the +speaker’s grave face brightened as he +took up the letter he had been reading), +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +“maybe there’s a chance for +them right here. Father Tom Rayburn +has just written me that Freddy +has fallen heir to some queer old place +on the New England coast. It belonged +to his mother’s great-uncle, +an old whaling captain, who lived +there after an eccentric fashion of his +own. It seems that this ship was +stranded on this island more than fifty +years ago, and he fixed up the wreck, +and lived there until his death this +past month. The place has no value, +Father Tom thinks; but he spent two +of the jolliest summers of his own boyhood +with an old Captain Kane at +Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“Killykinick?” echoed Brother Bart. +“That sounds Irish, Father.”</p> +<p>“It does,” laughed Father Regan. +“Perhaps the old captain was an Irishman. +At any rate, there he lived, +showing a light every night at his +masthead to warn other ships off,—which +was quite unnecessary of +course, as the government attends to +all such matters now.”</p> +<p>“It must be a queer sort of a place,” +said Brother Bart, doubtfully. “But it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +might do Laddie good to get a whiff of +the salt air and a swim in the sea. +He isn’t well, Brother Timothy says, +and as everyone can see. He has a +touch of the fever every day; and as +for weight, Dan Dolan would make +two of him. And his mother died +before she was five and twenty. God’s +holy will be done!” Brother Bart’s +voice broke at the words. “But I’m +thinking Laddie isn’t long for this +world, Father. There’s an angel-look +in his face that I don’t like to see.” +And the old Brother shook his head +lugubriously.</p> +<p>Father Regan laughed.</p> +<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that! +I’ve seen plenty of just such angels, +Brother Bart, and they grew up into +very hardy, mortal men, who had to +scuffle their way through life like the +rest of us. But Freddy is looking a +little peaked of late, as I noticed on +Commencement Day. I think that, as +you say, a breath of salt air would be +good for him. We might send all four +off together to this place of his.”</p> +<p>“Is it Dan Dolan with the rest?” +asked Brother Bart, in dismay. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>“Why, of course! We couldn’t keep +poor Dan here all alone,” was the +answer.</p> +<p>“He’ll have Laddie climbing the +rocks and swimming the seas like—like +a wild Indian,” said the good +man, despairingly.</p> +<p>“What! That angel boy of yours, +Brother Bart?” laughed the priest.</p> +<p>“Aye, aye!” answered the good +Brother. “I’m not denying that Laddie +has a wild streak in him. It came +from his poor young father, I suppose. +Arrah! has there never been word or +sign from him, Father?” queried +Brother Bart, sorrowfully.</p> +<p>“Never,” was the grave reply,—“not +since he disappeared so strangely six +years ago. I presume he is dead. +He had been rather a wild young fellow; +but after his wife’s death he +changed completely, reproached himself +for having, as he said, broken +her heart, and got some morbid notion +of not being a fit father for his child. +He had lost his faith and was altogether +unbalanced, poor man! Luckily, +Freddy inherits a fortune from +his mother, and is well provided for; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +and now comes this other heritage +from the old great-uncle—Killykinick. +I really think—O God bless me! What +is the matter?” asked the speaker, turning +with a start, as, reckless of rules +and reverence, two white-faced boys +burst unannounced into the room.</p> +<p>“It’s—it’s—it’s Freddy Neville, +Father!” panted Jim Norris.</p> +<p>“Laddie,—my Laddie! What’s come +to him?” cried Brother Bart.</p> +<p>“He’s tumbled off the high bar,” +gasped Dud Fielding, “and he is lying +all white and still, and—and dead, +Father!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>II.—Old Top.</p> +</div> + +<p>There was a hurried rush to the scene +of accident; but first aid to the injured +had already been rendered. +Freddy lay on the Gym floor, pillowed +on Dan’s jacket, and reviving under +the ministration of a sturdy hand and +a very wet and grimy pocket-handkerchief.</p> +<p>“What did you go tumbling off +like that for?” asked Dan indignantly +as the “angel eyes” of his patient +opened.</p> +<p>“Don’t know,” murmured Freddy, +faintly.</p> +<p>“I told you to stand steady, and you +didn’t,—you jumped!” said Dan.</p> +<p>“So—so you’d feel me,” answered +Fred, memory returning as the darkness +began to brighten, and Brother +Bart and Brother Timothy and several +other anxious faces started out of the +breaking clouds. “But I’m not hurt,—I’m +not hurt a bit, Brother Bart.”</p> +<p>“Blessed be God for that same!” +cried the good Brother, brokenly, as, +after close examination, Brother Timothy +agreed to this opinion. “And it +wasn’t the fault of the rapscallions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +wid ye that ye’re not killed outright. +To be swinging like monkeys from a +perch, and ye half sick and lightheaded! +Put him in the bed, Brother +Timothy; and keep him there till we +see what comes of this.”</p> +<p>So Freddy was put to bed in the +dim quiet of the infirmary, to watch +developments. Brother Timothy gave +him an old fashioned “drought,” and he +went to sleep most comfortably. He +woke up feeling very well indeed, to enjoy +an appetizing repast of chicken +broth and custard. But when this went +on for two days, Freddy began to grow +restless.</p> +<p>Infirmary life was very well in +school time; indeed, when there were +other patients not too sick to share its +luxuries, it proved rather a pleasant +break in the routine of class-room and +study-hall. In fact, a late epidemic of +measles that filled every bed had +been a “lark” beyond Brother Timothy’s +suppression. But the infirmary +in vacation, with no chance for the +pillow fights that had made the +“measles” so hilarious, with no boy in +the next bed to exchange confidences +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +and reminiscences, with no cheery +shouts from the playground and +quadrangle, with only the long stretch +of bare, spotless rooms, white cots, +and Brother Timothy rolling pills in +the “doctor shop,” the infirmary was +dull and dreary indeed.</p> +<p>“Can’t I get up to-day, Brother?” +asked Freddy on the third morning, +as Brother Timothy took away a +breakfast tray cleared to the last +crumb of toast.</p> +<p>“No,” replied the Brother, who +from long dealing with small boys had +acquired the stony calm of a desert +sphinx. Beneath it he was a gentle, +patient, wise old saint, who watched +and prayed over his patients in a +way they little guessed. “No, you +can’t.”</p> +<p>“Gee!” said Freddy, with a rebellious +kick at the counterpane. “The +bump on my head is gone and I’m +not sick at all.”</p> +<p>“We’re not so sure of that,” answered +Brother Tim. “You’ve had +temperature.”</p> +<p>“What’s ‘temperature’?” asked +Freddy, roused with interest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></p> +<p>“Never mind what it is, but you’ll +have to stay here till it goes,” answered +Brother Tim, with decision.</p> +<p>And Freddy could only lay back on +his pillows in hopeless gloom, watching +the shadows of the big elm by his +window flickering over curtain and +coverlet. The great elm—or “Old +Top,” as it had been affectionately +called by generations of students—was +the pride of the college +grounds. Many a newcomer felt his +heart warm to his strange surroundings +when he found the name of father +or grandfather cut into the rough +bark, where men who had made later +marks on history’s page had left +youthful sign manual. More than +once the growth of the college buildings +had threatened to encroach upon +Old Top; but the big elm held its +prior claim, and new dormitory or +infirmary was set back that it might +rule with kingly right in its historic +place.</p> +<p>Many were the stories and legends +of which Old Top was the hero. In +the “great fire” its boughs had proven +a ladder of safety before modern +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +“escapes” were known. Civil-War +veterans told of hunted scouts hiding, +all unknown to the Fathers, in its +spreading branches; while the students’ +larks and frolics to which it +had lent indulgent ear were ancient +history at many a grandfather’s fireside.</p> +<p>But, like all things earthly, the big +tree was growing old; a barbed wire +fencing surrounded the aging trunk, +and effectively prohibited climbing the +rotten and unsafe branches. Even +cutting names was forbidden. Freddy +had been the last allowed, as the “kid” +of the house, to put his initials beneath +his father’s. It had been quite an +occasion, his eleventh birthday. There +had been a party (Freddy always had +ten dollars to give a party on his +birthday); and then, surrounded by +his guests, still gratefully appreciative +of unlimited ice cream and strawberries, +he had carefully cut “F. W. +N. 19—” beneath the same signature +of twenty years ago. It was then too +twenty years ago. It was then too +hilarious an occasion for sad reflection; +but lying alone in the infirmary +to-day, Freddy’s memories took +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +doleful form as he recalled the “F. +W. N.” above his own, and began +to think of his father who had vanished +so utterly from his young life.</p> +<p>He had only the vaguest recollection +of a tall, handsome “daddy” who +had tossed him up in his arms and +frolicked and laughed with him in a +very dim, early youth. He could recall +more clearly the stern, silent man +of later years, of whom the five-year-boy +had been a little afraid. And he +retained a vivid memory of one bewildering +evening in the dusky parlor +of Saint Andrew’s when a shaking, +low voiced father had held him tight +to his breast for one startling moment, +and then whispered hoarsely in his +ear, “Good-bye, my little son,—good-bye +for ever!” It was very sad, as +Freddy realized to-day (he had never +considered the matter seriously before),—very +sad to have a father bid +you good-bye forever. And to have +your mother dead, too,—such a lovely +mother! Freddy had, in his small +trunk, a picture of her that was as +pretty as any of the angels on the +chapel windows. And now he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +“temperature,” and maybe he was going +to die, too, like some of those very +good little boys of whom Father +Martin read aloud on Sundays.</p> +<p>Freddy’s spirits were sinking into a +sunless gloom, when suddenly there +came a whistle through the open window,—a +whistle that made him start +up breathless on his pillow. For only +one boy in Saint Andrew’s could +achieve that clear high note. It was +Dan Dolan calling,—but how, where? +Freddy’s window was four stories +high, without porch or fire escape +and that whistle was almost in his ear. +He pursed up his trembling lips and +whistled back.</p> +<p>“Hi!” came a cautious voice, and +the leafy shadows of Old Top waved +violently. “You’re there, are you? +Brother Tim around?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Freddy.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll swing in for a minute.” +And, with another shake of Old Top, +Dan bestrode the window ledge,—a +most cheery-looking Dan, grinning +broadly.</p> +<p>“How—how did you get up?” asked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +Freddy, thinking of the barbed wire +defences below.</p> +<p>“Dead easy,” answered Dan. “Just +swung across from the organ-loft windows. +They wouldn’t let me come up +and see you. Brother Bart, the old +softy, said I’d excite you. What’s the +matter, anyhow? Is it the tumble—or +typhoid?”</p> +<p>“Neither,” said Fred. “I feel fine, +but Brother Tim says I’ve got temperature.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” asked Dan.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Freddy. +“You better not come too near, or you +may catch it.”</p> +<p>“Pooh, no!” said Dan, who was +poised easily on his lofty perch. “I +never catch anything. But I’ll keep +ready for a jump, or Brother Tim will +catch me, and there will be trouble +for sure. And as for Brother Bart, I +don’t know what he’d do if he thought +I had come near you. Jing! but he +gave it to me hot and heavy about +letting you get that tumble! He +needn’t. I felt bad enough about it +already.”</p> +<p>“Oh, did you, Dan?” asked Fred, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +quite overcome by such an admission.</p> +<p>“Rotten!” was the emphatic answer.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t eat any dinner, though +we had cherry dumpling. And Brother +Bart rubbed it in, saying I had killed +you. Then I got the grumps, and +when Dud Fielding gave me some of +his sass we had a knock-out fight that +brought Father Rector down on us +good and strong. I tell you it’s been +tough lines all around. And this is +what you call—vacation!” concluded +Dan, sarcastically.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m sorry!” said Freddy. “The +tumble didn’t hurt me much. I guess +I was sort of sick anyhow. And to +fight Dud Fielding!” The speaker’s +eyes sparkled. “Oh, I bet you laid +him out, Dan!”</p> +<p>“Didn’t I, though! Shut up one eye, +and made that Grecian nose of his +look like a turnip. It ain’t down yet,” +answered Dan, with satisfaction. “He +fired me up talking about Aunt Win.”</p> +<p>“Oh, did he?” asked Freddy, sympathetically.</p> +<p>“Yes: said I ought to be ditch-digging +to keep her out of the poorhouse, +instead of pushing in with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +respectable boys here. Sometimes I +think that myself,” added Dan in +another tone. “But it wasn’t any of +that blamed plute’s business to knock +it into me.”</p> +<p>“But it isn’t true: your aunt isn’t in +the poorhouse, Dan?” said Freddy, +eagerly.</p> +<p>“Well, no, not exactly,” answered +Dan. “But she is with the Little Sisters, +which is next thing to it. And I +ain’t like the rest of you, I know; and +don’t need Dud Fielding to tell me. +But just let me get a good start and +I’ll show folks what Dan Dolan can +do. I’ll be ready for something better +than a newsboy or a bootblack.”</p> +<p>“O Dan, you’ll never be anything +like that!” said Freddy, in dismay.</p> +<p>“I have been,” was the frank reply. +“Given many a good shine for a +nickel. Could sell more papers than +any little chap on the street. Was out +before day on winter mornings to get +them hot from the press, when I +hadn’t turned seven years old. But I +ain’t going back to it,—no, sir!” Dan’s +lips set themselves firmly. “I’m on the +climb. Maybe I won’t get very far, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +but I’ve got my foot on the ladder. +I’m going to hold my own against Dud +Fielding and all his kind, no matter +how they push; and I told Father +Rector that yesterday when they were +plastering up Dud’s eye and nose.”</p> +<p>“O Dan, you didn’t!”</p> +<p>“Yes, I did. I was just boiling up, +and had to bust out, I guess. And +when he lectured us about being gentlemen, +I told him I didn’t aim at +anything like that. I wasn’t made for +it, as I knew; but I was made to be a +man, and I was going to hold up like +one, and stand no shoving.”</p> +<p>“O Dan!” gasped Freddy, breathlessly. +“And—and what did he say?”</p> +<p>“Nothing,” answered Dan, grimly. +“But from the looks of things, I rather +guess I’m in for a ticket of leave. +That’s why I’m up here. Couldn’t go +off without seeing you,—telling you +how sorry I was I let you get that +fall off my shoulders. I oughtn’t to +have dared a kid like you to fool-tricks +like that. I was a big dumb-head, +and I’d like to kick myself for +it. For I think more of you than any +other boy in the college, little or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +big,—I surely do. And I’ve brought +you something, so when I’m gone you +won’t forget me.”</p> +<p>And Dan dived into his pocket and +brought out a round disk of copper +about the size of a half dollar. It was +rimmed with some foreign crest, and +name and date.</p> +<p>“An old sailor man gave it to me,” +said Dan, as he reached over to +Freddy’s bed and handed him the +treasure. “He was a one-legged old +chap that used to sit down on the +wharf sort of dazed and batty, until +the boys roused him by pelting and +hooting at him; and then he’d fire +back curse words at them that would +raise your hair. It was mean of them, +for he was old and lame and sick; and +one day I just lit out a couple of +measly little chaps and ducked them +overboard for their sass. After that +we were sort of friends, me and old +‘Nutty,’ as everyone called him. I’d +buy tobacco and beer for him, and +give him an old paper now and then; +and when he got down and out for +good Aunt Win made me go for the +priest for him and see him through. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +He gave me this at the last. He had +worn it on a string around his neck, +and seemed to think it was something +grand. It’s a medal for bravery that +the poor old chap had won more than +forty years ago. Ben Wharton offered +me a dollar for it to put in his museum, +but I wouldn’t sell it. It seemed +sort of mean to sell poor old Nutty’s +medal. But I’d like to give it to you, +so you’ll remember me when I’ve +gone.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but you’re not—not going +away, Dan!” said Freddy. “And I +can’t take your medal, anyhow. I’d +remember you without it. You’re the +best chum I ever had,—the very best. +And—and—”</p> +<p>The speaker broke off, stammering; +for a second visitor had suddenly appeared +at his bedside: Father Regan +who had entered the infirmary unheard +and unseen, and who now stood +with his eyes fixed in grave displeasure +on the daring Dan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>III.—A Judgment.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Dan Dolan!” said Father Regan, as +the reckless interloper flushed and +paled beneath his steady gaze.</p> +<p>“Dan Dolan!” echoed Brother Tim, +who had come in behind his honored +visitor. “How ever did he get past +me! I’ve been saying my beads at the +door without this half hour.”</p> +<p>“Swung in by Old Top,” ventured +Dan, feeling concealment was vain.</p> +<p>“You dared Old Top at this height, +when scarcely a bough is sound! You +must be mad, boy. It is God’s mercy +that you did not break your neck. +Don’t you know the tree is unsafe?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Father,” answered Dan. +“But—but I had to see Freddy again, +and they wouldn’t let me come up. I +just <i>had</i> to see him, if it killed me.”</p> +<p>And there was a sudden break in +the young voice that startled his +hearer. But a glance at the dizzy and +forbidden height of Old Top and +Father Regan was stern again.</p> +<p>“Why did you have to see him, if it +killed you?” he asked briefly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p> +<p>“Because I wanted to tell how bad +I felt about letting him get hurt, because—because +he has been better to +me than any boy in the school, because—because—” +(again Dan’s tone +grew husky) “I just had to bid Freddy +good-bye.”</p> +<p>“O Father, no, no!” Freddy burst +out tremulously. “Don’t let him say +good-bye! Don’t send Dan away, +Father, please! He won’t fight any +more, will you, Dan?”</p> +<p>“I am not promising that,” answered +Dan, sturdily. “I won’t stand shoving +and knocking, not even to keep my +place here.”</p> +<p>“O Dan!” cried Freddy, in dismay +at such an assertion. “Why, you said +you would work day and night to stay +at Saint Andrew’s!”</p> +<p>“Work, yes,” replied Dan, gruffly. +“I don’t mind work, but I won’t ever +play lickspittle.”</p> +<p>“And is that the way ye’d be talking +before his reverence?” broke in +Brother Tim, indignantly. “Get out +of the infirmary this minute, Dan +Dolan; for it’s the devil’s own pride +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +that is on yer lips and in yer heart, +God forgive me for saying it.”</p> +<p>“We’ll settle this later,” said Father +Regan, quietly. “Go down to my +study, Dan, and wait for me. I have +a message for Freddy from his uncle.”</p> +<p>“O Dan, Dan!” (There was a sob +in the younger boy’s voice as he felt +all this parting might mean.) “I’ll—I’ll +miss you dreadfully, Dan!”</p> +<p>“Don’t!” said Dan, gripping his +little comrade’s hand. “I ain’t worth +missing. I’m glad I came, anyhow, to +say good-bye and good-luck, Freddy!” +And he turned away at the words, +with something shining in his blue +eyes that Father Regan knew was not +all defiance.</p> +<p>It was a long wait in the study. Dan +had plenty of time to think, and his +thoughts were not very cheerful. He +felt he had lost his chance,—the +chance that had been to him like the +sudden opening of a gate in the grim +stone wall of circumstances that had +surrounded him,—a gate beyond +which stretched free, sunlit paths to +heights of which he had never dreamed. +He had lost his chance; for a free +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +scholarship at Saint Andrew’s depended +on good conduct and observance of +rules as well as study; and Dan felt he +had doubly and trebly forfeited his +claim. But he would not whine. Perhaps +it was only the plucky spirit of +the street Arab that filled his breast, +perhaps something stronger and nobler +that steadied his lip and kindled +his eye, as he looked around the spacious, +book-lined room, and realized +all that he was losing—had lost. For +Dan loved his books,—the hard-earned +scholarship proved it. Many a midnight +hour had found him, wrapped +in his worn blankets, studying by the +light of a flaring candle-end stuck +perilously on his bedpost, after good +Aunt Win had thriftily put out the +lamp, and believed Danny was sound +asleep preparatory to a start on his +beat at break of day.</p> +<p>“One of the brightest, clearest, +quickest minds I ever knew,” Dan’s +teacher had told Father Regan when +awarding the scholarship,—“if he can +only keep the track. But he has a +bold spirit, and it will be hard on him +among all those ‘high-steppers’ of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +yours at Saint Andrew’s. He is likely +to bolt and break away.”</p> +<p>But Dan had been too busy with +his books all the year to mind “high-steppers.” +His patched jacket kept +the head of the classes, and his +stubby-toed shoes marched up every +month to get the ticket, and he had +helped more than one heavy-witted +“high-stepper” through conditions +that threatened to put him out of the +race. Most of the Saint Andrew’s boys +were manly youngsters, with whom +jackets and shoes did not count against +brain and brawn; and strong, clever, +quick-witted Dan had held his place +in schoolroom and playground unquestioned. +But there were exceptions, +and Dud Fielding was one of +them. He had disliked the “poor +scholar” from the first. Dud was a +tall, handsome fellow, filled with ideas +of his own importance; and Dan had +downed him more than once in field +and class-room, to his great disgust. +Worst than all, in appreciation of his +careful costuming, Dan had alluded +to him as “Dudey,”—a boyish liberty +which, considering the speaker’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +patched jacket, Master Fielding +could not forgive. It was the repetition +of this remark, when Dud had appeared +garbed in a summer suit of +spotless linen, that had precipitated +yesterday’s fight.</p> +<p>Altogether, with all the restraints +and interests of school time removed, +vacation was proving a perilous period +to the “left-overs” at Saint Andrew’s. +Dan realized this as, turning his back +on the book-lined room, with his hands +thrust in his pockets, looking gloomily +out of the broad window that opened +on the quadrangle, he stood awaiting +“judgment.” He expected no mercy: +he felt grimly he had no claim to it. +Maybe if he had a rich father or uncle +or somebody grand and great to speak +up for him, he might be given another +chance; but a poor boy who, as Dud +Fielding said, ought to be “ditch digging”—Dan +choked up again at the +thought that, after all, perhaps Dud +was right: he was not the sort to be +pushing in here. He ought to be out +in his own rough world, working his +own rough way. All those fancies of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +his for better, higher things had been +only “pipe dreams.”</p> +<p>But jing, it would be hard to give up! +Dan looked out at the quadrangle where +he had led so many a merry game; at +the ball field, scene of battle and victory +that even Dud Fielding could not dispute; +at the long stretch of the study +hall windows opposite; at the oriel of +the chapel beyond. All spoke to him of +a life that had been like air and sunshine +to a plant stretching its roots and +tendrils in the dark.</p> +<p>And he must leave it all! He must +go back again to the old ways, the old +work! He was big enough now to +drive a butcher’s wagon, or clean fish +and stuff sausages at Pete Patterson’s +market store; or—or—there were +other things he could do that a fellow +like him must do when he is “down and +out.” And while he still stared from +the window, the grim, dogged look +settling heavier upon his young face, +Dan caught a footstep behind him, and +turned to face Father Regan.</p> +<p>“I’ve kept you waiting longer than I +expected, Dan, but I had great news +for Freddy,—news that took some time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +to tell.” The speaker sank into the tall +stiff-backed chair known to many a +young sinner as the “judgment seat.” +“Now” (the clear, keen eyes fixed +themselves gravely on the boy) “I want +to have a talk with you. Things can +not go on in this way any longer, even +in vacation time. I must say that, after +the last year’s good record, I am disappointed +in you, Dan,—sorely disappointed.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, Father,” was the respectful +answer, but the grim, hard look on +the young face did not change. “I’ve +made a lot of trouble, I know.”</p> +<p>“You have,” was the grave answer, +“and trouble I did not expect from you. +Still, circumstances have been against +you, I must confess. But this does not +alter the fact that you have broken +strict rules that even in vacation we +can not relax,—broken them deliberately +and recklessly. You are evidently +impatient of the restraint here at Saint +Andrew’s; so I have concluded not to +keep you here any longer, Dan.”</p> +<p>“I’m not asking it, Father.” Dan +tried bravely to steady voice and lip. +“I’m ready to go whenever you say.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>“To-morrow, then,” continued Father +Regan,—“I’ve made arrangements for +you to leave to-morrow at ten. Brother +Francis will see that your trunk is +packed to-night.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Father,” said Dan, somewhat +bewildered at the friendly tone in +which this sentence was delivered. “I’d +like to see Mr. Raymond and Mr. Shipman +before I go, and thank them for +all they’ve done for me; and Father +Roach and Father Walsh and all of +them; and to say I’m sorry I made any +trouble.”</p> +<p>“Good gracious,” laughed Father +Regan, “one would think you were on +your dying bed, boy!”</p> +<p>“I—I feel like it,” blurted out Dan, +no longer able to choke down the lump +in his throat. “I’d rather die, a good +deal.”</p> +<p>“Rather die!” exclaimed Father +Regan,—“rather die than go to Killykinick!”</p> +<p>“Killykinick!” echoed Dan, breathlessly. +“You’re not—not sending me +to a Reform, Father?”</p> +<p>“Reform!” repeated the priest.</p> +<p>“For I won’t go,” said Dan, desperately. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +“You haven’t any right to put +me there. I’m not wild and bad enough +for that. I’ll keep honest and respectable. +I’ll go to work. I can get a job +at Pete Patterson’s sausage shop to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Reform! Sausage shop! What are +you talking about, you foolish boy, +when I am only sending you all off for +a summer holiday at the seashore?”</p> +<p>“A summer holiday at the seashore!” +echoed Dan in bewilderment.</p> +<p>“Yes, at Freddy’s place—Killykinick. +I have just heard from his uncle, and he +thinks it would be a fine thing to send +Freddy up there to shake off his +malaria. There’s a queer old house +that his great-uncle left him, and an +old sailor who still lives there to look +out for things; and all the boating, +bathing, swimming, fishing a set of +lively young fellows can want; so I am +going to ship you all off there to-morrow +morning with Brother Bart. It’s +plain you can’t stand six weeks of vacation +here, especially when there will +be a general retreat for the Fathers +next month. You see, I simply have +to send you away.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>“And you mean—you mean—” +(Dan’s voice trembled, his eyes shone,)—“you +mean I can come back?”</p> +<p>“Come back, of course, when school +opens.”</p> +<p>“Jing!” said Dan, drawing a long +breath. “I—I thought you were putting +me out for good and all. I +thought, with the fight and the climb +and hurting Freddy I—I had done for +myself. I thought—” Here Dan’s feelings +became too much for him, and he +could only gulp down the sob that rose +in his throat, with a look that went to +Father Regan’s kind heart.</p> +<p>“My poor boy, no, no! Put you out +of Saint Andrew’s for good and all! I +never thought of such a thing for a +moment. Of course I object seriously +to fighting, to your reckless venture to +Old Top; but—well, you had strong +temptations, and in vacation time one +must not be too severe. At Killykinick +there will be more elbow-room. Have +you ever been to the seashore?”</p> +<p>“Never farther than the wharfs. +But I can swim and dive and float,” +answered Dan, wisely reserving the information +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +that, as a member of the +“Wharf Rats,” he had been ducked +overboard at the age of six, to sink or +swim.</p> +<p>“Good!” said Father Regan. “Then +you’ll have a fine time. And I am depending +on you to look out for the other +boys. They have grown up in softer +ways, and are not used to roughing it, +as it is likely you will have to rough it +at Killykinick. But it will be good for +you all,—for you all,” repeated the +speaker cheerily, as he saw in Dan’s +brightening face the joyful relief the +boy did not know how to speak. “And +you will come back ready for double ‘X’ +work in the fall. I am looking for great +things from you, Dan. You’ve made a +fine start, my boy! Keep it up, and +some day you will be signing all the +capital letters to Dan Dolan’s name +that Saint Andrew’s can bestow.”</p> +<p>“Sure I don’t know about that, +Father,” said Dan, his speech softening +into Aunt Winnie’s Irish tones with the +warming of his heart. “You’re very +good to me, but sometimes I think—well, +what I thrashed Dud Fielding for +telling me: that I’ve no right to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +pushing into a grand school like this. +I ought to keep my place.”</p> +<p>“And where is your place?” was the +calm question.</p> +<p>“Sure, sure—” Dan hesitated as he +recalled a very checkered childhood. +“Now that Aunt Winnie is all broke up, +I can’t say, Father.”</p> +<p>“Then I will tell you, my boy! Just +now, by the goodness and guidance of +God, it is here,—here, where you have +equal rights with any boy in the school. +You have won them in winning your +scholarship; they are yours as justly as +if you had a father paying a thousand +a year. There may be a little rough +rubbing now and then from fellows like +Dud Fielding; but—well, everything +that is worth having has its cost. So +stand to your colors! Be, as you said +yesterday, neither a bully nor a coward, +but a man. Now go to see Aunt Winnie +and bid her good-bye. Tell her I +am sending you off for the jolliest kind +of a holiday to Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know how to thank you, +Father!” stammered Dan, feeling that +his blackened sky had suddenly burst +into rainbow light. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p> +<p>“Don’t try,” was the kind answer. +“I understand, Dan. God bless you, +my boy!”</p> +<p>And, laying his hand for a moment +on Dan’s sandy thatch of hair, Father +Regan dismissed the case. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>IV.—Aunt Winnie.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was a delighted Dan that bounded +down the broad staircase and took a +flying leap from the stone portico of the +great hall door.</p> +<p>“Hello!” said Jim Norris, who was +lazily stretched on the grass, reading. +“Is that a jump or a kick out?”</p> +<p>“A jump,” answered Dan, grinning: +“though I was primed for the other, +sure. How is Dudey’s nose?”</p> +<p>“Coming down,” said Jim, who was +an easy-going mixer, whom everybody +liked. “About the size and shape of a +spring radish to-day. My, but he’s hot +against you, Dan! Look out for him! +Snake in the grass is nothing to Dud +Fielding on the boil. Won’t even rattle +fairly before he strikes.”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t take the glad hand if I +stretched it out to him and said I was +sorry?” asked Dan. “Just now I feel +like being at peace with everybody.”</p> +<p>“Not much!” said Jim, impressively. +“Or if he did there would be a snake +sting ready for you, all the same. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +know Dud Fielding. He’ll get even +with you if he dies for it.”</p> +<p>“All right!” was the cheerful reply. +“Let him get even then. Have you +heard about Killykinick, Jim?”</p> +<p>“Yes: Father Regan told me. I +don’t know what or where it is, but I’m +ready for a start if it’s a cannibal isle. +Anything is better than dying of dullness +here. Where are you off so fast, +Dan?”</p> +<p>“To see my aunt. She—she—” +There was a moment’s hesitation, for +Dan knew all the admission meant to +boys like Jim. But he added boldly: +“She is at the Little Sisters’, you know, +and I want to bid her good-bye before +I leave.”</p> +<p>“Of course you do. These old aunts +are great,” said Jim, with a friendly +nod. “I’ve got one myself up in the +country. Wears bonnets and gowns +that look as if they came out of the +Ark. But, golly, she can make doughnuts +and apple pies that beat the band! +I’d rather spend a week at Aunt +Selina’s than any place I know. Going +to walk or ride, Dan?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>“Walk,” was the answer. “I generally +do. It’s good for my health.”</p> +<p>“Not on a day like this. I’ve got a +pocketful of car tickets,” said Jim, +shaking a dozen or so out on the grass. +“We’ll have no use for them at Killykinick. +Help yourself.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Dan, sturdily. “Thank +you all the same, Jim! But I don’t +mind walking a bit. I’ll match you at +a game of tennis when I get back, and +do you up.”</p> +<p>“All right!” answered Jim, who, +though slow and lazy and a bit dull at +his books, was a gentleman through +and through. Three generations of +Norrises had cut their names on Old +Top.</p> +<p>And, lighter hearted for this friendliness, +Dan kept on his way by short cuts +and cross streets until he reached the +quiet suburb where the modest buildings +of the “Little Sisters” stretched +long and wide behind their grey stone +walls. He was admitted by a brisk, +kind little old woman, who was serving +as portress; and after some parley, +was shown up into Aunt Winnie’s +room. It was spotless in its cleanliness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +and bare save for the most necessary +articles of furniture. There were three +other old ladies about in various stages +of decrepitude, who seemed only dully +conscious of Dan’s appearance; but +Aunt Winnie, seated in her armchair by +the window, started up in tremulous +rapture at sight of her boy. Despite +her age and infirmity, she was still a +trig little body, with snow-white hair +waved about a kind old wrinkled face +and dim soft eyes, that filled with tears +at “Danny’s” boyish hug and kiss.</p> +<p>“It’s a long time ye’ve been coming,” +she said reproachfully. “I thought ye +were forgetting me entirely, Danny +lad.”</p> +<p>“Forgetting you!” echoed Dan. +“Now, you know better than to talk +like that, Aunt Win. I’m thinking of +you day and night. I’ve got no one +else to think of but you, Aunt Win.”</p> +<p>“Whisht now,—whisht!” Aunt Winnie +sank her voice to a whisper, and +nodded cautiously towards the nearest +old lady. “She do be listening, lad. +I’ve told them all of the grand, great +college ye’re at, and the fine, bright lad +ye are, but I’ve told them nothing more. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +Ye’re not to play the poor scholar +here.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I see!” said Dan, grinning. +“Go on with your game then, Aunt +Win.”</p> +<p>“I’m not looking to be remembered,” +Aunt Winnie continued dolefully. +“What with all the French and Latin +ye have to study, and the ball playing +that you’re doing. I can’t look for you +to think of a poor lone lame woman like +me.”</p> +<p>“Aunt Win!” burst forth Dan, impetuously.</p> +<p>“Whisht!” murmured Aunt Win +again, with a glance at the old lady +who was blinking sleepily. “Don’t ye +be giving yerself away. And I suppose +it’s the fine holiday that ye’re having +now wid the rest of yer mates,” +she went on.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dan, feeling he could +truthfully humor the old lady’s harmless +pride here. “We’re off to-morrow +for the jolliest sort of a time at the +seashore. Freddy Neville, the nicest +little chap in college, has a place up +somewhere on the New England coast, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +and four of us are going there for the +summer.”</p> +<p>And Danny launched into eager details +that made Aunt Winnie’s eyes +open indeed. But there was a little +quiver in her voice when she spoke.</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s fine for you,—that’s fine +for you indeed, Danny! We can talk +plain now; for” (as a reassuring snore +came from her dozing neighbor) +“thank God, she’s off asleep! It’s the +grand thing for you to be going with +mates like that. It’s what I’m praying +for as I sit here sad and lonely, Dan, +that God will give ye His blessing, and +help ye up, up, up, high as mortal man +can go.”</p> +<p>“And you with me, Aunt Win,” said +Dan, who, seated on the footstool of the +chair, was smoothing her wrinkled +hand.</p> +<p>“Ah, no, my lad, I don’t ask that! +I’m not asking that at all, Danny. I’ll +not be houlding to ye, and dragging ye +down while ye’re climbing. And whisper, +lad, while there’s no one listening: +it’s naither wise nor best for ye to be +coming here.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” asked Dan, for he knew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +that he was the light of poor Aunt +Win’s eyes and the joy of her old heart.</p> +<p>“Because—because,” faltered Aunt +Winnie, “though it’s fibs I’ve been telling +about yer grandeur and greatness—God +forgive me that same!—the old +busybodies around will be wondering +and prating about why ye lave me here, +Dan,—because I might be a shame to +ye before all the fine gentlemen’s sons +that have taken ye up,—because” +(Aunt Win’s voice broke entirely) “a +poor old woman like me will only hurt +and hinder ye, Dan.”</p> +<p>“Hurt and hinder me!” echoed Dan, +who, with all his cleverness, could not +understand the depths and heights of +good old Aunt Winnie’s love.</p> +<p>“Aye, lad, hurt and hinder ye; for +ye’re on the way up, and I’ll not be the +one to hould ye back. I do be dreaming +grand dreams of ye, Danny lad,—dreams +that I don’t dare to spake out.”</p> +<p>“Whisper them, then, Aunt Win,” +urged Dan, softly. “Maybe I’ll make +them come true.”</p> +<p>“Ye couldn’t,” said the old woman, +her dim eyes shining. “Only God in +heaven can do that. For I dream that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +I see you on His altar, the brightest +place that mortal man can reach. I’ll +ne’er live to see that dream come true, +Danny; but I believe it would make +my old heart leap if I was under the +sod itself.”</p> +<p>“O Aunt Win, Aunt Win!” Dan lifted +the wrinkled hand to his lips. “That is +a great dream, sure enough. Sometimes, +Aunt Win, I—I dream it myself. +But, then, a rough-and-tumble fellow +like me, always getting into scrapes, +soon wakes up. But one thing is sure: +you can’t shake me, Aunt Win. Dreaming +or waking, I’ll stick to you forever.”</p> +<p>“Ah, no, lad,—no!” said the old +woman, tremulously. “I’d not have ye +bother with me. Sure it’s the fine place +I have here, with my warm room and +nice bed, and the good Little Sisters to +care for me, and the chapel close to +hand. But I miss our own little place, +sure, sometimes, Danny dear! I miss +the pot of flowers on the window (it’s +against the rule to grow flowers here), +and me own little blue teapot on the +stove, and Tabby curled up on the mat +before the fire.”</p> +<p>Aunt Winnie broke down and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +sobbed outright, while Danny was +conscious of a lump in his throat that +held him dumb.</p> +<p>“Poor Tabby!” continued Aunt +Winnie. “I hope the Mulligans are +good to her, Dan. D’ye ever see her +as ye pass their gate?”</p> +<p>“I do,” answered Dan. “Molly Mulligan +has tied a blue ribbon around her +neck, and she is the pride of the +house.”</p> +<p>“And she has forgotten me, of +course!” sighed Aunt Winnie. “But +what could I expect of a cat!”</p> +<p>“Forgotten you? Not a bit! Molly +says she steals into your room upstairs +and cries for you every night.”</p> +<p>“Ah, it was the sore parting for us +all, God help us!” said Aunt Winnie, +brokenly. “But as long as it brings +you luck, lad, I’ll never complain. This +is the holy place to die in, and +what could a poor sick ould woman +ask more?”</p> +<p>“A lot—a lot more!” burst forth +Danny, passionately. “You should +have a place to live and be happy in, +Aunt Win. You should have your +own fire and your own teapot, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +your own cat in your own home; and +I mean to get it back for you just as +quick as I can.”</p> +<p>“Whisht! whisht!” said Aunt Win, +nervously, as the old lady nearby +roused up, startled from her nap.</p> +<p>“It’s time ye were going, Danny; +for ye’re a long way from college, and +I wouldn’t keep ye against rules. I +hope ye’ll have a fine time at the seashore, +with the fishing and boating +and all the other sports. Good-bye +and God bless ye, lad, until we meet +again! Good-bye, Danny dear!” And, +realizing from the wide-open eyes of +the old lady near him that all confidential +communications were over, +Dan kissed Aunt Win’s withered +cheek, and, his heart swelling with +feelings he could not speak, took his +way back to Saint Andrew’s, all his +dreams, hopes, ambitions for the future +strangely shaken.</p> +<p>Aunt Win,—gentle, loving, heartsick, +homesick Aunt Win! Aunt Win, +begging him to give her up lest she +should hurt and hinder him in his +opening way! Aunt Win sighing for +the little place she had called home, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +even while she was ready to give it up +forever and die silent and lonely, that +her boy might climb to heights of +which she could only dream and never +see! Dear, faithful, true-hearted, +self-forgetting Aunt Win! Dan felt his +own eyes blurring as he thought of all +she had done, of all she was ready to +sacrifice.</p> +<p>And—and—the other thought followed +swiftly: he could give it all back +to her,—the little attic rooms over +Mulligans’, the flowerpot in the window, +the blue teapot on the stove, +Tabby on the hearth-rug,—he could +give it all back to Aunt Win and bring +her home. It would be long, long years +before the higher paths into which he +had turned would yield even humble +living; but the old ways were open to +him still: the “ditch-digging” with +which Dud Fielding had taunted +him, the meat wagon, the sausage shop, +that he had been considering only a few +hours ago. What right had he to leave +the good old woman, who had mothered +him, lonely and heartsick that he might +climb beyond her reach? And yet—yet +to give up Saint Andrew’s, with all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +that it meant to him; to give up all +his hopes, his dreams; to turn his +back on those wide corridors and book-lined +rooms for counter and cleaver; +to give up,—to give up! Quite dizzy +with his contending thoughts, Dan was +striding on his way when a hearty voice +hailed him:</p> +<p>“Hello! That you, Dan? Jump in +and I’ll give you a lift.” And Pete +Patterson’s ruddy face looked out from +the white-topped wagon at the curb. “I +was just thinking of you,” said Pete, +as Dan willingly sprang up to the seat +at his side; for Pete had been a +friendly creditor in the days of the little +attic home when credit was sometimes +sorely needed. “Are you in with the +‘high brows’ for good and all?”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know,” hesitated Dan.</p> +<p>“Because if you’re not,” continued +Pete—“and what tarnation use a +sturdy chap like you will find in all +that Latin and Greek stuff, I can’t +see,—if you’re not in for it, I can give +you a chance.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>V.—A “Chance.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“I can give you a chance,” repeated +Pete, as he turned to Dan with his +broad, ruddy face illuminated by a +friendly smile. “It’s a chance I +wouldn’t hold out to everybody, but I +know you for a wide-awake youngster, +as honest as you are slick. Them two +don’t go together in general; but it’s +the combination I’m looking fur just +now, and you seem to have it. I was +thinking over it this very morning. +‘Lord, Lord,’ sez I to myself, ‘if Dan +Dolan hadn’t gone and got that eddycation +bug in his head, wouldn’t this be +the chance for him?”</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Dan; but there +was not much eagerness in his question. +Wide and springy as was the butcher’s +cart, it did not appeal to him as a +chariot of fortune just now. A loin of +beef dangled over his head, a dead calf +was stretched out on the straw behind +him. Pete’s white apron was stained +with blood. Dan was conscious of a +dull, sick repulsion of body and soul. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></p> +<p>“Well, it’s this,” continued Pete, +cheerfully. “You see, I’ve made a little +money over there at my corner, and +I’m planning to spread out,—do things +bigger and broader. There ain’t no +sort of use in holding back to hams and +shoulders when ye can buy yer hogs on +the hoof. That’s what I’m in fur +now,—hogs on the hoof; cut ’em, corn +’em, smoke ’em, salt ’em, souse ’em, +grind ’em into sausage meat and headcheese +and scrapple, boil ’em into lard. +Why, a hog is a regular gold mine when +he is handled right. But I can’t +handle it in that little corner shop I’ve +got now: there’s no room fur it. But +it’s too good a business there fur me +to give up. So I’m going to open +another place further out, and keep +both a-going. And I can’t afford no +high-class bookkeeper or clerk, that will +maybe jump my trade and gobble all +my profits. What I want is a boy,—a +bright, wide-awake boy that knows +enough about figguring to keep my accounts, +and see that no one ‘does’ me,—a +boy that I can send round in the +wagon to buy and sell ’cording to my +orders,—a boy that will be smart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +enough to pick up the whole business +from <i>a</i> to <i>izzard</i>, and work up as I +worked up till I kin make him partner. +That’s the chance I’ve got, and I believe +you’re the boy to take it.”</p> +<p>“I—I would have to give up college +of course,” said Dan, slowly.</p> +<p>“Give up college!” echoed Pete. +“Well, I should rather say you would! +There ain’t no time fur books in a biz +like mine. Now, Dan, what’s the good +of college anyhow fur a chap like you? +It ain’t ez if you were one of these +high mug-a-mugs with a rich father to +pay yer way through, and set you up +in a white choker and swallow-tail coat +afterwards. What’s the good of a +strong, husky fellow fooling along with +Latin and Greek, that will never be no +use to him? You’d a heap better spiel +plain strong English that will bring +you in the spondulics. Why, look at +me! I never had two years’ schooling +in my life. It’s all I can do to scrawl +‘P. J. Patterson,’ so folks can read it, +and thump out the rest on a secondhand +typewriter. But that ’ere same +scrawl will bring five thousand dollars +out of the bank any time I want it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +If I had as much eddycation as you +have, Dan, nobody couldn’t keep me in +any school in the land another minute. +It’s all nonsense,—a dead waste of time +and money.”</p> +<p>“What would you pay me?” asked +Dan, as the big loin of beef above joggled +against his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Well, let me see!” considered Pete. +“I ain’t paying any fancy price at start, +fur I don’t know how things will work +out; but I won’t be mean with you, +Dan. What do you say to four dollars +a week and board?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Dan, promptly. “I +don’t want your board at all.”</p> +<p>“Ye don’t?” said Pete in surprise. +“It will be good board, Dan: no fancy +fixings but filling, I promise you +that,—good and filling.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care how filling it is,” +answered Dan, gruffly. “I’d want my +own board, with Aunt Winnie. That’s +all I’d come to you for,—to take care of +Aunt Winnie.”</p> +<p>“Ain’t they good to her where she +is?” asked Pete, who knew something +of the family history.</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Dan; “but she is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +not happy: she is homesick, and I +want to bring her—home.”</p> +<p>And something in the tone of the +boyish voice told Pete that, with Aunt +Winnie and a home, Dan would be secured +as his faithful henchman forever.</p> +<p>“I don’t blame you,” he said. “I’ve +got an old mother myself, and if I took +her out of her little cubby-hole of a +house and put her in the marble halls +that folks sing about, she’d be pining. +It’s women nature, specially old women. +Can’t tear ’em up by the roots when +they’re past sixty. And that old aunt +of yours has been good to you sure,—good +as a mother.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Dan, a little +huskily, “good as a mother.”</p> +<p>“Then you oughtn’t to go back on +her sure,” said Pete, reflectively. “Considering +the old lady, I’ll make it five +dollars a week, if you’ll agree for a +year ahead, Dan.”</p> +<p>“A year ahead!” echoed Dan, thinking +of all that year had promised him.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Pete, decidedly. “It must +be a year ahead. I can’t break you in +at such a big figger, and then hev you +bolt the track just as I’ve got used to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +you. I wouldn’t give five dollars a +week to any other boy in the world, +though I know lots of ’em would jump +at it. It’s only thinking of that old +mother of mine and how I’d feel in your +place, makes me offer it to you. Five +dollars a week will bring your Aunt +Winnie back home. And, between you +and me, Dan, if she ain’t brought back, +she’ll be in another sort of home before +long, and past your helping. Mrs. Mulligan +was telling me the other day that +she had been out to see her, and she +was looking mighty peaked and feeble,—not +complaining of course, but +just pining away natural.”</p> +<p>“When will you want me?” blurted +out Dan, desperately. “Right off +now?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no!” was the hasty answer. +“I haven’t got the other place open yet, +and this ’ere hot weather ain’t no time +fur it. I’m just laying plans for the +fall. What were you thinking of doing +this summer?”</p> +<p>“Going off with a lot of fellows to the +seashore. But I’m ready to give it up,” +answered Dan, gulping down the lump +that rose in his throat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p> +<p>“No, don’t,—don’t!” said Pete. “I +haven’t got things fixed for a start yet. +Won’t have them fixed for a couple of +months or so. I ain’t a-hurrying you. +Just you think this ’ere chance over, +and make up your mind whether it +ain’t wuth more than all that Greek +and Latin they’re stuffing into your +head at Saint Andrew’s. Then come +around somewhere about the first of +September and see me ’bout it. I won’t +go back on my offer. It will be five +dollars cash down every Saturday +night, and no renigging. I turn off +here,” concluded Pete, drawing up as +they reached a busy corner. “You’ll +have to jump down; so bye, bye, Dan +my boy, until I see you again! Remember +it’s five dollars a week, and a +home for Aunt Winnie.”</p> +<p>“I’ll remember,” said Dan, as, half +dazed, he jumped from the wagon and +took his way back to Saint Andrew’s.</p> +<p>He entered the cross-crowned gateway +that guarded the spacious grounds, +feeling like one in a troubled dream. +He could shape nothing clearly: his +past, present, and future seemed shaken +out of place like the vari-colored figures +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +of a kaleidoscope. To give up all his +hopes, to shut out the beautiful vista +opening before him and settle down +forever to—to—“hogs on the hoof!” +And yet it was his only chance to cheer, +to gladden, perhaps to save gentle Aunt +Win’s life,—to bring her home again.</p> +<p>But would she be happy at such a +sacrifice? Would she not grieve even at +the fireside she had regained over her +broken dreams? And Dan would come +down from his dreams and visions +(which, after all, are very vague and +uncertain things for boys of thirteen) +to Tabby and the teapot, to the fluttering +old hand in his clasp, the trembling +old voice in his ear.</p> +<p>The sun was close to its setting; +supper was over, he knew; and Jim +Norris was waiting impatiently for his +promised game. But he could not think +of tennis just now; still less was he +disposed for a meeting with Dud Fielding, +whose voice he could hear beyond +the box hedge at his right. So, turning +away from tennis court and playground, +Dan plunged into the quiet +shelter of the walk that skirted the +high, ivy-grown wall, and was already +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +growing dim with evening shadows, +though lances of sunlight glinting here +and there through the arching pines +broke the gloom.</p> +<p>Pacing the quiet way with feeble step +was an old priest, saying his Office. +Father Mack’s earthly work was done. +He could no longer preach or teach; +he was only lingering in the friendly +shadows of Saint Andrew’s, waiting his +Master’s call home; his long, busy life +ending in a sweet twilight peace. +Sometimes at retreats or on great +feasts, when there was a crowd of juvenile +penitents in the college chapel, +Father Mack, gentle and indulgent, had +his place in a quiet corner, where he +was rather avoided by young sinners +as a “dying saint.”</p> +<p>But Dan, whatever might be his +month’s record of wrong-doing, had +taken to Father Mack from the first. +Perhaps it was something in the Irish +voice that recalled Aunt Winnie; perhaps +some deeper sympathy between +souls akin. Though they seldom met, +for the old priest had his room in a +building remote from the students’ +quarters, Father Mack and Dan were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +fast friends. His presence here was +most unlooked for; and Dan was about +to retire without further intrusion, +when the old priest closed his book and +turned to him with a kindly nod.</p> +<p>“You needn’t run off. I’m done, +my boy. These long, hot days are a +bit hard on me; but I like to stay out +here in the evening to say my Office +and watch the sunset. Did you ever +watch the sunset, Danny?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Father,” answered Dan. “It’s +great.”</p> +<p>“What do you see in it, Danny?” +was the low question.</p> +<p>“Oh, all sorts of things, Father,—domes +and spires and banners of gold +and red and purple, and pillars of cloud +and fire—”</p> +<p>“And gates,” broke in Father Mack. +“Don’t you see the gates, Danny,—gates +that seem to open in the shining +way that leads to God’s Throne? Ah, +it’s a wonderful sight, the sunset, when +your day is near done and you are tired +and old,—too old to be picturing and +dreaming. I’ll soon see—beyond the +cloud and the dream, Danny,—I’ll soon +see.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>The old man paused for a moment, +his dim eye kindling, his withered face +rapt. Then suddenly, as if recalled +from some cloudy height to earth, his +look and voice changed into fatherly +interest.</p> +<p>“Were you looking for me,—were +you wanting to talk to me, my son?”</p> +<p>“No—yes—no,” faltered Dan, who +had not thought of such a thing. +“Well, yes, I believe I do. I’m all muddled +up, and maybe you can set me +right, Father Mack. For—for,” Dan +blurted out without further hesitation, +“I can’t see things clear myself. Aunt +Winnie is grieving and pining and +homesick at the Little Sisters. She is +trying to hide it, but she is grieving, +I know. She broke down and cried to-day +when I went to see her,—cried +real sobs and tears. And—and” Dan +went on with breathless haste, “Peter +Patterson, that keeps the meatshop at +our old corner, has offered me five +dollars a week to come and work for +him. To give up Saint Andrew’s—and—and—all +it means, Father Mack, and +work for him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>VI.—Father Mack.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Give up Saint Andrew’s!” repeated +Father Mack in a low, startled voice. +“You, Dan! Give up! Oh, no, my +boy,—no!”</p> +<p>“Aunt Winnie will die if I don’t,” +blurted out Dan, despairingly. “Pete +Patterson says so. And I can take her +home and give her back her little rooms +over Mulligans’, and the blue teapot +and Tabby, and everything she loves. +And Pete says I can work up to be his +partner.”</p> +<p>“His partner,—his partner! In +what?” asked Father Mack, anxiously.</p> +<p>“Meat business,” answered Dan. +“He’s made money, and he’s going in +for it big,—corning, smoking, sausage, +everything. I—I could take care of +Aunt Winnie fine.”</p> +<p>“Meat business, sausage? I don’t +think I understand,” said Father Mack, +in bewilderment. “Sit down here, Dan, +and tell me all this over again.”</p> +<p>Dan took his seat on a broken slab +that had been a gravestone before the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +old college cemetery had been condemned +and removed beyond the limits +of the growing city. It was a very old +slab, bearing the Latin title of some +Brother or Father who had died fifty +years ago. The sunset fell through a +gap in the pines that showed the western +sky, with its open gates, their +pillars of cloud and fire all aglow.</p> +<p>“Tell me slowly, calmly, Dan. My +ears are growing dull.”</p> +<p>And Dan told his story again, more +clearly and less impetuously; while +Father Mack listened, his bent head +haloed by the setting sun.</p> +<p>“I can’t let Aunt Winnie die,” concluded +Dan. “You see, I have to think +of Aunt Winnie, Father.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I see,—I see, my boy,” was the +low answer. “And it is only of Aunt +Winnie you are thinking, Dan?”</p> +<p>“Only of Aunt Winnie,” replied Dan, +emphatically. “You don’t suppose anything +else would count against Saint +Andrew’s, Father. I’d work, I’d +starve, I’d die, I believe, rather than +give up my chance here?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, it’s hard lines sometimes,” +said Father Mack. “You may find it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +even harder as the years go by, Dan. +I heard about the trouble yesterday.”</p> +<p>“Oh, did you, Father?” said Dan, +somewhat abashed. “Dud Fielding did +stir the old Nick in me for sure.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Father Mack. “And that +same fierce spirit will be stirred again +and again, Dan. Despite all your +teachers can do for you, there will be +pricks and goads we can not help.”</p> +<p>“I know it,” answered Dan, sturdily. +“I’m ready for them. Saint Andrew’s +is worth all the pricks and goads I’ll +get. But Aunt Winnie, Father,—I +can’t forget Aunt Winnie. I’ve got to +take Aunt Winnie back home.”</p> +<p>“Would she—wish it, at such—such +a cost, Dan?” Father Mack questioned.</p> +<p>“Cost,” repeated Dan, simply. “It +wouldn’t cost much. The rooms are +only a dollar a week, and Aunt Winnie +can make stirabout and Irish stews and +potato cake to beat any cook I know. +Three dollars a week would feed us fine. +And there would be a dollar to spare. +And she could have her teapot on the +stove again, and Tabby on the hearth-rug, +only—only” (the young face +clouded a little) “I’m afraid great as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +it all would be, she’d be grieving about +her dreams.”</p> +<p>“Her dreams!” echoed Father Mack, +a little puzzled.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dan. “You see, I am all +she has in the world, and she is awful +soft on me, and since I got into Saint +Andrew’s she’s softer still. She thinks +there’s nothing too great or grand for +me to do. My, it would make you +laugh, Father, to hear poor old Aunt +Winnie’s pipe dreams about a tough +chap like me!”</p> +<p>“What does she dream, Dan?” asked +the old priest softly.</p> +<p>“I suppose she’d get out of them if +she were home where things are +natural like,” said Dan; “but now she +sits up there in the Little Sisters’ +dreaming that I’m going to be a +priest,—a rough-and-tumble fellow like +me!”</p> +<p>“Stranger things than that have happened, +Dan,” said Father Mack, quietly. +“I was a rough-and-tumble fellow myself.”</p> +<p>“You, Father!” exclaimed Dan.</p> +<p>“The ‘roughest-and-tumblest’ kind,” +said Father Mack, his worn face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +brightening into a smile that took away +twenty years at least. “I ran away to +sea, Dan, leaving a gentle mother to +break her heart for me. When I came +back” (the old face shadowed again) +“she was gone. Ah, God’s ways are +full of mystery, Dan! I think it was +that made me a priest.”</p> +<p>Father Mack was silent for a moment. +His dim eyes turned to the sunset, +where the cloud curtains were +swept asunder, the pillared gates a +glory of crimson and gold. Something +in his old friend’s face hushed Dan’s +questioning until Father Mack spoke +again.</p> +<p>“That was a long time ago,—a long +time ago. But the thought of it makes +me understand about Aunt Winnie, +Dan, and how hard it is to give you up. +Still—still—even of old God asked the +firstlings of the flock. Sacrifice! sacrifice! +It is the way to heaven, Dan. +Heart, hopes, tears, blood,—always +sacrifice.” And again the old speaker +paused as if in troubled thought. +“How soon must you make your choice, +Dan?” he asked at length.</p> +<p>“My choice? About leaving, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +mean, Father? Oh, Pete Patterson +doesn’t want me until the fall. And I +haven’t any place to go this summer, +if I give up now. Father Regan is +going to send us off to-morrow with +Brother Bart for a summer at the seashore.”</p> +<p>“A summer at the seashore! Ah, +good, good,—very good!” said Father +Mack, his old face brightening. “That +will give us time to think, to pray, Dan. +A summer! Ah, God can work wonders +for those who trust Him in a +summer, Dan! Think what He does +with the seed, the grain, the fruit. It +is not well to move or to choose hastily +when we are in the dark as to God’s +will. So say nothing about all this to +any one as yet, Dan,—nothing this +summer.”</p> +<p>“I won’t, Father,” agreed Dan.</p> +<p>“And I promise that every day you +will be remembered in my Mass, Dan.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Father! That ought to +keep me out of trouble sure.”</p> +<p>“And now where is this seashore +place?” asked Father Mack, quite +cheerfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p> +<p>“An island called Killykinick, +Father.”</p> +<p>“Killykinick?” echoed Father Mack, +startled. “You are going to Killykinick? +God bless me, how wonderful!”</p> +<p>“You know the place, Father?” +asked Dan, with interest.</p> +<p>“I know it indeed,” was the answer. +“I was wrecked there in the wild days +of which I told you, Dan, sixty years +ago. The ‘Maria Teresa’ (I was on a +Portuguese ship) went upon the rocks +on a dark winter night, that I thought +was likely to be my last. For the first +time in my reckless youth I really +prayed. My dear mother, no doubt, +was praying for me, too; for I learned +afterwards that it was on that night +she died, offering with her last breath +her life for her boy. Well, we held +together somehow until morning, and +got off to the shore of Killykinick before +the ‘Maria Teresa’ went down, +loaded with the golden profits of a two +years’ cruise.”</p> +<p>“And did they never get her up?” +asked Dan, quite breathless with interest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +at this glimpse of a “dying +saint’s” past.</p> +<p>“Never,” answered Father Mack,—“at +least never that I heard of. It was +soon afterward that I turned into +other ways and lost sight of my old +mates. But I always have remembered +the friendly haven of Killykinick. It +was a wild place,—only a few deserted +fishermen’s huts on the rocky shore, +where we lived on fish and clams until +taken off by a passing ship. But that +same rocky shore meant safety, shelter, +life. And so in the after years I have +always blessed Killykinick. And you +are going there to-morrow! You will +find it all changed,—all changed, I am +sure,” said Father Mack, as he slowly +rose to his feet, for the sunset was fading +now. “But I will think of you +there, Dan,—think of you frolicking +over the rocks and sands where +I wandered so long ago a shipwrecked +boy. Now it is time for me to go in, +for my old blood chills in the twilight; +so I must say good-bye,—good-bye and +God bless you, my boy!”</p> +<p>And, laying his hand for a moment +on the boyish head, the old priest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +turned away into the deepening +shadow of the pines, leaving Dan, who +was beginning to feel vividly conscious +that he had missed his supper, to make +a rapid foray into the refectory, where +Brother James could always be beguiled +into furnishing bread and jam in and +out of time,—having been, as he assured +the belated ones, a boy himself.</p> +<p>There was another belated one this +evening. Seated before a tempting +spread of milk toast, demanded by his +recent convalescence, was Freddy +Neville, a little pale and peaked perhaps, +but doing full justice to a third +creamy slice, and ready for more.</p> +<p>“Why, hello, Fred!” greeted Dan, +dropping into the chair beside him. +“You down?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Fred, spooning his dish +vigorously. “I’m well, all right now. +Temperature gone, Brother Tim says. +Can’t I have a little more toast, +Brother James, please? I’m not half +filled up yet. Supper tastes twice as +good down here. I’ve been out with +Brother Bart buying shoes and things +to go to Killykinick, and I’m hungry as +a bear.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>“Wait a bit then, and I’ll bring ye +both in some strawberry jam and biscuits,” +said Brother James, good-humoredly. +“It’s the black fast +Brother Tim puts on sick boys, I know. +When they came down after the measles +I couldn’t get them enough to eat for a +month. There now!” And the good +man set forth supplies liberally. “I +know what it is. I’ve been a hungry +boy myself.”</p> +<p>“Jing, it’s good to be up and out +again!” said Freddy, as both boys +pitched into biscuits and jam. “I felt +down and out this morning sure, Dan, +and now everything is working fine. +We’re going to have the time of our +lives this summer, after all. Even Dud +Fielding is cooling off, Jim Norris says, +now that his nose has gone down, and +he has heard about Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“Who told him?” asked Dan, who +did not feel particularly cheered at +these tidings; for Dud’s “cooling off” +was by no means to be trusted, as he +knew.</p> +<p>“Father Regan, of course. He +couldn’t send the boys unless they +wanted to go. But when they heard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +about the old house uncle made out of +his ship, and the row-boats and the +sailboat, and the bathing and fishing, +they just jumped at the chance to go. +And Jim says there is a fine place not +far off, where Dud spent the season +two years ago with some tip toppers, +and he’s counting on getting in with +them again. So he is tickled all around. +But I’m not caring about Dud or what +he likes, so long as I’ve got you, Dan, +I wouldn’t want to go without you.”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t you, kid?” asked Dan, +softly, for, after all the troubles and +perplexities of the day, his little chum’s +trusting friendship seemed very sweet +to him.</p> +<p>“N-o-o-o!” answered Freddy, most +decidedly. “But I sort of wish Brother +Bart was not going. He’ll keep me +such a baby!”</p> +<p>“No, he won’t. I’ll see to that,” +said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye. +“If there’s any way of giving you a +good time, I’ll do it. And I won’t let +you get hurt again either,—no sir! +I’ve had my scare about that. I’m going +to look out for you right. It may +be for the last time, but—” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>“The last time,” interrupted Freddy +quickly. “Why will it be the last +time?”</p> +<p>“I mean I may never have a chance +at such a jolly holiday again,” +answered Dan, suddenly remembering +his promise to Father Mack. “But +we’ll make this one a hummer. If +Killykinick is half what I think it is, +we’ll make this chance a hummer you’ll +never forget.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>VII.—A Holiday Start.</p> +</div> + +<p>And the holiday proved to be a +“hummer” from the very start. Everybody +was in high spirits. Even Dud +Fielding, with his nose happily reduced +to its normal color and size, had lost +his “grouch,” and was quite himself +again, in a sporting suit of English +tweed, ordered from his tailors for +“roughing it.” Easy-going Jim was in +comfortable khaki; so was little Fred; +while Dan had been privately presented +by the Brother wardrobian with +two suits of the same,—“left by +boys for the poor,” good Brother Francis +had whispered confidentially.</p> +<p>“I fill the bill then, sure,” said Dan, +with a cheerful grin.</p> +<p>“You do, but many a fine man has +done the same before you,” answered +Brother Francis, nodding. “I’ve put a +few more things in your trunk, Dan; +take them and God bless you! I’ve cut +off the marks so nobody’ll be the +wiser.”</p> +<p>Brother Bart’s wrinkled face wore a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +glow of pleasurable excitement as, +after seeing the baggage off, he marshalled +his holiday force on the college +porch for the last words of command +from his reverend chief.</p> +<p>“Give your orders now, Father; +though God knows how I’ll be able to +keep this lot up to them. They are +not to be killing and drowning themselves +against my will and word.”</p> +<p>“Certainly not,” said Father Regan, +with a smile. “Brother Bart is to be +obeyed, boys, or you’ll promptly be +ordered home.”</p> +<p>“And there is to be no roving off wid +pirates and smugglers that may be +doing their devilment along the shore,” +continued Brother Bart, anxiously.</p> +<p>“The government looks out for all +that now,” laughed Father Regan.</p> +<p>“I’m not so sure,” said Brother +Bart, who had grown up in a wild +stretch of the Irish coast. “It’s a +wicked world, and we’re going beyant +the Lord’s light that shines on us here.”</p> +<p>“Not at all,” was the cheering assurance. +“Beach Cliff is only six miles +away, and it has a little church where +there is a Mass every Sunday.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></p> +<p>“The Lord be praised for that anyhow!” +said the good man, with a sigh +of relief. “It’s a great burthen that +ye’ve put on my body and soul, Father. +But I’ll do me best, and, with God’s +help, I’ll bring the four of them back +safe and sound to ye. Now give us +your blessing and we’ll be off.”</p> +<p>And very soon they were off indeed, +speeding on to the busy wharf, scene of +many a “lark” in Dan’s boyish past. +Here the great steamboat was awaiting +them: for, although the route was +longer and more circuitous, Father Regan +had decided it best for his young +travellers to make their journey by sea.</p> +<p>To Jim and Dud such a trip was no +novelty; even Freddy had taken more +than one holiday outing with Uncle +Tom; but to Dan—Dan whose busy, +workaday childhood had excluded even +the delights of a cheap excursion—everything +was wonderfully and deliciously +new. He felt like one in a +bewildering dream. As the great floating +palace, all aglitter and aglow with +splendors of paint and upholstery +hitherto unknown, swung from her +moorings out into the stream, Dan +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +quite forgot the gentility of his surroundings +and the elegant Dud Fielding +at his elbow, and waved his hat with a +wild “Hurrah” to half a dozen Wharf +Rats who were fishing off the pier.</p> +<p>“Dan Dolan!” rose the shrill-voiced +chorus, and six pairs of bare legs +dangling over the water scrambled up +to a stand. “Jing! if it ain’t Dan +Dolan,—Dan Dolan all diked up like a +swell! Hi-yi-yi-yi, Dan! Where are +you going, Dan?”</p> +<p>“Seashore, New England, Killykinick!” +Dan shouted back, quite unconscious +of the smiles and stares of the +passengers. “Off for the summer! +Hooray!”</p> +<p>“Hooray—hooray!” with a series of +whoops and catcalls came back the +Wharf Rat’s farewells, echoing with +such friendly memories of a rough past +that Dan was struck speechless by the +fierce contrasting voice in his ear.</p> +<p>“You darned dunderhead!” whispered +Dud Fielding. “Can’t you keep +quiet in a decent crowd?”</p> +<p>“Eh?” said Dan in bewilderment.</p> +<p>“Don’t you see everybody staring at +us?” continued Dud, wrathfully. “To +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +be shouting at dirty little beggars like +those and disgracing us all!”</p> +<p>“Disgracing you?” echoed Dan.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dud, still hot with pride +and rage. “And there are the Fosters +on the upper deck,—people I know. +Come, Jim, let’s cut off before they see +us with this low-down chump.”</p> +<p>And Dud led easy-going Jim to the +other side of the boat.</p> +<p>“Low-down chump!” Unconscious +as he was of any offense, Dan felt the +scornful sting of the words, and his +hot blood began to boil; but he remembered +the “pricks and goads” he +had resolved to bear bravely, and shut +his lips tight together as Freddy stole +a small hand into his own.</p> +<p>With the last “Hi-yi” the Wharf +Rats had settled back to their occupation, +and Freddy eyed them from the +growing distance most favorably.</p> +<p>“Did you ever fish like that, Dan?” +he asked with interest.</p> +<p>“Often,” was the brief reply; for +Dan was still hot and sore.</p> +<p>“Golly, it must be fun! And did you +catch anything, Dan?”</p> +<p>“My dinner,” answered Dan, grimly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p> +<p>“Jing!” exclaimed Freddy, breathlessly. +“That was great! When we get +to Killykinick let us go out like those +bare legged boys and catch our dinner, +too.”</p> +<p>And Dan laughed and forgot he was +a “low-down chump” as he agreed +they would catch dinners whenever +possible. Then he and Freddy proceeded +to explore the big boat high and +low, decks, cabins, saloons, machinery +wherever visible. Freddy, who had +made similar explorations with Uncle +Tom as guide, was quite posted in +steamboat workings; but it was all +new and wonderful to Dan, who had +only dry book-knowledge of levers and +cogs and wheels; and to watch them +in action, to gaze down into the fiery +depths of the furnace, to hear the +mighty throb of the giant engine,—to +see all these fierce forces mastered by +rules and laws into the benignant +power that was bearing him so gently +over summer seas, held him breathless +with interest and delight. Even the +clang of the first dinner gong could not +distract him from his study of cylinder +and piston and shaft and driving-rod, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +and all shining mechanism working +without pause or jar at man’s command.</p> +<p>“Just as if they had sense,” said +Dan, thoughtfully,—“a heap more +sense than lots of living folk I know.”</p> +<p>“That’s what Uncle Tom says,” replied +Freddy, to whom, in their brief +holidays together, Uncle Tom, cheery +and loving, was an authority beyond +question. “He says they work by strict +law and rule, and people won’t. They +shirk and kick. Jing! if these here +engines took to shirking and kicking +where would we be? But they don’t +shirk and kick against law. Uncle Tom +says they obey, and that’s what boys +ought to do—obey. Gee! it’s good +we’re not engines, isn’t it, Dan? We’d +blow things sky high.—Here’s the +second call for dinner,” said Freddy, +roused from these serious reflections by +the sound of the gong. “We’d better +move quick, Dan, or the ice-cream may +give out.”</p> +<p>“Can you have ice-cream,—all you +want?” asked Dan.</p> +<p>“Well, no,” hesitated Freddy, who +knew what Dan could do in that line,—“not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +like we have at college. They +dish it out other places a little skimp, +but they’ll give you a good supply of +other things to make up.”</p> +<p>Which information Dan soon found +to be most pleasantly correct; and, +though the glories of the long dining +room, with its corps of low-voiced +waiters, were at first a trifle embarrassing, +and Brother Bart’s grace, +loudly defying all human respect, attracted +some attention to his table, the +boys did full justice to the good things +set so deftly before them, and went +through the bill of fare most successfully.</p> +<p>The black waiters grinned as the +young travellers proceeded to top off +with apple pie and ice-cream, combined +in such generous proportions that +Brother Bart warned them that the sin +of gluttony would be on their souls if +they ate another mouthful.</p> +<p>Then Freddy, sorely against his will, +was borne off by his good old friend to +rest, according to Brother Tim’s last +order; while Dan was left to himself +to watch the boat turning into the +shore, where a wharf loaded with truck +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +for shipping jutted out into the stream; +and one passenger—a sturdy, grizzled +man in rough, brown hunting corduroy—leaped +aboard followed by two +fine dogs. Then the laboring engines, +with puff and shriek, kept on their +way; while Dan continued his investigations, +and made friendly overtures to +a big deck hand who volunteered to +show the eager young questioner +“below.”</p> +<p>And “below” they went, down steep, +crooked steps that led away from all +the glitter and splendor above, into +black depths, lit only by fierce glow of +undying fires. Brawny, half-naked +figures fed and stirred the roaring +flames; the huge boilers hissed, the engines +panted; but through all the darkness +and discord came the measured +beat of the ship’s pulse that told there +was no shirk or kick,—that all this +mighty mechanism was “obeying.”</p> +<p>And then, this dark sight-seeing +over, Dan came up again into the +bright, sunlit deck crowded with gay +passengers chatting and laughing. +Brother Bart was making efforts at +conversation with an old French priest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +returning to his mission in the Canadian +forests; Dud had introduced Jim +to his fashionable friends, and both +boys were enjoying a box of chocolates +with pretty little Minnie Foster; +Freddy was still “resting” in his stateroom.</p> +<p>All were unmindful of the dark, fiery +depths below, where fierce powers were +working so obediently to bear them on +their happy, sunlit way, that was widening +each moment now. The smiling +shores, dotted with farms and villages, +were stretching away into hazy distance; +there was a new swell in the +waves as they felt the heart-beat of the +sea. It was all new and wonderful to +Dan; and he stood leaning on the deck +rail of a secluded corner made by a +projecting cabin, watching the sunset +glory pale over the swift vanishing +shore, when he was suddenly startled +by a deep voice near him that questioned:</p> +<p>“Worth seeing, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>Dan looked up and saw the big grizzled +stranger in corduroy gazing at the +splendor of the western sky. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Dan. “It’s +great! Are we out at sea now?”</p> +<p>“Almost,” was the reply. “Not in +the full swell yet, but this is our last +sight of land.” He nodded to a promontory +where the delicate lines of a +lighthouse were faintly pencilled +against the sunset.</p> +<p>“Jing!” said Dan, drawing a long +breath, “it feels queer to be leaving +earth and sun and everything behind +us.”</p> +<p>His companion laughed a little +harshly. “I suppose it does at your +age,” he said. “Afterwards” (he stopped +to light a cigar and puff it into +glow),—“afterwards we get used to +it.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” assented Dan, “because +we know we are coming back.”</p> +<p>“Coming back!” repeated the other +slowly. “We are not always sure of +that. Sometimes we leave the land, the +light, behind us forever.”</p> +<p>“Oh, not forever!” said Dan. “We +would have to strike light and land +somewhere unless we drowned.”</p> +<p>“We don’t drown,” continued the +stranger. “We do worse: we drift,—drift +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +in darkness and night.”</p> +<p>Dan stared. His companion had +taken his cigar from his lips and was +letting its glow die into ashes.</p> +<p>“Folks do drown sometimes,” said +Dan. “I tell you if you go round the +bottom of this boat you’d see how we +could drown mighty easily. Just a +wheel or crank or a valve a mite +wrong,—whewy! we’d all be done for. +But they don’t go wrong; that’s the +wonder of it, isn’t it?” said Dan, cheerfully. +“If everybody kept steady and +straight as a steam-engine, this would +be a mighty good world.”</p> +<p>“No doubt it would,” was the reply. +“Are you not rather young to be facing +it alone?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m not alone!” said Dan, +hastily. “I’m off with a lot of other +fellows for the seashore. We are college +boys from Saint Andrew’s.”</p> +<p>“Saint Andrew’s?” The stranger +started so violently that the dying cigar +dropped from his hold. “Saint Andrew’s +College, you say, boy! Not +Saint Andrew’s in—”</p> +<p>But a clear young voice broke in +upon the excited question. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p> +<p>“Dan Dolan! Where are you, Dan? +Oh, I’ve been looking everywhere for +you!”</p> +<p>And, fresh and rosy from his long +rest, Freddy Neville bounded out gleefully +to Dan’s side.</p> +<p>A low cry burst from the stranger’s +lips, and he stood staring at the boys as +if turned into stone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>VIII.—A New Friend.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Jing, you gave me a scare, Dan!” +said Freddy, drawing a long breath of +relief. “I thought you had dropped +overboard.”</p> +<p>“Overboard!” scoffed Dan. “You +must think I’m a ninny. And you have +been sleeping sure! Got to keep this +sort of thing up all summer?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no!” said Freddy; “only for +a few days,—until I get real well and +strong; though Brother Bart will keep +fussing over me, I know. Golly, I wish +we had Uncle Tom along with us!”</p> +<p>“All right, is he?” asked Dan.</p> +<p>“Great!” replied Freddy, emphatically. +“Doesn’t baby you a bit; lets you +row and swim and dive when you go +off with him. Most as good as a real +father.”</p> +<p>“<i>Just</i> as good, I guess,” amended +Dan.</p> +<p>“No,” said Freddy, shaking his head. +“You see, he has other work—preaching +and saying Mass and giving missions—where +I don’t come in. He has +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +to leave me at Saint Andrew’s because +he hasn’t any home. It must be just +fine to have a home that isn’t a school,—a +sort of cosy little place, with +cushioned chairs, and curtains, and a +fire that you can see, and a kitchen +where you can roast nuts and apples +and smell gingerbread baking, and a +big dog that would be your very own. +But you can’t have a home like that +when you have a priest uncle like mine.”</p> +<p>“No, you can’t,” agreed Dan, his +thoughts turning to Aunt Winnie and +her blue teapot, and the little rooms +that, despite all the pinch and poverty, +she had made home.</p> +<p>“And Christmas,” went on Freddy, +both young speakers being quite oblivious +of the big stranger who had +seated himself on a camp stool in the +shelter of the projecting cabin, and, +with folded arms resting on the deck +rail, was apparently studying the distant +horizon,—“I’d like to have one +real right Christmas before I get too +big for it.”</p> +<p>“Seems to me you have a pretty +good time as it is,” remarked Dan: +“new skates and sled, and five dollars +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +pocket money. There wasn’t a fellow +at the school of your age had any +more.”</p> +<p>“That’s so,” said Freddy; “but they +went <i>home</i>. A fellow doesn’t want +pocket money when he goes home. +Dick Fenton had only sixty cents; I +lent him fifteen more to get a card-case +for his mother. But he had +Christmas all right, you bet: a tree +that went to the ceiling (he helped to +cut it down himself); all the house +‘woodsy’ with wreaths and berries and +fires,—real fires where you could pop +corn and roast apples. He lives in the +country, you see, where money doesn’t +count; for you can’t buy a real Christmas; +it has to be homemade,” said +Freddy, with a little sigh. “So I’ll +never have one, I know.”</p> +<p>Then the great gong sounded again +to announce supper; and both boys +bounded away to find the rest of their +crowd, leaving the big stranger still +seated in the gathering darkness, +looking out to sea. As the boyish footsteps +died into silence, he bowed his +head upon his hands, and his breast +heaved with a long, shuddering breath +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +as if some dull, slumbering pain had +wakened into life again. Then, in +fierce self-mastery, he rose, stretched +his tall form to its full height, and, +ascending to the upper deck, began to +pace its dimming length with the +stern, swift tread of one whose life is +a restless, joyless march through a +desert land.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Brother Bart and his +boys had begun to feel the roll of the +sea, and to realize that supper had +been a mistake. Jim and Dud had retired +to their staterooms, with unpleasant +memories of Minnie Foster’s +chocolates, and the firm conviction +that they never wanted to see a candy +box again. Brother Bart was ministering +to a very white-faced “laddie,” +and thanking Heaven he was in the +state of grace and prepared for the +worst.</p> +<p>“The Lord’s will be done, but I +don’t think any of us will live to see +the morning. There must have been +some poison in the food, to take us all +suddint like this.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, Brother Bart!” gasped +Freddy, faintly. “I’ve been this way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +before. We’re all just—just seasick, +Brother Bart—dead seasick.”</p> +<p>Even Dan had a few qualms,—just +enough to send him, with the sturdy +sense of his rough kind, out into the +widest sweep of briny air within his +reach. He made for a flight of stairs +that led up into some swaying, starlit +region where there were no other sufferers, +and flung himself upon a pile +of life-preservers that served as a +pillow for his dizzy head. Sickness of +any sort was altogether new to Dan, +and he felt it would be some relief to +groan out his present misery unheard. +But the glow of a cigar, whose owner +was pacing the deck, suddenly glimmered +above his head, and the big +man in corduroy nearly stumbled over +him.</p> +<p>“Hello!” he said. “Down and out, +my boy? Here, take a swig of this!” +and he handed out a silver-mounted +flask.</p> +<p>“No,” said Dan, faintly, “—can’t. I’ve +taken the pledge.”</p> +<p>“Pooh! Don’t be a fool, boy, when +you’re sick!”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t touch it if I were dying,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +said Dan. “I’m getting better +now, anyhow. My, but I felt queer +for a while! It is so hot and stuffy +below. No more packing in on a shelf +for me. I’ll stick it out here until +morning.”</p> +<p>“And the others,—the little chap +who was with you?” the stranger +asked hastily. “Is he—he sick, too?”</p> +<p>“Freddy Neville? Yes, dead sick; +but Brother Bart is looking out for +him. Brother Bart is a regular old +softy about Freddy. He took him +when he was a little kid and keeps +babying him yet.”</p> +<p>“He is good to him, you mean?” +asked the other, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Good? Well, I suppose you’d call +it good. I couldn’t stand any such +fussing. Why, when Fred got a tumble +in the gym the other day the old +man almost had a fit!”</p> +<p>“A tumble,—a fall; did it hurt him +much?” There was a strange sharpness +in the questioner’s voice.</p> +<p>“Pooh, no!” said Dan. “Just +knocked him out a little. But we were +all getting into trouble at Saint Andrew’s, +for vacation there is pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +slow; so Father Regan has sent us off +to the seashore for the summer?”</p> +<p>“The seashore? Where?”</p> +<p>“Some queer place called Killykinick,” +answered Dan, who was now +able to sit up and be sociable.</p> +<p>“Killykinick?” repeated his companion, +in a startled tone. “Did you +say you were going to Killykinick?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Dan. “Freddy’s +uncle or cousin or somebody died a +while ago and left him a place there. +Freddy has a lot of houses and money +and things all his own. It’s lucky he +has. He isn’t the kind to rough it and +tough it for himself. Not that he +hasn’t plenty of grit,” went on +Freddy’s chum, hastily. “He’s as +plucky a little chap as I ever saw. But +he’s been used to having life soft and +easy. He is the ‘big bug’ sort. (I +ain’t.) So I’m glad he has money +enough to make things smooth at the +start, though his no-’count father did +skip off and leave him when he was +only five years old.”</p> +<p>“His father left him?” repeated +Dan’s companion. “Why?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know,” answered Dan. “Just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +naturally a ‘quitter,’ I guess. Lots of +menfolks are. Want a free foot and +no bother. But to shake a nice little +chap like Freddy I call a dirty, mean +trick, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“There might be reasons,” was the +hesitating rejoinder.</p> +<p>“What reason?” asked Dan, gruffly. +“There ain’t any sort of reason +why a father shouldn’t stick to his job. +I hate a ‘quitter,’ anyhow,” concluded +Dan, decisively.</p> +<p>“Wait until you are twenty years +older before you say that, my boy!” +was the answer. “Perhaps then you +will know what quitting costs and +means. But you’re an old chum for that +little boy. I saw him with you down +below. How is it that you’re such +friends?”</p> +<p>And then Dan, being of a communicative +nature, and seeing no cause for +reserve, told his new acquaintance all +about the scholarship that had introduced +him into spheres of birth and +breeding to which he frankly confessed +he could make no claim.</p> +<p>“I’m not Freddy’s sort, I know; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +but he took to me somehow,—I can’t +tell why.”</p> +<p>Yet as Dan went on with his simple, +honest story, his listener, who, world-wise +and world-weary as he was, knew +something of the boyish nature that +turns instinctively to what is strong +and true and good, felt he could tell +why Freddy took to this rough diamond +of a chum.</p> +<p>Dan, in his turn, learned that his +new acquaintance was called John +Wirt; that he was off on a vacation +trip, hunting and fishing wherever +there was promise of good sport; that +he had travelled abroad for several +years,—had been to China, Japan, +India, Egypt; had hunted lions and +elephants, seen the midnight sun, +crossed Siberian steppes and African +deserts. From a geographical standpoint, +Mr. Wirt’s story seemed an open +and extensive map, but biographically +it was a blank. Of his personal history, +past, present or future, he said +nothing. Altogether, Dan and his new +acquaintance had a pleasant hour on +the open deck beneath the stars, and +made friends rapidly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“I wish you were going our way,” +said Dan, regretfully, as his companion +announced that he was to get +off at the first point they touched. +“Brother Bart is going to granny us +all, I know. If we had a real strong +man like you around, he wouldn’t scare +so easily. And there is fine fishing +about Killykinick, they say.”</p> +<p>“So I have heard.” The stranger had +risen now, and stood, a tall shadow +dimly outlined above Dan. “I—I—perhaps +I’ll drop in upon you. Isn’t it +time for you to turn in now?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Dan,—“not into +that packing box below. I’m up here +for the night.”</p> +<p>“And I’m off before morning, so it’s +good-bye and good luck to you!”</p> +<p>And, with a friendly nod, Mr. John +Wirt strode away down the darkened +deck, leaving Dan to fling himself back +upon his life-preservers, and wonder +how, when, or where he had seen their +new acquaintance before,—not at Saint +Andrew’s; for Mr. Wirt had been +abroad, as he had said, ever since Dan +entered the college; not at Milligans’ +or Pete Patterson’s, or anywhere about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +his old home. Perhaps he had blacked +his shoes or sold him a newspaper in +some half-forgotten past; for surely +there was something in his tone, his +glance, his friendly smile that Dan +knew.</p> +<p>He felt quite well now. All the dizziness +and nausea had vanished, and he +was his own strong, sturdy self again. +The roll and swap of the boat were +only the rock of a giant cradle; the +surge of the sea, a deep-toned lullaby +soothing him to pleasant dreams; and +the sky! Dan had never seen such a +midnight sky. He lay, with his head pillowed +in his clasped hands, looking up at +the starry splendor above him with a +wonder akin to awe. The great, blue +vault arching above him blazed with +light from a myriad stars, that his +books had told him were worlds greater +than this on whose wide waters he was +tossing now,—worlds whose history the +wisest of men could never know,—worlds, +thousands and millions of them, +moving in shining order by “rule and +law.”</p> +<p>“Rule and law,”—it was the lesson +that seemed to face Dan everywhere,—down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +in those black depths he had penetrated +to-day, where valve and lever +and gauge held roaring fire and hissing +steam, with all their fierce force, +to submission and service; in the polished +mechanism whose steady throb +he could feel pulsing beneath him like +a giant heart; in the radiant sky +where worlds beyond worlds swept on +their mysterious way—obeying.</p> +<p>With half-formed thoughts like these +stirring vaguely in his mind, Dan was +dropping off into pleasant sleep, when +he was roused by the sound of voices +and the glimmering of a ship’s lantern.</p> +<p>“I think you will find your boy here, +sir.”</p> +<p>It was Mr. John Wirt, who, with the +aid of a friendly deck hand, was guiding +a pale, tottering, very sick Brother +Bart to Dan’s side.</p> +<p>“Who wants me?” asked the half-wakened +Dan, springing to his feet.</p> +<p>“Dan Dolan! Ye young rapscallion!” +burst out Brother Bart, almost +sobbing in his relief. “It’s down at +the bottom of the black sea I thought +ye were. I’ve been tramping this boat, +with this good man holding me up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +(for I’m too sick to stand), this half +hour. Down wid ye now below stairs +with the rest, where I can keep an eye +on ye. Come down, I say!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>IX.—Obeying Orders.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Down below!” the words struck +harshly on Dan’s ear for good old +Brother Bart was more used to +obedience than command, and he was +sick and shaken and doing his guardian +duty under sore stress and strain to-night.</p> +<p>“Go below! What for?” asked Dan, +shortly. “I’m all right up here, Brother +Bart. I can’t stand being packed in +downstairs.”</p> +<p>“Stand it or not, I’ll not have ye up +here,” said Brother Bart, resolutely. +“Down with ye, Dan Dolan! Ye were +put under my orders, and ye’ll have to +mind my words.”</p> +<p>“Not when it means being sick as a +dog all night,” answered Dan, rebelliously. +“I tell you I can’t stand it +down in that stuffy place below, and +I won’t, I am going to stay up here.”</p> +<p>“And is that the way ye talk?” said +Brother Bart, who had a spirit of his +own. “And it’s only what I might look +for, ye graceless young reprobate! God +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +knows it was sore against my will that +I brought ye with me, Dan Dolan; for +I knew ye’d be a sore trial first to last. +But I had to obey them that are above +me. Stay, then, if you will against my +word; for it’s all I have to hold ye, +since ye are beyant any rule or law.—We’ll +go back, my man,” continued +Brother Bart to the burly deck hand +who had been supporting his swaying +form. “Help me to get down to my +bed, in God’s name; for I am that sick +I can scarcely see.”</p> +<p>And Brother Bart tottered away, +leaving Dan standing hot and defiant by +his new friend, Mr. Wirt.</p> +<p>“Sorry to have made trouble for +you,” said that gentleman; “but when +I found that good old man wandering +sick and distracted over the boat, stirring +up everyone in search of a lost +boy, there was nothing to do but give +him the tip.”</p> +<p>“Freddy may stand it,” said Dan, +fiercely; “but I won’t be grannied. +What harm is there in staying up +here?”</p> +<p>“None at all from our standpoint,” +was the reply; “but the good old gentleman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +looks at things in another light. +You’re under his orders,” he said; and +there was a faint, mocking note in the +words, that Dan was keen enough to +hear. He was hearing other things +too,—the pant of the engines, the throb +of the pulsing mechanism that was +bearing him on through darkness lit +only by the radiance of those sweeping +worlds above; but that mocking note +in his new friend’s voice rose over all.</p> +<p>“Orders!” he repeated angrily. “I +bet <i>you</i> wouldn’t take any such orders +if you were a boy.”</p> +<p>“No, I wouldn’t, and I didn’t” (there +was a slight change in the speaker’s +voice as he paused to light a cigar), +“and you see where it left me.”</p> +<p>“Where?” asked Dan, curiously.</p> +<p>“Adrift,” was the answer,—“like +this big boat would be if there was no +one to command: beyond rule and law, +as that good old friend of yours said +just now,—beyond rule and law.”</p> +<p>“Beyond rule and law,—rule and +law.” The words began to hammer +somehow on Dan’s head and heart as +he recalled with waking remorse poor +Brother Bart tottering away in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +darkness,—Brother Bart, who, as Dan +knew, was only doing his duty faithfully, +to the boy under his care,—Brother +Bart, who, like the steamboat, +like the stars, was <i>obeying</i>.</p> +<p>For a moment or two Mr. Wirt +puffed at his cigar silently, while the +fierce fire that had blazed up in Dan’s +breast sank into bounds, mastered by +the boy’s better self, even as he had +seen Nature’s fierce forces of flame and +steam mastered by higher powers +to-day.</p> +<p>“In short,” said Mr. Wirt at last, as +if he had been having thoughts of his +own, “I am a derelict, my boy.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” asked Dan, who had +never heard the word before.</p> +<p>“A ship adrift, abandoned by captain +and crew,—a wreck that tosses on the +sea, a peril to all that come near it. +There is nothing a good sailor dreads +more than a derelict, and he makes it +his business to sink it promptly whenever +he can.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t he tow it into port?” asked +Dan, with interest.</p> +<p>“Not worth the trouble,” was the +grim answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p>“Jing!” said Dan. “I’d try it, sure.”</p> +<p>“Would you?” asked Mr. Wirt.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Dan, decidedly. “If a +ship can float, it must be worth something. +I’d try to fling a hawser about +it somewhere, and haul it in and dry-dock +it to find out what was wrong. +I’ve seen an oyster boat, that was leaking +at every seam, calked and patched +and painted to be good as new.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” said Mr. Wirt, with a +short laugh; “but the oyster boats +don’t go very far a-sea, and derelicts +drift beyond hope or help. I am that +kind, and if—if” (the speaker hesitated +for a moment),—“if I had a boy like +you, I wouldn’t take any chances with +him: I’d keep him off my deck; I’d +put him on a sound ship with a wise +captain and a steady crew, and he +should be under orders until—well, +until he had learned to sail midnight +seas like this by the light of the stars.” +And, tossing his half-smoked cigar into +the water, Mr. Wirt turned abruptly +away without any further “goodnight.”</p> +<p>“He’s a queer one,” said Dan to himself, +as he stared after the tall figure +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +disappearing in the darkness. “I don’t +know what he means by his drifting +and derelicts, but I guess it’s a sort of +talk about breaking laws and rules like +I am doing here to-night. Gee! but +Brother Bart is an old granny; stirring +up all this fuss about nothing; and I’ll +be dead sick, I know. But I’m under +orders” (Dan stretched his arms over +his head, and, drawing a long, reluctant +sigh, took a last look at the stars), +“and I guess I’ll have to go.”</p> +<p>And he went, making his way with +some difficulty over the swaying decks +and down deep stairs where the footing +was more perilous than the heights +of Old Top; through long stretches of +gorgeous saloons whence all the life +and gayety had departed; for, despite +the stars, the sea was rough to-night, +and old Neptune under a friendly smile +was doing his worst.</p> +<p>Jim and Dud, sturdy fellows that +they were, had somewhat recovered +their equilibrium and were dozing fitfully; +but little Freddy was still white +and wretched; and poor Brother Bart, +all the ruddy glow gone from his face, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +lay with his hands clasping his Rosary, +very sick indeed.</p> +<p>“Say your prayers as well as ye can, +laddie,” he moaned to that small sufferer. +“The Lord be merciful to us +both if we’re not to see the morning +light!—Ah, are ye back, Dan Dolan?” +as his eyes fell upon the wandering +sheep of his flock standing beside him. +“May God forgive ye for this night’s +work! It was the looking for ye that +killed me entirely.”</p> +<p>“O Brother Bart, no, you’re not as +bad as that!” said Dan, remorsefully; +“but I’m down here now to take care of +you and Freddy, and you see if I don’t +do it right.”</p> +<p>And Dan, who in the old days of +Tabby and the blue teapot had watched +with and waited on Aunt Winnie +through many a night of pain, proved +as good as his word. It was as close +and hot and stuffy as he had foreseen; +the big boat plunged and rolled so that +it was hard to keep his footing; at +times he himself grew so sick that he +could scarcely steady his helping hand, +but he never gave up his job. He +bathed poor Brother Bart’s aching head +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +with all a woman’s tenderness; bandaged +Freddy’s throbbing temples with +the cold compress that sent him off to +sleep; made dizzy forays into unknown +domestic departments for cracked ice +and soda water; shocked Brother Bart +out of what he believed his last agony +by reporting everyone on the boat in +“the same fix.”</p> +<p>“We’ll be in smooth water, the men +say, by morning; and then you’ll be all +right, Brother Bart. Let me bathe +your head some more, and try to go to +sleep.”</p> +<p>And when at last Brother Bart did +fall asleep in the grey glimmer of the +early dawn, it was a very pale, shaking, +dizzy Dan that crept out on the open +deck beyond the staterooms for a +breath of fresh air. He could not have +climbed to forbidden heights now even +if he would. But they were in smooth +waters, and the boat was pushing onto +a sandy point, where a branch railroad +came down to the shore. A dozen or +more passengers were preparing to +land; among them was Mr. Wirt, with +a gun slung to his shoulder, a knapsack +on his back, and his two great +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +tawny dogs pulling in their leashes impatiently,—all +evidently ready for a +summer in the wilds.</p> +<p>Dan felt too weak and sick for conversation +until Mr. Wirt’s eye fell upon +the pale, trembling boy, who, with head +bared to the morning breeze, was clinging +weakly to an awning post.</p> +<p>“Why, hello, my lad!” said the gentleman. +“What’s the matter. I +thought you were all right when I saw +you last up above.”</p> +<p>“I was,” answered Dan, grimly. +“But I came down, and, jing! I’ve had +a night of it, with Brother Bart and +Freddy both dead sick on my hands.”</p> +<p>“And you nursed them all night?” +(There was an odd tremor in the +speaker’s voice.) “Are they better this +morning?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Dan. “They are all +right now, sleeping like tops; but they +had a tough time. It was lucky I gave +up and came down to look after them.”</p> +<p>“So you obeyed orders, after all. +And now you’re all broken up yourself?” +said the gentleman, compassionately.</p> +<p>“Pooh, no!” was the sturdy answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +“I don’t break up so easily. I’ll be all +right, too, in a little while,—after I’ve +had more of this fresh air. Going to +get off here?—” as the boat pushed up +to the wharf.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Wirt. “I’m off to the +woods for a few weeks; but—but +maybe you will see me again later. +Meanwhile what did the little fellow +call you?”</p> +<p>“Dan,—my name is Dan Dolan,” was +the answer.</p> +<p>“Then good-bye, Dan!” Mr. Wirt’s +shapely hand closed over the boy’s in +a strong pressure. “You’ve given me a +lesson, Dan,—I won’t forget you.” +And he was off with his dogs across +the gangway to the shore just flushing +with the morning light.</p> +<p>The worst was over; and Dan, worn +out with his night of watching, was +glad to creep into his “packing box” of +a stateroom, and, flinging himself in +his berth, dropped off to sleep,—a sleep +full of strange dreams. They were wild +and troubled dreams at first. He was +down in black depths where, stripped +to the waist, he was working amid +roaring fires and hissing steam; he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +was out on a dark wide ocean, striving +to fling a rope to a wreck drifting +helplessly amid thundering breakers; +he was up on a wind-swept deck, with +Brother Bart’s shaking grasp dragging +him down below. Then suddenly the +picture changed: it was not Brother +Bart but old Father Mack whose trembling +hand was upon his arm, guiding +him through the leafy shadows of the +college walk where they had last talked +together. Beyond and above them was +the dazzling glory of the stars, those +sweeping worlds on which the young +dreamer had looked last night. But as +he walked on now, the leafy shadows +seemed to grow into arched and pillared +aisles rising far, far above him, and +the stars were but the countless tapers +on a mighty altar reaching to heights +he could not see; and Aunt Winnie, +was kneeling on the steps,—old Aunt +Winnie, with clasped hands and uplifted +eyes. Then the guiding hand seemed to +tighten on his arm, and it was Brother +Bart again beside him,—Brother Bart, +his sturdy, ruddy self again, shaking +him awake. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></p> +<p>“I hate to rouse ye, Danny lad” +(there was a new friendliness in the old +man’s tone), “for it was the long, hard +night ye had with us; but we’re to get +off here. Praise be to God, our killing +journey is nearly done!”</p> +<p>And Dan stumbled out hurriedly to +the deck, to find the boat pushing into +the harbor of a quaint old town, whose +roofs and spires were glittering in the +noonday sunshine. Pretty sailboats +were flitting hither and thither on +sunny wings; the white stretch of +beach was gay with bathers; the full +notes of an orchestra came from the +band stand on the jutting pier.</p> +<p>“Jing!” exclaimed Dan, in amazement +at such a festive scene. “Is this +Killykinick?”</p> +<p>“No,” was Dud Fielding’s surly +answer. “I wish it was. But I mean +to cut over here to the Fosters whenever +I can. This is Beach Cliff, where +we have to take a sailboat to Killykinick. +And,” Dud went on, with +deepening disgust, “I bet it’s that old +tub that is signalling to us now.”</p> +<p>Dan’s eyes, following Dud’s sullen +gaze, saw, among the gaily painted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +pleasure craft moored at the wharfs, a +clumsy little boat with rusty sides and +dingy sail. An old man stood in the +stern waving a tattered flag that, +caught out by the breeze, showed in +large faded letters—Killykinick. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>X.—On the “Sary Ann.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“It’s the sign,” said Brother Bart +gratefully, as he caught sight of the +fluttering pennant. “He was to wave +the flag to us so we would know the +boat. Keep together now, boys,” continued +their anxious guardian, who +was a little bewildered by a rush and +struggle to which he was not accustomed. +“Ah, God help them that have +to push their way in a world like this! +Hold to my hand, laddie, or ye’ll be +tramped down. Straight behind me +now, the rest of ye, so ye won’t be lost.”</p> +<p>And, marshalling his boyish force, +Brother Bart pressed on through the +hurrying throngs that surged over +gangway (for it was the height of the +holiday season) until he reached the +shabby little boat whose occupant was +a very old man with a face brown and +wrinkled as tanned leather. A long +scar across his cheek had twisted his +mouth into a crooked smile. He spat +a large quid of tobacco into the water, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +and greeted his passengers with an old +sea dog’s growl:</p> +<p>“Been waitin’ more than an hour for +ye, but that consarned boat ain’t never +on time! Hit some pretty rough +weather, I reckon, out at sea?”</p> +<p>“We did,” answered Brother Bart, +with feeling. “It’s the mercy of God +we’re alive to tell the tale. In with ye, +boys, and sit steady. Take the middle +of the boat, laddie, and hold to Dan. +Give me a hand to help me in; for I’m +weak and shaking yet. The Lord’s will +be done, but I never thought to be sailing +the seas in a cockleshell like this,” +added the good man, as the boat rocked +under his sturdy weight when he sank +heavily into his place.</p> +<p>“I say so, too. Let’s hire something +better,” replied Dud Fielding, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Thar ain’t nothing better or safer +than this here ‘Sary Ann’ along the +shore,” said the boat’s master, grimly. +“I sot every timber in her myself. She +ain’t got a crack or a creak in her. I +keeled her and calked her, and I’ll lay +her agin any of them painted and +gilded play-toys to weather the toughest +gale on this here coast. You’re as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +safe in the ‘Sary Ann,’ Padre, as if +you were in church saying your +prayers.”</p> +<p>“I’m no Padre,” disclaimed Brother +Bart, hastily. “I’m only an humble +lay-brother, my good man, that has +come to take care of these boys.”</p> +<p>“Brother or Father, it’s all the same +to me,” was the gruff answer. “I’m a +hardshell Baptist myself, but I’ve only +good feelings to your kind. My old +captain was one of you, and never a +better man walked the deck. Now, +duck, my lads, while I swing out the +sail and we’ll be off.”</p> +<p>The passengers ducked their heads +hurriedly while the ‘Sary Ann’s’ boom +swung around. Her tawny sail caught +the wind, and she was off with a light, +swift grace that her looks belied.</p> +<p>“Golly, she can clip it!” exclaimed +Jim Norris, who had a home on the +Chesapeake and knew all about a boat. +“What sort of a rig is she, anyhow?”</p> +<p>“Mixed like good terbacker,” briefly +answered the owner, as he leaned back +comfortably at the helm and bit off +another chew. “Sloop, skiff, outrigger, +lugger,—she’s got the good points of all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +and none of their kicks. Not that she +ain’t got a spirit of her own. Every +boat worth anything hez. Thar’s days +when she takes the wind and thar’s no +holdin’ her. You jest have to let her +spread her wings to it and go. But, +Lord, let that same wind begin to growl +and mutter, let them waves begin to +cap and swell, and the ‘Sary Ann’ is +ready for them, you bet. She will drop +all her fun and frolic, and scud along +brave and bare agin the wildest gale +that ever leashed a coast. And them +young bloods over yon laugh at her,” +continued the ‘Sary Ann’s’ owner, +glowering at the gay buildings of the +fashionable “boat club” they were just +now passing. “They call her the Corsair,’ +which is no Christian name to +give an honest boat.”</p> +<p>“You’re right,” said Brother Bart: +“And, though you haven’t the true +faith, you seem to be a Christian yourself. +What is your name, my good +man?”</p> +<p>“Jeroboam Jimson,” was the answer. +“Leastways that was what I was christened, +my mother going in heavy for +Scripture names. I had a twin brother +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +Nebuchanezzar. Sort of mouth-filling +for general use, so we was naturally +shortened down to Neb and Jeb. Most +folks call me Jeb yet.”</p> +<p>“It comes easier,” said Brother Bart; +“though I’d never think of giving it to +a man of your years. It seems a pity, +with the Litany of the Saints convenient, +to have to go back so far for +a name. But that is no fault of yours, +as God knows. Have you been living +long in this place we are going to?”</p> +<p>“More than five and forty years,” +was the answer,—“since the ‘Lady +Jane’ struck the rocks off Killykinick, +November 27, 1865. I was second +mate to old Captain Kane; and I stood +by him until last May, when he took +the cruise that every man has to make +by himself. And I’m standing by his +ship ’cording to orders yet. ‘Blood is +thicker than water, mate,’ he says to +me; ‘I’ve got to leave all that I have +to little Polly Raynor’s boy, but you’re +to stick to the ship as long as you live. +I’ve hed that put down in the log with +my name to it, and priest and lawyer +and doctor as witness. You’re Captain +Jeroboam Jimson of the “Lady +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +Jane,” in my place, and thar ain’t no +land sharks nor water sharks can +bother ye.’ I lay that’s the chap he +called Polly’s boy,” said Captain Jeb, +turning his eyes on Freddy, who, seated +at Brother Bart’s side, had been listening, +with flattering interest, to the old +sailor’s conversation.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he spoke up eagerly, “my +mother was Polly. Did you know +her?”</p> +<p>“I did,” said Captain Jeb, nodding. +“She came down here once as a bit of +a girl, dancing over the sands like a +water kelpie. The old Captain didn’t +care much for women folks, but he was +sot on her sure. Then she come down +agin as a bride, purty and shy and +sweet; but the old man warn’t so +pleased then,—growled he didn’t know +what girls wanted to get married for, +nohow. So you’re her boy!” The old +man’s eyes softened as they rested on +Freddy. “You’ve got a sort of look of +her, though you ain’t as pretty,—not +nigh.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile the “Sary Ann,” her +tawny sail swelling in the wind, had +left the gay beach and bathers and boat +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +club of Beach Cliff, and was making the +swell of the waves like a sea bird on +the wing.</p> +<p>“Easy now, lass!” cautioned Captain +Jeb, as they neared a white line of +breakers, and he stood up firm and +strong at the helm. “Steady, all of you +younkers; for we’re crossing the bar. +Many a good ship has left her bones on +this same reef. Easy, ‘Sary Ann’! It’s +no place for fooling round here.”</p> +<p>And, as if to emphasize his words, +the black shadows of a wrecked ship +rose gaunt and grim before them.</p> +<p>“Struck the reef two months ago,” +explained the Captain, with eye and +hand still steady on his helm. “Can’t +get her off. Captain fool enough to +try Beach Cliff Harbor without a native +pilot! Why, thar ain’t no books nor +charts can tell you nothing ’bout navigating +round these here islands: you +have to larn it yourself. It’s the deceivingest +stretch along the whole +Atlantic coast. Thar’s times when this +here bar, that is biling deep with water +now, is bare enough for one of you +chaps to walk across without wetting +your knees. Easy now, ‘Sary Ann’! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +Ketch hold of that rope, younker, and +steady the sail a bit. So thar, we’re +over the shoals. Now clip it, my lass” +(and the old man swung the sail +free),—“clip it fast as you like for +Killykinick.”</p> +<p>And, almost as if she could hear the +“Sary Ann” leaped forward with the +bulging sail, and was off at the word; +while Captain Jeb, the harbor reef +safely passed, leaned back in his boat +and pointed out to his young passengers +(for even the elegant Dud was roused +into eager curiosity) the various things +of interest on their way: the light ship, +the lighthouses, the fishing fleet stretching +dim and hazy on the far horizon, +the great ocean liner only a faint +shadow trailing a cloud of smoke in +the blue distance.</p> +<p>“Them big fellows give us the go by +now, though time was when they used +to come from far and near; all kinds—Spanish, +Portugee, East Indian. Them +was the whaling days, when Beach Cliff +was one of the greatest places on the +coast. She stands out so far she hed the +first bite at things. All the sailing +ships made for snug harbor here. But, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +betwixt the steamboats and the railroads +gobbling up everything, and the +earth itself taking to spouting oil, +things are pretty dead and gone here +now.”</p> +<p>“But lots of fine folks come in the +summer time,” said Dud.</p> +<p>“And there’s a church!” exclaimed +Brother Bart, who had caught a passing +glimpse of a cross-crowned spire. +“Thank God we’ll not be beyond the +light and truth entirely! You’re to +take us to Mass every Sunday, my good +man; and we are to give you a dollar +for the trouble of it, to say nothing of +the blessing upon your own soul. Were +you ever at Mass?”</p> +<p>“Never,” answered Captain Jeb.</p> +<p>“Ah, God help you, poor man!” said +Brother Bart. “Sure we never know +our own blessings till we talk with them +that’s left in the darkness. But it’s +not too late for the grace of Heaven to +reach you yet. Never been to Mass! +Well, well, well!” Brother Bart shook +his head, and, as if unable to cope with +such hopeless religious dearth, relapsed +into silence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p> +<p>“Is it much further to Killykinick?” +asked Dan, who, with shining eyes had +been taking in all this novel experience. +“Looks like we’re heading out to nowhere.”</p> +<p>The “Sary Ann,” with the wind full +in her sail, seemed bearing off into sunlit +distance, where sky and sea met. +There was a faint, shadowy line to the +left; and just beyond, a dim pencil +point pierced the cloudless blue.</p> +<p>“That’s a lighthouse, isn’t it?” asked +Jim, who had a sailor’s eye.</p> +<p>“Yes,” growled Captain Jeb, his +leathery face darkening. “Why they +wanted to set up that consarned thing +just across from Killykinick, I don’t +know. Hedn’t we been showing a light +thar for nigh onto fifty years? But +some of these know-alls come along and +said it wasn’t the right kind; it +oughter blink. And they made the old +captain pull down the light that he had +been burning steady and true, and the +Government sot up that thar newfangled +thing a flashing by clockwork +on Numbskull Nob. It did make the old +man hot, sure. ‘Shet the window, +mate,’ he said to me when he was dying +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +and wanted air badly. ‘I can’t go off in +peace with that devilish thing of Numbskull +Nob a winking at me.’ Duck +Agin, all hands! ‘Sary Ann’ swings +around here. Thar’s Killykinick to +starboard!”</p> +<p>And all hands “ducked” as rope and +canvas rattled under Captain Jeb’s +guiding hand; and the “Sary Ann” +swept from her dancing course to the +boundless blue towards the shadowy +line and dim pencil point now growing +into graceful lighthouse and rocky +shore. Numbskull Nob, jutting up from +a hidden reef, over which a line of +white-capped breakers was booming +thunderously, seemed to justify the +presence of the modern light that +warned off closer approach to the +island; for the stretch of water that +lay between was a treacherous shoal +where many a good ship had stranded +in years gone by, when Killykinick was +only a jagged ledge of rock where the +sea birds nested and man had no place. +But things had changed now. A rude +but sturdy breakwater made a miniature +harbor in which several small +boats floated at their moorings; a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +whitewashed wharf jutted out into the +waves; the stretch of rocky shore beyond +had been roughly terraced into +easy approach.</p> +<p>“Easy now, boys,—easy!” warned +Brother Bart anxiously, as the “Sary +Ann” grated against her home pier, and +Captain Jeroboam proceeded to make +fast. “Don’t be leaping off till you +know the way.”</p> +<p>But Brother Bart might have called +to the dashing waves. This Killykinick +was very different from the desert they +had expected; and, with shouts of delight +from Jim, Dud and Dan, even little +Freddy sprang ashore. Shrubs and +trees of strange growth nodded and +waved amid the rocks; here and there +in sheltered crannies were beds of +blooming flowers; and in the lee of a +towering rock that kept off the fury +of storm and wind stood the very queerest +house the young explorers had ever +seen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XI.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At Killykinick.</span></p> +</div> + +<p>It was a ship,—a ship with its keel +settled deep in the sand, and held immovable +against wind and storm by a +rudely built foundation wall of broken +rock. The sunlight blinked cheerfully +from the dozen portholes; the jutting +prow bore the weather-worn figurehead +of the “Lady Jane,”—minus a nose and +arm, it is true, but holding her post +bravely still. Stout canvas, that could +be pegged down or lifted into breezy +shelter, roofed the deck, from which +arose the “lookout,” a sort of light +tower built around a mast that upheld +a big ship lantern; while the Stars and +Stripes floated in glory over all.</p> +<p>For a moment the four young travellers +stared breathless at this remarkable +edifice, while Freddy eagerly +explained:</p> +<p>“It’s my Great-uncle Joe’s ship that +was wrecked here on Killykinick. He +had sailed in her for years and loved +her, and he didn’t want to leave her +to fall to pieces on the rocks; and so he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +got a lot of men, with chains and ropes +and things, and moved her up here and +made her into a house.”</p> +<p>And a first-class house the “Lady +Jane” made, as all the boys agreed +when they proceeded to investigate +Great-uncle Joe’s legacy. True, there +was a lack of modern conveniences. +The sea lapping the sands to the right +was the only bath-room, but what finer +one could a boy ask? There was +neither dining room nor kitchen; only +the “galley,” as Captain Jeb, who came +up shortly to do the honors of this +establishment, explained to his guests. +The “galley” was a queer little narrow +place in the stern, lined with pots and +pans and dishes scoured to a shine, and +presided over by another old man more +crooked and leathery-visaged than +Captain Jeb, and who seemed too deep +in the concoction of some savory mixture +simmering on his charcoal stove +to give look or word to the newcomers +who crowded around him.</p> +<p>“That is Neb,” said his brother, in +brief introduction. “He don’t hev +much to say, but you mustn’t mind +that. It ain’t been altogether clear +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +weather in his upper deck since he +shipped with a durned pirate of a captain +that laid his head open with a +marline spike; but for a cook, he can’t +be beat by any steward afloat or ashore. +Jest you wait till he doses out that +clam-chowder he’s making now!”</p> +<p>Then there was the long, low cabin +that stretched the full length of the +“Lady Jane,” and that—with its four +cosy bunks made up shipshape, its big +table, its swinging lamp, its soft bulging +chairs (for Great-uncle Joe had +been a man of solid weight as well as +worth)—was just the place for boys to +disport themselves in without fear of +doing damage. All about were most +interesting things for curious young +eyes to see and busy fingers to handle: +telescope, compass, speaking trumpet, +log and lead and line that had done +duty in many a distant sea; spears, +bows and arrowheads traded for on +savage islands; Chinese ivories and +lacquered boxes from Japan. A white +bearskin and walrus tusk told of an +early venture into the frozen North, +when bold men were first drawn to its +darkness and mystery; while the Buddha +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +from an Eastern temple, squatting +shut-eyed on a shelf, roused good old +Brother Bart into holy horror.</p> +<p>“I never thought to be under the +same roof with a haythen idol. Put it +away, my man,—put it out of sight +while I’m in yer house; for I can’t +stand the looks of it. I’ll be after +smashing it into bits if ye lave it under +me eyes.”</p> +<p>And his indignation was appeased +only by the sight of the Captain’s room, +which had been respectfully assigned to +the “Padre,” as Captain Jeb persisted +in calling his older guest.</p> +<p>Here Great-uncle Joe had treasures +rare indeed in the good Brother’s eye: +a wonderful crucifix of ivory and +ebony; the silver altar lamp of an old +Spanish monastery; a Madonna in dull +tints that still bore traces of a master +hand; a rosary, whose well-worn beads +made Brother Bart’s pious heart warm.</p> +<p>“Indeed he was a God-fearing man, +I’m sure, this uncle of laddie’s.”</p> +<p>“He was,” agreed Captain Jeb; “a +little rough-talking sometimes, but all +sailors are.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p> +<p>“Well, it’s a rough life,” said Brother +Bart, recalling his own late experience. +“It’s little chance it gives you to think +or pray. But the old man ye talk of +prayed; I am sure of that. The beads +here bear token of it.”</p> +<p>“Aye,” answered Captain Jeb. “He +held to them to the last as tight as if +they was an anchor chain,—why I don’t +know.”</p> +<p>“That’s yer ignorance, poor man!” +said Brother Bart, compassionately. +“Ye should pray morning and evening +for light, and perhaps ye’ll be given the +grace to know what the hould of blessed +beads is to a dying hand. Now, if ye +don’t mind, I’ll rest a bit in this quiet +place, and try to say me own prayers +that I missed last night; for it was a +sore trying time to me, both body and +soul. There’s no harm can come to the +boys, now that they are safe here.”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t swear to four younkers +like them anywhere,” was the grim +answer. “But ye can rest easy, Padre: +I’ll keep an eye on them, never fear.” +And, closing the old Captain’s door on +his anxious guest, Captain Jeb proceeded +to “keep an eye” on the boys +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +who were exploring Killykinick in every +direction.</p> +<p>As it had little more than half a mile +of visible surface, the exploration was +naturally limited; but there was a “deal +more below,” as Captain Jeb assured +them,—reefs and shoals stretching out +in every direction, and widening every +year with the silt carried down from +the shore. There were one or two wide +hollows between the rocks, where that +same silt, top-dressed with richer earth +imported from more favored spots by +Captain Jeb, served as kitchen garden, +in which beans, cabbages and potatoes +made a promising show. On another +sheltered slope, green with coarse grass, +brown Betty was pasturing peacefully; +while in a henhouse beyond there was +clucking and cackling, cheerfully suggestive +of chickens and eggs.</p> +<p>“We used to hev mostly ship rations,” +said Captain Jeb. “But the old man got +sort of picky and choosy these last +years, and turned agin the hard-tack +and old hoss meat that had been good +enough for him before. So I got a few +boat-loads of good earth and took to +growing things. And things do grow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +here for sure, if you only give them a +chance. All they want is root hold; the +sun and the air and the soft mists do +the rest.”</p> +<p>Then there was the pump house; for +even the toughest of old “salts” must +have fresh water. And it had cost many +a dollar to strike it in these rocks; but +strike it at last the well-borers did, and +the pump was roofed and walled in as +Killykinick’s greatest treasure.</p> +<p>“Stick round here, younkers, along by +the ‘Lady Jane’ and the wharf and the +garden beds, and down by the ‘Sary +Ann’ and the boats to the south beach, +and you’ll be pretty safe. But I’m going +to show you a place whar you can’t do +no monkey shining, for it ain’t safe at +all.”</p> +<p>And as Captain Jeb spoke he turned +to the high wall of rock that had backed +and sheltered the “Lady Jane” for +nearly fifty years; and, bending his thin +form, he pushed through a low, narrow +opening, with, it is needless to say, four +wide-eyed boys scrambling breathlessly +behind him,—Dan, as usual, in the lead, +pulling Freddy on. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>For a moment they stumbled in darkness, +through which came a thunderous +sound like the swell of some mighty +organ under a master hand; and then +they were out in light and space again, +with the ocean cliff of Killykinick arching +above and around them in a great +cave hollowed by the beating waves out +of solid rock. Wall and roof were rough +and jagged, broken into points and +ledges; but the floor was smoothed by +the tide into a shining, glittering surface, +that widened out to meet the line +of breakers thundering white-foamed +beyond, their sprays scattering in light +showers far and near.</p> +<p>“Jing! Golly! Hooray!” burst from +the young explorers; and they would +have dashed off into bolder investigation +of this new discovery, but Captain +Jeb’s sudden trumpet tone withheld +them.</p> +<p>“Stop,—stop thar, younkers! Didn’t +I tell you this warn’t no play-place? +How far and how deep these caves +stretch only the Lord knows; for the +sea is knawing them deeper and wider +every year. And thar’s holes and quicksands +that would suck you down quicker +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +than that whale in the Good Book swallowed +Jonah. And more than that: in +three hours from now these here rocks +whar we are standing will be biling +with high tide. This ain’t no play-place! +I’m showing it to you so you’ll +know; for thar ain’t no reefs and shoals +to easy things here. It’s deep sea +soundings that no line can reach, this +nor’east shore. Them waves hev a clean +sweep of three thousand miles before +they break here. And thar ain’t to be +no ducking nor swimming nor monkey +shining around here unless me or Neb +is on watch. Neb ain’t much good for +navigating since he got that hit with +the marline spike, but for a watch on +ship or shore he is all right. So them +‘orders’ is all I hev to give: the Padre, +being a bit nervous, may hev some of +his own; but thar ain’t nothing to hurt +four strapping younkers round Killykinick +except right <i>here</i>. And now, I +reckon, it’s about time for dinner. I’m +ready for some of Neb’s clam-chowder, +I know; and I guess you are, too.”</p> +<p>“Jing! but this is a great place of +yours, Freddy!” said Dan, as they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +turned back to the ship house. “We +could not have found a better.”</p> +<p>“That’s all you know,” scoffed the +lordly Dud. “I mean to keep on the +right side of the old duffer,” he added +<i>sotto voce</i>, “and get over to Beach Cliff +in that tub of his whenever I can. +Minnie Foster asked me to come; +they’ve taken a fine house down on the +shore, and have all sorts of fun—dances, +picnics, boat races. I’ll get sick +of things here pretty soon; won’t you, +Jim?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know about that,” was the +lazy answer. “About as good a place to +loaf as you’ll find.”</p> +<p>“Loaf?” put in Dan. “There isn’t +going to be any loafing at Killykinick +for me. I’m for boating and fishing +and clamming and digging up those +garden beds. I don’t know what those +others are paying,” said Dan, who had +fallen behind with Captain Jeb; “but +I’ve got no money, and am ready to +earn my board and keep.”</p> +<p>“You are?” said the Captain, in surprise. +“As I took it, the Padre bunched +you all together for as fair a figure as I +could ask.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p> +<p>“Not me,” replied Dan. “These other +chaps are plutes, and can pay their own +way; so cut me out of your figures and +let me work for myself.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s sort of curious talk for +a younker with a high-class schooling,” +said Captain Jeb, dubiously. “You +mean you want to hire out?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dan, remembering Aunt +Winnie and how doubtful his claim was +upon St. Andrew’s.</p> +<p>“Thar will be considerable stirring +round, I’ll allow,” was the reflective +answer. “I was thinking of getting +Billy Benson to lend a hand, but if you’d +like the job of sort of second mate—”</p> +<p>“I would,” said Dan. “What is a +second mate’s work?”</p> +<p>“Obeying orders,” answered Captain +Jeb, briefly.</p> +<p>“That’s dead easy,” said Dan, with a +grin.</p> +<p>“Oh, is it?” was the grim rejoinder. +“Jest you wait, younker, till you’ve stood +on a toppling deck in the teeth of a nor’easter, +with some dunderhead of a captain +roaring cuss words at you to cut +away the mast that you know is all +that’s keeping you out of Davy Jones’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +Locker, and then you’ll find what obeying +orders means. But if you want the +job here, it’s yours. What will you +take?”</p> +<p>“My board and keep,” answered Dan.</p> +<p>“That ain’t no sort of pay,” said the +other, gruffly.</p> +<p>“Wait till you see me eat,” laughed +Dan; “besides, I was never a second +mate before. Maybe I won’t make good +at it.”</p> +<p>“Mebbe you won’t,” said Captain Jeb, +his mouth stretching into its crooked +smile. “You’re ruther young for it, I +must admit. Still, I like your grit and +pluck, younker. Most chaps like you are +ready to suck at anything in reach. +What’s your name?”</p> +<p>“Dan—Dan Dolan,” was the answer.</p> +<p>“Good!” said Captain Jeb. “It’s a +square, honest name. You’re shipped, +Dan Dolan. I guess thar ain’t no need +for signing papers. This little chap +will bear witness. You’re shipped as +second mate in the ‘Lady Jane’ now and +here.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XII.—The Second Mate.—A Confab.</p> +</div> + +<p>Then Neb’s bell clanged out for dinner, +that was served on the long table in the +cabin, shipshape, but without any of the +frills used on land. There was a deep +earthen dish brimming with chowder, a +wonderful concoction that only old salts +like Neb can make. It had a bit of +everything within Killykinick reach—clams +and fish and pork and potatoes, +onions and peppers and hard-tack,—all +simmering together, piping hot, in a +most appetizing way, even though it +had to be “doused” out with a tin ladle +into yellow bowls. There was plenty of +good bread, thick and “filling”; a platter +of bacon and greens, and a dish of +rice curried after a fashion Neb had +learned cruising in the China Sea. Last +of all, and borne in triumphantly by the +cook himself, was a big smoking “plum +duff” with cream sauce. There is a base +imitation of “duff” known to landsmen +as batter pudding; but the real plum +duff of shining golden yellow, stuffed +full of plums like Jack Horner’s pie, is +all the sailor’s own. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p> +<p>Dan plunged at once into his new +duties of second mate. Both Jeb and +Neb were well past seventy, and, while +still hale and hearty, were not so nimble +as they had been forty years ago; so a +second mate, with light feet and deft +hands, proved most helpful, now that +the “Lady Jane” had taken in a double +crew.</p> +<p>Dan cleared the table and washed the +dishes with a celerity bewildering to the +slow brain dulled by the marline spike. +He swabbed up the galley under Neb’s +gruff direction; he fed the chickens and +milked the cow. For a brief space in +two summers of his early life, Dan had +been borne off by an Angel Guardian +Society to its Fresh Air Home, a plain, +old-fashioned farmhouse some miles +from his native city; and, being a keen-eyed +youngster even then, he had left +swings and seesaws to less interested +observers, and trudged around the +fields, the henhouse, the dairies, the +barns, watching the digging and the +planting, the feeding and the milking; +so that the ways of cows and chickens +were not altogether beyond his ken. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p> +<p>“Sure and yer board and keep was to +be paid for with the rest, lad,” said +Brother Bart, kindly.</p> +<p>“I don’t want it paid, Brother,” replied +Dan. “St. Andrew’s does enough +for me. I’d a heap rather work for myself +out here.”</p> +<p>“Whether that is decent spirit or +sinful pride I’m not scholar enough to +tell,” said the good Brother in perplexity. +“It takes a wise man sometimes to +know the differ; but I’m thinking” (and +there was a friendly gleam in the old +man’s eyes) “if I was a strapping lad +like you, I would feel the same. So +work your own way if you will, Danny +lad, and God bless you at it!”</p> +<p>Even heartier was the well-wishing +of Captain Jeb after his first day’s experience +with his second officer.</p> +<p>“You’re all right, matie!” he said, +slapping Dan-on the shoulder. “There +will be no loafing on your watch, I kin +see. You’re the clipper build I like. +Them others ain’t made to stand rough +weather; but as I take it, you’re a sort +of Mother Carey chicken that’s been +nested in the storm. And I don’t think +you’ll care to be boxed up below with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +them fair-weather chaps. Suppose, being +second mate, you swing a hammock +up on the deck with Jeb and me?”</p> +<p>“Jing! I’d like that first rate,” was +the delighted answer.</p> +<p>And, as Brother Bart had no fear of +danger on the “Lady Jane,” Dan entered +on all the privileges of his position. +While Freddy and Dud and Jim +took possession of the sheltered cabin, +and the dignity of the Padre (so it +seemed to Captain Jeb) demanded the +state and privacy of the Captain’s +room, Dan swung his hammock up on +deck, where it swayed delightfully in +the wind, while the stout awnings close-reefed +in fair weather gave full view +of the sea and the stars.</p> +<p>He slept like a child cradled in its +mother’s arms, and was up betimes to +plunge into a stretch of sheltered waves, +still rosy with the sunrise, for a morning +bath such as no porcelain tub could +offer; and then to start off with old Neb, +who, like other wise householders, began +the day’s work early. Neb might +be deaf and dull, and, in boyish parlance, +a trifle “dippy”; but he knew the +ways of fish, from whales to minnows. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +He had a boat of his own, with its nets +and seines and lines, that not even the +sturdy old Captain in the days of his +command dared touch.</p> +<p>That Dan was allowed to handle the +oars this first morning proved that the +second mate had already established +himself firmly in Neb’s favor. But, as +Wharf Rat, Dan had gained some +knowledge of boats and oars; and he +was able to do his part under the old +salt’s gruff direction. They went far +out beyond shoal and reef; beyond +Numskull Nob (whose light was still +blinking faintly in the glow of the sunrise), +into deep waters, where the fishing +fleet could be seen already at work +in the blue distance hauling up big +catches of cod, halibut, and other game.</p> +<p>“That ain’t fishing!” growled old +Neb. “It’s durned mean killing.”</p> +<p>“And isn’t all fishing killing?” asked +Dan, as they flung out their own lines.</p> +<p>“No,” said Neb. “When you cast a +line, or a harpoon even, you give critters +a chance; but them durned pirates +thar don’t give a fish no chance at all.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever cast a harpoon?” asked +Dan, with interest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>For a moment the dull eyes kindled, +the dull face brightened, as some deadened +memory seemed to stir and waken +into life; then the shadow fell heavy +and hopeless again.</p> +<p>“Mebbe I did, sonny; I don’t know. +It’s so far back I’ve most forgot.”</p> +<p>But old Neb’s wits worked in their +own way still. It took less than an +hour to catch dinners for the whole +Killykinick crew; and the fishermen +came home to find that Captain Jeb had +been doing duty during their absence, +and breakfast was ready on the long +table in the cabin,—a breakfast such as +none of the white-coated waiters in +their late journey could beat.</p> +<p>Captain Jeb knew nothing of cereals, +but he had a big bowl of mush and a +pitcher of golden cream; he had bacon +and eggs frizzled to a charm; he had +corndodgers and coffee that filled the +air with fragrance,—such coffee as old +sailors look for about break of day after +a middle watch. Altogether, the crew of +the “Lady Jane” found things very +pleasant, and the first week at Killykinick +had all the interest of life in a +newly discovered land. Even Brother +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +Bart was argued by the two old salts +out of his “nervousness,” and laddie +was allowed to boat and fish and swim +in safe waters under Dan’s care; while +Jim and Dud looked out for themselves, +as such big fellows should.</p> +<p>“Thar’s nothing to hurt them off +thar,” said Captain Jeb, as Brother +Bart watched his navigators with +anxious eyes pushing out over a stretch +of dancing waves. “’Twixt here and +Numskull Nob you could ’most walk +ashore. Jest keep them out of the +Devil’s Jaw, that’s all.”</p> +<p>“The Lord between us and harm!” +ejaculated Brother Bart, in pious horror. +“Where is that at all?”</p> +<p>“The stretch of rock yonder,” replied +Captain Jeb, nodding to the northeast.</p> +<p>“And isn’t that an awful name to +give to a Christian shore?” asked +Brother Bart.</p> +<p>“No worse than them ar suck-holes +of waves deserves,” was the grim +answer. “When the high tide sweeps +in thar, it kerries everything with it, +and them caves guzzle it all down, nobody +knows whar.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>“Ah, God save us!” said Brother +Bart. “It’s the quare place to choose +aither for life or death. I wonder at the +laddie’s uncle, and ye too, for staying +all these years. Wouldn’t it be better +now, at yer time of life, for ye to be +saving yer soul in quiet and peace, away +from the winds and the storms and the +roaring seas that are beating around ye +here?”</p> +<p>“No,” was the gruff answer,—“no, +Padre. I couldn’t live away from the +winds and the storms and the waves. +I couldn’t die away from them either. +I’d be like a deep sea-fish washed clean +ashore. How them landlubbers live with +everything dead and dull around them, +I don’t see. I ain’t been out of sight of +deep water since I shipped as cabin boy +in the ‘Lady Jane’ nigh onto sixty +years ago. I’ve been aloft in her rigging +with the sea beating over the deck +and the wind whistling so loud ye +couldn’t hear the cuss words the old +man was a-roaring through his trumpet +below. I’ve held her wheel through +many a black night when no mortal +man could tell shore from sea. I stood +by her when she struck on this here +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +reef, ripped open from stem to stern; +and I’m standing by her now, ’cording +to the old Captain’s orders, yet.”</p> +<p>“Ye may be right,” said Brother Bart, +reflectively. “It’s not for me to judge +ye, Jeroboam.” (Brother Bart never +shortened that Scriptural title.) “But +I bless the Lord day and night that I +was not called to the sea.—What is it +the boys are after now!” he added, with +an anxious glance at the boat in which +laddie and Dan had ventured out beyond +his call.</p> +<p>“Lobsters,” replied Captain Jeb. +“Them’s Neb’s lobster pots bobbing up +thar, and they’ve got a catch that will +give us a dinner fit for a king.”</p> +<p>“It’s all to your taste,” said Brother +Bart. “Barrin’ fast days, of which I +say nothing, I wouldn’t give a good +Irish stew for all the fish that ever +swam the seas. But laddie is thrivin’ +on the food here, I must say. There’s +a red in his cheeks I haven’t seen for +months; but what with the rocks and +the seas and the Devil’s Jaw foreninst +them, it will be the mercy of God if I +get the four boys safe home.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p> +<p>“You needn’t fear,” was the cheering +assurance. “They are fine, strapping +fellows, and a touch of sailor life won’t +harm them; though it’s plain them two +big chaps and little Polly’s boys are used +to softer quarters. But for a long +voyage I’d ship Mate Danny before any +of them.”</p> +<p>“Ye would?” asked Brother Bart.</p> +<p>“Aye,” answered Captain Jeb, decisively. +“Don’t fly no false colors, sticks +to his job, ready to take hold of anything +from a lobster pot to a sheet anchor,—honest +grit straight through. +Lord, what a ship captain he would +make! But they don’t teach navigation +at your school.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Brother +Bart. “I’m not book-learned, as I’ve +told ye; but there’s little that isn’t +taught at St. Andrew’s that Christian +lads ought to know; to say nothing of +God’s holy law, which is best of all; but +of navigation I never hear tell. I’m +thinking it can’t be much good.”</p> +<p>“No good!” repeated the Captain, +staring. “Navigation no good! Lord! +You’re off your reckoning thar sure, +Padre. Do you know what navigation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +means? It means standing on your +quarter-deck and making your ship take +its way over three thousand miles of +ocean straight as a bird flies to its nest; +it means holding her in that ar way +with the waves a-swelling mountain +high and the wind a-bellowing in your +rigging, and a rocky shore with all its +teeth set to grind her in your lee; it +means knowing how to look to the sun +and the stars when they’re shining, and +how to steer without, them when the +night is too black to see. Where would +you and I be now, Padre, if a navigator +that no landlubbers could down had +not struck out without map or chart to +find this here America of ours hundreds +of years ago?”</p> +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered +Brother Bart. “But there seems to be +sense and truth in what you say. It’s a +pity you haven’t the light of Faith.”</p> +<p>“What would it do for me!” asked +Captain Jeb, briefly.</p> +<p>“What would it do for you?” repeated +Brother Bart. “Sure it’s in the black +darkness you are, my man, or ye +wouldn’t ask. It’s sailing on the sea of +life ye are without sun or stars, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +how ye are to find the way to heaven +I don’t know. Do ye ever say a prayer, +Jeroboam?”</p> +<p>“No,” was the gruff answer. “That’s +your business, Padre. The Lord don’t +expect no praying from rough old salts +like me.”</p> +<p>“Sure and He does,—He does,” said +Brother Bart, roused into simple earnestness. +“What is high or low to Him? +Isn’t He the Lord and Maker of the +land and sea? Doesn’t He give ye life +and breath and strength and health and +all that ye have? And to stand up like +a dumb brute under His eye and never +give Him a word of praise or thanks! +I wonder at ye, Jeroboam,—I do indeed! +Sure ye’d be more dacent to any +mortal man that gave ye a bit and sup; +but what ye’re not taught, poor man, ye +can’t know. Listen now: ye’re to take +us to church to-morrow according to +your bargain.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the Captain, gruffly; “but +thar warn’t no bargain about preaching +and praying and singing.”</p> +<p>“Sure I don’t ask it,” said Brother +Bart, sadly. “You’re in haythen darkness, +Jeroboam, and I haven’t the wisdom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +or the knowledge or the holiness to +lade ye out; but there’s one prayer can +be said in darkness as well as in light. +All I ask ye to do is to stand for a moment +within the church and turn your +eyes to the lamp that swings like a +beacon light before the altar and whisper +the words of that honest man in the +Bible that didn’t dare to go beyant the +holy door, ‘O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!’ Will ye do that?”</p> +<p>“Wal, since that’s all ye ask of me, +Padre,” said Captain Jeb, reflectively, +“I can’t say no. I’ve thought them +words many a time when the winds was +a-howling and the seas a-raging, and it +looked as if I was bound for Davy +Jones’ Locker before day; but I never +knew that was a fair-weather prayer. +But I’ll say it as you ask; and I’ll avow, +Padre, that, for talking and praying +straight to the point, you beat any +preacher or parson I ever heard yet.”</p> +<p>“Preach, is it!” exclaimed Brother +Bart. “Sure I never preached in my +life, and never will. But I’ll hold ye to +your word, Jeroboam; and, with God’s +blessing, we’ll be off betimes to-morrow +morning.—Here come the boys: and, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +Holy Mother, look at the boatful of +clawing craythurs they have with +them!”</p> +<p>“Lobsters, Brother Bart!” shouted +Freddy, triumphantly. “Lobsters, Captain +Jeb! Fine big fellows. I’m hungry +as three bears.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XIII.—At Beach Cliff.</p> +</div> + +<p>Brother Bart and his boys were up +betimes for their Sunday journey. +Breakfast was soon dispatched, and +four sunburned youngsters were ready +for their trip to town. Dud and Jim, +who had been lounging around Killykinick +in sweaters and middies, were +spruced up into young gentlemen +again. Freddy’s rosy cheeks were set off +by a natty little sailor suit and cap; +while Dan scarcely recognized himself +in one of the rigs presented by Brother +Francis, that bore the stamp of a +stylish tailor, and that had been +sponged and pressed and mended by the +kind old wardrobian until it was quite +as good as new.</p> +<p>The day was bright and beautiful, +sky and sea seemed smiling on each +other most amicably. The “Sary Ann” +was in the best of spirits, and the wind +in the friendliest of moods.</p> +<p>“Sit steady, boys, and don’t be philandering!” +warned Brother Bart, anxiously. +“It looks fair and aisy enough, +but you can drown in sun as well as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +storm. Keep still there, laddie, or ye’ll +be over the edge of the boat. Sure it’s +an awful thing to think that there’s +only a board between ye and the judgment-seat +of God.”</p> +<p>And Brother Bart shook his head, +and relapsed into meditation befitting +the peril of his way; while the “Sary +Ann” swept on, past rock and reef and +shoal, out into the wide blue open, +where the sunlit waves were swelling in +joyous freedom, until the rocks and +spires of Beech Cliff rose dimly on the +horizon; white-winged sails began to +flutter into sight; wharves and boat-houses +came into view, and the travellers +were back in the busy world of men +again.</p> +<p>“It feels good to be on God’s own +earth again,” said Brother Bart, as he +set foot on the solid pier, gay just now +with a holiday crowd; for the morning +boat was in, and the “Cliff Dwellers,” +as the residents of the old town were +called at livelier seaside resorts, were +out in force to welcome the new arrivals.</p> +<p>“This is something fine!” said Dud to +Jim, as they made their way through +the chatting, laughing throng, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +caught the lilt of the music on the +beach beyond, where bathers, reckless +of the church bells’ call, were disporting +themselves in the sunlit waves. “It’s +tough, with a place like this so near, to +be shut up on a desert island for a +whole vacation. I say, Jim, let’s look +up the Fosters after Mass, and see if we +can’t get a bid to their house for a day +or two. We’ll have some fun there.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” answered easy Jim. +“Killykinick is good enough for me. +You have to do so much fussing and +fixing when you are with girls. Still, +now we are here, we might as well look +around us.”</p> +<p>So when Mass in the pretty little +church was over, and Brother Bart, +glad to be back under his well-loved +altar light, lingered at his prayers, the +boys, who had learned from Captain +Jeb that they had a couple of hours still +on their hands, proceeded to explore the +quaint old town, with its steep, narrow +streets, where no traffic policemen were +needed; for neither street cars nor +automobiles were allowed to intrude.</p> +<p>In the far long ago, Beach Cliff had +been a busy and prosperous seaport +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +town. The great sailing vessels of +those days, after long and perilous +voyage, made harbor there; the old +shipmasters built solid homes on the +island shores; its merchants grew rich +on the whaling vessels, that went forth +to hunt for these monsters of the great +deep, and came back laden with oil and +blubber and whalebone and ambergris. +But all this was changed now. Steam +had come to supplant the white wings +that had borne the old ships on their +wide ocean ways. As Captain Jeb said, +“the airth had taken to spouting up ile,” +and made the long whale hunts needless +and unprofitable. But, though it had +died to the busy world of commerce and +trade, the quaint old island town had +kept a charm all its own, that drew +summer guests from far and near.</p> +<p>Dud and Jim made for the resident +streets, where old Colonial mansions +stood amid velvety lawns, and queer +little low-roofed houses were buried in +vines and flowers. But Dan and Freddy +kept to the shore and the cliff, where +the old fishermen had their homes, and +things were rough and interesting. +They stopped at an old weather-beaten +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +house that had in its low windows all +sorts of curious things—models of ships +and boats, odd bits of pottery, rude +carvings, old brasses and mirrors,—the +flotsam and jetsam from broken homes +and broken lives that had drifted into +this little eddy.</p> +<p>The proprietor, a bent and grizzled +old man, who stood smoking at the door, +noticed the young strangers.</p> +<p>“Don’t do business on Sundays; but +you can step in, young gentlemen, and +look about you. ’Twon’t cost you a +cent: and I’ve things you won’t see any-whar +else on this Atlantic coast,—brass, +pottery, old silver, old books, old papers, +prints of rare value and interest. +A Harvard professor spent two hours +the other day looking over my collection.”</p> +<p>“Is it a museum?” asked Freddy +politely, as he and Dan peered doubtful +over the dusky threshold.</p> +<p>“Wal, no, not exactly; though it’s +equal to that, sonny. Folks call this +here Jonah’s junk-shop,—Jonah being +my Christian name. (I ain’t never had +much use for any other.) I’ve been here +forty years, and my father was here before +me,—buying and selling whatever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +comes to us. And things do come to us +sure, from copper kettles that would +serve a mess of sixty men, down to +babies’ bonnets.”</p> +<p>“Babies’ bonnets!” laughed Dan, who, +with Freddy close behind him, had +pushed curiously but cautiously into the +low, dark room, from which opened another +and another, crowded with +strangely assorted merchandise.</p> +<p>“You may laugh,” said the proprietor, +“but we’ve had more than a dozen +trunks and boxes filled with such like +folderols. Some of ’em been here +twenty years or more,—shawls and +bonnets and ball dresses, all frills and +laces and ribbons; baby bonnets, too, all +held for duty and storage or wreckage +and land knows what. Flung the whole +lot out for auction last year, and the +women swarmed like bees from the big +hotels and the cottages. Got bits of yellow +lace, they said, for ten cents that +was worth many dollars. The men folks +tried to ‘kick’ about fever and small-pox +in the old stuff, but not a woman would +listen. Look at that now!” And the +speaker paused under a chandelier that, +even in the dusky dimness, glittered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +with crystal pendants. “Set that ablaze +with the fifty candles it was made to +hold, and I bet a hundred dollars +wouldn’t have touched it forty years +ago. Ye can buy it to-morrow for three +and a quarter. That’s the way things +go in Jonah’s junk-shop.”</p> +<p>“And do you ever really sell anything?” +asked Dan, whose keen business +eye, being trained by early bargaining +for the sharp needs of life, could see +nothing in Jonah’s collection worth a +hard-earned dollar. Mirrors with dingy +and broken frames loomed ghost-like up +in the dusky corners; tarnished epaulets +and sword hilts told pathetically of forgotten +honors; there were clocks, tall +and stately, without works or pendulum.</p> +<p>“Sell?” echoed the proprietor. “Of +course, sonny, we sell considerable, +specially this time of year when the rich +folks come around,—folks that ain’t +looking for stuff that’s whole or shiny. +And they do bite curious, sure. Why, +there was some sort of a big man come +up here in his yacht a couple of years +ago that gave me twenty-five dollars for +a furrin medal,—twenty-five dollars +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +cash down. And it wasn’t gold or silver +neither. Said he knew what it was +worth, and I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“Twenty-five dollars!” exclaimed the +astonished Freddy,—“twenty-five dollars +for a medal! O Dan, then maybe +yours is worth something, too.”</p> +<p>“Pooh, no!” said Dan, “what would +poor old Nutty be doing with a twenty-five +dollar medal?”</p> +<p>The dull eyes of the old junk dealer +kindled with quick interest.</p> +<p>“Hev you got a medal?” he asked. +“Where did you get it?”</p> +<p>“From a batty old sailor man who +thought I had done him some good +turns,” answered Dan. “Where he got +it he didn’t say. I don’t think he could +remember.”</p> +<p>And Dan, whose only safe deposit for +boyish treasures was his jacket pocket, +pulled out the gift that Freddy had +refused, and showed it to this new acquaintance, +who, holding it off in his +horny hand, blinked at it with practised +eye.</p> +<p>“Portugee or Spanish, I don’t know +which it says on that thar rim. Thar +ain’t much of it silver. I’d have to rub +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +it up to be sure of the rest. Date, well +as I can make out, it’s 1850.”</p> +<p>“It is,” said Dan. “I made that much +out myself.”</p> +<p>Old Jonah shook his head.</p> +<p>“Ain’t far enough back. Takes a good +hundred years to make an antique. Still, +you can’t tell. The ways of these great +folks are queer. Last week I sold for +five dollars a bureau that I was thinking +of splitting up into firewood; and +the woman was as tickled as if she had +found a purse of money. Said it was +Louey Kans. Who or what she was I +don’t know; mebbe some kin of hers. I +showed her the break plain, for I ain’t +no robber; but she said that didn’t +count a mite,—that she could have a +new glass put in for ten dollars. Ten +dollars! Wal, thar ain’t no telling about +rich folks’ freaks and foolishness; so I +can’t say nothing about that thar medal. +It ain’t the kind of thing I’d want to +gamble on. But if you’d like to leave it +here on show. I’ll take care of it, I +promise you; and mebbe some one may +come along and take a notion to it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, what’s the good?” said Dan, +hesitating. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>“Dan, do—do!” pleaded Freddy, who +saw a chance for the vacation pocket +money his chum so sorely lacked. “You +might get twenty-five dollars for it, +Dan.”</p> +<p>“He might,” said old Jonah; “and +then again he mightn’t, sonny. I ain’t +promising any more big deals like them +I told you about. But you can’t ever +tell in this here junk business whar or +when luck will strike you. It goes hard +agin my old woman to hev all this here +dust and cobwebs. She has got as tidy +a house as you’d ask to see just around +the corner,—flower garden in front, and +everything shiny. But if I’d let her in +here with a bucket and broom she’d ruin +my business forever. It’s the dust and +the rust and the cobwebs that runs +Jonah’s junk-shop. But it’s fair and +square. I put down in writing all folks +give me to sell, and sign my name to it. +If you don’t gain nothing, you don’t lose +nothing.”</p> +<p>Dan was thinking fast. Twenty-five +dollars,—twenty-five dollars! There was +only a chance, it is true; and a very slim +chance at that. But what would twenty-five +dollars mean to him, to Aunt Winnie? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +For surely and steadily, in the +long, pleasant summer days, in the starlit +watches of the night, his resolution +was growing: he must live and work for +Aunt Winnie; he could not leave her +gentle heart to break in its loneliness, +while he climbed to heights beyond her +reach; he could not let her die, while he +dreamed of a future she would never +see. Being only a boy, Dan did not put +the case in just such words. He only +felt with a fierce determination that, in +spite of the dull pain in his heart at the +thought, he must give up St. Andrew’s +when this brief seaside holiday was +past, and work for Aunt Winnie. And a +little ready cash to make a new start in +Mulligan’s upper rooms would help +matters immensely. Just now he had +not money enough for a fire in the rusty +little stove, or to move Aunt Winnie +and her old horsehair trunk from the +Little Sisters.</p> +<p>“All right!” he said, with sudden resolve. +“Take the medal and try it.”</p> +<p>And old Jonah, who was not half so +dull as, for commercial purposes, he +looked, turned to an old mahogany desk +propped up on three legs, and gave the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +young owner a duly signed receipt for +one silver-rimmed bronze medal, date +1850, and the business was concluded.</p> +<p>“Suppose you really get twenty-five +dollars, Dan,” said Freddy, as they +bade old Jonah good-bye and kept on +their way. “What will you do with it?”</p> +<p>“I’m not saying,” replied Dan, mindful +of his promise to Father Mack. “But +I’ll start something, you can bet, +Freddy!”</p> +<p>And then they went on down to the +wharf, where the “Sary Ann” lay at her +moorings, and Brother Bart was seated +on a bench in pleasant converse with +the Irish sexton of the little church, +who had been showing the friendly old +Brother some of the sights of the town.</p> +<p>“Here come my boys now. This is +Dan Dolan, and this is my own laddie +that I’ve been telling ye about, Mr. +McNally. And where—where are the +others?” questioned Brother Bart, +anxiously.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Dan, after +he had reciprocated Mr. McNally’s +hearty hand-shake. “Dud said something +about going to the Fosters.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p>“Sure and that isn’t hard to find,” +said Mr. McNally. “It’s one of the +biggest places on Main Street, with +hydrangeas growing like posies all +around the door. Any one will show +ye.”</p> +<p>“Go back for them, Danny lad. Ye +can leave laddie here with me while ye +bring the others back; for the day is +passing, and we must be sailing home.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XIV.—Polly.</p> +</div> + +<p>Main Street was not hard to find, +neither seemed the Fosters. A corner +druggist directed Dan without hesitation +to a wide, old-fashioned house, surrounded +by lawns and gardens, in which +the hydrangeas—blue, pink, purple—were +in gorgeous summer bloom. But, +though the broad porch was gay with +cushions and hammocks, no boys were +in sight; and, lifting the latch of the +iron gate, Dan was proceeding up the +flower-girdled path to the house, when +the hall door burst open and a pretty +little girl came flying down the steps in +wild alarm.</p> +<p>“Bobby!” she cried. “My Bobby is +out! Bobby is gone! Oh, somebody +catch Bobby, please,—somebody catch +my Bobby!”</p> +<p>A gush of song answered the wail. +Perched upon the biggest and pinkest of +the hydrangeas was a naughty little +canary, its head on one side warbling +defiantly in the first thrill of joyous +freedom. Its deserted mistress paused +breathlessly. A touch, a movement, she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +knew would send him off into sunlit +space beyond her reach forever.</p> +<p>Quick-witted Dan caught on to the +situation. A well-aimed toss of his cap, +and the hydrangea blooms were quivering +under the beat of the captive’s +fluttering wings. Dan sprang forward +and with a gentle, cautious hand +grasped his prisoner.</p> +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” was all the little lady +could cry, clasping her hands rapturously. +“Don’t—don’t hurt him, please!”</p> +<p>“I won’t,” was the answer. “But get +his cage quick; for he’s scared to death +at my holding him.”</p> +<p>Bobby’s mistress darted into the +house at the word, and reappeared +again in a moment with a gilded palace +that was surely all a bird could ask for.</p> +<p>“O Bobby, Bobby!” she murmured +reproachfully, as Dan deposited his subdued +and trembling captive behind the +glittering bars. “When you had this +lovely new cage and everything you +wanted!”</p> +<p>“No, he hadn’t,” said Dan, conscious +of a sudden sympathy with his feathered +prisoner. “He has wings and wants +to use them.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>“But he couldn’t find seed or chickweed +for himself, and the cats and +hawks would have had him before +morning. Oh, I’m so glad to get him +back safe I don’t know how to thank +you for catching him for me!” And the +little lady lifted a pair of violet eyes, +that were still sparkling with tears, to +her benefactor’s face.</p> +<p>“Pooh! It wasn’t anything,” said +Dan, shyly.</p> +<p>“Yes, it was. You threw your cap +fine. My brothers couldn’t have done it, +I know. They would have just laughed +and teased, and let Bobby fly away forever. +You are the nicest boy I ever +saw,” continued Bobby’s mistress, who +was at the age when young ladies speak +their mind frankly. “What is your +name?”</p> +<p>“Dan Dolan,” was the reply, with the +smile that showed Aunt Winnie’s boy at +his best. “Let me carry your bird cage +to the house for you. It is too heavy for +a little girl.”</p> +<p>“Oh, thank you! But I’m not such a +little girl as you think: I am nearly ten +years old,” said the young lady, as Dan +took up Bobby and his cage, and they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +proceeded up the broad gravelled path +to the house; “and my name is Polly +Forester, and—”</p> +<p>“Forester!” blurted out Dan. “Then +I’m on the wrong track. They told me +this was the Foster house.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” Miss Polly shook her head, +that, with its golden brown ringlets, +looked very much like a flower itself. +“This has been our house for more than +a hundred years. My grandfather lived +here, and my great-grandfather and all +my grandfathers. One of them fought +with George Washington; we’ve got his +sword. Would you like to see it?” asked +Miss Polly, becoming graciously hospitable +as they approached the porch.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t time,” answered +Dan. “You see, I’m looking for two of +our fellows. We’re a lot of St. Andrew’s +boys off for the summer, and the boat is +waiting to take us back to Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“Oh, are you staying there?” asked +the young lady, with wide-eyed interest. +“I’ve passed it often in dad’s yacht.”</p> +<p>“Polly dear!” called a sweet voice, +and a grown-up image of that young +person came hurriedly out on the +porch,—a lovely lady, all in soft trailing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +white and blue ribbons. “What is the +matter? Your cry woke me out of a +sound sleep and put me all in a flutter.”</p> +<p>“O mamma dear, I’m sorry! But it +was Bobby. He flew out of his cage +when I was trying to teach him to perch +on my hand, and got away. He would +have gone forever if this nice boy had +not caught him for me! His name is +Dan Dolan, mamma, and he is staying +at Killykinick with a lot of college boys. +Dan is looking for the other boys, who +are at the Fosters; and some one told +him this was the house, and he came +just in time to catch my Bobby under +his cap, and—”</p> +<p>“The Fosters?” interrupted mamma, +who was used to clearing up things for +Polly. “Probably you are looking for +Colonel Foster, who came down last +week,” she continued, turning a smiling +face to Dan. “They have rented the +Pelham cottage for the summer. You +know where that is, Polly?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes!” answered the little lady, +cheerfully. “You take care of Bobby, +mamma, and I’ll show Dan the short +cut through our garden.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p> +<p>And she darted ahead through an old-fashioned +maze, where tall box hedges +were clipped into queer shapes around +beds of gay blooming flowers. Then, +swinging open a vine-wreathed gate, +Dan’s little guide led into a steep narrow +way paved with cobblestones.</p> +<p>“Pelham cottage is just up there,” +she said, “at the top of Larboard Lane.”</p> +<p>“And here the boys come now!” exclaimed +Dan, as the sound of familiar +voices reached his ear, and down the +lane came a laughing, chattering +group,—Minna Foster, and her sister +Madge and brother Jack gleefully +escorting Jim and Dud back to the boat, +and claiming the promises of speedy return +to Beach Cliff.</p> +<p>Dan hailed his schoolmates, explained +his search and his mistake, and they +were all taking their way down the +stony path together,—Polly being of the +sort to make friends at once with every +nice boy or girl within reach.</p> +<p>“Isn’t she the cutest thing?” said +Minna Foster, who had fallen behind +with Dud. “We have just been dying +to know them; but her mother is an +invalid, and doesn’t go out much, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +though they are the finest people in +Beach Cliff, mamma says. They have +lots of money, and the loveliest old home +filled with all sorts of beautiful things, +and horses and carriages and a big +yacht.”</p> +<p>“And Dan Dolan has struck it with +them,” said Dud, watching Miss Polly’s +dancing along loyally by her nice boy’s +side. “Dan Dolan! Can’t you give them +a tip about him.”</p> +<p>“A tip?” echoed Minna, puzzled.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dud, his brow darkening. +“People like that don’t want to know +such low-down chumps as Dan Dolan. +Why, he’s in St. Andrew’s on charity; +hasn’t got a decent rag to his back except +what we give him there; used to +shine shoes and sell papers on the +streets. His aunt is in the poorhouse or +something next to it; he’s just a common +tough, without a cent to call his +own.”</p> +<p>“Goodness!” gasped Miss Minna. +“Then what is he doing up here with +boys like you?”</p> +<p>“Pushed in,” answered Dud, hotly. +“He has enough nerve to push anywhere. +St. Andrew’s gives a scholarship +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +at the parochial school, and he +won it; and, as he hadn’t any place to +go this summer, they bunched him in +with us. But you can see what he is +at one look.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I did,—I did!” murmured +Miss Minna. “I saw at the very first +that he was not our sort; but, being +with nice boys like you, I thought he +must be all right. He isn’t bad-looking, +and such nerve for a bootblack! +Just look how he is making +up to little Polly Forester!”</p> +<p>To an impartial observer it would +have really seemed the other way. +Polly herself was “making up” most +openly to this nicest boy she ever saw. +Tripping along by Dan’s side, she was +extending a general invitation, in +which Dan was specialized above all +others.</p> +<p>“I am going to have a birthday +party next week, and I want you to +come, and bring all the other boys +from Killykinick. It’s the first party +I’ve ever had; but mamma is feeling +better this year, and I’ll be ten years +old, and she’s going to have things +just lovely for me,—music and dancing, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +and ice-cream made into flowers +and birds, and a Jack Horner pie with +fine presents in it. Wouldn’t you like +to come, Dan?”</p> +<p>“You bet!” was the ready answer; +for a party of young persons like Miss +Polly was, from his outlook, a very +simple affair. “When is it coming off?”</p> +<p>“Thursday,” said Polly,—“Thursday +evening at six, in our garden. And +you needn’t dress up. Boys hate to +dress up, I know; Tom and Jack +won’t go any place where they have +to wear stiff collars.”</p> +<p>“I’m with them there,” rejoined +Dan. “Had to get into one on Commencement +Day, and never want to +try another.”</p> +<p>“You see, I don’t care for some +boys,” said the expectant hostess, confidentially. +“All Tom’s and Jack’s +friends are in long trousers. Some +girls like that, but I don’t: they look +too grown up, and they stand around +and tease, and won’t play games, and +are just horrid. You would play +games, I’m sure.”</p> +<p>“Just try me at them,” answered +Dan, grinning. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>“Oh, I know you would! So I want +you all to come,” said Miss Polly, who, +having reached her own gateway, +paused for a general good-bye. “I +don’t know your names, but I want +you all to come with Dan to +my party.”</p> +<p>“If we can get here,” replied Dan. +“Captain Jeb wouldn’t trust us to sail +his boat, and I don’t know that he +could come with us.”</p> +<p>“Oh, he will,—he must!” persisted +Polly.</p> +<p>“He ain’t the will-and-must kind,” +said Dan, nodding.</p> +<p>“Then maybe I can send for you,” +the little lady went on eagerly. “My +cousins are coming over from Rock-haven +on dad’s yacht, and I’ll make +them stop at Killykinick and bring +you all with them to my party.”</p> +<p>And, with a gay little nod that included +all her nice boys, little Miss +Polly disappeared among the hydrangeas; +while the others kept on down +to the wharf, where the “Sary Ann” +was already swinging out her dingy +sail, and Brother Bart was growing +anxious and nervous. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p> +<p>Merry good-byes were spoken, and +very soon the boys were on their +homeward way, with Beach Cliff vanishing +in the distance. There had been +no bids to the Fosters’ cottage, which +was already filled with grown-up +guests. Dud was sullen and disappointed; +lazy Jim a little tired; +while Freddy, seated in the bottom of +the boat, dropped his curly head on +Brother Bart’s knee and went off to +sleep. But to Dan the day had been +a most pleasant experience, a glimpse +of a friendly, beautiful world whose +gates he had never thought to pass; +and Aunt Winnie’s Dan was very +happy as he steered the “Sary Ann” +over a smiling summer sea without a +clouding shadow.</p> +<p>“How did you push in so quick to +the Foresters?” sneered Dud.</p> +<p>“Looking for two lost donkeys,” retorted +Dan, who was learning to give +Dud as good as he sent.</p> +<p>“Maybe you think you’ll get there +again,” said Dud. “Well you won’t, I +can tell you that. It was all very well +to make up so strong to a little fool +girl; but they are the tiptoppers of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +Beach Cliff, and you won’t hear any +more of Miss Polly’s yacht or her +party.”</p> +<p>“I’m not worrying over that, are +you?” said Dan, philosophically. +“You look as if you had a grouch on +about something.”</p> +<p>“I have,” blurted out Dud fiercely. +“I hate this horrid Killykinick and +everything on it; and I’m not going to +be mixed up before decent people +with roughs and toughs that are fit +only to black my boots—like you, Dan +Dolan!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XV.—A Rescue.</p> +</div> + +<p>For a moment Dan’s blue eyes flashed, +his strong arm quivered. Every +hardy nerve was tingling to strike out +at the insolent speaker who lost no +opportunity to fling a scornful word. +But this beautiful day had left holy as +well as happy memories. Dan had +knelt at Brother Bart’s side before the +altar light, that through all his hard +rough young life had been Aunt +Winnie’s boy’s beacon,—a beacon +that had grown clearer and brighter +with his advancing years, until it +seemed to rise above earth into the +dazzling radiance of the stars. Its +steady light fell upon his rising passion +now, and his fury broke as the +swelling surf breaks upon the beacon +rock—into foam and spray.</p> +<p>“It <i>is</i> a sort of mix up, I must say,” +he answered. “But I’m out of the bootblack +business for good and all; so +what are you going to do about it?”</p> +<p>“Cut the whole lot,” said Dud, +“just as soon as I can get money +enough to do it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>“Well, I won’t cry after you, I’m +sure,” retorted Dan, good-humoredly; +though there was a spark in his eye +that told the fire was smoldering +still, as even under the beacon light +such fires sometimes do.</p> +<p>But a stentorian shout from Captain +Jeb put an end to the altercation.</p> +<p>“Wind’s a-veering! Swing round +that ar boom, matey Dan! Duck, the +rest of you boys,—duck—quick!”</p> +<p>Freddy was asleep, with his head +pillowed safely on Brother Bart’s +knee. Jim was dozing in the stern, out +of harm’s reach; but on Dud, seated +at the edge of the boat and fuming +with rage and pride, the warning fell +unheeded. As the sail swung round +there was s splash, a shriek.</p> +<p>“He’s overboard! God have mercy +on us!” cried Brother Bart, roused +from his third Glorious Mystery of the +Rosary.</p> +<p>“Didn’t I tell you to duck, ye +rascal?” roared Captain Jeb, to +whom a tumble like this seemed only +a boy’s fool trick. “Back aboard with +ye, ye young fool! Back—aboard! +Don’t ye know there’s sharks about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +in these waters? Lord, ef he ain’t +gone down!”</p> +<p>“He can’t—can’t swim!” And Jim, +who had started up half awake and +who could swim like a duck, was just +about to plunge after Dud, when he +caught the word that chilled even his +young blood to ice—<i>sharks</i>! Jim knew +what sharks meant. He had seen a big +colored man in his own Southern +waters do battle with one, and had +sickened at the memory ever since.</p> +<p>“A rope,—a rope!” thundered Captain +Jeb, whose right leg had been +stiffened for all swimming in deep +waters ten years ago. “If he goes +down again, it’s forever.”</p> +<p>“O God have mercy! God have +mercy!” prayed Brother Bart, helplessly; +while Freddy shrieked in shrill +alarm.</p> +<p>In that first wild moment of outcry +Dan had stood breathless while a tide +of feeling swept over him that held +him mute, motionless. Dud! It was +Dud who had been swept over into +those foaming, seething depths. Dud, +whose stinging words were still rankling +in his thoughts and heart; Dud, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +who hated, scorned, despised him; +Dud who could not swim, and—and +there were sharks,—sharks!</p> +<p>Dan was trembling now in every +strong limb,—trembling, it seemed +to him, in body and soul. Sharks! +Sharks! And it was Dud.—Dud who +had said Dan was fit only to black +his boots!</p> +<p>“O God have mercy! Mother +Mary—Mother Mary save him!” +prayed Brother Bart.</p> +<p>At the words Dan steadied,—steadied +to the beacon light,—steadied into +Aunt Winnie’s boy again.</p> +<p>“Don’t scare, Brother Bart!” rang +out his clear young voice. “I’ll get +him.”</p> +<p>“Dan! Dan!” shrieked Freddy, as, +with the practised dive of the Wharf +Rats, the lithe young form plunged +into the water. “O Dan,—my Dan, the +sharks will get you, too! Come back! +Come back, Dan!”</p> +<p>Dan caught the words as he struck +out blindly, desperately, almost hopelessly, +through depths such as he had +never braved before. For this was not +the safe land-bound harbor; this was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +not the calm lap of the river around +the sheltering wharf; this was a +world of waters, seething, surging +roaring around him, peopled with +hunting creatures hungry for prey.</p> +<p>“Dan, Dan!” came his little chum’s +piercing cry as he rose for breath.</p> +<p>“Come back, ye fool!” thundered +Captain Jeb. “He’s gone, I tell ye,—the +boy is gone down!”</p> +<p>But even at the shout something +dark swept within touch of Dan’s outstretched +arm; he made a clutch at it +and grasped Dud,—Dud choking, +gasping, struggling,—Dud, who sinking +for the last time, caught Dan in +a grip that meant death for both +of them.</p> +<p>“Let go!” spluttered Dan, fiercely,—“let +go! Let go or we’ll drown +together!” And then, as the deadly +clutch only tightened, Dan did what +all Wharf Rats knew they must do +in such cases—struck out with the +full strength of his hardy young fist, +and, knocking the clinging Dud’s +fast-failing wits completely out of +him, swam back with his helpless +burden to the “Sary Ann.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p> +<p>“The Lord, matey, but you are a +game un!” said Captain Jeb, as he +and Jim dragged Dud aboard.</p> +<p>“Ah, God have mercy upon the +poor lad’s soul! It’s dead entirely he +is!” sobbed Brother Bart.</p> +<p>“Not a bit of it!” said Dan, scrambling +up the side of the “Sary Ann.” +“He’s just knocked out. I had to +knock him out, or he would have +pulled me down with him. Roll him +over a little, so he can spit out the +water, and he’ll be all right.”</p> +<p>“Sure he is,—he is!” murmured +Brother Bart, as Dud began to cough +and splutter encouragingly. “It’s gone +forever I thought he was, poor lad! +Oh, God bless you for this day’s work, +Dan Dolan,—bless you and keep you +His forever!”</p> +<p>“It was a close shave for all +hands,” said Captain Jeb, permitting +himself a long-drawn sigh of relief, +as Dan, after shaking himself like a +water-dog, sank down, a little pale +and breathless, at his side. “And you +were what most folk would call a consarned +fool, matey. Didn’t you hear +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +me say these ’ere waters had sharks +in ’em?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dan, whose eyes were +fixed upon a drift of sunlit cloud in +the distance.</p> +<p>“Then what the deuce did you do it +for?” said Captain Jeb, severely.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t let a fellow drown,” was +the brief answer.</p> +<p>“Warn’t nothing special to you, was +he?” growled the old sailor, who was +still fiercely resentful of his “scare.” +“Ain’t ever been perticular nice or +soft spoken as I ever heard to you. +And you jumping in to be gobbled by +sharks, for him, like he was your own +twin brother! You’re a fool, matey,—a +durn young fool!”</p> +<p>And Dan, who understood his old +sailor friend, only laughed,—laughed +while his eyes still followed the drift +of swinging cloud fringing the deep +blue of the sky. They were like the +robe of the only Mother he had +ever known,—the sweet Mother on +whom Brother Bart had called to +save Dud. And Dan had heard and +obeyed and he felt with a happy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +heart his Mother was smiling on him +now.</p> +<p>But to Dud this thrilling adventure +left no pleasant memories. He was sick +for several days from his overdose of +salt water, weak and nervous from +fright and shock: there was a bruise +over his eye from the saving impact +of Dan’s sturdy fist, which he resented +unreasonably. More than all, he resented +the chorus that went up from +all at Killykinick in praise of Dan’s +heroism.</p> +<p>Jim testified openly and honestly +that the cry of “Sharks” got him, and +he couldn’t have dared a plunge in +those waters to save his own brother.</p> +<p>“I saw a nigger cut in half by one +of those man-eaters once, and it +makes my flesh creep to think of it.”</p> +<p>Even dull-witted old Neb rose to +show appreciation of Dan’s bold +plunge, and said he “reckoned all +boys wuth anything did sech fool +tricks some times.”</p> +<p>Good old Brother Bart felt it was a +time for warning and exhortation, +which Dud found altogether exasperating. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p> +<p>“Sure it’s on your knees you ought +to go morning and evening to thank +God for bold, brave Dan Dolan. If +it hadn’t been for him, it’s food for +the fishes ye’d be now. The Lord was +merciful to ye, lad; for I’m misdoubting +if ye were fit for heaven. Though +it’s not for me to judge, ye have a +black look betimes, as if God’s grace +wasn’t in yer heart. This ought to be +a lesson to ye, a lesson that ye should +never forget.”</p> +<p>“I’m not likely to forget it,” was the +grim answer. “I couldn’t if I tried.”</p> +<p>“And I’m glad to hear ye say so,” +said the simple-minded old Brother. +“I’m thinking sometimes ye’re not +over friendly with Dan. It was a +rough bating he gave ye before we +left the college.” (Dud’s black looks +grew blacker at the memory.) “But +he has more than made it up to ye +now, for he has given ye back yer +life.”</p> +<p>“And what are you going to give +him for it, Dud?” questioned Freddy +confidentially, as the good Brother +moved away. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p>“Give who?” growled Dud, who +was sick and sore and savage over +the whole experience, and, strange to +say—but such are the peculiarities of +some natures,—felt as if he hated his +preserver more than ever.</p> +<p>“Why, Dud!” continued Freddy. +“You always give a person something +when he saves your life. Dick Walton +told me that a man saved him when +he was carried out in the surf last +summer, and his father gave the man +a gold watch.”</p> +<p>“So Dan Dolan wants a gold watch, +does he?” said Dud.</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” answered Freddy, quite +unconscious of the sneer in the question. +“I don’t think Dan wants a gold +watch at all. He would not know +what to do with one. But if I were +you,” continued Dan’s little chum, his +eyes kindling with loyal interest, “I’d +make it a pocket-book,—a nice +leather pocket-book, with a place for +stamps and car tickets and money, +and I’d just fill it <i>chock</i> full. You see, +Dan hasn’t much pocket money. He +pulled out his purse the other day at +Beach Cliff to get a medal that was in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +it, and he had only a nickel and two +stamps to write to his aunt.”</p> +<p>“So your brave Dan is striking for +ready cash, is he?” said Dud, in a tone +that even innocent Freddy could not +mistake, and that Dan coming up the +beach with a net full of kicking lobsters, +caught in all its sting.</p> +<p>“Ready cash,” he asked, looking from +one to the other. “For what?”</p> +<p>“Pulling me out of the water the +other day,” answered Dud. “Freddy +says you’re expecting pay for it.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m <i>not</i>,” said Dan, the spark +flashing into his blue eyes. “You’re +’way off there, Freddy, sure.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I didn’t mean,—I didn’t say,” +began poor little Freddy, desperately. +“I only thought people always got +medals or watches or something when +they saved other people, and I told +Dud—”</p> +<p>“Never mind what you told him, kid” +(Dan laid a kind hand on his little +chum’s shoulder); “you mean it all +right, I know. But Dud” (the spark in +the speaker’s eye flashed brighter,)—“Dud +didn’t.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p> +<p>“I did,” said Dud. “My father will +pay you all you want.”</p> +<p>Then Dan blazed up indeed into Irish +fire.</p> +<p>“I don’t want his pay: I wouldn’t +touch it. You ain’t worth it, Dud Fielding.”</p> +<p>“Ain’t worth what? My father is +worth a million,” said Dud quickly.</p> +<p>“<i>That</i> for his million!” and Dan +snapped his two fishy fingers under +Dud’s Grecian nose. “You ain’t worth +a buffalo nickel, Dud Fielding; and I +wouldn’t ask one for saving your +measly little life.”</p> +<p>And Dan went off with his lobsters, +in a wrath almost fiery enough to boil +them alive. Pay!—pay for that wild +plunge into watery depths—the doubt, +the fear, the icy terror of hungry monsters +around him! Dud Fielding was +offering him pay for this, very much as +he might fling pay to him for blacking +his boots. Ah, it was a fierce, bad +moment for Dan! His beacon light +vanished; murky clouds of passion +were blackening dream and vision; he +felt he could cheerfully pitch Dud back +to the sharks again. And then, as still +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +hot and furious, he strode back with his +lobsters to old Ned, Freddy, who was +remorsefully following him—remorseful +at having stirred up a row,—piped +up in sudden excitement:</p> +<p>“O Dan, look—look what’s coming +here to Killykinick! Dan, just look!”</p> +<p>Dan turned at the cry. Past Numskull +Nob, making her cautious, graceful +way through rocks and shoals, was +a beautiful white-winged yacht, her +mast gay with pennants. One, fluttering +wide to the breeze, showed her name, +“The Polly.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XVI.—A New Experience</p> +</div> + +<p>Dan stood staring in blank amazement, +while Freddy’s voice rose into shriller +triumph:</p> +<p>“Jim, Dud, Brother Bart, look,—look +what is coming here!”</p> +<p>She was coming indeed, this white-winged +stranger, swaying to the right +and left under skilful guidance as she +made her way to the Killykinick wharf; +for her rugged old Captain knew the +perils of the shore. And under the gay +awnings that shaded the deck was a +merry group of young people, waving +their handkerchiefs to the rocky island +they were approaching; while Polly’s +big handsome “dad,” in white linen +yachting togs, pointed out the ship +house and the wharf, the tower and +garden patch,—all the improvements +that queer old Great-uncle Joe had made +on these once barren rocks. Polly’s dad +had known about the old captain and +his oddities all his life. Indeed, once in +his very early years as he now told his +young listeners, he had made a boyish +foray in Great-uncle Joe’s domain, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +had been repelled by the old sailor with +a vigor never to be forgotten.</p> +<p>“I never had such a scientific thrashing +in my life,” laughed dad, as if he +rather enjoyed the remembrance. “We +were playing pirate that summer. I +had a new boat that we christened the +‘Red Rover,’ after Cooper’s story; and +we rigged her up with a pirate flag, and +proceeded to harry the coast and do all +the mischief that naughty twelve-year-olds +can do. Finally, I proposed, as a +crowning adventure, a descent upon +Killykinick, pulling down old Joey +Kane’s masthead and smashing his +lantern. Well, we caught a Tartar +there, I can tell you! The old captain +never had any use for boys. And to +think of the place being full of them +now!”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, dad! There are only four,” +said Polly,—“four real nice boys from +St. Andrew’s College, and just the right +size to come to my party. O Nell, +Gracie, look! There they come!”</p> +<p>And the handkerchiefs fluttered +again gleefully as “The Polly” made up +to the wharf, and the whole population +of Killykinick turned out to greet her,—even +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +to Brother Bart, who had been +reading his well-worn “Imitation” on +the beach; and Neb, who, with the bag +of potatoes he had just dug up, stood +staring dumbly in the distance.</p> +<p>“Killykinick ahoy!” shouted dad, +making a speaking trumpet of his hands.</p> +<p>“<i>Aye, aye</i>!” answered Captain Jeb, +with his crooked smile. “You’re ‘The +Polly’ of Beach Cliff. What’s wanted, +Mr. Forester? Clams or lobsters?”—for +in these latter days Killykinick did +something of a trade in both with the +pleasure boats and cottages along the +coast.</p> +<p>“Well, we don’t like to call them +either; do we, Polly?” laughed dad, as +he stepped ashore, while the little girls +crowded to the deck rail. “‘The Polly’ +is sailing under petticoat orders to-day +and is scouring the waters in search of +four boys that, we understand, you have +here at Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“We have,” answered Captain Jeb,—“or +at least the Padre here has. They’re +none of mine.”</p> +<p>“I am no Padre, as I’ve told ye again +and again, Jeroboam,” interposed +Brother Bart. “I am only Brother Bartholomew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +from St. Andrew’s College. +And I have four boys here, but they’ve +been under my eye day and night,” he +continued anxiously; “so, in God’s +name, what are ye after them for, sir? +They have done ye nor yours no harm, +I am sure.”</p> +<p>“None in the world,” said Mr. Forester +quickly, as he saw his light speech +was not understood. “I was only joking +with Captain Jeb. My mission here, +I assure you, is most friendly. Permit +me to introduce myself, Brother Bar—Bar—Bartholomew—”</p> +<p>“Ye can make it Bart, sir, for short; +’most everyone does,” said the good +Brother, nodding.</p> +<p>“Then, Brother Bart, I am Mr. Pemberton +Forester, of Beach Cliff. I am +also known by the briefer and pleasanter +name of this little lady’s ‘dad,’ and +it is in that official capacity I am here +to-day. It seems this little girl of mine +met your boys a few days ago at Beach +Cliff, where they rendered her most +valuable service.”</p> +<p>“One—it was only one of them, dad!” +corrected Miss Polly’s silvery voice. “It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +was only Dan Dolan who caught my +bird and—and—”</p> +<p>“Well, at all events, the acquaintance +progressed most pleasantly and rapidly, +as my daughter’s acquaintance is apt to +progress; and it resulted in an equally +pleasant understanding that the four +young gentlemen were to come to a little +festivity we are giving in honor of +Polly’s birthday,—a garden party in +our grounds, between the hours of six +and nine. This is the occasion of our +present visit, Brother Bart. Fearing +that travelling facilities might not be at +the young gentlemen’s disposal, we have +come to take them to Beach Cliff. If you +would like to accompany them—”</p> +<p>“To a party, is it?” exclaimed Brother +Bart, in dismay. “Me at a party! Sure +I’d look and feel queer indeed in such a +place.” Brother Bart’s glance turned +from the fine boat to the gentleman before +him; he felt the responsibilities of +his position were growing perplexing. +“It will be great sport for the boys, I +am sure,” he added; “and I don’t like to +say ‘No,’ after all yer kindness in coming +for them. But how are they to get +back?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p> +<p>“Oh, we’ll see to that!” answered Mr. +Forester, cheerfully. “They will be +home and safe in your care, by half-past +ten,—I promise you that.”</p> +<p>“Hooray!—hooray!” rose the shout, +that the boys who had been listening +breathlessly to this discussion could no +longer repress.</p> +<p>There was a wild rush to the shining +decks of “The Polly,” and soon all her +pretty passengers were helped ashore, +to scramble and climb as well as their +dainty little feet could over the rocks +and steeps of Killykinick, to wonder at +the gardens and flowers blooming in its +nooks and crannies, to peep into cow +house and chicken house, and even old +Neb’s galley,—to explore the “Lady +Jane” from stem to stern in delighted +amazement.</p> +<p>Nell and Gracie, who were a little +older than their cousin, took possession +of Jim and Dud; their small brother +Tad attached himself to Freddy, who +was about his own age; while Polly +claimed her own especial find, Dan, for +escort and guide.</p> +<p>“Oh, what a queer, queer place!” she +prattled, as, after peering cautiously +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +into the depths of the Devil’s Jaw, they +wended their way to safer slopes, where +the rocks were wreathed with hardy +vines, and the sea stretched smiling into +the sunlit distance. “Do you like it +here, Dan?”</p> +<p>“Yes: I’m having a fine time,” was +the cheery answer, for the moment all +the pricks and goads forgotten.</p> +<p>“Are you going to stay long?” asked +Miss Polly.</p> +<p>“Until September,” answered Dan.</p> +<p>“Oh, that’s fine!” said his small companion, +happily. “Then I’ll get dad to +bring me down here to see you again, +Dan; and you can come up in your +boat to see me, and we’ll be friends,—real +true friends. I haven’t had a real +true friend,” said Miss Polly, perching +herself on a ledge of rock, where, in her +pink dress and flower-trimmed hat, she +looked like a bright winged butterfly,—“not +since I lost Meg Murray.”</p> +<p>“Lost her? Did she die?”</p> +<p>“No,” was the soft sighing answer. +“It was much worse than that. You +see” (Miss Polly’s tone became confidential), +“it was last summer, when I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +had the whooping cough. Did you ever +have the whooping cough?”</p> +<p>“I believe I did,” replied Dan, whose +memory of such minor ills was by no +means clear.</p> +<p>“Then you know how awful it is. You +can’t go to school or out to play, or anywhere. +I had to stay in our own garden +and grounds by myself, because all the +girls’ mothers were afraid of me. The +doctor said I must be out of doors, so I +had a play house away down by the high +box hedge in the maze; and took my +dolls and things out there, and made the +best of it. And then Meg found me. She +was coming down the lane one day, and +heard me talking to my dolls. I had to +talk to them because there was no one +else. And she peeped through the hedge +and asked if she could come in and see +them. I told her about the whooping +cough, but she said she wasn’t afraid: +that she had had it three times already, +and her mother was dead and wouldn’t +mind if she took it again. So she came +in, and we played all the morning; and +she came the next day and the next +for weeks and weeks. Oh, we did have +the grandest times together! You see, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +dad was away, and mamma was sick, +and there was no one to bother us. I +used to bring out apples and cookies and +chocolate drops, and we had parties +under the trees, and we promised to be +real true friends forever. I gave her +my pearl ring so she would always remember. +It was that pearl ring that +made all the trouble.” And Miss Polly’s +voice trembled.</p> +<p>“How?” asked Dan very gently. He +never had a sister or a girl cousin or +any one to soften his ways or speech; +and little Polly’s friendly trust was +something altogether new and strangely +sweet to him.</p> +<p>“Oh, it broke up everything!” faltered +Miss Polly. “That evening an old +woman came to the house and asked to +see mamma,—oh, such a dreadful old +woman! She hadn’t any bonnet or coat +or gloves,—just a red shawl on her +head, and an old patched dress, and a +gingham apron. And when James and +Elise and everybody told her mamma +was sick, she said she would see her +anyhow. And she did. She pushed her +way upstairs to mamma, and talked awfully,—said +she was a poor honest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +woman, if she did sell apples on the +corner; and she was raising her grandchild +honest; and she asked how her +Meg came by that ring, and where she +got it. And then mamma, who had +turned pale and fluttery, sent for me; +and I had to tell her all, and she nearly +fainted.”</p> +<p>“Why?” asked Dan.</p> +<p>“Oh, because—because—I had Meg in +the garden and played with her, and +took her for a real true friend. You see, +she wasn’t a nice little girl at all,” said +Miss Polly, impressively. “Her grandmother +had an apple stand at the street +corner, and her brother cleaned fish on +the wharf, and they lived in an awful +place over a butcher’s shop; and mamma +said she must not come into our +garden again, and I mustn’t play with +her or talk to her ever, ever again.”</p> +<p>There was no answer for a moment. +Dan was thinking—thinking fast. It +seemed time for him to say something,—to +speak up in his own blunt +way,—to put himself in his own honest +place. But, with the new charm of this +little lady’s flattering fancy on him, +Dan’s courage failed. He felt that to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +acknowledge a bootblack past and a +sausage shop future would be a shock +to Miss Polly that would break off +friendly relations forever.</p> +<p>“So you gave up your real true +friend?” he said a little reproachfully, +and Miss Polly hopped down from her +rock perch and proceeded to make her +way back to the yacht.</p> +<p>“Yes, I had to, you see. Even dad, +who lets me do anything I please, said +I must remember I was a Forester, +and make friends that fitted my name. +And so—so” (Miss Polly looked up, +smiling into Dan’s face) “I am going to +make friends with you. Dad says he +knows all about St. Andrew’s College, +and you must be first-class boys if you +belong there; and he is glad of a chance +to give you a little fun. There he is +calling us now!”—as a deep voice +shouted:</p> +<p>“All aboard, boys and girls! We’re +off in an hour! All aboard!”</p> +<p>“Dan—Dan,” piped Freddy’s small +voice. “Jim and Dud are dressing for +the party, Dan. Come, we must dress, +too.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p> +<p>And Dan, feeling like one venturing +into unknown waters, proceeded to +make the best of the things Good +Brother Francis had packed in his small +shabby trunk. There was the suit that +bore the stamp of the English tailor; +there was a pair of low shoes, that +pinched a little in the toes; there was a +spotless shirt and collar outgrown by +some mother’s darling, and a blue necktie +that was all a necktie should be when, +with Freddy’s assistance, it was put +properly in place. Really, it was not a +bad-looking boy at all that faced Dan in +the “Lady Jane’s” swinging mirror when +this party toilette was complete.</p> +<p>“You look fine, Dan!” said his little +chum, as they took their way down to +the wharf where “The Polly” was +awaiting them,—“so big and strong—and—and—”</p> +<p>“Tough,” said Dan, concluding the +sentence with a forced laugh. “Well, +that’s what I am, kid,—big and strong +and tough.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no,—Dan, no!” said Freddy. +“You’re not tough at all, and you +mustn’t say so when you go to a girl’s +party, Dan.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>“Well, I won’t,” said Dan, as he +thought of the violet eyes that would +open in dismay at such a confession. +“I’ll play the highflier to-night if I can, +kid; though it’s a new game with Dan +Dolan, I must say.”</p> +<p>And, with a queer sense of shamming +that he had never felt before, Aunt +Winnie’s boy started off for Miss Polly’s +party. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XVII.—Polly’s Party.</p> +</div> + +<p>To all Miss Polly’s guests, that evening was +a wonderful experience; but to Dan +it was an entrance into a fairy realm +that his fancy had never pictured; for +in the hard, rough ways his childish feet +had walked neither fairies nor fancies +had place. He had found sailing over +sunlit seas in Killykinick’s dingy boats +a very pleasant pastime; but the “Sary +Ann” seemed to sink into a drifting tub +when he stood on the spotless deck of +“The Polly” as she spread her snowy +wings for her homeward flight.</p> +<p>Dad, who, though very rich and great +now, still remembered those “pirate +days” when he was young himself, +proved the most charming of hosts. He +took the boys over his beautiful boat, +where every bit of shining brass and +chain and rope and bit of rigging was +in perfect shipshape; and an artful +little motor was hidden away for emergencies +of wind and tide. There was a +lovely little cabin, all in white and gold, +with pale blue draperies; and two tiny +staterooms dainty enough for the slumbers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +of a fairy queen. There were +books and games, and a victrola that +sang full-toned boating songs as they +glided onward.</p> +<p>Even Dud was properly impressed by +the charms of “The Polly”; and Jim +was outspoken in his admiration. +Freddy was wide-eyed with delight; and +Dan was swept quite away from his +usual moorings into another world,—a +world where Aunt Winnie’s boy seemed +altogether lost. For, with Miss Polly +slipping her little hand in his and guiding +him over her namesake, and Freddy +telling Tad the story of Dan’s dive +among the sharks, to which even the +man at “The Polly’s” wheel listened +with interest, with dad so jolly and +friendly, and everything so gay and +beautiful around him, it was no wonder +that Dan’s head, accustomed to sober +prosy ways, began to turn.</p> +<p>“Dolan,—Dolan? I ought to know +that name,” said dad, as, with Polly +and her “nice” boy at his side, he stood +watching the roofs and spires of Beach +Cliff come into view. “There was a Phil +Dolan in my class at Harvard,—one of +the finest fellows I ever knew; rolling in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +money, but it didn’t hurt him. He is a +judge now, and I think he had a brother +at West Point. Are you related to +them?”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” answered Dan, who at +another time would have blurted out +that he was not of the Harvard or West +Point kind. “I—I am from Maryland.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Maryland!” said dad, approvingly. +“I see,—I see! The Dolans of +Maryland. I’ve heard of them,—one of +the old Catholic families, I think.”</p> +<p>“Yes, we’re—we’re Catholics all +right,” said Dan, catching to this saving +spar of truth, in his doubt and uncertainty. +“We—we wouldn’t be anything +else if we were killed for it.”</p> +<p>“Of course you wouldn’t. That is your +heritage, my boy! Hold fast to it,” said +dad, heartily. Then he turned about to +see that “The Polly” made the way +safely to her private wharf, feeling that +he left his little girl with the scion of a +family quite equal to the Foresters.</p> +<p>With the strange sense of treading in +an unreal world, Dan passed on with +the rest of the chattering, laughing +crowd to the pretty, rustic wharf +jutting out into the waters, and up to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +the steep, narrow street where carriages +were waiting to take them to the Forester +home. The wide grounds and +gardens were already gay with the +gathering guests. Pretty, flower-decked +tables were set in the maze. The trees +were hung with Japanese lanterns, that +a little later would glow into jewelled +lights. There was a group of “grown-ups” +on the porch,—mamma, beautiful +in cloudy white; sisters and cousins and +aunts,—for the Forester family was a +large one. There were two grandmothers—one +fat and one thin,—very +elegant old ladies, with white hair rolled +high upon their heads. They looked +upon the youthful guests, through gold +lorgnettes, and were really most awe-inspiring.</p> +<p>The St. Andrew’s boys were brought +up and “presented” in due form. It was +an ordeal. How Dan got through with +it he didn’t know. He had never before +been “presented” to any one but Polly. +But dad managed it somehow, and on +the porch friendly shadows were gathering +that concealed any social discrepancies. +Then Polly flitted off to don +her party dress, and Dan found himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +stranded on the danger reefs of this +strange world, with dad giving the fat +grandmother his family history.</p> +<p>“Dolan?” repeated the old lady, who +was a little deaf. “One of the Dolans of +Maryland, you say, Pemberton? Dear +me! I used to visit Dolan Hall when I +was a girl. Such a beautiful old Colonial +home! Is it still standing?” she +said, turning to Dan.</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know, ma’am,” stammered +Dan, who found the gleam of the +gold lorgnettes most confusing.</p> +<p>“What does he say?” asked the old +lady sharply.</p> +<p>“That he does not know, mother +dear!” answered dad.</p> +<p>“He should know,” said the old lady, +severely. “The young people are growing +up in these careless days without +any proper sentiment to the past. A +home like Dolan Hall, with its memories +and traditions, should be a pride to all +of the Dolan blood. The name is really +French—D’Olane,—but most unfortunately, +as I consider, was anglicized. +The family was originally from Touraine, +and dates back to the Crusaders, +and is most aristocratic.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>“He looks it,” murmured the thin +grandmother, fixing her lorgnettes on +Dan’s broad shoulders as he moved +away to join Tad and Freddy, who were +making friends with Polly’s poodle. +“I have never seen a boy carry himself +better. Blood will tell, as I have always +insisted, Stella.”</p> +<p>The lady at her side laughed. She, +too, had been regarding Dan with +curious interest.</p> +<p>“What does it tell, Aunt Lena?” she +asked.</p> +<p>“The lady and the gentleman,” +answered Polly’s grandmother.</p> +<p>“Oh, does it?” said the other, softly. +“I suppose I am not very wise in such +matters, but one of the nicest ladies I +ever knew was a little Irish sewing +woman who made buttonholes. It was +one summer when I went South, more +years ago than I care to count; and +Winnie—her name was Winnie—came +to the house to renovate my riding habit +for me.”</p> +<p>The speaker paused as if she did not +care to say more. She was a slender +little person, not awe-inspiring at all. +She had just driven up in a pretty, light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +carriage, and was still muffled in a soft +fleecy wrap that fell around her like a +cloud. The face that looked out from it +was sweet and pale as a star. It brightened +into radiance as Polly, a veritable +fairy now in her party fluffs and ruffs +and ribbons, sprang out on the porch +and flung herself into Miss Stella’s +arms.</p> +<p>“Marraine! Marraine!” she cried +rapturously,—“my own darling Marraine!”</p> +<p>“Why will you let the child give you +that ridiculous name, my dear?” protested +grandmamma, disapprovingly.</p> +<p>“Because—because I have the right +to it,” laughed the lady, as Polly nestled +close to her side. “I am her godmother +real and true,—am I not, Polykins? +And we like the pretty French name +for it better.”</p> +<p>“Oh, much better!” assented Polly. +“‘Godmother’ is too old and solemn to +suit Marraine. Oh!” (with another rapturous +hug) “it was so good of you to +come all the way from Newport just for +my party, dear, dear Marraine!”</p> +<p>“All the way from Newport!” answered +the lady. “Why, that dear letter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +you sent would have brought me from +the moon. You will be ten years old to-night, +it said,—ten years old! O Pollykins! +Pollykins!” (There was a little +tremor in the voice.) “And you asked if +I could come and help you with your +party. I could and I would, so here I am! +And here is your birthday present.”</p> +<p>Marraine flung a slender golden chain +around Polly’s neck.</p> +<p>“Oh, you darling,—you darling!” +murmured Polly. “But <i>you</i> are the best +of all birthday presents, Marraine,—the +very best of all!”</p> +<p>“Now, really we must stop all this +‘spooning,’ Pollykins, and start things,” +said Marraine, dropping her, and emerging +in a shining silvery robe, with a +big bunch of starry jessamine pinned +on her breast.</p> +<p>“You are not going to bother with the +children, surely, Stella?” said dad, who +had drawn near the speaker.</p> +<p>“I am,” said the lady, flashing him a +laughing look. “That’s what I came for. +I am going to forget the years (don’t +be cruel enough to count them, Cousin +Pen), and for two hours (is it only two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +hours we have, Pollykins?) be a little +girl again to-night.”</p> +<p>And, taking Polly’s hand, she tripped +away from the grown-ups on the porch, +and things were started indeed.</p> +<p>Grove and garden, maze and lawn, +suddenly sparkled with jewelled lights; +the stringed band in the pagoda burst +into gay music. Led by a silvery vision, +Polly’s guests formed a great ring-around-a-rosy +for an opening measure, +and the party began. And, with a fairy +godmother like Miss Stella leading the +fun, it was a party to be remembered. +There were marches and games, there +was blind man’s buff through the jewel-lit +maze, there was a Virginia reel to +music gay enough to make a hundred-year-old +tortoise dance. There was the +Jack Horner pie, fully six feet round, +and fringed with gay ribbons to pull out +the plums. Wonderful plums they were. +Minna Foster drew a silver belt buckle; +her little sister, a blue locket; Dud, a +scarf-pin; Jim, a pocketknife with +enough blades and “fixings” to fill a +miniature tool chest; and Freddy, a +paint box quite as complete; while Dan +pulled out the biggest plum of all—a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +round white box with a silver cord.</p> +<p>As it came out at the end of his red +ribbon, there was a moment’s breathless +hush, broken by Polly’s glad cry:</p> +<p>“The prize,—the prize, Marraine! +Dan has drawn my birthday prize!” +And, under a battery of curious and +envious eyes, Dan opened the box to find +within a pretty gold watch, ticking a +most cheering greeting to its new +owner.</p> +<p>“Dan,—Dan!” Polly’s jubilant voice +rose over all the chorus around him. +“Oh, I’m so glad you got it, Dan!”</p> +<p>And Marraine’s eyes followed Polly’s +delighted glance with the same look of +curious interest that she had bent upon +Dan a while ago on the porch.</p> +<p>“Do you mean that this is for me?” +he blurted out, in bewilderment.</p> +<p>“Yes, for you,—for <i>you</i>,” repeated +Polly in high glee. “It’s real gold and +keeps real time, and it’s yours forever!”</p> +<p>“It’s too—too much—I mean it’s—it’s +too fine for a fellow like me,” stammered +Dan. “What will I do with it?”</p> +<p>“Wear it,” chirped Miss Polly, throwing +the silken guard around his neck, “so +you will never forget my birthday, Dan.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span></p> +<p>And then a big Japanese gong sounded +the call to the flower-decked tables, +where busy waiters were soon serving +a veritable fairy feast. There were +cakes of table-size and shape and color; +little baskets and boxes full of wonderful +bonbons; nuts sugared and glazed +until they did not seem nuts at all; ice-cream +birds in nests of spun sugar; +“kisses” that snapped into hats and +wreaths and caps. And all the while +the band played, and the jewelled lights +twinkled, and the stars shone far away +above the arching trees. And Dan, with +his watch around his neck, held his +place as the winner of the prize at Miss +Polly’s side, feeling as if he were in +some dizzy dream. Then there were +more games, and a grand hide-and-seek, +in which dad and some of the grown-ups +joined.</p> +<p>Dan had found an especially fine +place under the gnarled boughs of an old +cedar tree, that would have held its +head high in the starlight if some of +dad’s gardeners had not twisted it out +of growth and shape. Hiding under +the crooked shadows, Dan was listening +to the merry shouts through maze and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +garden, when he became suddenly conscious +of a change in their tone. The +voices grew sharp, shrill, excited, and +then little Polly burst impetuously into +his hiding place,—a sobbing, trembling, +indignant little Polly, followed by a +score of breathless young guests.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe it!” she was crying +tempestuously. “I <i>won’t</i> believe it! You’re +just telling horrid stories on Dan, because +I like him and he got the prize.”</p> +<p>“O Pollykins! Pollykins!” came Miss +Stella’s low, chiding voice.</p> +<p>“Halloo! halloo! What’s the trouble?” +rose dad’s deep tones above the clamor. +“My little girl crying,—crying?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I am!” was the sobbing answer. +“I can’t help it, dad. The girls are all +whispering mean, horrid stories about +Dan, and I made them tell me all they +said they had heard. I don’t believe +them, and I <i>won’t</i> believe them! I told +them I wouldn’t believe them,—that I +would come right to Dan and let him +speak for himself.—Were you ever a +newsboy and a beggar boy, Dan? Did—did +you ever black boots? Have you an +aunt in the poorhouse, as Minna Foster +says?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XVIII.—Back Into Line.</p> +</div> + +<p>There was a moment’s pause. Dan was +really too bewildered to speak. He felt +he was reeling down from the rainbow +heights to which Miss Polly had led +him, and the shock took away his breath.</p> +<p>“It’s all—all a horrid story; I’m sure +it is,—isn’t it, Dan?” pleaded his little +friend, tremulously.</p> +<p>“Why, no!” said Dan, rallying to his +simple, honest self again. “It isn’t a +story at all. I <i>was</i> a newsboy, I <i>did</i> +shine boots at the street corner, and +Aunt Winnie <i>is</i> with the Little Sisters +of the Poor now.”</p> +<p>“Bravo!—bravo!” came a low silvery +voice from the shadows, and Miss Stella +clapped her slender hands.</p> +<p>“O Dan, Dan!” cried poor little Miss +Polly, sobbing outright. “A newsboy +and bootblack! Oh, how could you +fool me so, Dan?”</p> +<p>“With your infernal lies about your +home and family!” burst forth dad, in +sudden wrath at Polly’s tears.</p> +<p>“I didn’t fool,—I didn’t lie, sir!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +blurted out Dan, fiercely. “I did nothing +of the kind!”</p> +<p>“If you will kindly do the boy justice +to remember, he did <i>not</i>, Cousin Pem!” +and Miss Stella’s clear, sweet voice rose +in witness. “You gave his family history +yourself. He did not know what +you were talking about, with your Crusading +ancestors and the D’Olanes. I +could see it in his face. You are all +blood-blind up here, Cousin Pem. I was +laughing to myself all the time, for I +guessed who Dan Dolan was. I knew he +was at St. Andrew’s. His dear old Aunt +Winnie is one of my truest friends.”</p> +<p>“O Marraine, Marraine!” murmured +Polly, eagerly. “And—and you don’t +mind it if—”</p> +<p>“If she is with the Little Sisters of +the Poor, Pollykins? Not a bit! Some +day I may be there myself. Now that +this tempest in a teapot is over, you can +all go off and finish your games. I am +going to sit under this nice old tree and +talk to Miss Winnie’s boy.”</p> +<p>And while dad, still a little hot at the +trouble that had marred Polly’s party, +started the fun in another direction, +Miss Stella gathered her silvery gown +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +around her and sat down on the rustic +bench beneath the old cedar, and talked +to Dan. He learned how Aunt Winnie +had sewed patiently and skilfully for +this lovely lady a dozen years ago, when +she was spending a gay season in his +own town; and how the gentle old +seamstress, with her simple faith and +tender sympathy, her wise warnings to +the gay, motherless girl, had won a +place in her heart.</p> +<p>“I tried to coax her home with me,” +said Miss Stella, “to make it ‘home,’ as +I felt she could; but Baby Danny was +in the way,—the little Danny that she +could not leave.”</p> +<p>Then Dan, in his turn, told about +Killykinick, and how he had been sent +there for the summer and had met little +Polly.</p> +<p>“I should have told,” he said, lifting +Aunt Winnie’s own blue Irish eyes to +Miss Stella’s face,—“I should have said +right out straight and square that I +wasn’t Polly’s kind, and had no right to +push in here with grand folks like hers. +But it was all so fine it sort of turned +my head.”</p> +<p>“It will do that,” replied Miss Stella, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +softly. “It has turned mine often, +Danny. But now we both see straight +and clear again, and I am going to make +things straight and clear with all the +others.”</p> +<p>“You can’t,” said Dan,—“not with +those grand ladies in gold spectacles; +not with Polly’s dad; maybe not with +Polly herself. I’m all mixed up, and out +of line with them. And—and—” (Dan +took the silken guard from his neck) “I +want you to give them back this gold +watch, and tell them so.” (He slipped +the Jack Horner prize into Miss Stella’s +hand.) “I’m not asking anything and +I’m not taking anything that comes to +me like this. And—and—” (he rose +and stood under the crooked tree in all +his straight, sturdy strength) “Neb is +down at the wharf with a load of clams. +We passed him as we came up. I’m not +pushing in among the silk cushions any +more. I’m going home with him.”</p> +<p>Which, with Miss Stella’s sympathetic +approval, he did at once.</p> +<p>When a little later the guests had all +gone, and “The Polly” was taking her +white-winged way back to Killykinick +with Dud, Jim, and Freddy; when the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +jewelled lights had gone out, and the +party was over, and all was quiet on the +starlit porch, Miss Stella returned Dan’s +watch and gave his message. Even the +two grandmammas, being really grandmammas +at heart, softened to it, and +dad declared gruffly it had been a fool +business altogether, while Polly flung +herself sobbing into her godmother’s +arms.</p> +<p>“O Dan,—poor Dan! He is the nicest +boy I ever saw,—the nicest and the +kindest, Marraine! And now—now he +will never come back here any more!”</p> +<p>“I don’t think he will, Pollykins,” was +the low answer. “You see” (Marraine +dropped a light kiss on the nestling +curls), “he was a newsboy and a bootblack, +and he does not deny it; while +you—you, Pollykins—”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t care, what he was!” interrupted +Miss Polly, tempestuously,—“I +don’t care what he was. I took him +for my real true friend, and I am not +going to give up Dan as I gave up Meg +Murray, Marraine.” Polly tightened her +clasp around Miss Stella’s neck so she +could whisper softly in her ear: “If he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +won’t come back, you and I will go after +him; won’t we, Marraine?”</p> +<p>Meanwhile, with his head pillowed on +a pile of fish nets—very different, we +must confess, from the silken cushions +of dad’s pretty yacht,—and with old +Neb drowsily watching her ragged sail, +Dan was back again in his own line, beneath +the guiding stars. It was a calm, +beautiful night, and those stars were at +their brightest. Even Neb’s dull wits +seemed to kindle under their radiance.</p> +<p>“You can steer ’most anywhere when +they shine like that. Don’t want none +of these ’ere winking, blinking lights to +show you the way,” he said.</p> +<p>“But the trouble is they don’t always +shine,” answered Dan.</p> +<p>“No,” said Neb, slowly, “they don’t; +that’s a fact. But they ain’t ever really +out, like menfolk’s lights. The stars is +always thar.”</p> +<p>“Always there,”—yes, Dan realized, +as, with his head on the dank, fishy +pillow, he looked up in the glory above +him, the stars were always there. +Blurred sometimes by earthly mists and +vapors, lost in the dazzling gleam of +jewelled lights, darkened by the shadows +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +of crooked trees, they shone with +pure, steadfast, guiding rays,—the stars +that were always there. A witching +little Will-o’-the-wisp had bewildered +Dan into strange ways this evening; but +he was back again in his own straight +honest line beneath the stars.</p> +<p>On “The Polly,” making her way over +the starlit water to Killykinick, things +were not so pleasant.</p> +<p>“It was a mean, dirty trick to give +Dan away. I don’t care who did it!” +said big-hearted Jim, roused into spirit +and speech.</p> +<p>“It wasn’t I,—oh, indeed it wasn’t +I!” declared Freddy. “I told Tad Dan +was the biggest, strongest, finest fellow +in the whole bunch. I never said a word +about his being a newsboy or a bootblack, +though I don’t think it hurts him +a bit.”</p> +<p>“And it doesn’t,” said Jim, whose +blood had been a “true blue” stream before +the Stars and Stripes began to +wave. “But there are some folks that +think so.”</p> +<p>“Calling me fool, are you?” said Dud, +fiercely.</p> +<p>“No, I didn’t,” retorted Jim. “But if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +the name fits you, take it. I don’t object.” +And he turned away, with a flash +in his eyes most unusual for Sunny +Jim,—a flash that Dud did not venture +to kindle into angry fire.</p> +<p>But, though the storm blew over, as +such springtime storms will, Dan had +learned a lesson, and felt that he never +again wished to venture on the dizzy +heights where wise heads turn and +strong feet falter. Though Dud and +Jim, who both had pocket money in +plenty, made arrangements at the Boat +Club for the use of a little motor boat +several times a week, Dan held his own +line as second mate at Killykinick, and +was contented to share old Neb’s voyaging. +They went out often now; for, +under the old sailor’s guidance, Dan +was becoming an expert fisherman. And +soon the dingy boat, loaded with its +silvery spoil, became known to camps +and cottages along the other shores. +Poor old Neb was too dull-witted for +business; but customers far from +markets watched eagerly for the merry +blue-eyed boy who brought fish, “still +kicking,” for their early breakfast,—clams, +chaps, and lobsters, whose freshness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +was beyond dispute. Neb’s old +leather wallet began to fill up as it had +never been filled before. And the dinners +that were served on the “Lady +Jane,” the broiled, the baked, the fried +fish dished up in rich plenty every day, +shook Brother Bart’s allegiance to Irish +stews, and, as he declared, “would make +it aisy for a heretic to keep the Friday +fast forever.”</p> +<p>Then, Dan had the garden to dig and +weed, the cow to milk, the chickens to +feed,—altogether, the days were most +busy and pleasant; and it was a happy, +if tired, boy that tumbled at night into +his hammock swung beneath the stars, +while old Jeb and Neb smoked their +pipes on the deck beside him.</p> +<p>Three letters had come from Aunt +Winnie,—a Government boat brought +weekly mail to the lighthouse on Numskull +Nob. They were prim little letters, +carefully margined and written, and +spelled as the good Sisters had taught +her in early youth. She took her pen in +hand—so letters had always begun in +Aunt Winnie’s schooldays—to write him +a few lines. She was in good health and +hoped he was the same, though many +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +were sick at the Home, and Mrs. McGraw +(whom Dan recalled as the dozing +lady of his visit) had died very +sudden on Tuesday; but she had a priest +at the last, and a Requiem Mass in the +chapel, with the altar in black, and +everything most beautiful. Poor Miss +Flannery’s cough was bad, and she +wouldn’t be long here, either; but, as +the good Mother says, we are blessed +in having a holy place where we can +die in peace and quiet. And Aunt +Winnie’s own leg was bad still, but she +thanked God she could get around a bit +and help the others. And, though she +might never see him again—for she +would be turned on seventy next Thursday,—she +prayed for her dear boy +nights, and dreamed of him constant. +And, begging God to bless him and keep +him from harm, she was his affectionate +aunt, Winnie Curley.’</p> +<p>The other letters were very much in +the same tone: some other old lady was +dying or failing fast; for, with all its +twilight peace, Aunt Winnie was in a +valley of the shadow, where the light of +youth and hope and cheer that whistling, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +laughing Dan brought into Mulligans’ +attic could not shine.</p> +<p>“I’ve got to get her home,” resolved +Dan, who was keen enough to read this +loss and longing between the old-fashioned +neatly-written lines. “It’s +Pete Patterson and the meat shop for +me in the fall and good-bye to St. Andrew’s +and ‘pipe dreams’ forever! Aunt +Winnie has to come back, with her blue +teapot on her own stove and Tabby purring +at her feet again or—or” (Dan +choked at the thought) “they’ll be having +a funeral Mass at the Little Sisters +for her.”</p> +<p>And Dan lay awake a long time that +night looking at the stars, and stifling a +dull pang in his young heart that the +heights of which he had dreamed were +not for him. But he was up betimes next +morning, his own sturdy self again. Old +Neb had a bad attack of rheumatism +that made his usual early trip impossible.</p> +<p>“They will be looking for us,” said +Dan. “I promised those college girls +camping at Shelter Cove to bring them +fresh fish for breakfast.”</p> +<p>“Let them catch for themselves!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +growled old Neb, who was rubbing his +stiffened arm with whale oil.</p> +<p>“Girls,” said Dan in boyish scorn. +“What do girls know about fishing? +They squeal every time they get a bite. +I’ll take Freddy to watch the lines +(Brother Bart isn’t so scary about him +now), and go myself.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XIX.—A Morning Venture.</p> +</div> + +<p>After some persuasion from Captain +Jeb, who declared he could trust matey +Dan’s navigation now against any wind +and tide, Brother Bart consented to +Freddy’s morning sail with his sturdy +chum.</p> +<p>“Sure I know Dan loves laddie better +than his own life,” said the good old +man anxiously, as he watched Neb’s +ragged sail flitting off with the two +young fishermen. “But it’s only a boy +he is, after all.”</p> +<p>“Mebby,” said Captain Jeb, briefly. +“But thar’s boys wuth half a dozen +good-sized men, and matey is that kind. +You needn’t scare about any little chap +that ships with him. And what’s to hurt +him, anyhow, Padre? You’ve got to let +all young critters try their legs and +wings.”</p> +<p>And Freddy was trying his triumphantly +this morning. It was one of +Dan’s lucky days, and the lines were +drawn in again and again, until the +college girls’ breakfast and many more +silvery shiners were fluttering and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +gasping in old Neb’s fish basket. Then +Dan proceeded to deliver his wares at +neighborly island shores, where summer +campers were taking brief holidays. +Some of these islands, more sheltered +than Killykinick, were fringed with a +thick growth of hardy evergreens, hollowed +into coves and inlets, where the +waves, broken in their wild, free sweep, +lapped low-shelving shores and invited +gentle adventure.</p> +<p>On one of these pleasant outposts +was the college camp; and half a dozen +pretty girl graduates, in “middies” and +khaki skirts, came down to meet Dan. +One of them led a big, tawny dog, who +made a sudden break for the boat, +nearly overturning Freddy in his leap, +and crouching by Dan’s side, whining +and shivering.</p> +<p>“Oh, he’s yours! We said he was +yours!” went up the girlish chorus. +“Then take him away, please. And don’t +let him come back; for he howled all +night, and nearly set us crazy. Nellie +Morris says dogs never howl that way +unless somebody is dead or dying; and +she left her mother sick, and is almost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +frantic. Please take him away, and +don’t ever bring him near us again!”</p> +<p>“But—but he isn’t mine at all,” replied +Dan, staring at the big dog, who, +shivering and wretched as he seemed, +awoke some vague memory.</p> +<p>“Then whose is he?” asked a pretty +spokesman, severely. “He could not +have dropped from the clouds, and +yours was the only boat that came here +yesterday.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I know,—I know, Dan!” broke +in Freddy, eagerly. “He belongs to that +big man who came with us on the steamboat. +He had two dogs in leashes, and +this is one of them, I know, because I +saw his brown spot on his head when I +gave him a cracker.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Wirt?” Dan’s vague memory +leaped into vivid light: Mr. John Wirt’s +big, tawny dog indeed, who perhaps, +with some dim dog-sense, remembered +Freddy. “I do know him now,” said +Dan. “He belongs to a gentleman +named Wirt—”</p> +<p>“Well, take him where he belongs,” +interrupted the young lady. “We don’t +care where it is. We simply can’t have +him howling here.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></p> +<p>“Oh, take him, Dan!” said Freddy. +“Let us take him home with us.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Wirt must be around somewhere,” +reflected Dan. “He said perhaps +he would come to Killykinick. +We’ll take him,” he agreed cheerfully, +as he handed out his basket of fish to +the pretty, young campers. “And I +think his master will come along to look +him up.”</p> +<p>And the boys started on their homeward +way, with Rex (which was the +name on their new companion’s collar) +seated between them, still restless and +quivering, in spite of all Freddy’s +efforts to make friends.</p> +<p>“He wasn’t this way on the boat,” +said Freddy as, after all his stroking +and soothing, Rex only lifted his head +and emitted a long, mournful howl. “I +went down on the lower deck where the +big man had left his dogs, and they +played with me fine,—shook paws and +wagged their tails and were real nice.”</p> +<p>“I guess he knows he is lost and +wants to get back to his master,” said +Dan. “Dogs have a lot of sense generally, +so what took him over to that +girls’ camp puzzles me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>“He didn’t like the girls,—did you, +Rex?” asked Freddy, as he patted his +new friend’s nose. “My, he is a +beauty,—isn’t he, Dan? Just the kind +of a dog I’d like to have; and, if nobody +comes for him, he will be ours for keeps. +Do you think Brother Andrew will let +us have him out in the stable at St. +Andrew’s? Dick Walton kept his +rabbits there—”</p> +<p>“Until a weasel came and gobbled +them up,” laughed Dan, as he steered +away from a line of rocks that jutted +out like sharp teeth from a low-lying, +heavily wooded shore.</p> +<p>“They couldn’t gobble Rex,—could +they, old fellow!” said Freddy, with +another friendly pat.</p> +<p>But, regardless of all these kindly +overtures, Rex sprang to his feet, +barked in wild excitement for a moment, +made a plunge from the boat and +struck out for shore.</p> +<p>“Oh, he’s gone,—he’s gone!” cried +Freddy, desperately.</p> +<p>“Rex! Rex!” called Dan. “There’s +nothing or nobody there. Come back,—come +back! Well, he must be a durned +fool of a dog to be jumping off at every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +island he sees.—Rex! Rex!—He’ll +starve to death if we leave him here.”</p> +<p>“Oh, he will,—he will!” said Freddy, +wofully. “Come back, Rex, old fellow, +nice dog,—come back!”</p> +<p>Freddy whistled and called in vain: +Rex had vanished into the thick undergrowth.</p> +<p>“Oh, let’s go for him,—let’s go for +him, Dan!” pleaded Freddy. “Maybe he +is after a wild duck or something. We +ought not to let a fine dog like that get +lost and starve to death. One of the +deck hands on the steamboat told me +those dogs were worth a hundred dollars +a piece, and that they had more +sense than some humans.”</p> +<p>“Well, he isn’t showing it this morning, +sure; and he didn’t yesterday +either,” said Dan, gruffly. “He isn’t the +kind of dog to leave around here for any +tramp to pick up, I’ll agree; but how +are we to haul him back, unless he +chooses to come? And I know nothing +about this shore, anyhow. Neb told me +they called it Last Island, and there was +once a light here that the old whalers +could see fifty miles out—why, halloo!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +Dan paused in his survey of the doubtful +situation. “He’s coming back!”</p> +<p>“Rex! Rex!” shouted Freddy, gleefully; +for it was Rex indeed,—Rex +coming through the dense low growth, +in long leaps, with quick, sharp barks +that were like calls; Rex plunging into +the water and swimming with swift +strokes to the waiting boat; but Rex +refusing absolutely to be pulled aboard. +He only splashed and shook himself, +scattering a very geyser of salt water +on the tugging boys, and barked louder +and sharper still as if he were doing his +best to talk.</p> +<p>“Jing!” exclaimed Dan, giving up all +efforts to manage him. “I never saw +such a durned chump of a dog! I’m wet +to the skin.”</p> +<p>“Oh, he wants something!” said +softer-hearted Freddy. “He is trying to +tell us something, Dan.”</p> +<p>Rex barked again, as if he had heard +the words; and, leaping on the edge of +the boat, he caught Freddy’s khaki +sleeve.</p> +<p>“Lookout there, or he’ll pull you overboard!” +shouted Dan in fierce alarm, as +Rex pulled still harder. “Golly! I believe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +he wants us to come ashore with +him.”</p> +<p>“Oh, he does,—he does!” said Freddy, +eagerly. “He has hunted something +down and wants us to get it, Dan. Let +us see what it is.”</p> +<p>It was a temptation that two live boys +could not resist. Mooring Neb’s old +fishing boat to a sharp projecting rock, +they proceeded to wade where it would +have been impossible to navigate; Rex +leaping before them, barking jubilantly +now, as if he had won his point.</p> +<p>“You stand back, kid!” (Through all +the excitement of a discoverer, Dan did +not lose sight of his responsibilities.) +“Let me go ahead, so if there is anything +to hurt I’ll strike it first. Straight +behind in my steps, and lookout for +suck-holes!”</p> +<p>And, with Rex leading, they proceeded +Indian file over the narrow strip +of sand that shelved to the sea, and then +on through thicket and branches that +hedged the shore in wild, luxuriant +growth, until suddenly the ruins of the +old lighthouse rose out of the tangle before +them. The shaft that had upheld +the beacon light was all gone save the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +iron framework, which rose bare and +rusted above the little stone cabin that +had sheltered the keeper of long ago, +and that still stood amid crumbling +stones and fallen timbers.</p> +<p>“Back, Freddy,—back!” shouted Dan, +as something big and fierce bolted out of +the ruins. “Why, it’s the other dog!” +he added in relief. “Mr. Wirt <i>must</i> be +somewhere around.”</p> +<p>And, peering into the open door of +the cabin, he stood dumb with dismay; +for there indeed, stretched upon the +rotten floor under the broken roof, was +his friend of the steamboat. His gun +was beside him, his head pillowed on +his knapsack, his eyes closed, all his +pride and strength and manly bearing +gone; only the short, hard breathing +showed that he was still alive.</p> +<p>“Golly!” gasped Freddy, who had +crept in behind his chum. “Is—is he +dead, Dan?”</p> +<p>“Not—not—yet, but he looks mighty +close to it. Mr. Wirt—” he faltered, +bending over the prostrate form; “Mr. +Wirt!” he repeated louder. There was +no answer. “I’m afraid he’s gone,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +Dan, in an awe-struck voice; and +Freddy burst into boyish tears.</p> +<p>“What are you crying about?” asked +Dan, gruffly.</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,—I don’t know!” +was the trembling answer. “I—I never +saw anybody dead before. What—what +do you think killed him, Dan?”</p> +<p>“Nothing. He isn’t killed,” replied +Dan, who had been taking close observations. +“He is still breathing. I guess +he came here to hunt and got sick, and +that’s what the dog was trying to tell +people. Gosh, it’s a pity dogs like that +can’t talk!”</p> +<p>“Oh, it is,—it is!” murmured Freddy, +putting his arm around Rex, who, his +duty done, was seated on his hind legs, +gravely surveying his master.</p> +<p>The sick man moved a little, and +groaned feebly: “Water!” the word +came faintly through parched lips. +“Water,—a little—Water!”</p> +<p>Dan picked up a can that had evidently +done duty before.</p> +<p>“Stay by him, Freddy, so he’ll know +there is something here. I’ll go to get +some water. They must have had a +pump or well around a place like this,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span></p> +<p>And while Dan discovered the broken, +half-choked cistern at the back of the +Old Light, Freddy watched the sick +man. He had never before seen any one +very sick, and it took some pluck to keep +his post especially when Mr. Wirt suddenly +opened his eyes and looked at him. +It was such a strange, wild, questioning +look that Freddy felt his heart nearly +leap into his throat.</p> +<p>Then Dan came back with the can +full of water, and together they did +their best for their patient,—bathing +his head, wetting his parched lips, laving +the helpless hands that were burning +with fever, until the bright, sunken +eyes closed and the sick man sank into +a fitful sleep.</p> +<p>“He is pretty badly off,” said Dan, +who had seen pain and sickness and +death, and knew. “He ought to have a +doctor right away, and it’s for us to get +one quick as we can. But it will be a +good three hour’s job; and” (Aunt Winnie’s +boy’s voice softened) “I hate to +leave the poor fellow here without any +one to give him a drop of water, when +he’s burning up like this. But you can’t +sail the boat alone, kid.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></p> +<p>“No, I can’t,” faltered Freddy,—“I +can’t sail the boat, Dan; but—but” (the +young voice steadied bravely) “I can +stay here with him.”</p> +<p>“You can!” echoed Dan, staring at +his little chum in amazement. “You’d +scare to death, kid, here all alone with a +dying man. He is likely to go off any +minute.”</p> +<p>“Maybe,” faltered Freddy. “But—but +I’d stay by him all the same, Dan. +I can bathe his head and his hands, and +give him water to drink, and say prayers +like Brother Bart says we must +when people are dying. O Dan, we can’t +leave him here to die alone!”</p> +<p>“No, we can’t,” said Dan, heartily. +“I’d never think of asking a kid like you +to stay. But, with the two dogs on the +watch, there’s nothing to fear. And you +are doing the real right and plucky +thing, for sure. I’ll sail over to Killykinick +and see if I can get Jim or Dud +off for the nearest doctor, and be back +here as quick as I can. And you, kid” +(Dan’s tone softened tenderly to his +little chum), “don’t scare more than +you can help. Stick it out here as best +you can.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p> +<p>Dan was off at the words, and for a +moment Freddy felt his heart sink within +him. He looked at the broken walls, +the gaping roof, the dying man, and his +blood chilled at the thought of the long +hours before any one could return to +him. Standing at the door of the Old +Light, his eyes followed Dan’s sturdy +figure leaping swiftly through the +bramble bush, and now he had reached +the boat and put off.</p> +<p>Freddy was left indeed. He gulped +down a big lump that rose in his throat, +and, with the can of water Dan had +freshly filled for him, took his seat at +his patient’s side. Rex came up and +put a cold nose on his knee, and Freddy’s +watch began. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XX.—Little Boy Blue.</p> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Wirt lay very still. Freddy never +remembered seeing any one quite so still +before. Even his breathing had grown +quiet, and the rise and fall of the broad +breast was the only sign of life in the +otherwise motionless figure. All around +him was very still, too. Freddy could +hear the plash of the waves on the +beach, the rustle of the wind through +the dwarf trees, the whir of wings as +some sea bird took its swift flight above +the broken roof. But within there was +a solemn hush, that to the small watcher +seemed quite appalling.</p> +<p>Roy, as the other dog was named on +his collar, dozed at his master’s feet. +Rex kept his place at Freddy’s side, as +if conscious of his responsibilities; and +for a time that seemed quite interminable, +all were silent. Freddy found himself +studying the big man’s pale face +with fearsome interest. How very pale +it was! And the rough growth of beard +that hid mouth and chin made it +seem paler still. But the nose was +straight and smooth as Freddy’s own. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +The silver-streaked hair fell in soft +waves over a broad handsome brow. +And there was a white scar on the left +temple, that throbbed with the low +breathing. Somehow, that scar held +Freddy’s eye. Surely he had seen a V +shaped scar like it before, where or +when he could not think; perhaps on +one of the big football players at St. +Andrew’s.</p> +<p>“Ah, if good Brother Tim were only +here now!” thought Freddy hopelessly, +as the picture of the spotless stretch of +infirmary arose before him. The rows of +white beds so safe and soft; the kind +old face bending over the fevered +pillows; Old Top waving his friendly +shadow in the sunlit window; the Angelus +chiming from the great bell +tower; the merry shouts of the ball +players on the green below,—all these +memories were in dire contrast indeed +to the present scene.</p> +<p>If Dan would only come back! But he +wouldn’t—he couldn’t—for hours. And +maybe this big, strange man might die +while he was gone,—die with only a +little boy beside him,—a little boy to +help him, to pray for him. Freddy’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +thoughts grew more and more solemn +and awesome. People always prayed by +dying beds, he knew. Oh, if Dan would +only come with a doctor and perhaps a +priest! For Freddy felt that big men +who wandered around the world with +dogs and guns were likely to need +higher spiritual ministrations than a +small boy could give. In the meanwhile +he would do his best; and, drawing out +his silver-mounted rosary, he began to +say his beads.</p> +<p>And perhaps, as the young watcher +had been an early riser this morning, he +was nodding a little over his decades +when a sudden movement of his patient +roused him. Mr. Wirt was awake, his +eyes fixed steadily on Freddy’s face.</p> +<p>“Still here,” he murmured,—“still +here? Boy,—little boy! Are you real or +a death dream?”</p> +<p>It was a startling question; but +Freddy had learned something of fever +vagaries during the measles, when even +some of the Seniors had lost their heads.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m real!” he answered cheerfully. +“I’m a real boy all right. I’m +Freddy Neville, from St. Andrew’s College—” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p> +<p>“My God!” burst in a low cry from +the pale lips.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Freddy. “It’s time for +you to say that,—to say your prayers, +I mean; because—because—you’re very +sick, and when people are very sick, you +know, they—sometimes they die.”</p> +<p>“Die!” was the hoarse echo. “Aye, +die as I have lived,—in darkness, despair! +Lost—lost—lost!”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no, no!” Boy as he was, +Freddy felt his young heart thrill at the +cry. “You’re not lost yet. You’re never +lost while you live. You can always say +an act of contrition, you know, and—and—” +Freddy’s voice faltered, for the +role of spiritual adviser was a new one; +but he had not gone through the big +Catechism last year without learning a +young Catholic Christian’s obligations. +“Would—would you like me to say an +act of contrition for you?” he asked.</p> +<p>There was no answer save in the +strange softening of the eyes fixed upon +the boyish face. And, feeling that his +patient was too far gone for speech, +Freddy dropped on his knees, and in a +sweet, trembling tone repeated the +brief, blessed words of sorrow for sin, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +the plea for pardon, the promise of +amendment. It had been a long, long +time since those familiar words had +fallen on his listener’s ears; a longer +time since they had reached his heart. +For years he had believed nothing, +hoped nothing, feared nothing. Life +had been to him a dull blank, broken +only by reckless adventure; death, the +end of all. But for three days and +nights he had lain helpless, fever-smitten, +stricken down in all his proud +strength in this wilderness, with no +friends but his dogs, no home but the +ruined hut into which he had crawled +for shelter, no human aid within reach +or call. The derelict, as he had called +himself to Dan, had drifted on the rocks +beyond hope and help, as derelicts must. +And in those three days and nights he +had realized that for him there was no +light in sea or sky,—that all was darkness +forever.</p> +<p>And then young voices had broken in +upon the black silence; and, opening his +eyes, closed on hideous fever dreams, he +had seen Freddy,—Freddy, who was +not a dream; Freddy, who was kneeling +by his side, whispering sweet, forgotten +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +words of peace and hope and pardon; +Freddy—Freddy—he could not speak, +there was such a stirring in the depths +of his heart and soul. He could only +stretch out his weak, trembling hand, +that Freddy met with a warm, boyish +grip.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m here yet!” he said, thinking +his patient needed the reassurance. +“I’m staying here right by you, to say +prayers, or get water or anything you +want. Dan left me here to take care of +you. He has gone for the doctor; and +if you just hold on till they get here, +why, maybe—maybe—they’ll pull you +through all right. Gee whilikins!” exclaimed +Freddy, as the sick man suddenly +started up from his rude pillow. +“You mustn’t do that!”</p> +<p>“I must—I must!” was the hoarse +reply; and Freddy was caught in a wild, +passionate clasp to his patient’s heart. +“Dying or living, I must claim you, hold +you, my boy,—my own little son,—little +Boy Blue!” The voice sank to a low, +trembling whisper. “Little Boy Blue, +don’t you know your own daddy?”</p> +<p>And Freddy, who had been struggling +wildly in what he believed to be a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +delirious grasp, suddenly grew still. +“Little Boy Blue,”—it was the nursery +name of long ago,—the name that only +the dad of those days knew,—the name +that even Brother Bart had never heard. +It brought back blazing fire, and cushioned +rocker, and the clasp of strong +arms around his little white-robed form, +and a deep, merry voice in his baby +ear: “Little Boy Blue.”</p> +<p>Freddy lifted a frightened, bewildered +little face. The eyes,—softened +now with brimming tears; the straight +nose like his own, the waving hair, the +scar he had so often pressed with +baby fingers,—ah, he remembered,—little +Boy Blue remembered! It was as +if a curtain were snatched from a far +past that had been only dimly outlined +until now.</p> +<p>“My daddy,—my daddy,—my own +dear daddy!” he cried, flinging his arms +about the sick man’s neck. “Oh, don’t +die,—don’t die!”</p> +<p>For, weak and exhausted by his outburst +of emotion, the father had fallen +back upon his pillow, gasping for breath, +the sweat standing out in great beads on +his brow, his hand clutching Freddy’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +own in what seemed a death clasp.</p> +<p>And now Freddy prayed indeed,—prayed +as never in all his young life he +had prayed before,—prayed from the +depths of his tender, innocent heart, in +words all his own.</p> +<p>“O God, Father in heaven, spare my +dear daddy! He has been lost so long! +Oh, do not let me lose him again! Save +him for his little boy,—save him, spare +him!”</p> +<p>Without, the sky had darkened, the +wind moaned, the waves swelled white-capped +against the low shore. The +August storm was rising against Last +Island in swift wrath; but, wrestling in +passionate fervor for the life that had +suddenly become so precious to him, +Freddy did not hear or heed. The dogs +started out into the open. Father and +son were alone in the gathering gloom.</p> +<p>Through what he believed the throes +of his death agony, the sick man caught +the sweet, faltering words: “O dear +Lord, have mercy on my dear father! +Let him live, and we will bless and +thank You all the rest of our lives. He +has been lost so long, but now he has +come back. Oh, try to say it with me, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +daddy: you have come back to be good,—to +live good and live right forever!”</p> +<p>And then, even while Freddy prayed, +the storm burst upon Last Island. And +such a storm! It seemed as if the derelict +lying there had roused wind and +wave into destructive fury against the +friendly outpost that sheltered him. +Last Island had been abandoned on account +of its perilous exposure; and its +beacon light, shattered again and again +by fierce ocean gales, was transferred +to a safer shore.</p> +<p>“It’s a-washing away fast,” old Neb +had informed Dan when they had +drifted by the low-lying shore. “Some +of these days a big storm will gulp it +down for good.”</p> +<p>And truly the roaring sea seemed to +rush upon it in hungry rage to-day. The +dogs came in crouching and whining to +their master; while the wind shrieked +and whistled, and the foaming breakers +thundered higher and higher upon the +unprotected shore.</p> +<p>“O Dan, Dan!” thought Freddy hopelessly, +as the storm beat through the +broken walls and roof. “Dan will never +get here now,—never!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></p> +<p>But, though his heart was quailing +within him, Brother Bart’s laddie was +no weakling: he stood bravely to his +post, bathing his father’s head and +hands, wetting the dry, muttering lips, +soothing him with tender words and +soft caresses,—“daddy, my own dear +daddy, it is your little boy that is with +you,—your own little Boy Blue! You +will be better soon, daddy.” And then +through the roar and rage of the storm +would rise the boyish voice pleading to +God for help and mercy.</p> +<p>And the innocent prayer seemed to +prevail. The sick man’s labored breathing +grew easier, the drawn features relaxed, +the blood came into the livid lips; +and, with the long-drawn sigh of one +exhausted by his struggle for life, +Freddy’s patient sank into a heavy +sleep; while his little Boy Blue watched +on, through terrors that would have +tried stronger souls than Brother Bart’s +laddie. For all the powers of earth and +air and sea seemed loosened for battle. +The winds rose into madder fury; the +rain swept down in blinding floods; +forked tongues of fire leaped from the +black clouds that thundered back to +the rolling waves. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p> +<p>The dogs crouched, whimpering and +shivering, at Freddy’s side. Whether +daddy was alive or dead he could not +tell. He could only keep close to him, +trembling and praying, and feeling that +all this horror of darkness could not be +real: that he would waken in a moment,—waken +as he had sometimes +wakened in St. Andrew’s, with Brother +Bart’s kind voice in his ear telling him +it was all a dream,—an awful dream.</p> +<p>And then blaze and crash and roar +would send poor little Boy Blue shivering +to his knees, realizing that it was +all true: that he was indeed here on this +far-off ocean isle, beyond all help and +reach of man, with daddy dying,—dead +beside him. He had closed the door as +best he could with its rusted bolt; but +the wind kept tearing at it madly, shaking +the rotten timbers until they suddenly +gave way, with rattle and crash +that were too much for the brave little +watcher’s nerves. He flung his arms +about his father in horror he could no +longer control.</p> +<p>“Daddy, daddy!” he cried desperately. +“Wake up,—wake up! Daddy, speak +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +to me and tell me you’re not dead!”</p> +<p>And daddy started into consciousness +at the piteous cry, to find his little Boy +Blue clinging to him in wild affright, +while wind and wave burst into their +wretched shelter,—wind and wave! +Surging, foaming, sweeping over beach +and bramble and briar growth that +guarded the low shore, rising higher +and higher each moment before the +furious goad of the gale, came the +white-capped breakers!</p> +<p>“Oh, the water is coming in on us! +Poor daddy, poor daddy, you’ll get wet!”</p> +<p>And then daddy, wild wanderer that +he had been over sea and land, roused +to the peril, his dulled brain quickening +into life.</p> +<p>“The gun,—my gun!” he said hoarsely. +“It is loaded, Freddy. Lift it up +here within reach of my hand.”</p> +<p>“O daddy, daddy, what are you going +to do?” cried Freddy in new alarm.</p> +<p>“Shoot,—shoot! Signal for help. There +is a life-saving station not far away. +There, hold the gun closer now,—closer!”</p> +<p>And the trembling hand pulled the +trigger, and its sharp call for help went +out again and again into the storm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XXI.—A Dark Hour.</p> +</div> + +<p>Meantime Dan had set his dingy sail to +what he felt was a changing wind, and +started Neb’s fishing boat on the +straightest line he could make for Killykinick. +But it had taken a great deal +of tacking and beating to keep to his +course. He was not yet sailor enough +to know that the bank of clouds lying +low in the far horizon meant a storm; +but the breeze that now filled and now +flapped his sail was as full of pranks as +a naughty boy. In all his experience as +second mate, Dan had never before met +so trying a breeze; and it was growing +fresher and stronger and more trying +every minute. To beat back to Beach +Cliff against its vagaries, our young +navigator felt would be beyond his skill. +The only thing he could do was to take +the shorter course of about three miles +to Killykinick, and send off Jim and +Dud in their rented boat (which had a +motor) for a doctor. Then he could explain +Freddy’s absence to Brother Bart, +and hurry back to his little chum. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p> +<p>Wind and tide, however, were both +against these well-laid plans to-day. +The wind was bad enough, but now even +the waves seemed to have a strange +swell, different from the measured rise +and fall he knew. It was as if their far-off +depths were rising, stirring out of +their usual calm. They no longer tossed +their snowy crests in the summer sunlight, +but surged and swayed in low, +broken lines, white-capped with fitful +foam. And the voice—the song of the +sea—that had been a very lullaby to +Dan as he swung every night in his +hammock beneath the stars, had a +hoarse, fierce tone, like a sob of passion +or pain. Altogether, Dan and his boat +had a very hard pull over the three +miles to Killykinick.</p> +<p>“Thar they come!” said Captain Jeb, +who, with Brother Bart, was watching +from the beach. “I told you you could +count on Mate Dan, Padre. Thar the +lads come, safe and sound; though they +hed a pull against the wind, I bet. But +here they come all right.”</p> +<p>“God be thanked for that same!” said +Brother Bart, reverently. “My heart +has been nearly leaping out of my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +breast this last half hour. And you +weren’t over-easy about them yourself, +as I could see, Jeroboam.”</p> +<p>“Wall, I’m glad to see the younkers +safe back, I must say,” agreed Captain +Jeb, in frank relief. “Thar was nothing +to skeer about when they started this +morning, but that bank of cloud wasn’t +in sight then. My but it come up sudden! +It fairly took my breath when Neb +pointed it out to me. That ar marline +spike didn’t hurt his weather eye. +‘Hurricane,’ he says to me; ‘straight up +from the West Indies, and them boys is +out!’ I tell you it did give me a turn—aye, +aye matey!” as Dan came hurrying +up the beach. “Ye made it all right +again wind an’ tide—but where’s the +other?”</p> +<p>“Laddie,—my laddie!” cried Brother +Bart, his ruddy face paling. “Speak up, +Dan Dolan! Has harm come to him?”</p> +<p>“No, no, no!” answered Dan eagerly, +“no harm at all, Brother Bart. He is +safe and sound. Don’t scare, Brother +Bart.” And then as briefly as he could +Dan told the adventure of the morning.</p> +<p>“And you left laddie, that lone innocent, +with a dying man?” said Brother +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +Bart. “Sure it will frighten the life out +of him!”</p> +<p>“No, it won’t,” replied Dan. “Freddy +isn’t the baby you think, Brother Bart. +He’s got lots of sand. He was ready +and willing to stay. We couldn’t leave +the poor man there alone with the dogs.”</p> +<p>“Sure you couldn’t,—you couldn’t,” +said the good Brother, his tone softening. +“But laddie—little laddie,—that +never saw sickness or death! Send off +the other boys for the doctor, Jeroboam, +and the priest as well, while Dan and I +go back for laddie.”</p> +<p>But Captain Jeroboam, who was +watching the horizon with a wide-awake +weather eye, shook his head.</p> +<p>“You can’t, Padre,—you can’t. Not +even the ‘Lady Jane’ could make it agin +what’s coming on now. If the boy is +on dry land, you’ll have to trust him to +the Lord.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no!” answered the good +Brother, forgetting what he said, in his +solicitude. “I’ll go for him myself. +Give us your boat, man, and Dan and I +will go for laddie.”</p> +<p>“Ye can’t, I tell ye!” and the old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +sailor’s voice took a sudden tone of command. +“I’m captain of this here Killykinick, +Padre; and no boat leaves this +shore in the face of such a storm, for it +would mean death to every man aboard +her,—sure and certain death.”</p> +<p>“The Lord have mercy,—the Lord +have mercy!” cried Brother Bart. “My +laddie,—my poor little laddie! The +fright of this will kill him entirely. Oh, +but you’re the hard man, Jeroboam! +You have no heart!”</p> +<p>“Back!” shouted Captain Jeb, heedless +of the good old man’s reproaches, +as a whistling sound came over the +white-capped waves. “Back, under +cover, all of ye. The storm is on us +now!”</p> +<p>And, fairly dragging Brother Bart, +while Neb and Dan hurried behind +them, the Captain made for shelter in +the old ship under the cliffs, where Dud +and Jim had already found refuge.</p> +<p>“Down with the hatches! Brace +everything!” came the trumpet tones of +command of the old sailor over the roar +of the wind. And doors and portholes +shut, the heavy bolts of iron and timber +fell into place, and everything was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +made tight and fast against the storm +that now burst in all its fury on Killykinick,—a +storm that sent Brother Bart +down on his knees in prayer, and held +the boys speechless and almost breathless +with terror. In the awful blackness +that fell upon them they could +scarcely see one another. The “Lady +Jane” shook from stem to stern as if +she were being torn from her fifty +years’ mooring. The stout awnings were +ripped from the upper deck; their posts +snapped like reeds in the gale; the great +hollows of the Devil’s Jaw thundered +back the roar of the breakers that filled +their cavernous depths with mad turmoil. +On land, on sea, in sky, all was +battle,—such battle as even Captain +Jeb agreed he had never seen on Killykinick +before.</p> +<p>“I’ve faced many a hurricane, but +never nothing as bad as this. If it +wasn’t for them cliffs behind us and +the stretch of reef before, durned if we +wouldn’t be washed clean off the face +of the earth!”</p> +<p>“Laddie, laddie!” was the cry that +blended with Brother Bart’s prayers for +mercy. “God in heaven, take care of my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +poor laddie through this! I ought not to +have let him out of my sight.”</p> +<p>“But he’s safe, Brother Bart,” said +Dan, striving to comfort himself with +the thought. “He is on land, you know, +just as we are; and the old lighthouse +is as strong as the ‘Lady Jane’; +and God can take care of him anywhere.”</p> +<p>“Sure He can, lad,—He can. I’m the +weak old sinner to doubt and fear,” was +the broken answer. “But he’s only a bit +of a boy, my own little laddie,—only a +wee bit of a boy, that never saw trouble +or danger in his life. To be facing this +beside a dying man,—ah, God have +mercy on him, poor laddie!”</p> +<p>So, amid fears and doubts and +prayers, the wild hours of the storm and +darkness passed; the fierce hurricane, +somewhat shorn of its first tropic +strength, swept on its northward way; +the shriek of the wind sank into moan +and murmur; the sea fell back, like a +passion-weary giant; the clouds broke +and scattered, and a glorious rainbow +arched the clearing sky.</p> +<p>The bolts and bars that had done such +good duty were lifted, and the crew of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +the “Lady Jane” went out to reconnoitre +a very damaged domain. Cow-house +and chicken-house were roofless. +Brown Betty lay crouching fearful in +the ruins while her feathered neighbors +fluttered homeless in the hollows of the +rocks. The beans and peas and corn,—all +things that had lifted their green +growth too proudly, were crushed to the +earth. But far worse than this was +the havoc wrought on the beach. One +half of the wharf was down. The small +boats, torn from their moorings, had disappeared +entirely. The motor boat Jim +and Dud had hired for the season was +stove in upon the rocks. The “Sary +Ann,” stranded upon the shoals of +Numskull Nob, to which she had been +swept by the gale, lay without mast or +rudder, leaking at every joint.</p> +<p>The two old salts surveyed the scene +for a moment in stoic silence, realizing +all it meant to them. But Brother Bart, +with the sunlight dancing on the waves, +the rainbow arching the sky, broke into +eager, hopeful speech.</p> +<p>“God be thanked it’s over and we’re +all alive to tell it; for Noah’s deluge +itself couldn’t have been worse. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +now, Jeroboam, we’ll be going over +after laddie; and the Lord grant that +we may find him safe as the rest!”</p> +<p>“We’ll be going after him!” repeated +Captain Jeb, grimly. “How and whar!”</p> +<p>“Sure—can’t we right one of the +boats?” asked the old man, anxiously.</p> +<p>“Which boat,” was the gruff question. +“That thar play toy” (surveying the +motor boat) “is smashed in like an eggshell. +Whar the other has been swept to +nobody knows. And the ‘Sary Ann’ has +done her best, as we all can see; but no +boat could hold her own agin that +storm. Do you think she will stand till +morning, Neb?”</p> +<p>Neb rolled his dull eyes over reef and +shoal.</p> +<p>“She moight,” he replied briefly. +“Struck pretty bad thar in the bow; but +the wind is down now and the tide is +low.”</p> +<p>“And she is oak-keeled and copper-braced +from stem to stern,” continued +Captain Jeb. “She may stick it out until +we can get thar and tow her in. As for +the boy, Padre, we can’t reach him no +more’n we can reach the ‘Sary Ann’ +without a boat; and thar’s nothing left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +that will float around this Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“Ah, the Lord have mercy! And are +we to leave laddie in that wild place +beyond all night?” cried Brother Bart. +“Scatter, boys,—scatter all over the +place, and maybe you can find a boat +caught in the rocks and sands; for we +must get to the laddie afore the night +comes on, cost what it may. Scatter +and strive to find a boat!”</p> +<p>While the boys scattered eagerly +enough Captain Jeb, making a spyglass +of his hands, was scanning the horizon +with a sailor’s practised eye.</p> +<p>“What is it you see?” asked Brother +Bart, anxiously. “Don’t tell me it’s another +storm!”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Captain Jeb, slowly, +“it ain’t another storm. Neb” (his tone +grew suddenly sharper and quicker), +“step up to the ship and get the old +man’s glass,—the glass we keep shut up +in the case.”</p> +<p>Neb, who never shirked an order, +obeyed. In a moment he returned with +one of the greatest treasures of the +“Lady Jane”—Great-uncle Joe’s ship-glass +that was always kept safe from +profaning touch; its clear lenses, that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +had looked out on sea and sky through +many a long voyage, polished to a shine. +Captain Jeb adjusted them to his own +failing eyes, and gazed seaward for a +few moments in silence. Then he said:</p> +<p>“’Pears as if I couldn’t see clarly +after that tarnation blow. You look out, +Neb. And, Padre, you’d better step +back thar and keep a weather eye on +them younkers. It doesn’t do to turn +them out too free, with things all broke +up.”</p> +<p>“You’re right, man,—you’re right, +Jeroboam,” said the good Brother +tremulously. “I’ll keep an eye on them, +as you say.”</p> +<p>“Thar,—I’ve got him out of the way!” +said Captain Neb, as Brother Bart +hurried back to watch over his scattered +flock. “Now look, Neb,—look steady +and straight! Three points to the south +of Numskull Nob,—what d’ye see?”</p> +<p>“Nothing at all,” answered Neb.</p> +<p>“Look again!” His brother adjusted +the old shipmaster’s glass with a hand +that trembled strangely. “Another point +to the south. Look steady as ye can, +Neb. Yer weather eye was always +clarer than mine. What d’ye see now?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p> +<p>“Nothing,” came the answer again; +and then the dull tone quickened: “Aye +I do,—I do! Thar’s suthing sticking out +of the waves like a broken mast.”</p> +<p>“The Old Light,” said Captain Jeb, +hoarsely,—“all that’s left of it. Last +Island has gone under, as you said it +would, Neb,—clean swallowed up. And +the boy—” (the speaker gulped down +something like a sob). “Looks as if the +Padre will never see his little lad agin.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XXII.—The Lost And Found.</p> +</div> + +<p>There had been an extra Mass at the +little church at Beach Cliff on the morning +of the storm. Father Tom Rayburn, +an old classmate of the pastor’s, had arrived, +and been welcomed most cordially.</p> +<p>“I’m off to an old camping ground of +mine—Killykinick,” he had explained +to his host as they sat together at breakfast. +“One of our Brothers is there +with some of St. Andrew’s boys, and my +own little nephew is among them.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, I know!” was the reply. +“They come every Sunday to the late +Mass. And, by the way, if you are going +out into those ocean ‘wilds,’ you could +save a busy man some trouble by stopping +at the Life-Saving Station (it’s not +far out of the way, as I suppose you’ll +take a sail or a motor boat); and I +promised two of those sturdy fellows +who are groping for the Truth some +reading matter. I thought a friendly +talk at the same time would not be +amiss. They have little chance for such +things in their lonely lives. But my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +duties are quadrupled at this season, as +you know.”</p> +<p>“And the ‘wilderness’ is in my line,” +said Father Tom. “Of course I’ll be glad +to stop. I used to haunt the Life-Saving +Station when I was a boy; and I should +like to see it again, especially when I +can do a little missionary work on the +side,” he laughed cheerily.</p> +<p>And so it had happened that while +Dan and Freddy were hauling in their +lines and delivering breakfasts along +the shore, one of the trig motors from +the Boat Club was bearing a tall, broad-shouldered +passenger, bronzed by sun +and storm, to the Life-Saving Station, +whose long, low buildings stood on a +desolate spit of sand that jutted out into +the sea beyond Shelter Cove. It was +Uncle Sam’s farthest outpost. The Stars +and Stripes floating from its flagstaff +told of his watchful care of this perilous +stretch of shore that his sturdy sons +paced by day and night, alert to any cry +for help, any sign of danger.</p> +<p>Father Tom, whose own life work lay +in some such lines, met the Life-Savers +with a warm, cordial sympathy that +made his visit a most pleasant one. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +was ready to listen as well as talk. But +Blake and Ford, whom he had come +especially to see, were on duty up the +shore, and would not be back for more +than two hours.</p> +<p>“I’ll wait for them,” said Father Tom, +who never let a wandering sheep, that +hook or crook could hold, escape his +shepherd’s care; and he settled down +for a longer chat of his own wild and +woolly West, which his hearers watching +with trained eyes the black line in +the horizon, were too polite in their own +simple way to interrupt. Their guest +was in the midst of a description of the +Mohave Desert, where he had nearly +left his bones to bleach two years ago, +when his boatman came hurriedly up +with a request of speedy shelter for his +little craft.</p> +<p>“There’s a storm coming up I daren’t +face, sir,” he said. “We can’t make +Killykinick until it blows over. You’ll +have to stay another hour or two here.”</p> +<p>“All right, if our good friends will +keep us,” was the cheery response. “We +are not travelling on schedule time.”</p> +<p>And then Father Tom looked on with +keen interest as the sturdy life-savers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +made ready for the swift-coming tempest +that was very soon upon them, +bringing Blake and Ford back, breathless +and drenched, to report their observations +along the beach,—that there +was nothing in sight: everything had +scudded to shelter. So all gathered in +the lookout, whose heavy leaded glass, +set in a stone frame, defied the fury of +the elements. And, thus sheltered, the +group in Uncle Sam’s outpost watched +the sweep of the storm.</p> +<p>“It’s a ripper!” said Blake, translating +the more professional opinion of his +mates to Father Tom. “But we ain’t +getting the worst of it here. These West +Indianers travel narrow gauge tracks, +and we’re out of line. Killykinick is +catching it bad. Shouldn’t wonder if +that stranded tub of the old Captain’s +would keel over altogether.”</p> +<p>“You think they are in danger +there?” asked Father Tom, anxiously.</p> +<p>“Oh, no! Thar’s plenty of other shelter. +Killykinick is rock-ribbed to stand +till the day of doom. George! I believe +Last Island is going clean under!”</p> +<p>“Let her go!” came the keeper’s bluff +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +response. “Been nothing but a bramble +bed these twenty years.”</p> +<p>“Bramble bed or not, some fools are +camping there,” said Blake. “I’ve seen +their dogs on the beach for the last +three days; and there was a boat +moored to the rocks this morning, and +boys scrambling along the shore. The +folks that are boxed up in town all +winter run wild when they break loose +here, and don’t care where they go—”</p> +<p>“Hush!” broke in the keeper, suddenly. +“Push open the glass there, men, +and listen! I think I heard a gun!”</p> +<p>They flung open the window at his +word. Borne upon the wild sweep of the +wind that rushed in upon them, there +came again a sound they all knew,—the +signal of distress, the sharp call for +help. It was their business to hear and +heed.</p> +<p>“A gun sure, and from Last Island!” +said the keeper, briefly. “There are fools +there, as you say, Blake. Run out the +lifeboat, my men! We must get them +off. Both boats, for we don’t know how +many we have to care for.”</p> +<p>“Both boats, sir?” hesitated Blake. +“We’re short-handed to-day, for Ford +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +has a crippled arm that would be no +good in this surf.”</p> +<p>“I’ll take his place,” said Father Tom, +eagerly. “I’ve shot the rapids with my +Indian guides many a time. I’ll take +Ford’s place.”</p> +<p>“Think twice of it, sir,” was Blake’s +warning. “You are risking your life.”</p> +<p>“I know,” was the brief answer. +“That’s my business as well as yours, +my friends; so I’ll take my chance.”</p> +<p>“There talks a man!” said the keeper, +heartily. “Give him a sou’wester, and +let him take his chances, as he asks, in +Ford’s place.”</p> +<p>And, in briefer time than we can +picture, the two lifeboats were swung +out of their shelter in the very teeth of +the driving gale, and manned by their +fearless crews, including Father Tom +Rayburn, who, muffled in a huge sou’wester, +took his place with the rest; +and all pushed into the storm.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>At Last Island all hope seemed gone.</p> +<p>“One last shot, my boy!” daddy had +said, as the gun dropped from his shaking +hand. “And no one has heard,—no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +one could hear in the roar of the +storm.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they could,—they could!” murmured +Freddy. “God could make them +hear, daddy,—make them hear and +come to help us. And I think He will. +I have prayed so hard that we might +not be drowned here all alone in the +storm. You pray, too, daddy,—oh, +please pray!”</p> +<p>“I can not,—I <i>dare</i> not,” was the +hoarse answer.</p> +<p>“O daddy, yes you can,—you must! +The waters are coming on us so fast, +daddy,—so fast! Please try to pray +with me. Our Lord made the winds and +waves go down when He lived here on +earth; He walked on the waters and +they did not hurt Him. Oh, they are +coming higher and higher on us, daddy! +What shall we do?”</p> +<p>“Die,” was the hoarse, fierce answer; +“die here together, my boy,—my little +boy! For me it is justice, judgment; +but, O my God, why should Thy curse +fall on my boy,—my innocent boy?”</p> +<p>“O daddy, no! That isn’t the way to +pray. You mustn’t say ‘curse,’ daddy. +You must say: ‘Have mercy, dear Lord; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +have mercy! Save me and my little boy. +Send some one to help us.’ Oh, I am +trying not to be afraid, but I can’t help +it, daddy!”</p> +<p>“My boy,—my poor little boy! Climb, +Freddy! Try to climb up on the roof—the +broken shaft! Leave me here, and +try to climb, my boy! You may be safe +for a while.”</p> +<p>“O daddy, no, I can’t climb and leave +you,” and Freddy clung piteously to his +father’s breast. “I’d rather die here +with you, and God will take us both to +heaven together. I haven’t been a very +good boy, I know; and maybe you +haven’t either; but if we are sorry He +will let us come to Him in heaven—O +dad, what is that?” Freddy’s low tone +changed to one of wild alarm. “What +is it now,—what is it now?”</p> +<p>For the dogs, that had been crouching +and cowering beside their master, suddenly +started up, barking wildly, and +dashed out into the rising waters; new +sounds blended with the roar of the +storm,—shouts, cries, voices.</p> +<p>“Here,—<i>here</i>!” daddy feebly essayed +to answer. “Call to them, Freddy! It is +help. God has heard your prayers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +Call—call—call—loud as you can, my +boy!”</p> +<p>But there was no need. Rex and Roy +had already done the calling, the guiding. +On they came, the sturdy rescuers, +plunging waist-deep through the waters +that were already breaking high on the +beach and bramble growth, surging and +swelling across the broken wall that had +once guarded the Old Light, and lapping +the low cabin floor. On the brave life-savers +came, while Rex and Roy barked +in mad welcome; and Freddy’s clear, +boyish cry, “Here,—here! Daddy and I +are here!” pierced through the darkness +and turmoil of the storm. On they came, +strong and fearless,—God’s angels +surely, thought Freddy, though in +strange mortal guise. And one, whose +muffling sou’wester had been flung loose +in his eager haste, led all the rest.</p> +<p>“Here, my men,—here!” he cried, +bursting into the ruined hut, where a +little figure stood, white-faced, breathless, +bewildered with the joy of his +answered prayer. “They are here! God +have mercy!” broke in reverent awe +from his lips. “Freddy, Freddy,—my +own little Freddy here!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></p> +<p>“Uncle Tom,—Uncle Tom!” And +Freddy sobbed outright as he was +clasped in those dear, strong arms, held +tight to the loving heart. “How did God +tell you where to come for me, dear +Uncle Tom?—Daddy, daddy look up,—look +up! It’s Uncle Tom!”</p> +<p>And what daddy felt as he looked up +into that old friend’s face, what Uncle +Tom felt as he looked down on the +“derelict” that had drifted so far from +him, no one can say; for there was no +time for words or wonderment. Life-savers +can not stop to think, much less +to talk. Daddy was caught up by two +or three big fellows, without any question, +while Uncle Tom looked out for +Freddy.</p> +<p>It was a fierce struggle, through surging +waves and battering wind and beating +rain, to the waiting lifeboats; but, +held tight in those strong arms, pressed +close to the true heart whose every +pulse was a prayer, Freddy felt no fear. +Even when the stout boat, fighting its +way back to the other shore, tossed like +a cork in the breakers, when the oar +snapped in Blake’s hand, when all +around was foam and spray, in which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +earth and heaven seemed lost, Freddy, +nestling in Uncle Tom’s sou’wester, felt +as if its rough, tarry folds were angel +wings.</p> +<p>And so safety and shelter were +reached at last. Father Tom gave his +little drenched, shivering, white-faced +boy into Ford’s friendly care.</p> +<p>“Put him to bed somewhere, to get +dry and warm.”</p> +<p>“But daddy,—my own dear, lost +daddy?”</p> +<p>“Leave him to me, my boy,” said +Uncle Tom, softly. “I’ll take care of +daddy. Leave him to me.”</p> +<p>And then Ford, who, somewhere back +of Cape Cod, had a small boy of his own, +proceeded to do his rough best for the +little stranger. Freddy was dried, +rubbed, and put into a flannel shirt some +ten sizes too big for him, and given +something hot and spicy to drink, and +finally tumbled into a bunk with +coarse but spotless sheets, and very +rough but comfortable blankets, where +in less than four minutes he was sound +asleep, worn out, as even the pluckiest +eleven-year-old boy would be, with the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +strain on his small body and brave +young soul.</p> +<p>How long he slept, Freddy did not +know; but it was long enough for the +wind to lull, the skies to brighten, the +black clouds to break and scatter before +the golden glory of the summer sun. +The wide lookout window had been +thrown open, and showed a glorious +rainbow spanning the western sky. And +there, on a pallet thrown hastily on the +floor, lay daddy, very still and pale, with +Uncle Tom kneeling beside him, holding +his hand. An icy fear now clutched +Freddy’s heart at the sight. Reckless +of the ten-sizes-too-big shirt trailing +around him, he was out of his bunk +with a jump to his father’s side.</p> +<p>“Daddy, daddy!—O Uncle Tom, is +daddy dead?”</p> +<p>And daddy’s eyes opened at the +words,—eyes that were no longer burning, +but soft and dim with tears.</p> +<p>“Not dead, little Boy Blue! Daddy is +alive again,—alive as he has not been +for long, long years.—Tell him all, Tom. +I am too weak. Tell him all. He’ll be +glad to hear it, I know.”</p> +<p>But Father Tom only put his arm +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +around the boy and drew him close to +his side.</p> +<p>“Why should I?” he said, smiling into +the upturned face. “We know quite +enough for a little boy; don’t we, +Freddy,—that, like another wanderer +from his Father’s house, daddy was +dead and is alive again, was lost and is +found. And now get into some short +clothes, if you can find them, and we’ll +go over to Killykinick in my little +motor boat; for poor Brother Bart is in +sad terror about you, I am sure.”</p> +<p>Ah, in sad terror, indeed! It was a +pale, shaken old man that stood on the +beach at Killykinick, looking over the +sea, and listening to the Captain, who +was striving to find hope where he felt +there was none.</p> +<p>“Looks as if the old cabin on Last +Island might be holding together still. +Dan and Neb are knocking a raft together, +and if they can make it float +they’ll go over there and get the little +lad off. And if they don’t Padre” (the +rough old voice trembled),—“if they +don’t, wal, you are sky pilot enough to +know that the little chap has reached a +better shore than this.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p> +<p>“Aye, aye, I know, Jeroboam!” was +the hoarse, shaken answer. “God knows +what is best for His little lamb. His +holy will be done. But, O my laddie, my +little laddie, why did I let you go from +me into the darkness and storm, my +little boy, my little boy?”</p> +<p>“Hooray! Hooray!” Wild shouts +broke in upon the broken-hearted +prayer, as Jim and Dud and Dan burst +round the bend of the rocks. “Brother +Bart, Brother Bart! Look what’s coming, +Brother Bart!”</p> +<p>And, turning his dim eyes where the +boys pointed, Brother Bart saw a little +motor boat making its swift way over +the still swelling waves. On it came, +dancing in the sunlight arched by the +rainbow, tossing and swaying to the +pulse of the sea; and in the stern, enthusiastically +waving the little signal +flag that Ford had put into his hand to +remember the life-savers, sat—</p> +<p>“Laddie!” burst from Brother Bart’s +lips, and he fell upon his knees in +thanksgiving. “O God be praised and +blessed for the sight! My laddie,—my +own little laddie safe, safe,—my laddie +coming back to me again!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XXIII.—Dan’s Medal.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was the day after the big storm that +had made havoc even in the sheltered +harbor of Beach Cliff, and so damaged +“The Polly” in her safe moorings that +six men were busy putting her into +shipshape again. And dad’s other Polly +was in an equally doleful mood.</p> +<p>It was to have been a day of jollification +with Marraine. They were to have +gone voyaging together over the summer +seas, that were smiling as joyously +to-day as if they had never known a +storm. They were to have stopped at +the college camp in Shelter Cove, where +Marraine had some girl friends; they +were to have kept on their sunlit way +to Killykinick, for so dad had agreed; +they were to have looked in on the Life-Saving +Station, which Marraine had +never seen; in fact, they were to have +done more pleasant things than Polly +could count,—and now the storm had +fallen on her namesake and spoiled all.</p> +<p>“Never mind, Pollykins!” comforted +Marraine, who could find stars in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +darkest sky. “We’ll each take a dollar +and go shopping.”</p> +<p>“Only a dollar, Marraine? That won’t +buy much,” said Polly, who had walked +in ways where dollars seem very small +indeed.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, it will! There’s no telling +what it can buy in Jonah’s junk shop,” +laughed Marraine. “I got a rusted tea +tray that polished into silver plate, a +blackened vase that rubbed into burnished +copper. I should not wonder if he +had an Aladdin’s lamp hidden somewhere +in his dusty shelves.”</p> +<p>“Let us go look for it,” said Polly, +roused into gleeful interest. “Oh, I’d +love to have Aladdin’s lamp! Wouldn’t +you, Marraine?”</p> +<p>“What would you wish for, Pollykins?” +asked Marraine, softly.</p> +<p>“Oh, lots of things!” said Polly, +perching in her lap. “First—first of all, +I wish that I could keep you here forever +and forever, darling Marraine!”</p> +<p>“Well, you have me for six weeks +every summer,” laughed Marraine.</p> +<p>“But that isn’t forever and forever,” +sighed Polly. “And mamma and dad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +and grandmamma and everybody else +want you, too.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure of that?” asked the +lady, kissing the upturned face.</p> +<p>“Oh, very sure!” replied Polly, positively. +“They say it’s all nonsense for +you to go to the hospital and take care +of sick people. It’s—it’s something—I +don’t remember what.”</p> +<p>“Stubborn pride?” suggested Marraine, +with a merry sparkle in her eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “that’s just what +grandmamma said. And stubborn pride +is something bad; isn’t it, Marraine?”</p> +<p>“Well, yes, it is,” agreed Marraine,—“when +it <i>is</i> stubborn pride, Pollykins. +But when one has empty hands and +empty purse and—well, an empty life, +too, Pollykins, it is not stubborn pride +to try to fill them with work and care +and pity and help.”</p> +<p>“And that is what you do at the hospital, +Marraine?”</p> +<p>“It is what I try to do, Pollykins. +When my dear father died, and I found +all his money gone, this beautiful home +of yours opened its doors wide for me; +dad, mamma, grandma, everybody +begged me to come here. But—but it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +wasn’t my real home or my real place.”</p> +<p>“Oh, wasn’t it, Marraine?” said Polly, +sadly.</p> +<p>“No, dear. In our real home, our real +place, God gives us work to do,—some +work, even though it be only to bless +and love. But there was no work for me +here; and so I looked around, Pollykins, +for my work and my place. If I had +been very, <i>very</i> good, I might have +folded my butterfly wings under a veil +and habit, and been a nice little nun, +like Sister Claudine.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t have liked that at +all!” said Polly, with a shiver.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I wouldn’t either,” was +the laughing answer. “Still, it’s a lovely, +useful, beautiful life, little girl. And the +next—the very next—best place and +best work seemed to me the hospital, +with the white gown and cap I can put +off when I please; with sickness and +sorrow and suffering to soothe and help; +with little children holding out their +arms to me, and old people calling to me +in their pain, and dying eyes turning to +me for hope and help. So I am nurse +in a hospital, and out of it, too, when +there is need. And it’s not for stubborn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +pride, as grandma says, and no doubt +thinks; but because I believe it to be my +real work and my real place. Now get +your dollar, and we’ll be off to Jonah’s +junk shop to look for Aladdin’s lamp.”</p> +<p>And Polly danced off for her flower-wreathed +hat, and the two were soon on +their way down the narrow streets to +the dull, dingy little shop near the +water, where several customers were +already looking over the curiously assorted +stock, that on weekdays was +spread far out on the sidewalk to attract +passers-by. Among these was a big, +burly grey-haired man, whose bronzed +face and easy-fitting clothes proclaimed +the sailor.</p> +<p>“Why, Captain Carleton!” greeted +Miss Stella, in some surprise.</p> +<p>“God bless my heart and soul!” was +the hearty response, and the Captain +held out both hands to the speaker. +“This is sailor’s luck, indeed! From +what star of hope did you drop, Miss +Stella?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I drop here for a holiday every +summer!” she answered gaily. “I am +glad to see you looking so well and +strong again, Captain.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span></p> +<p>“Thanks to you, my dear lady! Under +the great Master of life and death, +thanks to you! I was about as far on +the rocks as an old craft could be without +going to pieces entirely. How that +soft little hand of yours steered me into +safe water I’ll never forget, dear lady,—never +forget. And I was a tough patient, +too; wasn’t I?”</p> +<p>“Well, you did say things sometimes +that were not—prayers,” was the +laughing answer.</p> +<p>And, chatting on pleasantly of the +Captain’s last winter in the hospital, +they glanced over old Jonah’s stock until +something of interest caught the +sailor’s eye.</p> +<p>“By George! How in thunder did this +get here?”</p> +<p>“A find,—a real find, Captain?” asked +Miss Stella. “What is it?”</p> +<p>“A medal,” he answered,—“a medal +awarded for ‘Brave and faithful service +on the “Reina Maria” sixty years ago.’” +(He was scanning the bronze disc as he +spoke),—“‘Juan Farley.’ Good Lord! +Yes, poor old Jack! I wonder how he +lived and died? And what in Heaven’s +name is his medal doing here?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span></p> +<p>“Perhaps Jonah can tell you,” suggested +Miss Stella; while Polly, whose +bright eyes were searching for Aladdin’s +lamp, paused to listen.</p> +<p>“That ar medal?” said Jonah in +answer to the Captain’s questioning. +“Let me think now! That ar medal—ticketed +nineteen, isn’t it?—was left +here by a youngster. Now, what in +thunder was his name? I’ll have to look +in my books to see.”</p> +<p>And while he looked Captain Carleton +explained his interest in his find.</p> +<p>“You see, my father was master and +half owner of the ‘Reina Maria,’ though +she was Spanish built and manned. But, +luckily, Jack Farley, a first-class sailor, +was second mate. There was a mutiny +aboard, and it would have been all up +with my father and his chief officer if +brave Jack had not smelled mischief in +time, and put down the hatches on the +scoundrels at the risk of his own life. +Ship and cargo (it was a pretty valuable +ship) were saved; and this medal, +that bears the stamp of her then Spanish +Majesty, was Jack’s reward. My +father always felt that he ought to have +had something more; but the Spanish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +owners were close-fisted, so my old man +had to content himself with helping +Jack (who was a rather reckless sort of +chap ashore) in his own way. He got +him out of many a tight place on the +strength of that medal; and he would +have looked out for him until the last, +but he shipped on an East Indian, and +drifted out of our reach. And this +medal was left here by a boy, you say, +my man?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir” (Jonah had found his entry +now),—“by a boy who said it was +his: that it had been given him by an +old sailor man who was dead; and he’d +like to sell the medal now, for he wanted +some money bad.”</p> +<p>“Good!” said the old Captain, eagerly. +“I’ll give him his price. Who and +where is the boy?”</p> +<p>“His name is Dan Dolan and he lives +at Killykinick.”</p> +<p>“Dan Dolan!” exclaimed Miss Stella.</p> +<p>“Oh, does he mean my—<i>my</i> Dan, +Marraine?” chirped Polly, breathlessly.</p> +<p>“What! You know the boy?” cried +the old sailor, in amazement. “God bless +me,—you!”</p> +<p>“Why, yes, we know him,—don’t we, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +Pollykins?” said Miss Stella. “But what +he is doing with the medal we can’t say. +We’re certain he has it rightfully and +honestly; and as soon as ‘The Polly’ +(my cousin’s yacht) can spread her +broken wings, we are going to Killykinick. +Suppose you come with us, and +see the owner of the medal, and strike +a bargain yourself?”</p> +<p>“By George, I will,—I will! A sail +with you, Miss Stella, is a temptation I +can not resist. And I must have the +medal. I must see the boy, and hear +how he got it. I’ll buy it from him at +his own price; and you shall negotiate +the sale, dear lady!”</p> +<p>“Take care,” said Miss Stella, with a +merry sparkle in her eyes,—“take care +how you do business with me, Captain! +Remember how I drew upon you for the +babies’ ward last winter! I can fleece +without mercy, as you know.”</p> +<p>“Fleece as you please,” was the +hearty answer. “I can stand it, for that +soft little hand of yours did work for +this old man that he can never repay.”</p> +<p>So the agreement was made; and +Miss Stella, having invested in a queer, +twisted candlestick, which she declared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +was quite equal to Aladdin’s lamp, and +Polly having decided to reserve her +dollar for a neighboring candy store, +the party at Jonah’s junk shop separated, +with the promise of meeting as +soon as “The Polly” should be ready for +a flight to Killykinick.</p> +<p>But that pleasant excursion was indefinitely +postponed; for when Miss +Stella reached Polly’s home it was to +find two priestly visitors awaiting her. +One was an old friend, the present pastor +of St. Mary’s Church, near the +Foresters’ home; the other, tall, pale +even through his bronze, anxious-eyed, +she had never met.</p> +<p>“Father Rayburn, Miss Allen,” was +the pastor’s brief introduction. “We +have come to throw ourselves on your +mercy, my dear young lady. You are +here for your summer holiday, I know; +and I hesitate to interrupt it. But +Father Rayburn is in sore need of experienced +service that you alone can +give.”</p> +<p>“You need a nurse?” asked Miss +Stella.</p> +<p>“Yes.” (It was Father Rayburn who +answered.) “My brother—or perhaps I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +should say my brother-in-law, as that is +really our relationship,—is lying very +ill at Killykinick. While still prostrated +with fever, he was exposed to the storm +of yesterday, in which he nearly lost +his life. Between the shock, the excitement +of his rescue by the life-savers, he +is very, very ill,—too ill to be removed +to a hospital; and he is at Killykinick +with only boys and men to care for +him,” continued Father Rayburn. “The +doctors tell me an experienced nurse is +necessary, and we can find none willing +to take so serious a case in such a rude, +remote place. But my good friend +Father John seems to think that you +would take pity on our great need.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I will,—I will!” was the eager +answer. “I already have friends at +Killykinick among those fine boys from +St. Andrew’s. My little goddaughter +and I were to make an excursion there +to-day, but the storm disabled Mr. +Forester’s yacht. I am so glad to be of +service to you, Father! I will get ready +at once.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>In spite of the joyful return of laddie +yesterday, there was gloom this morning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +at Killykinick. Daddy, who had been +brought over at his own request from +the Life-Saving Station, lay in the old +Captain’s room, which Brother Bart +had resigned to him, very, very sick +indeed.</p> +<p>“Sinking fast, I’m afraid,” the doctor +said. “The fever has broken, but the +shock of yesterday’s danger and rescue +has been too much for a man in his +weakened state. Still there’s a chance +for him—a fighting chance. But it will +take very careful and experienced nursing +to pull him through.”</p> +<p>So Father Tom had gone in search of +a nurse, leaving Freddy and Brother +Bart watching by the sick bed; while +Dan, who as second mate was assisting +his chief officers to right and repair the +“Sary Ann,” listened with a heavy heart +to the old salt’s prognostications.</p> +<p>“He won’t last the day out,” declared +Captain Jeb. “Blue about the gills +already! But, Lord, what could you expect, +doused and drenched and shaken +up like he was yesterday? It will be +hard on the little chap, who was so glad +to get his father back. It’s sort of a +pity, ’cording to my notion, that, being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +adrift so long, he didn’t go down in +deep-sea soundings, and not come +ashore to break up like this.”</p> +<p>“O Captain Jeb, no, no!” Dan looked +up from his hammering on the “Sary +Ann” in quick protest against such false +doctrine. “A man isn’t like a ship: he +has a soul. And that’s the main thing, +after all. If you save your soul, it +doesn’t make much difference about +your body. And drifting ashore right +here has saved the soul of Mr. Wirt (or +Mr. Neville, as we must call him now); +for he was lying over on Last Island, +feeling that there was no hope for him +in heaven or on earth. And then +Freddy came to him, and Father Tom, +and he turned to God for pardon and +mercy; and now his dying is all right,—though +I haven’t given him up yet,” concluded +Dan, more cheerfully. “Poor +little Freddy has been praying so hard +all night, I feel he is going to be heard +somehow. And I’ve seen Mick Mulligan, +that had typhoid last summer, +looking a great deal worse than Mr. +Neville, and before Thanksgiving there +wasn’t a boy on the hill he couldn’t +throw. Here comes Father Tom back +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +with—with—” Dan dropped his hammer +entirely, and stood up to stare in +amazement at the little motor boat making +its way to the broken wharf. “Jing! +Jerusalem! if—if it isn’t that pretty +lady from Beach Cliff that Polly calls +Marraine!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XXIV.—A Star in the Darkness.</p> +</div> + +<p>Marraine,—Polly’s Marraine,—Aunt +Winnie’s old friend,—the lovely, silver-robed +lady of the party who had stood +by Dan in his trouble!—it was she, indeed, +all dressed in white, with a pretty +little cap on her soft, wavy hair, and +her hands full of flowers. Miss Stella +always made a first appearance at a +patient’s bedside with flowers. She said +they were a friendly introduction that +never failed.</p> +<p>“It’s the nurse woman they went +for,” gasped Captain Jeb, as the new +arrival proceeded to step from boat to +wharf with a light grace that scarcely +needed Father Tom’s assisting hand. +“Well, I’ll be tee-totally jiggered! Who +ever saw a nurse woman pretty as +that?”</p> +<p>But Dan did not hear. He had +dropped nails, hammer, and all present +interest in the recuperation of the +“Sary Ann,” and was off down the +beach to meet the fair visitor, whose +coming he could not understand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></p> +<p>“Danny,” she said, holding out her +empty hand to him,—“Miss Winnie’s +Danny!—I told you I had friends here, +Father Rayburn; and this is one that I +expect to find my right-hand man. What +a queer, quaint, wonderful place this +Killykinick is! I am so glad you brought +me here to help you!”</p> +<p>Help them! Help them! Dan caught +the world in breathless amazement. +Then Miss Stella, Polly’s Marraine, was +the nurse! It seemed altogether astounding; +for sick nurses, in Dan’s experience, +had always been fat old ladies +who had out-lived all other duties, and +appeared only on important occasions, +to gossip in solemn whispers, and to +drink unlimited tea. And now Polly’s +Marraine was a <i>nurse</i>! It was impossible +to doubt the fact; for Father Tom +was leading her straight to Mr. Neville’s +side, Dan following in dumb bewilderment.</p> +<p>The sick man lay in the old Captain’s +room, whither, at his own request, the +life-savers had borne him the previous +evening. His eyes, deep-sunken in their +sockets, were closed, his features rigid. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +Poor little Freddy, tearful and trembling, +knelt by Brother Bart, who +paused in his murmured prayers to +shake his head hopelessly at the newcomer’s +approach.</p> +<p>“I’m glad ye’re here before he goes +entirely, Father. It’s time, I think, for +the last blessing. I am afraid he can +neither hear nor see.”</p> +<p>But Miss Stella had stepped forward, +put her soft hand on the patient’s pulse; +and then, with a quick whisper to +Father Tom, she had dropped her +flowers, opened the little wrist-bag they +had concealed, and proceeded to “do +things,”—just what sort of things Dan +did not know. He could only see the soft +hands moving swiftly, deftly; baring +the patient’s arm to the shoulder and +flashing something sharp and shining +into the pale flesh; holding the fluttering +pulse until, with a long, deep sigh, +the sick man opened his eyes and stared +dully at the white-robed figure bending +over him.</p> +<p>“Who—what are you?” he said faintly.</p> +<p>Miss Stella smiled. It was the question +that many a patient, struggling out +of the Dark Valley, had asked before, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +when his waking eyes had fallen upon +her fair, sweet face, her white-robed +form.</p> +<p>“Only your nurse,” she answered +softly,—“your nurse who has come to +help you, to take care of you. You feel +better already?”</p> +<p>“Yes, better, better!” was the faint +reply. “My boy,—where is my boy? +Freddy! Freddy!” He stretched out his +feeble hand. But it was met by a firm, +gentle grasp that was not Freddy’s.</p> +<p>“No boys now,” said Miss Stella in +the soft, steady voice of one used to such +commands. “There must be no seeing, +no talking, even no thinking, my patient. +You must take this powder I am +putting to your lips. Close your eyes +again and go to sleep.—Now please +everybody go away and leave him to +me,” was the whispered ukase, that +even Father Tom obeyed without protest; +and Miss Stella began her reign at +Killykinick.</p> +<p>It was a triumphant reign from the +very first. Old and young fell at once +under her gentle sway, and yielded to +her command without dispute. The +cabin of the “Lady Jane” was given to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +her entirely; even Brother Bart taking +to the upper deck; while a big, disused +awning was stretched into a shelter for +the morning and the noontime mess.</p> +<p>And, to say nothing of her patient—who +lay, as Brother Bart expressed it, +“like a shorn lamb” under her gentle +bidding, gaining health and strength +each day,—every creature in Killykinick +was subservient to Miss Stella’s sweet +will. Freddy was her devoted slave; +lazy Jim, ready to move at her whisper; +even Dud, after learning her father’s +rank in the army, was ready to oblige +her as a gentleman should. But it was +Dan, as she had foreseen from the first, +who was her right-hand man, ready to +fetch and carry, to lift any burden, however +heavy, by day and night; Dan who +rowed or sailed or skimmed to any point +in the motor boat Father Tom kept +waiting at her demand; Dan who, when +the patient grew better, and she had an +hour or two off, was her willing and +delighted escort over rocks or sea.</p> +<p>And as they sailed or rowed or +loitered by beach and shore, Miss Stella +drew from Aunt Winnie’s boy the hopes +and fears he could not altogether hide. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +She learned how Aunt Winnie was +“pining” for her home and her boy; she +read the letters, with their untold love +and longing; she saw the look on the +boyish face when Dan, too mindful of +his promise to Father Mack to speak +plainly, said he ‘reckoned she wouldn’t +be here long if he didn’t get her somehow +<i>home</i>.’ She learned, too, all Dan +could tell about poor old Nutty’s medal.</p> +<p>“Get it for me the next time you go to +town, Danny,” she said to him. And +Danny drew it from old Jonah’s junk +shop and put it in Miss Stella’s hand.</p> +<p>And then, when at last her patient +was able to sit up in Great-uncle Joe’s +big chair in the cabin doorway and look +out at the sea, Miss Stella wrote to dad +and Polly to come and take her home.</p> +<p>“Lord, but we’ll all miss her!” Captain +Jeb voiced the general sentiment of +Killykinick when this decision was made +public. “I ain’t much sot on women +folks when you’re in deep water, but +this one suttenly shone out like a star +in the dark.”</p> +<p>“And kept a-shining,” added Neb,—“a-shining +and a-smiling straight +through.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></p> +<p>“She’s a good girl,” said Brother +Bart. “And I’m thinking—well, it +doesn’t matter what I’m thinking. But +it’s a lonely time laddie’s poor father +will be having, after all his wild wanderings; +and it will be hard for him to +keep house and home. But the Lord is +good. Maybe it was His hand that led +Miss Stella here.”</p> +<p>“Oh, what will we do when she is +gone, daddy?” mourned Freddy. “Of +course you are getting well now, and +Dan and I can wait on you and get you +broth and jelly; but it won’t be like +having dear Miss Stella. Oh, I just love +her! Don’t you, daddy? She is almost +as good as a real mother.”</p> +<p>And daddy’s pale cheek had flushed +as he answered:</p> +<p>“Almost, little Boy Blue!”</p> +<p>“Well, we’re all going home in a +week,” said Dan, as he stood out under +the stars that night. “But I’ll miss you +sure, Miss Stella; for you don’t mind +being friends with a rough sort of a boy +like me, and you know Aunt Winnie; +and if I give up and—and go down +you’ll—you’ll understand.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span></p> +<p>“Give up and go down!” repeated +Miss Stella. “You give up and go down, +Danny? Never,—never! You’re the +sort of boy to climb, however steep and +rough and sharp the way,—to climb to +the stars.”</p> +<p>“That’s what Aunt Winnie dreams,” +was the answer. “That’s what I dream, +too, sometimes. Miss Stella. But it +isn’t for me to dream: I have to wake +up and hustle. I can’t stay dreaming +and let Aunt Winnie die. So if I have +to give up and go down, Miss Stella, +you’ll—you’ll understand.”</p> +<p>And Miss Stella steadied her voice to +answer:</p> +<p>“Yes, Danny, I’ll understand.”</p> +<p>But, in spite of this, Miss Stella’s +parting from Killykinick was not altogether +a sad one; for “The Polly” came +down next morning, with flying colors, +to bear her away. Dad was aboard; +also Polly, jubilant at recovering her +dear Marraine after three weeks of desertion; +and Captain Carleton, and Miss +Stella’s girl friends who had been +picked up from the camp at Shelter +Cove. It was such a picnic party altogether +that sighs and tears seemed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +quite out of place; for, after all, things +had turned out most cheerfully, as +everybody agreed.</p> +<p>So, with “The Polly” glittering in +new paint and gilding necessitated by +the storm, with all her pennants flying +in the wind, with the victrola singing its +merriest boat song, and snowy handkerchiefs +fluttering gay farewells, Miss +Stella was borne triumphantly away. It +was to be an all-day cruise. Great +hampers, packed with everything good +to eat and drink, were stored below; +and “The Polly” spread her wings and +took a wide flight to sea, turning back +only when the shadows began to deepen +over the water, and the stars to peep +from the violet sky. The young people +were a trifle tired; Polly had fallen +asleep on a pile of cushions, while the +girls from Shelter Cove sang college +songs.</p> +<p>In the stern, Captain Carleton had +found his way to Miss Stella’s side. She +was leaning on the taffrail, listening to +the singing, her white fleecy wrap falling +around her like a cloud.</p> +<p>“You look your name to-night,” said +the Captain: “Stella,—a star. By +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +George, you were a star to me when the +sky looked pretty black! I was thinking +of that yesterday when some Eastern +chap came along with a lot of diamonds +for sale. I don’t know much about such +folderols, but there was one piece—a +star—that I’d like to give you, if you +would take it and wear it in remembrance +of a rough old fellow who can’t +speak all he feels.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Captain Carleton,—Captain +Carleton!” laughed the lady softly. +“Take care! That Eastern chap was +fooling you, I’m sure.”</p> +<p>“Not at all,—not at all!” was the +quick reply. “I got an expert’s opinion. +The star is worth the thousand dollars +he asked.”</p> +<p>“A thousand dollars,—a thousand +dollars!” repeated Miss Stella, in dismay. +“And you would give me a thousand +dollar star? Why, you must have +money to burn, indeed!”</p> +<p>“Well, I suppose I have,” was the +answer,—“much more than a lonely old +fellow of sixty odd, without chick or +child will ever need. Will you take the +star, dear lady nurse?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Miss Stella, gently; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span> +“though I thank you for your generous +thought of me, my good friend. But I +have a better and a wiser investment +for you. Have you forgotten this?” +She took Dan’s medal from the bag on +her wrist.</p> +<p>“By George, I <i>did</i> forget it!” said the +old man. “Somehow, it slipped my +memory completely in our pleasant +hurry. Poor Jack Farley’s medal! +You’ve found the chap that owns it, you +say?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” was the answer—“a brave, +sturdy, honest little chap, who stood by +your poor old friend in his last lonely +days, and helped him in his last lonely +cruise, and took the medal from his +dying hands as the last and only legacy +he had to give. Would you consider him +Jack Farley’s heir, Captain Carleton?”</p> +<p>“Most certainly I would,” was the +rejoinder.</p> +<p>“Then make him his heir,” she said +softly.</p> +<p>“Eh!—what? I don’t understand,” +muttered the old gentleman.</p> +<p>Then Miss Stella explained. It was +such an explanation as only gentle +speakers like Miss Stella can make. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +told about bright, brave, plucky Dan +and Aunt Winnie, of the scholarship at +St. Andrew’s and of the Little Sisters of +the Poor. She told of the attic home +over the Mulligans’ for which Aunt +Winnie was “pining,” and of the +dreams that Dan dreamed.</p> +<p>“It would seem a pity,” Miss Stella +said, “for him to give up and go down.”</p> +<p>“By George, he must not,—he shall +not!” said the old sailor. “You want +me to do something for him? Out with +it, my lady!”</p> +<p>“Yes. I want you to invest, not in +diamond stars, Captain, but in Jack +Farley’s medal. I was to negotiate the +sale, you know.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes! And you warned me you +were going to fleece me; so go on,—go +on! What is the boy’s—what is +your price?” asked the Captain.</p> +<p>“A pension,” said Miss Stella, softly, +“the pension you would give Jack Farley—if +he were here to claim it,—just the +little pension an old sailor would ask +for his last watch below. It will hold +the little nest under the eaves that Danny +calls home for the old aunt that he +loves; it will steady the young wings +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +for their flight to the stars; it will keep +the young heart brave and pure and +warm as only love and home can.”</p> +<p>“You’re right,—you’re right,—you’re +always right, dear lady! If old Jack +were here, I’d pension him, as you say, +and fling in a little extra for his grog +and his pipe. Old Jack could have +counted on me for four or five hundred +a year. But a sturdy, strapping young +chap like yours is worth a dozen groggy +old salts. So name your figure, my +lady. I have money to burn, as you +say. Name your figure, dear lady, and +I’ll invest in your boy.”</p> +<p>“Old Jack’s pension, then, Captain +Carleton,—old Jack’s pension for Aunt +Winnie and Dan,—old Jack’s pension, +and nothing more.”</p> +<p>“It’s theirs,” was the hearty answer,—“or, +rather, it’s yours, my dear lady!”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no, no!” she disclaimed. +“The generous gift is all your own, +dear friend,—all your own. And it will +be repaid. Dan and his good old aunt +may have no words to thank you, to +bless you; but some day” (and the glad +voice grew softer, sweeter),—“some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +day when life’s long voyage is over for +you, Captain, and the log-book is open +to the Master’s gaze—”</p> +<p>“It will be a tough showing,” interrupted +the old man, gruffly,—“a tough +showing through and through.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no, no!” she said gently. +“One entry, I am sure, will clear many +a page, dear friend. One entry will +give you safe anchorage—harbor +rights; for has not the Master Himself +said, ‘As long as you did it to one of +these My least brethren, you did it to +Me’?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XXV.—Going Home.</p> +</div> + +<p>“We’re to be off to-morrow,” said +Brother Bart, a little sadly. “And, +though it will be a blessed thing to get +back in the holy peace of St. Andrew’s, +with the boys all safe and sound—which +is a mercy I couldn’t expect,—to +say nothing of laddie’s father being +drawn out of his wanderings into the +grace of God, I’m sore-hearted at leaving +Killykinick. You’ve been very good +to us, Jeroboam,—both you and your +brother, who is a deal wiser than at +first sight you’d think. You’ve been +true friends both in light and darkness; +and may God reward you and +bring you to the true faith! That will +be my prayer for you night and day.—And +now you’re to pack up, boys, and +get all your things together; for it’s +Father Regan’s orders that we are to +come back home.”</p> +<p>“Where is <i>our</i> home, daddy?” asked +Freddy, with lively interest. “For we +can have a real true home now, can’t +we?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span></p> +<p>“I hope so, my boy.” They were out +on the smooth stretch of beach, where +daddy, growing strong and well fast, +spent most of his time, stretched out +in one of Great-uncle Joe’s cushiony +chairs; while Roy and Rex crouched +contentedly at his feet, or broke into +wild frolic with Freddy on the rocks or +in the sea. “I hope so; though I’m +afraid I don’t know much about making +a home, my little Boy Blue!”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t you, daddy?” said Freddy, +ruefully. “I have always wanted a +home so much,—a real true home, with +curtains and carpets, and pictures on +the walls, and a real fire that snaps and +blazes.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I heard you say that before,” +answered his father, softly. “I think it +was that little talk on the boat that +brought me down, where I could take a +peep at my homeless little boy again; +though I was afraid Captain Jeb would +find me out if I ventured to Killykinick. +I was just making up my mind to risk +it and go over, when this fever caught +me.”</p> +<p>“But why—were you hiding, daddy? +Why did you stay away so long?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></p> +<p>“Life had grown very black for me; +and I didn’t want to make it black for +you, Freddy. I lost faith and hope and +love when I lost your mother. I +couldn’t settle down to a bare, lonely +life without her. I felt I must be free,—free +to wander where I willed. It +was all wrong,—all wrong, Freddy. +But daddy was in darkness, without any +guiding star. So I left you to Uncle +Tom, gave up my name, my home, and +broke loose like a ship without rudder +or sail. And where it led me, where +you found me, you know.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes!” Freddy laid his soft young +cheek against his father’s. “It was all +wrong. But now you have come back; +and everything is right again, Uncle +Tom says; and we’ll have a real home +together. He said that, too, before he +went away,—you and I would have a +home, daddy.”</p> +<p>“We’ll try,” replied daddy, cheerfully. +“With you and the dogs together, Freddy, +we’ll try. We’ll get the house and +the cushions and the carpets, and do +our best.”</p> +<p>Going home! Dan was thinking of it, +too, a little sadly, as somewhat later he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +stood on the stretch of rocks, looking +out at the fading west. He was going +home to “give up.” Only yesterday +morning a brief scrawl from Pete Patterson +had informed him he would be +ready for business next week, and Dan +must come back with an answer—“Yes” +or “No.” So it was good-bye to +St. Andrew’s for Dan to-night; good-bye +to all his hopes and dreams to-morrow. +Something seemed to rise in +Dan’s throat at the thought. To-morrow +he must go back, a college boy no +longer, but to Pete Patterson’s wagon +and Pete Patterson’s shop.</p> +<p>And while he stood there alone, +watching the deepening shadows gather +over rock and reef and shoal where he +had spent such happy days, there came +a sudden burst of glad music over the +waters, and around the bending shore +of Killykinick came a fairy vision: +“The Polly,” fluttering with gay pennants, +jewelled in colored light from +stem to stern; “The Polly,” laden with +a crowd of merrymakers in most hilarious +mood, coming on a farewell feast in +charge of three white-capped and white-coated +waiters; “The Polly,” that swept +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +triumphantly to the mended wharf +(where the “Sary Ann” was slowly recuperating +from her damages, in a +fresh coat of paint and brand-new mainsail), +and took undisputed possession of +Killykinick.</p> +<p>“I just had to come and say good-bye,” +declared Miss Polly; “and dad +said I could make a party of it, if Marraine +would take us in charge. And so +we’re to have a real, <i>real</i> last good +time.”</p> +<p>Then all sat down on the moonlit +sands; and the victrola played its gayest +tunes, and the white-capped waiters +served good things that quite equalled +Polly’s last party. And when that was +nearly over, and the guests were still +snapping the French “kisses” and +cracking sugar-shelled nuts, Dan found +Miss Stella, who had been chatting with +her late patient most of the evening, +standing at his side. Perhaps it was +the moonlight, but he thought he had +never seen her look so lovely. Her eyes +were like stars, and there was a soft +rose-flush on her cheek, and the smile +on her sweet lips seemed to kindle her +whole face into radiance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span></p> +<p>“Come sit down on the rocks beside +me, Danny,—Miss Winnie’s Danny. +I’ve got some news for you.”</p> +<p>“News for me?” Danny lifted his +eyes; and Miss Stella saw that, in spite +of all the fun and frolic around him, +they looked strangely sad and dull.</p> +<p>“You’re not having a good time to-night, +are you?” she asked softly.</p> +<p>“Yes, I am—or at least I’m trying,” +said Dan, stoutly. “It was surely nice +of you all to give us this send off. But—but, +you see, I can’t help feeling a +little bad, because—because—” and he +had to stop to clear the lump from his +throat. “It seems to sort of end things +for me.”</p> +<p>“O Danny, Danny, no it doesn’t!” +And now Miss Stella’s eyes were stars +indeed. “It’s the beginning of things +bright and beautiful for you.”</p> +<p>And then, in sweet, trembling, joyful +tones, she told him all,—told him of +Captain Carleton and the medal; of the +pension that was to be his and Aunt +Winnie’s; of the kind, strong hand that +had been stretched out to help him, that +he might keep on without hindrance,—keep +on his upward way. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span></p> +<p>“To the stars, Danny,” concluded the +gentle speaker softly. “We must take +the highest aim, even if we fail to reach +it,—to the stars.”</p> +<p>“O Miss Stella,—dear, dear Miss +Stella!” and the sob came surely now, +in Dan’s bewildered joy, his gratitude, +his relief. “How good you are,—how +good you are! Oh, I will try to deserve +it all, Miss Stella! A home for Aunt +Winnie, and St. Andrew’s,—<i>St. Andrew’s</i> +again!” And Dan sprang to his +feet, and the college cry went ringing +over the moonlit rocks. “It’s St. Andrew’s +for Dan Dolan, now forever!”</p> +<p>The rest of that evening seemed a +bewildering dream to Dan,—more bewildering +even than Miss Polly’s party. +The story of his medal and his luck +went flying around Killykinick, with +most dazzling additions. Before the +guests departed, Dan was a hero indeed, +adopted by a millionaire whose +life his father or uncle or somebody had +saved from sharks and whales fifty or +seventy-five years ago.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad!” said Polly, as she +shook hands for good-bye. “I always +did say you were the nicest boy in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +world. And now you needn’t ever be a +newsboy or bootblack again, Dan.”</p> +<p>“I’ll see you again before very long,” +said Miss Stella, as he helped her on the +boat, and she slipped a gold piece in his +hand. “Here is the price of Jack Farley’s +medal. You must take Aunt Winnie +home right away.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I will,—I will, indeed!” said Dan +joyfully. “She will be back in Mulligan’s +as soon as I can get her there, you +bet, Miss Stella!”</p> +<p>“I’m durn sorry to see you go, +matey!” said Captain Jeb next morning, +as they pulled out the new sails of +the “Sary Ann” for a start. “But whenever +you want a whiff of salt air and a +plunge in salt water, why, Killykinick +is here and your job of second mate +open to you.”</p> +<p>“Shake on that!” said Dan, gripping +his old friend’s hand. “If I know myself, +I’ll be down every summer.”</p> +<p>“Looks as if I owed you something +for all that fishing,” remarked old Neb, +pulling out his leather wallet.</p> +<p>“Not a cent!” said Dan, briskly. +“I’m a monied man now, Neb,—a regular +up-and-down plute. Keep the cash +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +for some new nets next summer when +we go fishing again.”</p> +<p>And so, with friendly words and +wishes from all, even from Dud, whom +recent events had quite knocked out of +his usual grandeur, the whole party +bade adieu to Killykinick. Freddy and +his father were to remain a while at +Beach Cliff with Father Tom, who was +taking his holiday there.</p> +<p>At Brother Bart’s request, the home +journey was to be made as much as possible +by rail, so after the “Sary Ann,” +still a little stiff and creaky in the +joints, had borne them to the steamboat, +which in a few hours touched the +mainland and made connections with +the train, the travellers’ route lay along +scenes very different from the rugged +rocks and sands they had left. As they +swept by golden harvest fields and +ripening orchards and vineyards whose +rich yield was purpling in the autumn +sun, good Brother Bart heaved a sigh +of deepest content.</p> +<p>“Sure you may say what you please +about water, Danny lad, but God’s +blessing is on the good green land. If +it be the Lord’s will, I’ll never leave it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +again; though we might have found +worse places than Killykinick and those +good old men there,—may God lead +them to the Light!”</p> +<p>And as the Limited Express made its +schedule time, Pete Patterson was just +closing up as usual at sundown, when a +sturdy, brown-cheeked boy burst into +his store,—a boy that it took Pete’s +keen eyes full half a minute to recognize.</p> +<p>“Dan Dolan!” he cried at last,—“Dan +Dolan, grown and fattened and +slicked up like—like a yearling heifer! +Danny boy, I’m glad to see you,—I’m +glad to see you, sure! You’ve come to +take the job?”</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t,—thank you all the +same, Pete!” was the quick answer. +“I’ve struck luck for sure,—luck with a +fine old plute, who is ready to stake me +for all I could earn here, and keep me at +St. Andrew’s.”</p> +<p>“Stake you for all you could earn +here?” echoed Pete, in amazement.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you all about it later,” said +Dan, breathlessly. “Just now I’m dumb +struck, Pete. I came flying back to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +take up my old quarters at the Mulligans’ +and find the house shut up and +everybody gone. Land! It did give me +a turn, sure! I was counting on that +little room upstairs, and all Aunt Winnie’s +things she left there, and Tabby +and the stove and the blue teapot. But +they’re all gone.” And Dan sank down +on a big packer’s box feeling that he +was facing a dissolving world in which +he had no place.</p> +<p>“Oh, they’re not far!” said Pete, a +little gruffly; for Dan’s tidings had +been somewhat of a blow. “The old +woman’s father died and left a little +bit of money, and they bought a tidy little +place out on Cedar Place, not far +from St. Mary’s Church. You’ll find +them there. You’ve made up your mind +for good and all to stick to the highbrows? +I’d make it worth your while +to come here.”</p> +<p>Dan rose from the packer’s box and +looked around at the hams and shoulders +and lard buckets and answered out +of the fulness of his grateful heart:</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve made up my mind, Pete. +It’s St. Andrew’s for me,—St. Andrew’s +now and, I hope, forever. But—but if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +you want any help with writing or figuring, +I’ll come around Saturday nights +and give you a lift; for I won’t be far. +I’m sticking to old friends and the old +camping ground still.”</p> +<p>And, with this cheery assurance, Dan +was off again to find the vanished roof +tree that had been all he ever knew of +home. He recalled the place. It was +only a short walk from the college gate. +Indeed, the row of cedars that fronted +the little whitewashed house had been +once the boundary of the college +grounds. There was a bit of a garden +in front, and a porch with late roses +climbing over it, and—and—</p> +<p>Dan stood stock-still for a moment,—then +he flung open the little gate, and +with a regular Sioux war-whoop dashed +up the gravelled path; for there—there +seated in Mrs. Mulligan’s best +rocker, with Tabby curled up at her +feet—was Aunt Winnie herself, drinking +a cup of tea! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span></p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>XXVI.—Rainbows.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Danny!” cried Aunt Winnie, clutching +her teacup with trembling hand. +“God save us, it’s Danny himself!”</p> +<p>“Nobody else,” said Dan, as he caught +her in a bearish hug and kissed the +withered cheek again and again. It +looked paler than when he had left her,—paler +and thinner; and there were +hollows under the patient eyes.</p> +<p>“But what are you doing here, Aunt +Win?” he asked in amazement.</p> +<p>“Just spending the day, Danny. Mrs. +Mulligan sent Molly for me this morning. +She wanted me to see her new +place, and to tell her what was to be +done with my bit of things. She is +thinking of renting her rooms, and my +things are in the way. They are fine +rooms, with rosebud paper on the walls, +and a porch looking out at the church +beyant; and she could be getting seven +dollars a month for them. But she’s got +the table and stove and beds, and all +our old furniture that nobody would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +want; so I’ve told her to send them off +to-morrow to sell for what they will +bring. Sure” (and the old voice trembled) +“we’ll never have any call for them +again, Danny lad,—never again.”</p> +<p>“Oh, we won’t?” said Danny, with another +hug that came near doing for teacup +completely. “Just take back your +orders quick as you can, Aunt Winnie, +I’m renting those rooms right now.”</p> +<p>“Sure, Danny,—Danny boy, have ye +come back with a fever on ye?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” grinned Dan,—“regular gold +fever, Aunt Winnie! Look at that!” He +clapped the twenty dollar gold piece into +Aunt Winnie’s trembling hand. +“That’s for you, Aunt Winnie,—that’s +to rent those pink-flowered rooms.”</p> +<p>“Sure it’s mad the poor boy is entirely!” +cried Aunt Winnie, as Mrs. +Mulligan and Molly came hurrying out +on the porch.</p> +<p>“Do I look it?” asked Dan, laughing +into their startled faces.</p> +<p>“Ye don’t,” said Mrs. Mulligan. “But +spake out plain, and don’t be bewildering +the poor woman, Danny Dolan.”</p> +<p>And then Danny spoke out as plain +as his breathless eagerness would permit, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +and told the story of the “pension.”</p> +<p>“It will be thirty-five dollars a month, +Captain Carleton says; he’d have to +throw in the five to poor old Nutty for +grog and tobacco.”</p> +<p>“Ah, God save us,—God save us!” +was all Aunt Winnie could murmur, +tearfully.</p> +<p>“And I guess thirty-five dollars will +run those rosebud rooms of yours pretty +safe and slick; won’t they, Mrs. Mulligan? +So put Aunt Winnie and me +down as tenants right off.”</p> +<p>“I will,—I will!” answered Mrs. Mulligan, +joyfully. “Sure my heart was +like lead in my breast at the thought of +giving up yer bit of things, Miss Winnie. +But now,—now come along, Molly +girl, and we’ll be fixing the rooms, this +minute. What’s the good of yer going +back to the Sisters at all?” And Mrs. +Mulligan put a motherly arm around +Aunt Winnie’s trembling form. “Give +her another cup of tea, Molly; for she’s +all done up with joy at having her own +home and her own boy again, thank +God for that same!”</p> +<p>And then, leaving dear Aunt Winnie +to this good friend’s tender ministrations, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +Dan kept on his way to St. Andrew’s, +taking a flying leap over the college +wall to the sunset walk, where perhaps +he would find Father Mack saying +his Office. He was not mistaken: his +old friend was there, walking slowly under +the arching trees. His face kindled +into light as he stretched out a trembling +hand.</p> +<p>“I thought perhaps you would come +here, my boy,” he said. “I was just +thanking God, Danny. Brother Bart +has told us the good news. It is all +right, as I hoped and prayed,—all right, +as I <i>knew</i> it would be, Danny. Now tell +me, yourself, all about this wonderful +blessing.”</p> +<p>And again this father and son sat +down upon the broken grave slab, and +Danny told Father Mack all.</p> +<p>“Ah, it is the good God’s hand!” the +old priest said softly. “But this is only +the start, my son. The climb is still +before you,—a climb that may lead over +steeps sharp and rough as the rocks of +Killykinick.”</p> +<p>But the fading light seemed to aureole +Father Mack’s silvery head as he spoke.</p> +<p>“You will keep on and up,—on and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span> +up; for God is calling you, my son,—calling +you to heights where He leads +His own—heights which as yet you can +not see.”</p> +<p>The speaker laid his hand upon Dan’s +head in benediction that thrilled the +boy’s heart to its deepest depths,—a +benediction that he never forgot; for it +was Father Mack’s last. Only a few +days later the college bell’s solemn note, +sounding over the merry greetings of +the gathering students, told that for the +good old priest all the lessons of life +were over.</p> +<p>And Dan, climbing sturdily up the +heights at his saintly guide’s bidding, +has found the way, so far, smoothed +and softened beyond his hopes by his +summer at Killykinick. Even his +stumbling-stone Dud was removed to +another college, his father having been +ordered to a Western post. With Jim +and Freddy as his friends, all the “high-steppers,” +old and young, of St. Andrew’s +were ready to welcome him into +rank and line. And, with Aunt Winnie +as administratrix of Captain Carleton’s +pension “there isn’t a dacinter-looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +boy in the college,” as Mrs. Mulligan +stoutly declares.</p> +<p>How Aunt Winnie stretched out that +pension only the Irish fairies, or perhaps +the Irish angels, know. The little pink-flowered +rooms have blossomed out into +a very bower of comfort and cheer. +There are frilly curtains at the windows, +a rosy-hued lamp, and a stand of +growing plants always in bloom. There +are always bread and cheese and apple +sauce, or something equally “filling,” +for hungry boys to eat.</p> +<p>And when Aunt Winnie was fairly +settled, who should appear but Miss +Stella, who had come to nurse a dear old +friend near by,—Miss Stella, who dropped +in most naturally in her off hours to +chat with dear old Aunt Winnie and +take a cup of tea! And Freddy’s daddy, +who had plunged into life and law business +with zest, often brought his big automobile +round to take Freddy for a +spin after study hours, and called on the +way very frequently to take Miss Stella +home.</p> +<p>It was on one of those bright afternoons +that they all went to look at the +new house that was going up on a wooded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span> +hillside not very far from the college—the +house that was to be Freddy’s +long-wished-for home. It had been a lot +of fun watching it grow. Now it was +nearly done,—the big pillared porch +ready for its climbing roses; the pretty +rooms waiting their rugs and curtains; +the great stone chimney, that was to be +the heart and life of things, rising in +the center of all.</p> +<p>“My! but this in fine!” said Freddy, +who had not seen this crowning touch +before. “Let’s light it up, daddy,—let’s +light it up and see how it burns.”</p> +<p>And, dashing out for an armful of +wood left by the builders, Freddy soon +had a glorious blaze on the new hearthstone,—a +blaze that, blending with the +sunset streaming through the west windows, +made things bright indeed.</p> +<p>“This is great!” said Freddy. “And +when we have the chairs and tables +and cushions and curtains—who is +going to pick out the cushions and curtains, +dad?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I suppose we can have them sent +up from the store!” answered dad, anticipating +such matters by pushing up a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span> +big packing box to the fire, to serve as +a seat for their smiling guest.</p> +<p>“Oh, can’t you do it, daddy?”</p> +<p>“George! no! I wouldn’t know a curtain +from a rug, my boy!”</p> +<p>“And you don’t know about dishes or +cups, or pans to make gingerbread,” continued +Freddy, the glow fading from +his face as he realized all these masculine +disabilities.</p> +<p>“Not a thing,” was dad’s reply.</p> +<p>“Gee!” said Freddy, in a much +troubled voice. “We’ll be right bad off +for a real home, after all, daddy.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps we can find a nice old black +mammy who will take care of us all,” +observed daddy, his eyes twinkling almost +as they used to twinkle in the days +of little Boy Blue.</p> +<p>“Yes, I suppose we can,” said Freddy, +with a wistful little sigh, “I suppose +that is what we will <i>have</i> to do, daddy. +But I wish—it’s going to be such +a pretty house every other way,—I +wish we could have a pretty lady to sit +at the head of the table and pour our +tea.”</p> +<p>“Would <i>I</i> do, Freddy?” asked Miss +Stella, stealing a soft little hand into his. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span></p> +<p>“You, Miss Stella,—<i>you</i>,—<i>you</i>?” +gasped Freddy. “Oh, that would be +rip-roaring, sure enough! But you +couldn’t,—you wouldn’t!”</p> +<p>“I might,” was the low answer; and +Miss Stella arose and drew little Boy +Blue to her loving heart. “I might come +if you want me very much, Freddy,—so +I promised daddy last night.”</p> +<p>“For there is no real right home +without a mother, son,” said daddy; and +his arm went around to meet Miss +Stella’s until Freddy was locked in their +double clasp. And, looking from one +glad face to the other, a thousand rainbows +seemed to burst upon his troubled +sky, and little Boy Blue understood.</p> +<p>So there was a wedding in the little +church at Beach Cliff when the hydrangeas +were in bloom the next summer,—a +wedding that drew the Forester clan +from far and near. Even the two +grandmothers, after they had inspected +the Neville family tree through their +lorgnettes, declared their satisfaction +that Stella was going to do the proper +thing at last.</p> +<p>Daddy was the daddy of old times, +before the dark clouds of doubt and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span> +despair had gathered around him and +he had drifted about, the derelict Mr. +Wirt; while Miss Stella, veiled in soft +mists of tulle, looked what she had been, +to him, what she would ever be to him—his +guiding star. Polly, who was the +only bridesmaid (for so Marraine would +have it), carried a basket of flowers as +big as herself; Father Tom said the +Nuptial Mass; and Freddy stood at daddy’s +side, the very happiest of “best +men.” And Dan who was off on his +summer vacation at Killykinick, came +down in the “Sary Ann,” with Captain +Jeb slicked up for the occasion in real +“store clothes.” And there was a wonderful +wedding feast at the Forester +home, with a cake three stories high, +and three tables full of wedding presents; +Captain Carleton’s diamond star, +that he <i>would</i> send, shining with dazzling +light among the rest.</p> +<p>And, then, such a house-warming followed +as surpassed Freddy’s wildest +dreams with a real fire leaping on the +hearth, with the rugs and curtains and +cushions just right; for Miss Stella (or +Marraine as she chose that Freddy +should call her,—for, as she said, “Your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +own dear mother is in heaven, my boy”),—Miss +Stella had picked them all out +herself. And Father Tom beamed happily +on his reconstructed family; and +the Fathers and Brothers and boys +from St. Andrew’s dropped in without +ceremony; for Marraine had welcome +for all, now that she was a fixed star in +her real home and her real place.</p> +<p>Though dear Aunt Winnie has dropped +at least ten years of her life, and +old Neb’s whale oil has done more for +her rheumatism than all the store medicines +she ever tried; though more joy +and comfort has come into these sunset +years than she ever dared hope, she still +sits on her little porch in the evening, +with a look in her old eyes that tells she +is dreaming.</p> +<p>“What do you see, Aunt Win?” asked +Dan one evening as after a tough pull +up the Hill of Knowledge, he bounded +up the Mulligan stairs to drop at her +feet and lay his head in her lap.</p> +<p>“Sure it’s not for an old woman to +spake, Danny dear!” she answered +again as of old. “It’s too great, too +high. What was it that holy saint, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span> +Father Mack, said to you, alanna? +Sometimes I forget the words.”</p> +<p>“That it would be a hard climb for +me against winds and storms,” said +Dan. “And, golly, it will! I am finding +that out myself, Aunt Win.”</p> +<p>“Go on, lad! There was more,—there +was more,” said the old woman, eagerly.</p> +<p>After a moment’s pause, Dan added, +in a voice that had grown low and reverent:</p> +<p>“That God was calling me to His own. +And, Aunt Win,—Aunt Win” (there +was a new light in the blue eyes uplifted +to her face), “I am finding that out, +too.”</p> +<p>But it is a long way to the starlit +heights of Aunt Winnie’s dream,—a +long, hard way, as Danny knows. We +leave him climbing sturdily on over its +rocky steeps and sunlit stretches, but +finding many a sunlit resting place on +the way. Brightest of all these to Danny +is Killykinick, where he goes every +summer to spend a happy holiday,—to +boat, to swim, to fish, to be “matey” +again with the two old men, who look +for his coming as the joy of the year.</p> +<p>“It’s hurrah! hurrah, Aunt Win!” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span> +wrote jubilantly one glad summer day. +“Your Danny is at work before time, +doing a little missionary business already. +Two real true converts, Aunt +Win,—baptized yesterday! It was the +‘Padre’s preaching’ that set Jeb thinking +first, and then he got hold of some +of Great-uncle Joe’s books. I sort of +took a hand, and altogether we’ve got +the dear old chaps into the fold. Peter +and Andrew,—they chose the names +themselves, even good old Neb’s dull +wits seeming to wake at his Master’s +call. Brother Bart’s prayers for his +old friends have been answered. The +Light is shining on Killykinick, Aunt +Win,—the Light is shining on Killykinick!”</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KILLYKINICK ***</div> +</body> +</html> |