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diff --git a/old/62288-0.txt b/old/62288-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1c992c4..0000000 --- a/old/62288-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4998 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Billy To-morrow, by Sarah Pratt Carr - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Billy To-morrow - -Author: Sarah Pratt Carr - -Illustrator: Charles M. Relyea - -Release Date: May 31, 2020 [EBook #62288] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BILLY TO-MORROW *** - - - - -Produced by David Garcia, Larry B. Harrison, David E. -Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -BILLY TO-MORROW - - - - -_By the same Author_ - - - THE IRON WAY. A Tale of the Builders of the West. With four - illustrations by John W. Norton. _Fifth edition._ Large 12mo, $1.50. - - -A. C. MCCLURG & CO. - -PUBLISHERS - -[Illustration: BILLY] - - - - - BILLY TO-MORROW - - BY - SARAH PRATT CARR - AUTHOR OF “THE IRON WAY” - - _ILLUSTRATED BY_ - CHARLES M. RELYEA - - [Illustration] - - CHICAGO - A. C. McCLURG & CO. - 1909 - - - - - COPYRIGHT - A C McCLURG & CO. - 1909 - - Published September 4, 1909 - - - The Lakeside Press - R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY - CHICAGO - - - - - To One Boy, - strong, buoyant, and true, - generously loved, yet more generously loving, - this book is affectionately - dedicated. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE LITTLE EARTHQUAKE GIRL 1 - - II. THE SATURDAY GANG 22 - - III. THE SURPRISE 47 - - IV. THE TWO-LIGHT TIME 64 - - V. “THE FAIR ELLEN” 82 - - VI. “THE TRIUMPH OF FLORA” 96 - - VII. THE FIGHT 112 - - VIII. ON STORMY SEAS 128 - - IX. RED GOOSE FLESH 138 - - X. SIR THOMAS KATZENSTEIN 149 - - XI. GOOD-NIGHT IN THE FO’CASTLE 156 - - XII. THE CIRCUS 170 - - XIII. THE HIDDEN HUT 185 - - XIV. IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 196 - - XV. AGAINST THE FIRE 207 - - XVI. THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY 228 - - XVII. BILLY TO-DAY 240 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - Billy _Frontispiece_ - - The little earthquake girl 18 - - “What’s the matter with Billy To-morrow?” 44 - - Jimmy sprang for her 94 - - A faint sound caught his ear 118 - - May Nell plays teacher 140 - - “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” 200 - - She scudded across the bending board 236 - - - - -BILLY TO-MORROW - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE LITTLE EARTHQUAKE GIRL - - -As Billy Bennett wheeled around the corner he saw his mother in the -doorway. Also he saw Jean Hammond across the street speaking with Bess -Carter,--the Queen of Sheba, the children called her, she was so large -and dark and handsome, and had such a royal way, like a sure ’nough -queen, one said. Though why children who had never been out of Vine -County should know so much about queens no one thought to ask. - -Billy suspected his mother was waiting for him; he must hurry, he -thought. Yet he couldn’t resist showing off a bit. He bent over his -wheel, went by the girls with a rush and a “Hello!” made a neat turn, -wheeled a figure “8” around a team or two, shouted, “Don’t frame up -anything there!” as he passed a second time, and whizzed through the -arch in his own high hedge with one wheel in the air. - -He swung his book-strap in greeting to his mother while rolling more -slowly up the rose-bordered path to the veranda. He thought his -mother’s face looked tired; but the smile there welcomed him warmly, -and he forgot the tired look with her first words. - -“I’m sorry to make you late with your mowing, Billy, but I must have -you go out to Mrs. Prettyman’s for some cream she promised me.” - -“Do you need it right away?” Billy stood his wheel against the steps -and flung his books on the porch table. - -“Not till evening; but there’s the lawn.” - -“I’ll mow in the morning. Let me stay and visit Pretty--Harold, I -mean--till sundown; can’t I, mamma?” He patted her cheek with a vigor -that made her wink. “You know you can’t refuse your darling boy,” he -wheedled. - -In spite of her smile there was a tinge of gravity in her silent moment -of consideration. “Very well, Billy. You know how short Saturday is, -and that to-morrow you’ll wish you’d cut the grass to-day. Yet I leave -it to you; do as you like.” - -The boy gave her a squeeze that made her last words come in jerks. -“That’s a mean trick to play on a fellow,--chuck such a responsibility -on a twelve-year-old. Say I must or I mustn’t, mamma.” He caught her -hand and gently tweaked her fingers. - -“You are not a baby, my son; you’ll soon be a man, and it’s time you -did your own thinking. Don’t be late for dinner.” - -Billy took the can she held toward him, and made a face that was half -fun, half discontent, yet not unloving. As his mother turned indoors he -noticed again that she was pale, and that her shoulders drooped; and -a sudden heat rose in his heart against the widowhood and poverty that -made it necessary for her to work so hard. When he grew to be a man, he -told himself, he would buy her a diamond ring and a silk dress; and she -should sit all day in the big rocking chair and work no more. - -To-day his mother’s words had left a pang. He would soon be a man and -have to “think for himself.” Yes, and work, too. “Gee whiz! It’ll be -tough not to play any more,” he exclaimed under his breath as he bowled -along the tree-lined road that led to the Prettyman farm. - -In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms -in conjunction, Billy,--and it was unusual for him,--more than once -recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding -Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above -the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of -the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was -surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill -road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river -where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island. - -A certain wide lawn, starred with white clover and daisies came -unwelcome to his mind. He ought that moment to be chopping off clover -tops. - -“Jiminy! I’ll have time in the morning,” he said aloud, and hurried -on, not slackening his speed till he came to a sharp turn that took -the road against the face of a rugged mountain. He hid his wheel and -can in a tangle of rose vine and snowdrop, and stood out on the edge -of the steep bluff that overhung the rushing river. There bloomed -the island. Near the centre a rocky point was aflame with gorgeous -poppies; and Billy could smell the fragrance of the snowy wild -heliotrope,--pop-corn the children called it. - -The water would soon be low enough, he decided, though the end of the -suspension foot-bridge hung very near surface. The rains had come in -a sudden flood that year, delaying sport he had planned, in which the -island was to play an important part. - -He went on, a little cautiously now, and shortly came in view of -the “Ha’nt,” a sinister though imposing house, built of cut stone, -close against the face of the most picturesque mountain of the range, -bounding Vina Valley. The windows were curtained with cobwebs and -dust. For years the wide front door had been nailed up with the same -sun-bleached boards; and “Keep out!” spoke from every gray splinter. - -Billy knew by sight the two Italians who lived there, brothers yet -enemies. Each dwelt by himself in a corner of the great building. Each -cultivated alone his share of the straggling vineyard on the heights -above, too steep and rocky for a plough; though the lush acres on the -river bottom went fallow. If either overstepped his bounds they fought. -Billy had seen one of these encounters; and the fierce fire in their -dark faces, the passion in the foreign words they spoke,--oaths the boy -felt they must be,--sent him flying home, tinged his dreams for many a -night. - -He was not more inquisitive than other boys, yet the mystery, the many -uncanny tales told of the old house, fired him with a desire to know -its secrets. Long before he was born a murder had left its stain there. -The owners, suspected but unconvicted, moved away; and for years the -house stared vacantly at passers. The coming of the Italians had only -increased its bad name. Late travellers on the lonely road declared -that shadowy forms and flickering lights passed the lower windows and -down into the cavernous basement; yet no sounds ever came from behind -the barred doors. - -Rational people laughed at these stories, declared them the fancies of -brains fuddled by too long a stay at the saloons in town. But Billy was -not so easily satisfied. He wished to see for himself those shadowy -forms; to prove to the small, scared children that, contrary to general -belief, the brothers sometimes had guests. And he had a queer feeling -that some way the house would have a place in his life. He admired -its gloomy grandeur; planned the additions he would make if it were -his own, and the gardens, the hedges of roses, and banks of fragrant -smilax, that should grow there. - -Now he crept through the brush by the roadside till he came close under -the west wall. The setting sun blazed red fire at him from the windows, -reminding him sharply of the hour. - -“Golly! Wish’t I had time to stay an’ watch. But I won’t, Betsey; I’ll -go right now.” - -Billy at work or at play was so absorbed that it was hard for him -to measure time; and he had a queer notion that it was some other -intelligence beside his own will that reminded him, often too late, of -duties waiting. This he named Betsey; and among the children Betsey -came to stand for Billy’s conscience. - -Up on the hillside one of the brothers still plied the hoe; and now -the other came from the back door and walked down the road with his -milk can in his hand. Billy had “the creeps” for a minute, and cowered -closer; but no one saw him. Now was the time! He would never have such -a chance again. - -“You keep still, Betsey! I’m going to watch!” he exclaimed, as if some -one had spoken. - -Cautiously he crept nearer the door, stopping at each step to listen, -to look again at the worker above. He was at the very corner of the -house when voices sounded from within. He started, his breath coming -quicker. He caught no words, but knew by the “ginger” in the tones -that the speakers were angry. Shuffling steps came up the stairway and -turned toward the rear. - -The boy scudded lightly across the narrow open space to the shelter of -a manzanita tree, and looked back again; but no one appeared. Did he -still hear the softly quarrelling voices? He fancied so. The sudden dip -of the sun behind a hill darkened the scene threateningly, and brought -a return of “the creeps.” - -It was not the hour for ghosts, they must be real people. Billy -encouraged himself with that thought and wished he could wait for -further disclosures. Did the sun ever before go down so fast? He -hastened to find his wheel and can, and set out at his best pace. - -As he came into the main road a rosy, wholesome looking girl was -flying by. “Hello, Jean!” he called after her; “that’s going some--for -a girl.” - -She turned back and rode up by his side. “Why shouldn’t a girl ride as -fast as a boy?” She had a bright, frank face, and her brown eyes were -as honest as they were beautiful. - -“Oh, I s’pose she can, only a fellow doesn’t expect it of her. How came -you out here? I thought you’d be watching for refugees.” - -“That’s what I’m hurrying for. Mamma sent me on an errand to Mrs. -Black’s and I want to be back at the station in time to see the train -come in. I wish we were going to have a refugee. Wasn’t the earthquake -awful?” - -“Yes. And the fire worse. Why can’t you have a refugee?” - -“Our house isn’t big enough.” - -“I guess ours’ll be a grown-up chap; but I wish he’d be a boy my size. -How do you guess poor old San Francisco looks to-day?” - -“Oh, Billy, don’t ask me. I can’t bear to think of it. But I almost -forgot,--your mother said if I saw you to tell you to go by the store -and get a loaf of bread. There’s the train!” - -The whistle shrilled up the narrow valley, echoing back and forth from -the steep green hills that bounded it. - -“She’s at Vine Hill--miles away; we’ll beat her if we hurry.” His words -were a bit breathless. - -Off they bounded, side by side, through the fragrant spring evening. -The red of the western sky touched to brighter rosiness their glowing -cheeks, tinted Jean’s wind-blown hair with gold. As they neared the -town she shot ahead in a last ambitious spurt, wheeled and faced him as -he came up. - -“Anything else you can do better than a girl?” she jeered, -good-naturedly. - -“Try a mile with this can and see where you come out in the race.” - -“Why have you been away out in the country for milk?” - -“This milk happens to be cream. I’ve been wondering what kind of a -dessert will take all this.” - -Jean hid a queer little smile that she could not repress. - -“I’ll wrestle with you first chance,” he challenged; “but you wouldn’t -have any show, your dress is so long. Why do you have ’em so?” - -Jean’s face fell, and she didn’t look at Billy when she spoke. “My -mother says I mustn’t wrestle any more.” - -“Why, I wonder? She used to watch us at it and laugh.” - -“Yes; but--oh, Billy, it’s awful to have to grow up and be proper. I -begged mamma not to put my dresses down, but I’m past thirteen, and big -as she is. And--” - -“That’s no giant. She isn’t bigger’n a kid. Will she let you come to -play? The Gang’s coming to-morrow.” - -“Yes, I can come. Shall I bring Clarence, too?” - -“Sure. All the kids. But Clarence especially,--he’s my son, you know.” -Billy grinned. - -“And just worships you. Is your lawn mowed?” - -“No; I’ll do it first thing to-morrow.” He tried vainly to change the -subject. “I--” - -“Oh, Billy To-morrow! You won’t have half time enough to play. You’re a -regular Mexican,--always _mañana_!” - -When the train snorted into the station the two were there, Billy with -his loaf under his arm, his can dangling. Most of the arrivals were -townsfolk home from visits to the stricken city; but a few, evidently -strangers, descended and stood by themselves. - -“That bunch with the tickets, them’s the refugees,” Billy whispered to -Jean. “See? Mr. Patton’s talking to them. Mr. Brown’s going to take ’em -to their places in his hack. I wonder which is ours. Jiminy! See how -hard that poor little kid’s trying to bluff her tears!” - -He indicated a fair-haired child, a baby in size, though her face gave -hint of more years than her slender body. She wore woman’s shoes, and -one was torn; a draggled skirt pinned up in front and trailing behind; -and a folded sheet drawn around her shoulders. Yet no incongruity -of dress could disguise the refined beauty of her face, or of her -uncovered hair. - -A kindly man held her by the hand, yet he was evidently a stranger to -her. - -“Billy, ask Mr. Patton to let her come to your house! There aren’t any -boys.” Jean’s voice trembled with eagerness. - -“Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to -Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward. - -Mr. Patton, who “placed” the refugees, was glad of Billy’s request, for -the child’s struggle for self-control had touched him; and he knew no -one would be a kinder mother to her than Mrs. Bennett. - -Billy hurried away, and arrived at his home before the hack, bread and -cream safe in spite of threatened dangers. - -“Ma! Mamma Bennett,” he burst out as he banged open the door; “she’s -coming,--our little earthquake girl! The cutest kid,--not so big as the -twins, but stylisher in the face.” - -Mrs. Bennett was setting the table. She put down a pile of plates, and -a new anxiety came into her careworn face. “A child? I told Mr. Patton -I couldn’t take one.” - -“But I asked for her, mamma.” Billy’s voice lost its exuberance. His -mother never had looked so tired, he thought for the second time that -day. - -“Oh, Billy, how could you, when mother has so much to do?” It was his -sister, Edith, who spoke, her sweet face clouded with rare disapproval. -Yet she went on with the music lesson she was giving. - -“I’ll help a lot. You shan’t have a bit more trouble, sister; nor -mamma, either.” He began to distribute the plates with noisy clatter. - -“She’ll be afraid to sleep in the downstairs bedroom,” Mrs. Bennett -reflected, planning rapidly for the unexpected child whom she still had -no thought of turning from her door. - -“Put her in my room and give me the Fo’castle; I’ve always wanted to -bunk there.” - -“She may come with me, mother,” Edith said, pausing in the lesson with -finger uplifted on the beat; “Billy mustn’t go into that bleak tank -house.” - -Mrs. Bennett crossed the room and laid a tender hand on her daughter’s -shoulder. “You’re not strong and need perfect rest. Besides, you -spoil the boy. It won’t hurt him to sleep there, and he must take the -consequences of his own act.” - -“Yet let him sleep downstairs,” Edith persisted. - -“No, no, the Fo’castle! I--Here they come!” Billy set down some cups -with dangerous haste and ran out. - -[Illustration: The little earthquake girl] - -In spite of noise and heedlessness there was something fine and true -about Billy; something that made old Bouncer whine when left behind; -something that called the kittens to rub against his legs; that made -the little children at school adore him, and men and women smile -heartily when they greeted him. It was this mysterious something that -brought a wan smile to the small tired face and tired eyes that looked -confidingly into his blue ones. He lifted her carefully down from -the carriage, and led her up the walk to where his mother and sister -came to meet them. - -“Your nose is out of joint, Edith! I’ve got a new sister.” But his eyes -belied his blunt words. - -“Yes, you shall be our dear little girl.” Mrs. Bennett took the forlorn -child in her motherly arms and kissed her. “You’re tired and hungry, -too, aren’t you?” - -“Yes, thank you. But most my heart is hungry. Will you help me to find -my mama?” - -The quaint words seemed incongruous for so small a child, as did her -self-control; and the accent on the last syllable of “mama” made her -seem almost foreign to Billy. Yet he admired her anew as she tried to -hold still her trembling lips, to restrain her tears; as she threw up -her head, winked hard, and felt vainly for a handkerchief. - -“Here, you poor darling, take mine! And don’t be afraid--you’ll find -your mother before long.” Edith’s words were brave, but her own eyes -were moist. - -“First you must eat, and rest, so that you can tell us about your -mother; then we’ll see what can be done.” Mrs. Bennett took the child -into the pleasant living-room where Billy had put a fourth place at the -table next his own. - -“Say, little kid, what’s your name?” he asked, merrily, as he routed a -great white cat from his own chair and placed it before the fire for -the child. - -“Mary Ellen Smith; but my mama calls me May Nell; and she says--she -says ‘kid’ is vulgar.” The last words were very shy. - -“The child may eclipse you in refining Billy’s language,” Mrs. Bennett -said, with a smile, aside to Edith; and went into the kitchen to “dish -up” the dinner. - -Edith finished her music lesson, dismissed her pupil, and made the -little girl tidy if comical, in one of her own frocks. And when the -four sat to eat, Billy’s voice rang above the rest in the little song -they sang in lieu of grace. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SATURDAY GANG - - -The place Billy called the Fo’castle was a tiny room in the sloping -windmill tower. It was level with the second floor of the house, and a -narrow, railed bridge connected it with a door in his mother’s room. -Under it was the above-ground cellar, overhead the big tank. Still -higher whirled the great white wings that pumped the beauty-giving -water to lawn and gardens. - -The little room was rude and bare, but Billy loved it. He thought the -massive beams like the ribs of a ship, and planned to hang between -them all his ship pictures. Anything relating to the sea fired his -imagination. It gave him a sense of manliness to sleep there alone; -and when the heavier gusts of night wind rocked the tower, and each -revolution of the big wheel splashed the water against the tank, -as waves lap a ship’s side, he dreamed himself on the ocean, called -himself “Captain.” - -He woke early the next morning. This was rare for him; he usually slept -like a bear in midwinter. Perhaps the creaking of the windmill all -through the night made his slumber light. Another noise had disturbed -him, the sewing machine. Its whirr had come up to him from the open -window of the living-room. He knew mother and sister were sewing hard, -that on the morrow the poor little stranger might be suitably clad. -_He_ had brought upon them this extra work! And this was only the -beginning. If the child’s mother was not found they must buy clothes as -well as food; and this would take a lot of his sister’s money. - -“Jiminy! If they don’t let me work this vacation, I’ll have to run -away,” he thought as, through the uncurtained window, he watched the -evening star sink below the western hills. While he was wondering if -people lived in the star he fell asleep; yet waked later to hear the -busy machine. - -“Golly! They’re working all night. I--ought to--help--to-morrow. I--” -He slept again with his good resolution half made. - -Yet the impression of the night had been deep enough to wake him before -the sun rose. He dressed quickly, astonished the chickens with an early -breakfast; put fresh sand in the coop; climbed the windmill tower to -oil the bearings of the big wheel; and put the lawn mower in order, but -remembered in time that to use it would wake the sleepers. - -What more might he do to hasten the Saturday work? He could not chop -the kindling or fill the wood boxes. The weeding! It was behind. Both -mother and sister had reminded him repeatedly, but he had forgotten. -Only yesterday his sister had made tidy the flower beds that flanked -the house; but the melons, the vegetables,--they were not done, and -that would make no noise. - -The Bennetts’ was one of the oldest places in town, and the most -beautiful. It was near the heart of the growing village ambitiously -calling itself a city. Level lawns protected by high hedges and shaded -by many trees, spread amply around the house and back to the first -terrace, where a tangle of berry vines covered trellises that shut off -a lower level devoted to vegetables. Beyond this was the chickens’ -domain, rock-dotted acres that sloped sharply to where Runa Creek -boiled over its stony bed. Here mother hens fluttered and scolded while -web-footed broods paddled in the edges of the stream. - -Once Billy’s attention was fixed he was as earnest at work as at play. -He slaughtered the weeds rapidly, and had several clean beds behind him -when his mother called him to breakfast. - -“What happened to you, Billy?” she asked when he entered the kitchen. -“For a second I was frightened when I went to wake you and found you -gone.” - -“Thought I’d eloped? I ought to when I’ve brought you an extra mouth to -feed.” He was splashing and spluttering in the lavatory off the kitchen. - -“Never mind, son; we expected to take some one.” - -“Yes; but some one who could take care of himself. And you didn’t -expect to open dressmaking parlors.” - -“No matter, Billy. I think she was sent to us; and we shall find a way. -Are the chickens fed?” - -“Yes, long ago. And, mamma, you needn’t ask me that every morning; I’m -going to remember. Truly!” he added, as he came toward her, rosy and -shining, and saw her doubtful smile. “The vegetables are most weeded, -too.” - -Mrs. Bennett put down the pan of batter-cake dough and gave him his -good-morning kiss. His head was level with hers. “Thank you, my big -boy. Mother will soon have a man to look to. Go in and get your -breakfast; you must be nearly famished.” - -“Yes, I could eat a graven image.” - -“I hope my breakfast won’t be quite so--” - -“Rocky?” he interrupted. “You bet not. It’ll be just bully, that’s -what!” - -“Oh, Billy!” she said, despairingly; and he knew in spite of her smile -that she disliked his words. “The little girl is looking for you. She -is lonely; you must amuse her.” - -Billy was suddenly overcome with bashfulness when the child, quite -composed, came forward to meet him. A bath, a shampoo, and new clothes -had transformed her from a tangled, smudged little girl to a lovely -miss with a high-bred air foreign to the childish manners Billy -understood. He recognized Edith’s gown in the pretty frock mother and -daughter had sat late to make over; but the neat ties and hose, all the -little things it takes to make a girl look pretty, where had they come -from? - -“Aren’t you going to say ‘Good-morning’ to me, Billy?” She put out the -slenderest little white hand, and looked into his face appealingly. - -“Of course I am,” he replied promptly, with a squeeze of her hand that -made her wince. “At first I was scared; I thought you must be a fairy.” - -“Oh, no, not a fairy; only Cinderella. Last night I was the poor little -cinder girl; now my fairy godmothers, two, have touched me with their -wands, needles, and I’m so fine even the Prince didn’t know me.” - -“Well, the Prince will see that the glass slipper’s tied fast. He’s got -no ‘Ho, minions!’ to hunt for you if you turn Cinderella again.” He -stooped and fastened her tie. - -She clapped her hands. “Oh, I’m glad you like fairies, too. Do you know -about Bagdad and Semiramide and Good King Arthur and Ivanhoe, and all -the other beautiful things in the world?” she asked, breathlessly. - -“Dear me, mother,” Edith said when Mrs. Bennett came in with hot cakes, -“what shall we do with two children in dreamland?” Edith had not -touched her breakfast, but was waiting on the others. - -“Three you should say. Don’t you live in the dreamland of music? Eat -your own breakfast, or you’ll be late for the train.” - -“Train? Is she going away?” The small girl’s face grew sorrowful. - -“Only for a day, dear. I’ll be back to-night.” - -“She has a music class in Loma; and it isn’t dreamland, either, -teaching; but she has to earn grub for me, sister does.” The frank -statement of a truth he had grown accustomed to this morning roused a -feeling of shame, and he gazed steadily at his plate. - -“Don’t look so, brother,” Edith said as she kissed him good-bye; “the -‘grub’ is making a fine boy, and I’m proud of him.” Yet as she tied her -veil at the mirror she saw the cloud still lingering on his face. - -“Let him play to-day, mother,” she pleaded, when the two stepped into -the hall; “he can be a boy only once.” - -“But you work hard, and he should do his part. You are spending your -youth for us, and I’m glad he begins to see it.” They spoke softly, yet -Billy knew partly what they said; and it made him still more thoughtful. - -“You and Edith are fairies,” he said when his mother came again to the -room, “to rustle such pretty togs for the new sister in a night.” His -mother was piling his plate again with griddle cakes. - -“My conscience! You can’t eat all--” May Nell stopped, conscious of an -unkindness. But the boy only laughed; he was used to comments on his -appetite. - -“Good hearts need no fairy wings,” Mrs. Bennett replied to Billy -while she smiled at the little girl. “Jean told her mother about our -May Nell, and Mrs. Hammond came over with a generous lot of outgrown -things.” - -“But Jean’s two times as big as May Nell.” - -“Yes, now. Once she must have been about the same size, you know.” She -stood behind the child caressing her cheek. - -“What is the matter with your hand?” May Nell asked as she drew the -work-worn hand down and patted it. “It doesn’t feel like my mama’s. -And you have only one ring, a plain one. Are your others in the bank? -My mama has ever so many,--diamonds, rubies, and such a big sapphire, -perfectly exquisite! And they look elegant on her hand,--she has a -perfectly beautiful hand.” - -“There are other things besides gems, little girl.” Mrs. Bennett smiled -and began to clear the table. - -“Her hand would be as pretty as any one’s if she didn’t have to work so -hard,” Billy thought loyally; and promised himself again that the first -money he earned should buy his mother a diamond ring. - -“Take May Nell into the garden with you, Billy,” Mrs. Bennett said; “I -shall be busy with the Saturday work, and she will be happier in the -sunshine. And don’t speak of the earthquake,” she warned him aside; -“she must forget that as fast as possible.” - -Outside the spring warmth and fragrance enfolded the children as a -mantle, opening their hearts to each other. Billy showed his flock -of pigeons, his white chickens and the house where they roosted and -brought forth their fluffy broods. Old Bouncer barked and capered about -them; and the little girl tried to decide which cat was the prettiest, -white Flash watching for gophers in the green alfalfa, or Sir Thomas -Katzenstein, his yellow mate, basking in the sun. “He isn’t yellow like -any other cat I ever saw; he’s shaded so beautifully.” - -“Yes, sister says he’s rare, Persian or something; but I guess he’s -only a plain cat. He’s a lazy thing.” - -“Why doesn’t your mama have a man to take care of the grounds?” she -questioned after she had told him something of her parents and home. - -“She can’t, you know; she and sister have to work hard to make what we -spend now. I don’t do half enough myself.” - -“Giving music lessons isn’t work. I’d love to do that.” - -“You bet it’s work! ’Specially when she gets hold of a cub like me.” - -“‘You bet’ isn’t nice,” the child chid gently, and waited a moment -before continuing. “My papa won’t let my mama work. He went to South -America to get rich. When he comes back, he wrote in a letter to me, I -shall be as rich as a princess.” - -“My father didn’t let my mother work when he was alive; but he--he -died.” Billy bent lower over his weeding, and both were quiet. - -It was May Nell who first broke the silence. She had been thinking. “It -isn’t so very bad to have to work, is it? Your mama looks happier than -my mama does. She said she’d rather wear calico and work ever so hard, -and have papa at home, than be the richest, _richest_ without him. She -cries a lot--my mama does. And now--she’s crying--for me.” The last -word was a sob. - -“Here, here! You mustn’t do that,” Billy gently coaxed, rising and -taking her hand. “You’ll make me draw salt water, too. And it don’t -help, you know. I’ll tell you what--you can work some, gather the -flowers. I’ll show you how. Mother puts ’em fresh in all the rooms for -Sunday.” He bustled her up the terrace steps, brought scissors and -basket, and, starting her on her pleasant task, began to mow the lawn. - -“All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had -snipped a fragrant heap. - -“Yes. You see, she rents some of the rooms, and she says they must look -extra nice on Sunday so the men won’t mosey off to the saloons.” - -“‘Mosey’? Does that mean ‘little Moses’?” - -He had hardly recovered from his laugh when two little girls appeared -at the gateway. “There’s Twinnies! Come in, Kiddies, and see my new -sister,” he called, as they hesitated. - -“We came--we came to bring these,” one ventured timidly, and lifted one -end of the basket they carried between them. - -Billy peeped under the cover, not heeding the little girls’ protest. -“Golly, May Nell! The Queen of Sheba won’t be in it ’long side of you.” - -Mrs. Bennett heard anxiety in the voices of the visitors, and came out. - -“Mrs. Bennett, you must unpack it alone, mamma said.” - -“Alone, mamma said,” came the second voice. - -Mrs. Bennett seemed to know exactly what to do. She took out and -displayed to May Nell some of the generous gift of child’s wear sent by -Mrs. Dorr from the wardrobe of the twins, placed the basket within the -door, and introduced the children. Billy wondered what else might be in -the basket that made it “act so heavy; it couldn’t be shoes.” He looked -critically at May Nell’s small feet. - -“This is Evelyn Dorr, and Vilette, her sister,” Mrs. Bennett was saying. - -Billy laughed. “Mixed again, mamma. This is Vilette,” he drew one -bashful little girl nearer the stranger, “and _this_ is Evelyn, Echo, -we call her.” - -Mrs. Bennett smiled at her mistake and went in, while Billy took up his -mower. The girls looked at one another in the mute scrutiny children -bestow on newcomers, May Nell the least embarrassed of the three. - -“Are you as old as us? We’re seven,” Vilette said a bit loftily, as she -discovered herself taller than May Nell. - -“We’re seven,” came the echo. - -“Last November.” - -“Last November,” piped Evelyn. - -“I was ten in January, the twelfth,” May Nell replied, with no pride in -her tone; she was always older than those of her size. Yet she was not -prepared for the gasps and backward movement of the twins. - -“Ten? You won’t think of playing with us, then. Ma thought you’d be -just our age.” - -“Just our age.” - -The little stranger girl smiled winningly. Her childish companions -had not been numerous enough to justify her in drawing such close -lines; and she liked the sweet, half timid faces that always looked so -earnestly into her own. “Surely, I’ll play with you. I’ll come to see -you some time when Mrs. Bennett says I may.” - -A whoop startled her and she turned to see a handsome boy racing up on -a brown pony, also carrying a basket. - -“Hello, Billy To-morrow! Why didn’t you do that mowing last night? You -said you were going to.” He dismounted, tied the pony to the post, and -went inside; and one saw that in spite of jeers the boys were friends. - -“Something my mother sent yours. You mustn’t touch it,” he warned, as -Billy made a reach for it. “I was to land this safe in Mrs. Bennett’s -hands; and here goes!” He sprang from Billy’s outreached arms, ran into -the house and out again, before Billy had time to resume his mowing. - -“Say, it’s a donation party, isn’t it?” Billy did not see Harold wink -at the twins, but picked up his mower and started across the lawn at a -trot. - -“Here, let me do that,” Harold commanded; “you go and do the rest of -your work. We won’t get to play in all day. The Gang coming?” - -“Said so, but they’re late. We’ve got an addition, the little -earthquake girl.” This last was a sibilant aside. - -Harold turned and looked to where May Nell stood with the twins, -sorting her flowers. “Isn’t she a daisy, though? Little--why, she’s -only a baby.” - -“Look out! She’s ten, an’ never been to school; but she’s read more -things ’n you ’n me put together, Pretty. Knows ’em, too.” Billy -introduced the two in characteristic fashion and went within. - -“Mamma, Pretty’s finishing the lawn for me; can’t I rub the floors -right now? The Gang’s coming and we want to do a lot to-day.” - -“Never mind the floors, Billy. You’ve worked hard already; run off and -have a good time.” - -Another time he would have gone quickly enough, for he liked work as -little as the average boy, often shirked it; though when he forgot -himself in his task, the joy of doing it well held him to it. But May -Nell’s coming and the added expense still troubled him; and it was a -resolute face he turned to his mother. “No, mamma, you shan’t get down -on your marrow bones to these old floors. It’s only me that needs to go -on the knees, you know.” His eyes twinkled. - -He knew it was he and his friends who were never denied “the run of the -house,” that brought in most of the gray film that settled so quickly -on the dark floors; it was not fair to leave this back-aching task -to his mother. He hustled out the rugs, found dusting cloth, wax, and -rubber, and set vigorously at it, working so fast that he was nearly -finished when she returned to the room. - -“That’s enough, Billy. Jimmy Dorr and George Packard are coming.” She -was a sensible woman, yet she disliked to expose her boy to Jimmy’s -caustic tongue. But Billy was equal to more than Jimmy. - -“Let ’em come. What do I care for Sour ’n Shifty? I’ll never desert -Micawber this near success.” He rubbed on calmly, and the two boys came -in at the open door. - -“Hello, Billy! You washin’ floors?” There was a sneer in Jimmy’s voice. - -“Sure.” Billy looked up from all fours and grinned. “I haven’t got -two able-bodied sisters like Vilette an’ Echo to work for me; and you -wouldn’t have me see my mother do it, would you?” - -Mrs. Bennett did not know, as her son did, that the retort touched a -sore fact. Jimmy’s eyes darkened with the look that had earned for him -the name of “Sour.” Yet in spite of this he had a fine, strong face. - -Billy went on with his rubbing, and his next words were comically -resigned. “Besides, I suppose I’ll have to get married some day; of -course she’ll be a new woman; might as well learn housework now.” - -Jimmy’s face lost its scorn. Someway the sting of his sarcasm never -seemed to touch Billy, who could always strike back a surer if less -venomous blow. Perhaps that was the very reason why Jimmy, though -larger and older, sought Billy and heeded him as he did no other save -his own stern father. - -“You don’t catch Billy asleep,” said George, siding with the victorious. - -“We must go right back,” Jimmy declared, turning to the door of the -kitchen and thrusting a package within. - -“Tremendous long visit,” Billy taunted; “what’d you come for? Another -donation for my new sister?” - -George nudged Jimmy. “Hit again, Sour. Come on.” The two boys went out, -mysteriously embarrassed. - -Billy went to the door and looked after them. No one was in sight. -Harold, the twins, and May Nell, too, were gone. What could it mean? He -looked back at the clock. Nearly ten. Usually the Gang gathered earlier -than this, hung around and hurried him with his work, many putting in -lusty strokes, that Billy, the favorite, might the sooner be released. -But now even Jean, his stanch second in all the fun going, was late. -He had expected to be late himself; he always was. But he, who planned -most of the sport in spite of doing more work than any of them, had -this day expected his schemes to be well launched before he could join -in them. - -He was standing disconsolate, looking up the street for stragglers, -when his mother came in again. - -“What’s the matter, Billy? Why don’t you go and play? You surely -deserve a fine holiday, my big, big son.” She put her arm around -him tenderly; and he saw that she remembered. He would be thirteen -to-morrow. He had been counting the days; but he thought mother and -sister had been too busy to think of it. It was coming--to-morrow, -Sunday! If he didn’t have a good time to-day it wouldn’t be any -birthday at all. - -[Illustration: “What’s the matter with Billy To-morrow?”] - -“Why doesn’t the Gang come, mamma?” he asked, returning the kiss he -knew was one ahead for his natal day. - -“Suppose you go down to the creek,” she replied with a peculiar -smile. “May Nell and the twins went there some time ago. Harold, too.” - -Billy ran off full of vague expectation born of his mother’s smile. No -one in all the country round, not even Harold Prettyman, whose father -had the finest farm in Vine County, had such a splendid place to play -as the Bennetts’ back lot that sloped down to Runa Creek. As Billy -slammed the gate and bounded out on a huge boulder that hung over the -creek, a sounding cheer greeted him from below. - -“Hooray, Billy! Thirteen to-morrow! But this is the day we celebrate!” - -There they all were; those who had come first to the house, and many -others: Jean, Bess Carter, Charley Strong, Max Krieber, Jackson Carter, -the little colored boy, standing aloof, and others, large and small. -All in a line they stood, and shouted up at him: - -“What’s the matter with Billy To-morrow? He’s thirteen! Three and ten! -Most a man! He’s all right!” - -For a minute Billy stood, dazed, his heart thumping hard. Then he threw -his cap in the air, sang out, “Bully for the Gang! This time it’s Billy -To-day!” and raced down the hill to join them. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE SURPRISE - - -“Well, what do you want to play?” Billy asked, after the hubbub had a -little subsided. - -“Let’s go to the park and play football,” Jimmy responded quickly. - -“But the girls and small fry can’t come in on that. Besides, that -little city kid’ll be lonesome if I leave her.” - -“Well I’m not going to stay an’ play kid games,” Jimmy retorted -loftily, and turned away. - -“Me neither,” George endorsed. - -“All right,” Billy acquiesced with a nonchalant tact; “I thought Sour’n -Shifty’d make good surveyors, Pretty; but I guess you can do that an’ -your own job too, can’t you?” Billy turned to Harold, while George -watched to see what Jimmy did. - -“Surveyors? What’s your scheme?” Jimmy was quickly interested. - -“Why, I’d planned a big stock concern, like business men. We’ll build a -railroad, telegraph line--that comes first, though; we’ll have gold and -copper mines, and a wharf. And next we’ll launch the steamer we’ve been -making.” - -“_If_ she steams,” Harold put in sagely. - -“That big sand pile the kids made last week for a fort can be the -Sierras, and we’ll tunnel, and have a loop, and--” - -“But where does our fun come in? Girls don’t build railroads,” Bess -complained. - -“No; but you can ask concessions, and buy stocks, and keep hotel in the -shack, an’ board us men. Make more money ’n we do. They always do, you -know; not the fellers that works, but the smart ones that work _them_. -I’m hungry enough to eat May Nell right now!” He snapped his teeth -together with a ferocious grin as the little girl came near; and she -laughed back at him more joyously than her mother would have believed -possible could she have known; for this wholesome out-of-door frolic -was a boon to the child, white from life within brick walls. - -They were a happy lot. Each held some high-sounding position, the name -coined in Billy’s busy brain. His box of abused tools came forth; the -much mended wheelbarrow, picks, shovels wobbly from use as well as -abuse, improvised things that only an imagination as large as Billy’s -could have named tools,--something for each one there. - -Along the ridge of soft sand left by receding waters Billy let his -first contract to Harold, who immediately marshalled the “kindergarten” -with their broken fire shovels, kitchen spoons, what not, and set them -to digging briskly. “Straight to the line, mind you,” he sang out from -time to time, as he set his pins along the line the “engineers had -run.” Max was superintendent of telegraph construction; and Charley -Strong, “the Strong Man,” and Jackson contracted for the tunnel. They -were to start from each side, meet exactly in the middle in sixty -days,--a minute stood for a day,--or pay five million dollars fine. -And over all Billy kept a watchful eye, cast the glamour of his eager -spirit. - -What matter if the telegraph poles that were to be just twelve -feet--that is, twelve inches--fell short or long sometimes. - -“Their knifes bin too dull, and she must quick be done,” Max apologized -to Billy on his inspection trips. - -“We’ll play there’s a strike in the saw-mills, Dutchy, and this is scab -labor,” Billy excused amiably. And for a fact the white cotton string -carried the messages quite safely from the “Front,” where Jimmy and -George laid out the “line” over wonderful grades, across impossible -gorges; and “wired” back for further orders. Harry Potter was the -operator at the “Front,” and Vilette,--“Women do operate, you know,” -she said,--Vilette was the proud holder of “the key” at Headquarters, -where Clarence Hammond strutted around as Messenger; and because he was -the “son of the Boss,” bullied his Cousin Harry unmercifully. - -“Geegustibus! You kids are doin’ a fine job,” Billy encouraged, as he -walked by the line of little bending, sweating backs. “There never -was a railroad built on the square like this. Contractors on time; -men a-workin’ that’s got brains an’ ain’t afraid to use ’em. Jiminy -crickets, it’s fine!” - -Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier -under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked. - -“Well, I must get at my job, too. That’s thinking up things. You -fellers do your work an’ get your money; but I got to rustle that money -or bust.” - -“O Billy, it hurts the ears of my mind to hear you say those vulgar -words.” May Nell, playing “man” for the first time in her life, looked -up from the “rod of grade” that she was piling deftly with a broken -shingle. The color from sun and exercise added much to her beauty. She -was neither blowsy nor smudged like the other children, and her lawn -frock was as spotless as in the morning. - -Billy looked at her thoughtfully, wondering why her fearless criticism -did not displease him; lifted his battered hat and mussed again his -tousled hair. “All right, Fair Ellen, I’ll try to obey the--” - -“Lady of the Lake?” she finished quickly in a question. “Do you know -that, too? I love it.” - - “‘One burnished sheet of living gold, - Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,’” - -she quoted glibly. “I know a lot more of it. Do you?” - -A scream from “the shack” stopped further quotations. Billy ran up the -hill to learn the trouble. Only Evelyn was there in the little house -built, half of boards, half of willow twigs woven lattice-wise, against -a huge smooth rock. Beside this rock also ascended a cobble chimney; -and the fireplace, roughly plastered, served its purpose well. Billy -had made it all, and Edith wished the house fireplace would draw as -well. - -He found Evelyn on her knees before a hot fire, bravely trying to hold -level one of the several pots that were sizzling there. Her drooping -hair smothered her small hot face, and perspiration stood like dew on -her anxious little upper lip. - -“What’s the matter, Kiddie? Gee! Those big girls ought not to leave -you alone with that fire; you’ll be cooked before the grub!” he -grumbled while he mended the fire and propped the kettle. “Yum, yum! -Things a-doin’ here. Makes a feller’s stomach feel like just before -Thanksgiving dinner.” - -Evelyn relieved of her fear of the tottering kettle, roused to her -charge. “Go ’way, Billy! Thank you, Billy. You mustn’t stay here! -They’ll scold me. They said for me not to let you come; an’--” - -“Why not, I’d like to know? Isn’t this my shack? And shall I let a kid -burn up?” - -“But it’s a secret,” she whispered in smothered distress. “Please to -go!” - -And Billy seeing sweet potatoes sticking out of hot ashes, and other -luxuries in evidence, concluded that some business was “doin’ among -the girls,” where he wouldn’t be welcome. He went back to the “Front,” -where some of the contractors were having a violent altercation over -the meaning of certain specifications. The Boss soon arbitrated -successfully, and things moved “lively” for a short time, when the -banging of a dishpan announced dinner at “the hotel.” - -“Right this way, ladies and gentlemen,” Bess called from the edge of -the far terrace. “A dinner fit for the gods, ambrosia and nectar; gifts -from Flora and Fornax! Come up to the garden of the gods and goddesses -and feast together!” - -Bess, though not quite twelve, was a striking girl, larger than most -women; with a mind as unusual as her body. Poetry, music, mythology, -she fed upon these as a plant upon the sunshine. She was not satisfied -with ordinary speech, but continually wove into the most commonplace -events the glamour of romance and poetic words. A wise mother had stood -between her and the jeers of the thoughtless, that she might have -a normal girlhood; and Billy’s mother and sister helped to make it -possible for her to play comfortably with those of her own age. Yet -it was a surprise to the stranger to see this dark-eyed, magnificent -woman-creature in short skirts romping with children. - -To-day she was happy. It had fallen to her to general this great feast -that Billy’s mates had planned for the celebration of his birthday. All -had contributed. Not only the girls had cooked--Jean had baked a big -cake, Jackson had made the candy, and Jimmy and George had sneaked up -from the “Front,” and set up the long table in the arbor. - -According to plan, Billy’s mother had called and detained him while -the score of laughing youngsters gathered and stood silently around -the table. When he was running across the lawn again, his face washed -and hair combed, matters he thought might well have been omitted when -time was so precious, he was struck by the strange stillness. What had -happened to stop every tongue at once? He ran on faster, through the -trellis gate, and halted, transfixed. A shout greeted him. Each one -waved a small flag, and sang lustily-- - - “Where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? - Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?” - -He looked at the beaming faces, at the beautiful table with Jean’s -great pagoda cake in the centre, the dates, 1893-1906, in evergreen; -at the flowers everywhere; at the dishes,--they usually ate from vine -leaves at their out-of-door feasts,--at the paper napkins folded -fantastically and hovering over the table like gay butterflies. His -eloquent face told his surprise, his gratitude, his delight. He -opened his mouth to speak some fitting word, but it wouldn’t come. He -tried again, for he felt the occasion called for something formally -appreciative. But only a whimsical idea flitted into his mind; and he -sang back-- - - “I’ve not been to seek a wife, - You can bet your old sweet life, - For I’m a young thing and cannot leave my mother.” - -A gleeful yell greeted his paraphrase. While they ate it all came out, -how they had planned and executed. Harold had peas and strawberries -hidden in his mysterious basket, freshly gathered by his own hands -that morning. George and Jimmy had furnished and dressed the chickens, -and the girls had roasted them--with a little supervision from Mrs. -Bennett--in the Yukon camping stove that belonged to Harry’s mother. -Bess had given the dishes, blue and white enamel, strong as well as -good to the eye, and ready for many another frolic. - -Max furnished the milk. “I haf gif mine cow much sugar to make dot milk -sweet for Pilly to-day,” he explained happily to Mrs. Bennett. - -And so the story went on. All the wholesome things of the country that -children like had come from one and another. And each had been as happy -in giving as Billy could possibly be in receiving. - -Bess, an only child, was usually present at the frequent -entertainments her parents gave, and was familiar with some of the -more formal table customs. She wished Billy’s dinner to have every -dignity, and to this end rose and proposed a toast to him. They drank -it standing, with cheers. And Billy, accustomed to having the largest -voice in every noise, stood and joined lustily; till Jackson, who -helped his father at the catering for lodge banquets, and knew a -thing or two, reached behind Jean and pulled the back of Billy’s coat -violently. “Pst! Set down!” he hissed, tragically. - -And Billy, suddenly remembering who was being cheered, slid to his seat -sheepishly, a cold feeling down his back, uncomfortable heat in his -cheeks. - -Jean changed the situation by proposing a toast to Billy’s new sister. - -“Half-sister, step-sister, persister, or sister-in-law--” Jimmy began, -when Billy’s frown stopped him, and Bess interrupted with, “He thinks -he’s saying something witty: laugh everybody.” - -But Jean spoke at once and heartily. “Here’s to our latest addition. -May she never be subtracted from us. Already she’s multiplied our joys, -yet we hope she’ll not have to divide our woes.” - -Jimmy was the first to stand and cheer. - -May Nell sat still and smiled modestly. Billy stared at her, feeling -still more foolish over his own mistake. - -Presently Jimmy and George slipped away and quickly returned bearing a -huge freezer, Mrs. Bennett following. Now Billy knew what she had done -with the cream. - -“It’s only your notion, Billy, that mother’s cream is best; but I’ve -been very happy making it for you.” She began at once to serve it. - -“Billy, you’re a wise guy. This beats Maskey’s,” Harold declared. - -“There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and -old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful -boxes and dishes.” - -All were silent for a little. Most of them had been more than once to -San Francisco’s celebrated dealer in sweets. - -“Do you know how ice cream is made, May Nell?” Jimmy asked to break the -oppression. - -“No; will you tell me?” - -“First they feed the cow a barrel of sugar, then they freeze her, after -that milk her; and there you have your ice cream.” - -May Nell looked incredulous. “And they feed her strawberries and -vanilla beans and chocolate for flavors, I suppose; but how do you -separate them when you milk? Will you show me the next time you fill -that big bucket?” She nodded her head toward the freezer, and was so -demure that not even Bess, still less Jimmy, knew whether she was -deceived or poking fun. - -May Nell was astonished at the country appetites, astonished at her -own; yet the cream also disappeared; after which Bess, the magnificent, -rose, waved her hand theatrically toward Mrs. Bennett, and declaimed, - - “Here’s to our mothers, - Better than all others, - Whose feet never tire, - Whose hearts never--” - -Just then mischief took possession of Harry Potter. He dropped a paper -parcel behind Vilette, and a little green snake wriggled out and ran -under the table. Vilette only grinned, but May Nell saw it, screamed -and grew white. - -“Oh, oh! It ran--across my--foot!” she gasped, and fell over. - -Confusion followed. Harry was struck with a great fear. Was she dead? -He had never seen a girl do so before. Would they hang him? - -But May Nell recovered almost before Mrs. Bennett had time to lift -her. “I often do--do--faint,” she apologized, “it isn’t--isn’t ’t all -dangerous.” She smiled at Mrs. Bennett, and the smile, the sweet, pale -little face with her hair a shining golden halo around it, made of her -an ethereal being almost unreal to the awestricken children. Yet she -was soon merry again, apparently as well as ever. - -The hours passed in an uproar of fun. The table was dismantled, toys, -tools, and dishes put away, and the feast had sped into the past. - -“It’s been the best ever,” Jean said, happily. - -“A perfectly gorgeous occasion,” Bess supplemented. - -“The bulliest time yet!” shouted Charley from the street. - -“Mine stomach ist so full mine head cannot t’ink,” Max stammered to -Mrs. Bennett; “but it vas bravo!” - -They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was -the last to say to Billy “Good-night.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE TWO-LIGHT TIME - - -Sunday brought rain, and Mrs. Bennett decided that May Nell must remain -quietly in the house. The only apparent result of her exciting day, -and the faint, was a languor that made her willing to obey, to curl -up by the fire, with Sir Thomas by her side. He was a tremendous cat, -who accepted lazily all the caresses bestowed upon him, while Flash, -his white mate, was shy, and unless forced, would not appear before -strangers. - -“They’re great frauds, those aristocratic cats of sister’s,” Billy -explained; “not a bit of use. They won’t fight, and--” - -“O Billy, think how many gophers Flash catches, and what gentlemen they -are in the house,” Edith defended. She was chorister for one of the -churches, and was now gathering her music. - -“You never give my cats a chance,” Billy complained. - -“Yes, we have, Billy,” Mrs. Bennett corrected. “Bring them in now. -Let May Nell see our entire cat family.” She followed him out, and -presently returned with a plate of cut meat which she placed on a -newspaper on the hearth. - -“A cat tablecloth!” the little girl laughed. - -“That’s for Billy’s cats; mine need none,” Edith declared. - -The child reared without pets was delighted with the animal life about -her; the cats, old Bouncer, the white chickens, and pigeons cooing in -the loft. - -Mrs. Bennett called. The cats walked leisurely to the hearth, sat down, -one on either side, and began to eat, each from his own side of the -plate. They were as deliberate and dainty as well-bred children. - -Billy entered with a cat under each arm. “Geewhillikins,” he -introduced, “the best fighter in town,” and put down a stub-tailed, -gray cat, half as large as the house pets, with “tom-cat” speaking from -every hair of him. “I think mamma’s partial,--she lets sister’s cats -come in the house, but not mine.” - -Geewhillikins did not wait for four feet to be on the floor to spring -at the plate. He put his paws on one pile of meat, and began to gobble -the other, growling savagely. The house cats drew back, curled their -tails around their forefeet, and looked at the gorger in calm disdain. - -“You haven’t noticed Jerusalem Crickets, yet,” Billy said impressively, -anxious to distract attention from the little drama at the plate. He -placed his second cat on the floor, a gaunt creature, brindled in many -colors, with great scared-looking eyes. “She’s afraid of everybody. -She never had any home till I brought her here, poor thing! Just kicked -from door to door. And Geewhillikins, too--he was a tiny kitten put in -a sack to drown out in the creek. And he was so plucky he just wiggled -to shallow water and hollered for a deliverer. Of course that kind of -cats don’t have manners. How could they?” Billy was a fine special -pleader. - -“He was a real little cat Moses, wasn’t he? And you--you must be -Pharaoh’s son instead of daughter.” The child laughed and clapped her -hands. - -Meantime Jerusalem Crickets, escaped from Billy’s arm and eye, was -sneaking about for prey; and a clinking sound from the pantry warned -them that she had found it. - -“Run, Billy! You left the door open--she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. -Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss. - -“It’s only a chop left from yesterday,” he excused on his return. - -“It might have been to-day’s roast,” Edith protested, as she took the -snarling Geewhillikins from his feast. “You see why Billy’s cats don’t -come in the house, May Nell.” - -“Did you forget their breakfast, Billy?” the child questioned earnestly. - -“No, Billy never forgets his cats,” his sister answered for him; -“though the chickens might sometimes suffer but for mamma. Take your -ill-bred felines out, Billy.” - -He obeyed, talking whimsically to his pets as he went. - -“Flash and Tom wouldn’t touch meat left on the table alone with them -for a day,” Edith said as she replenished the plate, shook and folded -away the paper, and called her cats. - -They walked up as before, and ate slowly, piece by piece, neither -touching a morsel on the opposite side of the division line. Sir Thomas -finished first, and looked on while Flash minced more daintily. He did -not eat all, but walked off to the plush-cushioned chair they claimed -as their own. Sir Thomas watched him curl up and rest his nose on his -white forepaws, then quickly finished the rest of the meat and joined -him. And now such a toilet began. Each groomed the other; yet, as -always, Tom tired first while Flash worked on till they both shone like -silk, when he put his long arms about Tom, nestled his head close down, -and both slept. - -The little girl forgot herself in watching them, till Billy came in, -smart and almost handsome in his best suit. - -“Are your going to church?” she asked, disappointment drawing her lips -to a tremulous curve. - -“I have to help sister, you know.” - -“But it isn’t ten o’clock.” - -“Sunday School comes first.” - -“Sunday School, too? How long you’ll be away!” - -Billy made no reply. He wondered if he ought to stay at home. - -“Do you like it, Sunday School, I mean? I don’t. I like church, -though,--the great booming organ, the beautiful singing. And when the -minister speaks I just float away into fairy-land and never come back -till he says, ‘The-Lord-make-his-face-to-shine-upon-us-amen.’” - -“I like Sunday School best ’cause I do things there.” - -“What things?” - -“I’m sec’etary; and I pass the books, and sing; and I’m--I’m giggle -squelcher.” - -“What a funny word! What do you mean?” - -“Why, you see,” Billy hesitated, for he was modest, “sister has a -class of us heathen boys, and--well, you see, it’s this way; sister -says,--she’s partial, you know,--she says I have influence; if I don’t -giggle the others won’t, and she gets on O. K.” - -“How splendid! You must go, Billy. Do all the boys mind you?” - -“All but Sour; an’ sister’s fixed him. He’s crazy over music, and she -got his father to let him take lessons, and that kid’s her slave ever -since. But it isn’t minding, Ladybird; the guys take my cue, and we -tell things we’ve hunted up in the week about the lesson; and sister -tells things, and we’re so busy we forget to be silly.” - -May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing -things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?” - -Billy stooped to tie shoestrings already tidy; he was gaining time for -thinking. “I reckon doing things you don’t like is work, and doing -things you do like is play,” he explained, doubtfully. - -“But some people like their work, don’t they?” May Nell persisted. She -was exploring strange country. - -“I guess so. Teacher says every live thing that’s happy works; birds, -flowers, children; that those that won’t work shouldn’t eat. He says -the greatest joy is to do the work you like best as well as you can.” - -“I’ve never worked,” May Nell said reminiscently; “but there’s one hard -thing I’ve done--I’ve kept very still when mama has her headaches.” - -“Gee whack! That’s the hardest work of all,” Billy complimented. - -Edith came in dressed for church. - -“My conscience! How lovely and stylish you look!” The child, accustomed -to elegant dress, praised with discriminating eyes. - -When brother and sister left her, strange thoughts flitted through -her head. She heard Mrs. Bennett beating eggs in the kitchen; saw the -logs Billy had piled in the wood-box. On the wall above the piano hung -Edith’s schedule--time table, Billy called it. May Nell had already -studied it, had seen the fifty or more lessons set for each week; -and needlework on the music table, and books there the child had -discovered were for music study,--these told her what a busy woman -Billy’s sister must be. - -Yet it was very strange, they were all happy! Happier, she felt, than -her own mother with maids and money, gems, rich gowns, and her motor -car at command. Why was it? “Those that won’t work shouldn’t eat.” -Could that be true? Then she should not eat, for she never worked. She -wondered how it would seem to work. - -Full of her thought she slipped from the couch, and went to the -kitchen. “Mrs. Bennett, haven’t you some work a little girl could do?” - -The divining woman looked into May Nell’s beautiful eyes, too deep and -thoughtful for her slender body; drew her close and kissed her. “Yes, -dear, just the nicest sort of work for a little girl. You may hull -these strawberries; and if you eat some for toll I shan’t be looking.” - -The child seeing the twinkle in the older eyes, laughed aloud; and, -wrapped in a voluminous apron, began the first task that had ever left -its stain on her pretty fingers. - -Her questions brought long and wonderful tales of Billy’s younger life; -of Edith when she, too, was a little girl. The child helped to set the -table, carried in bread, salad plates, and jelly. “It shakes like the -fat woman at the circus when she laughed. How do you make jelly?” - -“Next month when currants are ripe you shall see.” - -“And help?” May Nell asked, eagerly. - -“If you wish to do so.” - -Why, it was going to be fine to work! Why had she not known it before? - -Services were over before she found time to be lonely. Dinner passed -happily. The cats stayed quietly in their chair till dessert, when they -came, one on either side of Edith, and stood with their forepaws on the -table, their heads and shoulders above it. - -“Flash has cake, Sir Thomas cheese,” Edith explained, giving each -his coveted bit. They took the morsels from her fingers, ate them -delicately, and mewed once. “That’s ‘Thank you,’” Edith interpreted. - -“It’s a hurry-up order for more,” Billy amended. - -“No more, kitties; that’s all that is good for you. Go back to your -chair.” - -They looked at her a minute, dropped reluctantly to the floor, and -retired. - -“Why, they know what you say--mind!” May Nell exclaimed, admiringly. - -“Obedience, thy name is cats,” Billy preached solemnly. - -It had stopped raining, but was still cloudy. This was the hour when -Billy usually wheeled long miles by himself, dreaming dreams no one but -a boy knows how to dream. Nothing short of a downpour ever hindered -him; thus mother and sister knew it was genuine self-sacrifice that -kept him beside the little girl through the long afternoon. - -All his treasures, pictures, marbles, mineral specimens, what not, -were displayed and explained. And finally came the books, when Billy -discovered that she knew most of his favorites, loved them as he did, -and could introduce him to new ones that promised delight. - -So the hours passed. The two women had their quiet rest till five -o’clock when they came down for the usual singing. May Nell had a sweet -voice, surprisingly strong for a child; and when she asked to play her -own accompaniment to a little song unknown to Edith, the latter was -surprised by the child’s skill, and still more by her rare feeling and -expression. - -“I can dance, too,” she said with childish pride. - -“Sister, she’ll be hunkey for the fairy queen in your Spring Festival, -won’t she? She’s a regular progidy, isn’t she?” Billy’s eyes shone. - -“Can he mean ‘prodigy,’ do you think, May Nell?” Edith’s eyes were -mischievous. - -“I mix up words that way sometimes, too,” the child excused. - -“Bully for you, Ladybird. I’ve got a backer you see, sister.” - -“I like ‘Ladybird,’ but not ‘bully,’” the little girl returned shyly. - -Supper passed. Edith went to church, Billy to keep an appointment -with his teacher; and the spring twilight settled down over the room. -Mrs. Bennett knew this would be a trying hour, and hastened her work, -inventing some light task for May Nell; hastened also the errand to -her own room. Yet though she was gone but a moment, on returning a sob -greeted her from the cuddled heap on the couch. - -She took the child in her comforting arms. “Don’t cry, little one! We -shall find her, never fear.” - -“But this is the time my mama needs me,” May Nell sobbed; “Sunday night -in the two-light time, before the stars come out, really, and when the -shadow people creep from the corners and blink at you.” - -“We won’t have any shadow people to-night, darling.” Mrs. Bennett -rose and turned on the lights, though it was not yet dark; drew the -curtains, and punched the fire till a storm of sparks sputtered up the -chimney. - -“My papa told me to be a very brave little girl, and no matter what -happened to take care of my mama. And now--I’ve l-lost her; and my -braveness is all leaking away.” She covered her face with her hands and -sobbed bitterly. - -Mrs. Bennett hugged her closer and patted her cheek softly, but let the -passion of tears spend itself a little before trying the comfort of -words. Then she questioned of the child’s parents, her past life, and -the events just preceding the catastrophe in San Francisco, that she -herself might better understand how to shield and make happy the little -waif that a terrible, heaving earth had cast into her home, her arms. - -“Papa went away to South America when I was eight. He told me I must be -very wise and help mama to do what was right,--sometimes she does take -my advice, you know. I’ve tried to be brave so God would bring her back -to me; but my braveness isn’t very strong yet, or I wouldn’t cry so, -would I?” she questioned, with a teary little smile. - -Not all at once but slowly, with mother’s tact, Mrs. Bennett won the -little heart to partial peace; and when the gate clicked, and Billy’s -voice was heard, she was almost gay. “I must be laughing when they come -in,” she whispered, “so they won’t see the tears in my eyes and think I -am unthankful.” - -The door opened on a smiling little face, though she tried to keep in -the shadow. Still when Billy kissed his mother good-night, caught -his sister in his arms and raced up and down with her, singing -extravagantly a snatch from some opera, May Nell hid her face and cried -again. - -Watchful Mrs. Bennett was not far away. She stopped the boy’s noise, -and cuddled the bereft one once more. “What is it, child? You are to be -brave, you know.” - -“Y-yes, b-but how can I when I have no one to say ‘mama’ to, only a -Mrs.” - -“You have, you have, dear baby! I’ll be your mother, and you can call -me ‘mamma’ as Billy does.” - -“And you’re my Ladybird sister,” Billy said, very softly for him, and -threw his arm about them both. - -“And, darling, I know how to find your mother,” Edith encouraged, -brushing her own moist eyes, and clasping them all in her round young -arms. “I’ll have your picture taken, and get it in all the papers--” - -“Just like a football champion,” Billy interrupted. - -“No, like a prima donna,” his sister retorted. - -“Rather like a dear little girl, that so will find her mother,” Mrs. -Bennett reassured. - -Amid the wealth of love how could the little heart refuse comfort? -Billy tossed her to his shoulder and carried her to his mother’s room, -where both women coddled her and Edith sang her into a sweet sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE FAIR ELLEN - - -Little by little they learned something of May Nell’s story. Her -mother had intended to start for New York on the morning of the -earthquake, having been called there by her own mother’s illness. Mrs. -Smith, though held to the last by household business, had let her -little daughter go to visit a widowed aunt and cousin, who lived in -a down-town hotel, and who were to bring May Nell to meet her mother -at the Ferry Building the next morning. But where at night had stood -the hotel with its many human lives housed within, the next morning’s -sunshine fell upon a heap of ruins burning fiercely. A stranger rescued -May Nell, though her aunt and cousin had to be left behind, pinned to -their fiery death. - -All that dreadful day the man searched for the little girl’s mother, -but their house was early prey to the flames, and he could get no trace -of her. He was only passing through the city; and having fortunately -saved his money and tickets, was anxious to be on his way across the -Pacific. Consequently nothing better offered than to send the child -with other refugees to the kind hospitality of the country. - -Edith had quickly put her plan in execution, aided by the willing -newspapers; but so far nothing had come of it, and mother and daughter -feared their charge had lost more than aunt and cousin. South America, -a very definite spot in the child’s mind, was still too vague a -postoffice address for even Uncle Sam’s marvellous mail-carrying; and -so, while encouraging May Nell, the two women tacitly adopted her into -their hearts and discussed her future as if she were their own. - -It was a blessing that even her loyal soul must yield to nature’s balm -of passing time; in wholesome companionship and the fragrant warmth -of a country spring she somewhat forgot the grief that would otherwise -have worn to death her frail little body. - -“My mama doesn’t believe in public school,” she had announced that -first Monday morning; but had gone obediently when Mrs. Bennett decided -it best. And the new life, the stimulation of study, the competition in -class, her knowledge of books, and the prestige of her story,--these -made school a delight, brought a happy light to her eye, a tinge of -color to her too fair cheek. - -Her wardrobe was a heavy drain on Edith’s purse, yet the young teacher -delighted almost as a mother in the dainty garments that won her to -extravagance. - -Billy also undertook to do his share. A generous sum of money had been -offered to the best student in the graduating class of the grammar -school; and he decided to try for it. And when Billy made up his mind -to anything connected with books, it was as good as done. For if he -had to study a little harder than some, his perseverance, added to an -unusual facility in telling what he knew, helped him to success. - -Mrs. Bennett wished May Nell to be in the open air as much as possible; -and this meant a new experience for Billy, which he accepted with -tolerable grace. - -“A girl under foot all the time,” Shifty complained. He had no sister. - -“Well, you know the other thing to do if you don’t like it,” Billy -retorted, bluntly. “She’s my sister till her folks are found, and that -isn’t likely.” - -“But if your steamer works you don’t want its secrets peddled round; -and girls always blab.” - -“You’re the only girl I’m afraid of in that line. Isn’t that so, -Pretty?” - -“You bet!” Pretty endorsed, inelegantly. - -This conversation took place in Billy’s shop, a room adjoining the -wood-house and given over to his use. Nothing short of the world in the -second verse of Genesis was equal to the chaos of that place. Every -conceivable scrap and job lot of “truck” was there in a jumbled heap; -and Billy was never happier than when mussing it over in search of -“material”; in greasy overalls and crownless hat, whistling merrily, -bringing forth to substance and form the inventions of his busy brain. - -The blandishments of soda water fountains, candy stores, and other -boyish temptations, found no victim in Billy. But if Mr. Cooper, the -tinshop man, had driven hard bargains he would have bankrupted the -boy. As it was his weekly allowance suffered in spite of Mr. Cooper’s -generosity and Billy’s free access to a rich scrap heap at the rear of -the big shop where everything, one would say, in tin and iron was made, -from well pipe, tanks, and boilers, to tin wings for Edith’s fairies -in the opera. - -Now a steamboat was on hand. At odd times for weeks, Billy, Harold, and -one or two other boys, under secrecy of lock and key, had been slowly -bringing to completion a wonderful structure. - -Billy had intended naming it _The Jean_, but Charley had stood for -_Queen Bess_, Harold didn’t like either name, and George and Jimmy had -objected to “girl kid names, anyway.” They had, however, unanimously -compromised on _The Edith_, for Billy’s sister was adored privately -by all of his older friends, adored openly and “tagged” by the -little ones. Edith, since May Nell’s coming, suggested her name. The -little girl agreed if it could be Ellen; Billy added “Fair” with her -permission; and this name he painted over each paddle wheel with no -opposition from the others. - -All was now ready for firing. “She” was to be run by oil. They took -her out through the double doors, both swung wide for the first time -in many weeks. It was all the boys could do to carry the heavy thing, -though they went quite steadily across the vegetable garden, not -without some damage to spring lettuce and summer corn, however; but on -the steep, uneven slope below, the _Fair Ellen_ came almost to grief. - -“Bear up aft there!” Billy commanded; and “Ay, ay, sir,” came back in -equally nautical language. - -“Easy, mates. Kids, belay there, till we launch her!” This to the -gaping youngsters always in the way. - -“Wharfmaster, ahoy!” Billy hailed, as they came near the water’s edge. -“Is all ship-shape?” - -“Ay, ay, sir,” came this time from two boys who had charge of some logs -lashed together and crossed and recrossed by a hash-like lot of refuse -lumber, and moored with a dog chain. - -“Mother, do come and look at the procession,” Edith called cautiously -from the trellises, where she was slyly watching. - -Billy heard her, though. “Come on, sister, mamma, too, and see the -fun,” he called, not unwillingly, for he was a bit proud of their work -now that it was out in the light of day. He had reason; it was really -an imposing craft for boys to build from scraps. - -A crowd of smaller children momentarily increasing, capered about the -sweating five. Max bounded over the high fence, breathless, fearing he -would be late. Jean and Bess hurried down the hill, each telling the -other she couldn’t spare the time for “just boys’ foolishness.” Jackson -appeared on top of the south stone abutment, halting there till Billy’s -hearty invitation brought him flying down into the inclosure. - -Bouncer barked at Billy’s heels. Geewhillikins chased an imaginary foe -down the hill, and Jerusalem Crickets crept stealthily along the upper -support of the side picket fence, trailing a venturesome sparrow. - -Even the white chickens followed in a cackling bunch as they always did -when Billy appeared at this hour, for it was almost feeding time. And -the pigeons wheeled and whirred, lighting almost under foot only to be -up and off again, a flash of white and gray. - -Behind the two women trotted a chubby baby. “I see Billy boat,” he -cried, shrilly, stumbled, fell, scrambled up again, and repeated his -refrain. - -“Why, Buzz Lancaster, how did you get here?” Edith went back and -steadied him over the uneven ground. “Phew! He smells of gasoline! -Where has he been, do you suppose, mother?” - -“I comed,” he said, calmly, “I see Billy boat.” - -“Hurry up, Buzz!” Billy called as he raced by from the shop, where he -had been for the oil can to fill the boat’s reservoir. - -“Shan’t we defer the ceremonies till we can get Charley’s little sister -and Jackson’s two weeks’ old brother?” Jimmy asked, disagreeably. - -“Hold your grouch, Sour,” Harold expostulated. - -“Please don’t call Jimmy ‘Sour,’” May Nell pleaded. “He’s big and dark -and splendid; and his other name is going to be Roderick Dhu; and he’ll -be kind to all weak things, and fight for the Douglases, and for the -_Fair Ellen_.” She waved her hand toward the steamboat. - -Jimmy tried not to look pleased, but failed. Something about May Nell -attracted him, whether it was her beauty, her fearlessness, or her -air of distinction he did not know. It was really her recognition of -something fine in him that his cold and irascible father had almost -whipped out of him. - -“All ready?” cried Captain Billy. “Are you ready, Ladybird?” - -“Yes, Captain,” she answered, her eyes aglow while she smoothed -refractory frills. She wore a wonderful trailing robe of tissue paper, -“ruffled to the guards,” Billy said. On her head was a towering cap -of the same; and a light wind bellied out her wide angel sleeves like -sails before a spanking breeze. - -She stood at the end of the creaking wharf, and one little bare arm -was lifted high. She held a small fruit jar filled with water and beet -juice. It was awkward, but Billy had insisted on the fruit jar,--“So’s -it will be sure to break; it’s the only kind of a bottle that always -will break.” - -They fired up. An ominous sizz and clatter began. Five pairs of hands -shoved the smart boat into the water at May Nell’s feet. The children -shouted. The dog barked and the chickens cackled. And above all the din -May Nell’s sweet voice rang out, “I christen thee, O wondrous vessel, -_The Fair Ellen_.” She improvised hastily; for no one had thought to -prepare a speech for the occasion. - -The bottle went crash, and a furious yell informed the neighborhood -that the Gang was “up to some new deviltry.” - -But another and unexpected crash followed, and a shower of burning oil -shot up and caught May Nell’s flimsy paper frock. - -Yet before one could think, almost before the paper had time to burn, -Jimmy sprang to her, seized her in his arms, tearing at the shrivelling -paper, and jumped far out over the flaming boat into a deep pool. - -For a horror-stricken moment no one spoke. Even the dumb creatures were -still; and Buzz, thinking it all for his benefit, watched open-mouthed -for the next act in the play. - -But Mrs. Bennett, fleet though speechless, was at the water’s edge by -the time Jimmy had risen with May Nell quite safe. She spluttered and -choked a little; but Jimmy had been so quick there was not even a red -spot on her flesh to show the touch of fire. - -She was a queer draggled little creature, with her soaked and tattered -dress, and her yellow curls all stringlets. Timidly she touched Jimmy’s -blistered hands, realized what he had saved her from, and when she -looked her gratitude into his dark eyes something awoke in his heart -that never slept again. - -“You had very soon to fight for the Douglases, didn’t you, Roderick -Dhu?” she said, as Mrs. Bennett covered her with an apron, and Billy -took her up and went toward the house. - -“I thank you, Roderick Dhu,” she called out over Billy’s shoulder with -another little choke, for Jimmy had refused Mrs. Bennett’s offer of dry -clothes and was starting home alone. - -[Illustration: Jimmy sprang for her] - -So imminent had catastrophe been, that no one thought of the poor small -steamer burning unchecked to the water’s edge while the procession -climbed the hill; no one knew till days afterward that busy Buzz had -entered the open shop and mixed Billy’s cans so that it was gasoline -instead of kerosene that he fed that fated craft. But gratitude for -Jimmy’s bravery and May Nell’s safety supplanted even in the youngest -heart all regret for the boat. - -All but May Nell; when Edith and Mrs. Bennett rubbed and warmed her she -declared she didn’t need it, and was so absorbed in lamenting the loss -of the _Fair Ellen_, she could think of nothing else. - -“So long as it isn’t you, Ladybird, it’s all right,” Billy consoled; -“we can make more boats.” - -But May Nell was not to be comforted, till that evening when she -composed a wonderful ode to “The Wreck of the _Fair Ellen_.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -“THE TRIUMPH OF FLORA” - - -After the disaster of the _Fair Ellen_, Billy promised his mother to -bar explosives from his play, a promise made readily, for “Betsey has -been giving it to me good an’ plenty for leaving that door open,” he -explained to her. Thus the Alaska trade which the boys intended the -_Fair Ellen_ to wrest from Seattle, thereby transferring some of her -prosperity to California’s stricken seaport, remained with the northern -metropolis; and they sought other outlet for their energies. - -Billy organized a real estate syndicate, and sold lots to the Gang, -“with or without liability to assessment, as the purchaser prefers.” -A Board of Trade was organized to which all promised to defer, except -Jimmy, who smiled in disdain. He leased the railroad and did a -thriving carrying trade, timber for fencing and warehouses, dirt for -filling, and so on; and was fast becoming “the millionaire of the -crowd,” when the “Board” met and decided he should cut his tariff in -half or leave the syndicate; and as Jimmy was heartily interested in -the game, he accepted their decision and no longer smiled at the Board -of Trade. - -Max, whose father was a gardener, knew wizard’s tricks with seeds and -soils; and as Farmer and Forester to the syndicate, gave his knowledge -right and left with happy importance. He taught the girls how to plan -and plant their flower beds, and started the boys on a career of -vegetable-raising that made them feel rich before they began; talked -trees to Harold and other farmer boys, and astonished his father by the -questions he asked and the work he did. - -“I haf learn for gifing avay already, but I feel more as rich dan if -they haf gif to me. How ist dat?” Max asked himself, not knowing, this -little German lad so lately come to America, that he had discovered one -of the profoundest secrets of the universe. - -To his mother and sister Billy seemed changed. He stuck closer to his -books. His teacher told them the boy stood at the head of his class. -“Jimmy Dorr may be a rival if he feels like work, which isn’t probable. -Jean’s accident last year put her behind, otherwise the boys would have -to work much harder if either excelled her.” Yet even these welcome -words did not account for some things the mother quietly observed; -Billy’s growing promptness, better attention, and memory for matters -outside of play. He was more silent, too; and there was less hammering -and whistling in the shop. - -“Billy, I don’t like the look of your eyes; you’re reading too much -at night,” his mother said one evening when he was helping with the -dishes. “You must go to bed earlier.” - -May Nell had learned to use the towel; and the two children usually -“did” the dishes at night; but now she was away with Edith at the Opera -House, and mother and son were alone in the kitchen. - -Billy had been reeling off stanzas of his favorite “Lady of the -Lake,”--“by the yard,” Mrs. Bennett said, acting it as he recited, -somewhat retarding the work and endangering the dishes. Now he dropped -his towel, caught up his mother and raced with her around the room. He -was so strong that she was almost helpless in his grasp. - -“You little bit of a woman! Do you think I’ll mind you? I’m Roderick -Dhu of Benvenue, the bravest chief of all the crew! I’m Captain Kidd, -the pirate bold, whose treasure, hid, lies yet in mould. I’m the strong -man, the bad--” - -A lot more nonsense he rattled off, squeezing and kissing her till she -was breathless with laughter. - -“Now you’re Fair Ellen and I’m defending you at Goblin Cave!” He thrust -her behind him, held her tight with one arm, while he flourished the -carving knife and called on Clan Alpine’s foes to appear. - -But the moment of frolic passed, and he turned to her with shining -face. “You’re the only mother I ever had--so far as I know--” his eyes -danced; “anyway, you’re the only one in sight, an’ a heap too good for -this guy; I guess--I’ll--I’ll mind.” - -His mood grew more thoughtful. He put the dishes away quietly, and -neither spoke again till the work was finished. Then he went and kissed -her on the cheek. “It’s good to have you all to myself, little mother; -to be just chums once more.” - -She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing -with a shock that she was looking _up_. Her little boy was gone. - -“But I don’t wish May Nell away, mother, do you?” - -“No, my son.” The answer was more sincere than a few weeks before she -could have believed possible. The coming of the child had taken from -her life many hours of association with Billy, sweet as only mothers -know; yet May Nell’s influence had softened and refined Billy, enlarged -his vision. - -He tidied himself, bade his mother good-bye, and followed the girls to -rehearsal. - -Sometimes all the small meanness of everyday life is swept away by a -great calamity, and the world forgets to hate, and opens its great -heart of love. Such an event came through the catastrophe in San -Francisco. It inclined every ear, moistened every eye. From all the -world’s pocketbook came the golden dollars; from every soul the longing -to do; and when it was done, disappointment because it was so little. - -Vina was no exception. Ball games, church collections, children’s mite -societies, girls sewing, boys running errands, each and all helped with -the relief work. - -When Edith planned to turn her pupils’ recital into a great Spring -Festival, for the benefit of the sufferers, all the town applauded, and -asked how it could help. - -Edith worked very hard. She called her operetta “The Triumph of Flora.” -The words were her own, written hurriedly and set to familiar though -classic airs. Yet many of the daintiest, most tripping melodies she -wrote herself. The sorrows of humanity had winged her brain and dipped -her pen in harmonies, that she might assuage them. - -All went well with the preparation; and on a glorious spring night in -the full moon, the town and countryside jammed the Opera House “to its -eyebrows,” Billy said, looking through the peephole in the curtain to -the high window seats crowded with boys. - -The operetta opened with a weird winter scene, when the Sower (Harold) -sowed his grain, and the gnomes and elves set upon him; and evoked -Storm King (Jimmy), Wind (Bess), and Frost (Jackson). He was the -comedy of the little drama; and dressed all in black, covered with -silver spangles and diamond dust, he made a joke that the wine-growers -appreciated, for it is the black frosts of April they fear. - -After these followed Jean as Rain. Wherever she passed the singers -bowed their heads and sang more softly, and Frost retreated in haste. - -Billy was the sun, dressed in a pale yellow tunic, and crowned with a -fillet of sun-bursts cut from gilt paper. He came but a little way on -the stage from the south for each of his short solos; and the others -pelted him back. Especially did he hide from Rain behind Cloud, a tall -girl in a small ocean of gray tulle. - -At the close of the act, in the far, high distance, the Goddess, Flora, -appeared on a hill-crest. This was Edith herself, arrayed in a filmy -gown of pale green, garlanded with snow-drops and buttercups. High, -far, and faint came her song of the dawn of Spring. But the gnomes and -the elves, Storm, Wind, Frost, and Rain, roared and howled; and Flora, -affrighted, fled from view. - -The curtain fell on the first act and the house rocked with the noise. -It is probable the audience, predetermined to be pleased, would have -approved anything offered; but so far it was more beautiful than had -been expected. - -The second act brought a conflict between elves and gnomes, and the -fairies, when first the earth sprites were victorious, but at last -the fairies. May Nell was the Fairy Queen, and enchanted all with her -beauty, her dancing and singing, and her acting, which was sweetly -childish as well as clever. - -Flora came into view, clad in palest pink, and wreathed with almond -blossoms. Wherever she stepped the ground was white with almond snow. -Gnomes and elves peeped from behind gray rocks and tree-trunks, but -fled as she came near, following the ever-beckoning fairies. - -Sun, dressed this time in bright yellow satin, and crowned with yellow -gems, was surrounded by fairies, and came more and more boldly forward. -He beckoned to Flora, menaced the earth sprites, and threatened Storm, -Wind, and Frost; and at the close was rewarded by Flora’s rejoicing cry, - - “I come! I come at thy call, O Sun! - Thy high commands shall quick be done.” - -The curtain fell a second time to still heartier applause; and the -long wait between the acts was forgotten in discussion and approval. -The richest people in town had aided Edith with her costuming and -properties, that thus every penny of the receipts might be saved for -the great purpose. They had brought out all their stores of rich -fabric, fine lace, jewels, and ornaments, for the small mummers; and -the effect was entrancing. - -The last act exhausted the possibilities of the theatre in light -effects and sylvan scenery; and the curtain rose on a gorgeous scene. -But oh, horror! In the middle of the stage the scene-shifters had left -the ugly truck that moved Storm King’s reservoir of ice and snow. When -used in previous acts, bed and wheels had been hidden by moss, the tank -had been covered by his mantle, and the entire mechanism, moving as he -moved, had seemed a part of himself. Now its secret was disclosed and -it was ridiculous. - -Edith in white, half smothered in blush roses, with the fairies and -their Queen, stood ready in the wings. Billy was also waiting his -cue. This time he was to be pulled swiftly in on invisible wheels. -Over his satin tunic was a network of glittering mock gems that must -have included every yellow bead and spangle in Vine County. From his -shoulders floated a cloud of yellow, diamond-dusted tulle; and the -crown of gems surrounded a cluster of small lights, a device Billy -himself had figured out with the aid of the electric light man. - -“Oh, Billy, Billy! My beautiful opera is ruined!” Edith wailed, as she -heard the jeers of the small boys in the audience. - -“No, it isn’t, sister! I’ve thought of a way out. Keep the kids -straight here--I’ll be back in a minute.” - -This act opened with a hidden chorus that lasted two or three moments, -the fairies on the one hand inviting the elves and gnomes to join them; -the others responding. While this was in progress Billy rushed to the -boys’ dressing room and talked furiously but straight to the purpose. - -“Say, fellows, business now, and no questions asked. There’s a hitch -on the stage. Storm, wrap that cloak round you--don’t wait for -fixings--and get to your place in the wings, quick! When I say ‘Go,’ -take Rain’s hand, crouch low, run to the centre, and between you yank -that snow tank off the stage. _Sabe?_” - -Across to the girls’ side he flew. He knew Jean. She would manage -somehow, no matter what the difficulty. And he did not trust her -without reason. She was already in her shining misty robe that was to -change her from Rain to Dew; but she caught the gray mantle, covered -herself with it as she ran, and was in the wings almost as soon as -Billy. - -He placed them before him, Rain and Storm, took his great golden horn -of plenty under his arm, stepped on the wheeled board, signalled the -super, and rolled on, driving the crouching pair in front of him with -pelting showers’ of rose leaves, and landing at his station just as the -chorus filed in. The gray pair threw their shrouding mantles over the -truck, and still crouching pushed it out of sight; and the spectators, -believing they had laughed in the wrong place, cheered vociferously, -and never knew the difference. - -Rain dropped her gray mantle behind a tree, and reappeared with her -chalice of diamond-dust dew, to touch the fairy chorus to shimmering -beauty. The gnomes, their queer masks and hunched shoulders showing -grotesquely under their gray garb, joined the fairies’ dance. Wind came -floating in as Summer Breeze. Storm was transformed to the Slave of the -Sower; while Black Frost was perched high up at the rear, grinning from -the top of the mountain. - -The Sun called to Flora, and she appeared by his side. In front of them -knelt the Sower, crowned with leaves. The Sun bestowed upon him a -cornucopia overflowing with cherries; Flora laid on his other arm long -sprays of roses. - -The fairies, gnomes, and elves, danced, sang, and retired; elves and -gnomes crouching close against trees and rocks, the fairies withdrawing -only to reappear one by one as the music went on, here and there, high -in the trees; and each had a tiny light on her brow. But just over -Flora and Sun, poised and upheld by invisible wires, stood the Queen of -the Fairies, crown, wand, and shoulders fire-tipped, her arms waving, -her filmy draperies continually fluttering, fanned by an artificial -breeze. Over all fell a rain of rose leaves. - -The scene ended in a crash of music; the curtain fell to a house wild -with cheering. Edith and the principal performers were called again and -again before the curtain. It was a generous, appreciative audience, -giving its heartiest approval by rising. - -Late that night when Billy’s mother followed him to the Fo’castle, he -asked, “Are you pleased with it, little mother?” - -“It was all splendid; and, Billy, I never dreamed it was in you! -Sister’s operetta would have been a failure if it hadn’t been for you.” - -“And Jean and Jimmy, too.” - -She stooped and kissed him. - -“That’s good enough for me, then,” he said, sleepily. And no one ever -heard him mention again his unexpected addition to the scene. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE FIGHT - - -It was a gray, cold day, unusual for May, the kind of day that accords -with ill-nature. It reminded Billy of the incident of the opera when -Rain and Storm, driven by his own insistence, had blown in on the stage -quite out of season, and dragged off with them the remnants of winter. -For the first Sunday since May Nell’s coming he took his wheel after -dinner and went off alone. He was in accord with the sullen sky and -air. In the morning he had answered his mother angrily; because Bouncer -wished to play instead of coming through the gate when called, Billy -had slammed it on his tail, knowing well that in a happier mood he -would have been more careful. - -Now he flew off down the county road at a speed that made passers turn; -but he saw no one. He neither slackened nor looked back till he found -himself at the river where the little island rose, flower-crowned. -The poppies were fewer; and where a month before the flame-flower had -triumphed, to-day wild roses perfumed the air. - -Billy halted and looked up into the threatening sky. His eyes twitched, -and he noticed wonderingly that his breath was short and his hand shook -on the handle-bar. He dismounted and propped his wheel against the -fence; climbed down to the river and sat on a projecting rock, with his -feet dangling near the water. - -There was a strange weight in his left side, like lead. He felt as -if the whole world was against him; and the future looked dark and -terrible. Three days ago life had reached out, a white shining road to -success. Only three days! He looked north to where clouds were shutting -down over the Mountain, gray to-day, not blue. _The_ Mountain, every -one called it, for it closed the valley and towered, a sentinel, far -above all other mountains in view. Billy thought that stood for him; he -was to be chained to this narrow valley all his life; struggle as he -might he should never be free. - -If he had been older he would have said he had “the blues.” -Yet probably he would not have known that his mental--and -physical--condition was a natural result of the long strain of previous -weeks. All the children felt it. That morning the cousins, Clarence and -Harry, who loved each other dearly, had come to blows in the Sunday -School room before the teachers arrived, over the question of which one -of them should marry Miss Edith. Clarence received a bloody scratch -the full length of his palm from Harry’s Band of Mercy pin; while -the careful parting disappeared from his own hair, and a red splotch -marred the whiteness of his wide collar. No one can tell what further -calamity might have happened had not the Twins opportunely arrived and -questioned of the quarrel. - -“You needn’t fight any more,” Vilette said, loftily; “we shall marry -her ourselves.” - -“Yes, we shall marry her ourselves,” Evelyn echoed; while both girls -made childish efforts to rehabilitate the depressed cousins. - -The unstinted praise of the children in the operetta, the aftermath of -buzz about the “show” at school,--this excitement lasted for a day or -so; but on this lowering Sunday tired nature put in a claim for her -own; and relaxed nerves were irritably near the surface. - -Billy had the excitable musical temperament. He spent his forces -lavishly, and it was because of this that he was a leader; could think -and act quickly in emergencies, as when he saved the operetta from -failure. Edith and her mother knew that he had lived hard through -the past few weeks, that next to Edith herself he had carried the -entertainment, though Jean had been a host also. So it pleased Mrs. -Bennett that afternoon to see Billy start off alone for the country. - -Now in the silence and fragrance his tightened springs began to -relax. Presently he found himself in a dream of possibilities of the -island,--Ellen’s Isle, he always called it; of what might be done with -the smooth places in the river, the hills, Sunol Creek not far away, -boiling and tumbling in boisterous beauty; of hidden nooks, piled -boulders, and tiny meadows, vine-enclosed and flower-fragrant. - -Had he but dreamed on for an hour or so he would have returned, rested, -refreshed, the cheery boy that helped to make the Bennett house a home. -But a voice in the road above startled him. Only a word was spoken, a -greeting; but it was surly and foreign, Italian. - -Billy sprang up. The dark man of the sinister house was passing on his -way to town; had answered a horseman’s salute. The boy could not see -the house; but on the high hill above it he saw the other brother, -regardless of the Sabbath, hoeing his vineyard. - -Now was Billy’s chance! The place was alone! He waited till each -traveller was out of view on the curving road, then climbed up, crossed -the dusty wheel tracks, and crept into the brush on the other side. -Once hidden he “snooped” silently through the tangled chaparral, coming -shortly to the mystery-house, so close to it that he could have looked -in at the windows had they been clean enough. - -A faint sound caught his ear, as of clinking coins and soft voices. -People there! He had thought it before, now he was certain. Were not -both brothers away? - -Billy cuddled down in the low-growing manzanitas, whose screen was -further thickened by a tangle of wild pea vines all a-bloom. Placing -himself so that he could watch both the house and the man on the hill, -he settled to await further disclosures. - -All the excited nerves in his body that had been resting were tingling -again. He could feel his temples throb, count the beats of his heart. -For a time nothing happened. He heard no different sounds, though he -strained his ears nervously. The moments passed and seemed hours. He -crouched motionless, but his stillness was not repose. - -What if they should find him? Gee! Couldn’t a boy run faster than a -man? Another sound banished these thoughts; wheels on the road, whose -thick coat of dust almost hushed the ring of metal tires. A horseman -before, and now a wagon; this was an unusual amount of travel for that -lonely road. - -[Illustration: A faint sound caught his ear] - -Billy looked up at the Italian, saw him take a pistol from his pocket, -discharge it in the air, replace it, and go calmly on with his work. -What could that be for? A warning? Yes; for he realized suddenly that -every sound in the house had ceased. The wagon passed from sight. He -could hear the voices of the men as they drove by, see the driver -pointing to the house with his whip; and one of the women on the rear -seat looked back as long as the house could be seen. Then the soft -mysterious sounds began again. - -Billy took no heed of time till he saw the man above shoulder his -hoe, pick up his wine jug, and start down the hill. At that Billy’s -heels grew swift. He scurried out of his hiding place, slipped rapidly -through the brush, found his wheel, and bowled off. No languor or -heaviness now in body or mind. Every atom of him was alert as on the -night of the opera, yet not so normally alert; for the evil atmosphere -of the place was in his soul, filling his teeming brain with imaginings -of many crimes. - -In this mood he turned into the main road and came upon Jackson -limping, bloody, and crying. - -“Jiminy crickets! What’s happened, kid?” Billy asked, slowing up beside -him. - -“Sour’s licked me ’cause I’m a n-nigger, ’n gave T-Twinnies some -f-flowers an’ walked with ’em. He’s back there now l-lickin’ the -T-Twins.” - -Billy didn’t wait. Like all generous natures that are slow to anger, -the passion once aroused possessed him to madness. He raced down the -turnpike, his face aflame. Ahead he could see the Dorrs’ horse and -buggy standing near the fence. Jimmy was on the ground beside the -Twins; and Billy saw the whip descend more than once before he arrived. -Had he known it the blows were make-believe, for moral effect alone. -Jimmy was giving a lesson that his Southern breeding made him think -necessary, if painful. - -Billy heard the pitiful cries of the children, Evelyn’s the loudest, -though Vilette was receiving the blows. Every drop of blood in his -veins was a spark of fire. An unsuspected power came from somewhere, -mysteriously. He felt himself lift, expand, grow strong enough to -battle with an ox. He dropped his wheel, sprang upon Jimmy from behind, -and bore him down. In an instant he had snatched the whip, broken it, -and tossed the pieces into the field beyond. “You bully! You skunk! To -horsewhip girls! Why don’t you take one of your own size?” - -Jimmy was taken by surprise. Billy was his favorite play-mate, and the -whip had disappeared before he realized the import of the attack, and -he thus lost any advantage he might have gained while Billy’s hands -were busy. But the words roused Jimmy’s anger. No boy had a right to -interfere between him and his sisters; and he struggled to his feet and -launched some telling blows. - -Billy heeded no prize-ring rules, no boys’ traditions of fair play. -Every savage instinct inherited from far-distant ancestors and sleeping -till to-day, rose, conquered the human in him, for the moment made him -brutish. And the sobs of the little girls were as whips of fire. - -The struggle was short. When Jimmy resisted no longer, but, after a -fall against the fence with his arm doubled under and back, did not try -to rise, Billy came to his senses. He cleared the dust from his eyes -a little and turned to see why Jimmy didn’t speak. He lay with closed -eyes, motionless! - -A chill as from an ice field swept over Billy. His heart seemed to fall -down, down, as far as his shoes. He noticed that things looked darker, -and his head felt light and queer. Another fear assailed him; would -he, too, collapse, leave the little girls alone with the terror of two -senseless boys? - -He roused himself sharply; found his handkerchief and rubbed his eyes -a little clearer; bent swiftly over Jimmy, who stirred when touched, -and, to Billy’s intense relief, spoke. - -“I think you’ve broke my neck, kid,” he said, feebly, as quaking Billy -helped him to his feet. - -“Jimmy, can you stand?” - -He winced with pain, reeled, and would have fallen but for the other’s -sustaining hand. - -“Here! Sit down on the bank.” Billy himself was trembling so he felt it -safer to see Jimmy sitting. “I’ll get--Twinnies, run, run to the tank -and wet your handkerchief. Quick!” - -They were at the dripping roadside tank and back in a trice. Gently -where a moment before he had been ferocious with anger, Billy wiped his -play-mate’s face, or rather, changed the mud from one spot to another, -got him to his feet again, and finally into the buggy with the little -girls by his side. - -“Can you drive?” he asked, anxiously, as he unhitched the horse. He -noticed with a second sinking feeling that Jimmy’s face twitched with -pain, that his right arm hung limp. - -“If I can’t Vilette can. Old Bob goes by himself, anyway.” He made a -brave though unsuccessful effort to appear as usual. - -“Are--are you hurt bad, Jimmy?” came in a quaking voice. - -“No worse ’n you, I reckon,” was the rueful response. Billy’s -appearance justified Jimmy’s speech; for freckles were standing out -large and ghastly from one or two very white spots on the younger boy’s -battered face. “Can you get home alone?” - -“Yes--go on quick! Here come folks!” - -He watched the three drive away, the brother holding the reins in his -left hand; the other he did not attempt to lift; and Billy’s heart -thumped faster as fear grew to a certainty. He brushed himself weakly, -turning his back as a surrey-load of people passed. - -“Had a fall, Billy?” Every one knew the boy. - -“Yes, Mr. Brown,” he answered, keeping his face from sight. - -“Hurt?” - -“My clothes mostly,” he replied, hoping he had told the truth, though -a dreadful, big feeling in his head, the humming in his ears, and the -pain in his eyes, made him guess he had told a lie. - -The travellers passed on; he righted his wheel and began his slow, -painful way home. It was still cloudy and the welcome darkness setting -in early, shrouded him as he slipped down the least public streets -and alleys to his own side gate. He put his wheel away, fed his -chickens,--though they had gone to roost,--went to the cellar and -brought meat and milk for dog and cats, and reconnoitred the way to the -Fo’castle. - -Visitors! He saw them through the window. Every step was growing more -painful,--he must get to his room. The space from the woodshed roof to -the tower room, before so easily surmounted by a swinging jump, looked -now as high and far as Mount Whitney. Back to the window he turned. The -firelight was dancing on the walls. Sister Edith was talking gayly to -neighbors who were standing near the door, and May Nell was snuggled -beside his mother on the couch, the great yellow cat, or a part of him, -sprawling on her small lap. - -How sweet and dear they all were! How peaceful it looked in there,--too -peaceful, clean, for a dirty, fighting brute like himself. What could -he do? He shivered in the cold, and the pain in his eyes increased. -Would he fall? Would they find him, have Doctor Carter, learn the -disgraceful truth? If the world had looked dark that afternoon, it was -now Egyptian blackness. - -There was a stir in the room. His mother stood--May Nell, too--and the -cat stretched lazily on the couch. Sister Edith followed the guests to -the porch, as did his mother and the little girl--the room was empty! -He opened the kitchen door, tried to hasten noiselessly, yet thought he -clattered like a threshing machine. Into the living-room he crept, and -lumbered softly up the stairs that seemed a mile long. - -“It’s time Billy was at home,” he heard his mother say as he opened her -room door; and he stumbled on more hurriedly, across the bridge--at -last, the Fo’castle! - -He threw himself on the bed and wept the bitterest tears he had -ever shed in his life, tears of shame. There he lay--hours, he -thought--determined to bear his pain and disgrace alone. Yet it was -only minutes when he heard his mother in her room, coming! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -ON STORMY SEAS - - -Billy did not lift his face from the pillow; he was striving to steady -throat and voice. - -“Billy,” she called. - -“Don’t, mother! Mother, don’t come in here! Don’t come in the same room -with me,--I’m not fit for-- O mother, I’ve hurt Jimmy for life!” - -Mrs. Bennett caught the despair in his words, and knew this could be no -ordinary trouble to be petted away with a few caresses. Some crisis had -come that must be wisely met. She entered, knelt by the bed, and put -her arms around him. The spring starlight dimly outlined his head on -the pillow but gave no hint of its bruises. “Billy, dear, nothing you -can ever do will be bad enough to keep your mother away from you. What -is it, my son?” - -The gentle words, the tender touch, the comfort and hope in her words, -unlocked his lips and he told what he had thought to keep forever -untold. - -He kept his hands from hers, and begged her not to touch the -handkerchief he had bound around his head; but before his story was -finished, a growing stain on the pillow had oozed into sight. - -“Billy! You said you weren’t hurt, but you are!” Alarmed, she rose and -switched on the light, pulled off the bandage, and turned faint at the -wreck of the bright, clean boy who had left her that afternoon. “My -boy! You’re dreadfully hurt! I must send for Doctor Carter, and--” - -“No, no! Don’t, mother! I’ll run away! I’ll--” He groaned and left his -sentence unfinished. - -“But you may have broken bones--be seriously injured.” - -She took a step, but he caught her hand. “I don’t care if I am, he -mustn’t see--no one must,--I didn’t mean you should. Besides, I walked -home and brought my wheel; I’ll live, I guess,--I’m too mean to kill.” -He put his stiff, swollen hand over his face. “It’s Jimmy that’s in -danger.” A new note of terror came into his voice as he remembered -the pale face and limp arm; he had never seen a fighting boy look so -before. “I’m afraid Jimmy’s hurt inside, mother. What if he should die?” - -Mrs. Bennett knew better than Billy how much thumping a boy could live -through; and reassured him while she took off his soiled garments, and -started below for hot water and remedies. - -“Don’t tell--must Edith and May Nell know?” he called after her. “Oh, -all the town will--mother!” The anguish in his words halted her. -“Mother, this wasn’t a boys’ scrap at all. I didn’t think of you or--or -anything; an’ something must have squelched Betsey, she never peeped. -Mother, I felt--I felt mad enough to kill him!” He whispered the -awesome words. - -“But you don’t feel so now, my son. Jimmy will soon be well; you, too. -Then you can talk with him about it. Rest, now; that is your first -duty,” she comforted, and left him. - -Hot water, lotions, a mother’s tender hands, best of all, a mother’s -comprehending heart,--it is wonderful what cures these can make. In an -hour Billy was comparatively at ease. His sore body still ached, and -his eyes “felt like red fire on the Fourth,” he said; but the world -seemed less dark, and he was glad his mother had not taken him at his -word and left him to bear his trouble alone. - -Yet he could not long keep his mind from the struggle. “Mother, won’t -you find out soon about Jimmy, how bad he’s hurt? An’ I wish I knew if -Vilette ’n Evelyn ’re all right; it looked awful to see ’em hit with a -horsewhip.” - -“I’ll get word from them in the morning. Don’t worry any more, but -rest; sleep if you can. You can’t help them till you have helped -yourself.” - -Still, since Billy had broken his resolution of silence, he was -feverishly eager to talk. His thoughts were erratic, now in the -present, again flying back to the past. “O mother, you should be -lickin’ me ’nstead of petting me!” he broke out passionately. - -“Why, Billy? I don’t believe in whipping unless all else fails.” - -“Well, papa did. If he was alive he’d be giving it to me about now, -good and plenty.” - -“Why do you think he would have whipped you?” - -“Don’t you remember the first day I went to school, he took me between -his knees,--I was a little kid then,--and said, ‘Billy, if I know -that you ever jump on a boy first to fight him, I’ll lick you. And if -another boy jumps on you first, and you don’t fight back, no matter how -big he is, I’ll lick you then.’” - -“I guess he didn’t say ‘lick,’ Billy.” - -“Yes, he did. And he said, awfully solemn, ‘Remember, Billy, no one -but a coward strikes his foe in the back. A boy of mine who could do -that,--I don’t think I should wish him to wear this.’ And he pointed to -his Loyal Legion button. O mother, I hit Jimmy first, I hit him in the -back, and I--I kicked him in the stomach! I’ve disgraced papa’s button -forever!” His last words were a groan, and he hid his face. - -Mrs. Bennett leaned over him without speaking for a minute, but stroked -his hair softly. “Remember, with One there is no ‘forever.’ As long as -we live we have a chance to retrieve. Rest on that, my child. Now you -must sleep.” She kissed him and was silent, for a drop glistened on -his cheek she knew he would not wish her to notice. - -She thought he should be in a warmer room, but he begged so hard to -stay that she yielded. She put a bell near, that he might call her, -and went to him several times before she slept, finding him somewhat -restless, yet too profoundly asleep to be wakened by her light touch. -Outraged nature was in charge now. - -It must have been hours past midnight when Billy’s chattering voice -startled his mother. She had heard no bell; the boy himself stood by -her bedside; she could see him dimly against the window. - -“I don’t know what’s the matter,--I’m drowned, I guess.” His teeth -rattled, and the hand he put out to her was icy cold. - -“Billy! You’re freezing!” She sprang up and turned on the light. - -He was a queer figure with his bandaged head, one eye peering out, -and a long, dripping red quilt trailing behind him. “I found the bed -flooded, and put the comfort round me; but someway that’s wet, too.” He -could hardly speak for shivering. - -She clapped him into her own warm bed, and incredibly soon things were -sizzling over the alcohol lamp. - -“The tank must have run over, Billy. You forgot to shut it off.” - -“No, I didn’t forget; the water was low, and I left it running on -purpose. But it’s that west wind; she’s a hummer. She can pump faster -’n the old waste pipe can discharge.” - -Friction and mustard, hot water bags without and hot tea within soon -set Billy’s teeth at rest. - -“How in the world did you ever sleep through it, Billy?” his mother -asked, coming in from the tank-room where she had been to investigate. -“There is a small flood there. I should think the first drop would have -wakened you.” - -“It came to me feet foremost, I guess, and soaked the quilt in -instalments. I had a tough dream, too; couldn’t wake up in the middle. -I dreamed I was on a ship in a bang-up storm, and the vessel lunged -like a bucking horse.” - -“Yes, I can see that the wind, the shaking tower, the creaking mill, -would bring such dreams,” his mother said. “Hear the wind howl now!” - -“And I thought all the crew were washed overboard like chips,” he went -on; “and I was left alone. And she shipped water in mountains. And I -was cold as the North Pole. And at last she foundered, and I went down -with her. And when I couldn’t choke any more I woke up.” - -“Poor little Billy! You’ve had a hard night of it.” - -“Kinder rocky.” - -He smiled wanly, and her heart ached for him; but she knew sympathy was -unsafe just then. “If you could see that comical, crooked eye of yours -blinking at me, like a chicken asking your intentions, you’d laugh, -Billy.” - -He did laugh, yet was sober again. She was tucking the clothes close -about him, preparing to lie down by his side. But he reached his arms -out suddenly and flung them around her neck. “O mamma, the awfullest -thing in the world next to doing a crime, must be not to have a mother. -I must jolly May Nell more. And, mamma--mother, I don’t know why,--” -his voice was very low and shy, “why God’s looked out for me so good; -but anyway, you’re--you’re the whole bunch!” - -She pressed him closer and kissed him. And soon he slept. - -But his mother watched out the night. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -RED GOOSE FLESH - - -The next morning Billy had a “temperature.” His mother decided -against school for that day. At first he was glad. He didn’t care -if he had forty temperatures. He thought almost anything in the -way of fever was cooler than he would feel if the boys--and the -girls--should see his face. Not that this was the first time he had -been scratched in a fight; before he had not cared who knew. To-day it -was different,--there were things about this fight he wished he could -forget, even though he knew Jimmy was not likely to die. - -But a second idea came that made him fidget about the room, lift his -bandage and watch the children on their way to school. His record for -attendance for the year had so far been perfect. He knew that he owed -it partly to his mother’s tireless watch of the clock, and wondered -why he had not realized this before. Now it was to be broken; she would -be as sorry as he could be; and it would have counted well toward the -prize. He tried to calculate how many days he could be absent and still -have left some chance of it. The work was all reviewing, he almost knew -it, anyway. If he only had his books,--but no, they wouldn’t let him -use his eyes. - -A gentle rap halted his reflections, a sweet voice asked to come in; -and in a moment there was a rose-leaf touch on his cheek. - -“Your mamma said I was to ask no questions, and I shall obey; but I do -wish I knew how I could help you.” She touched the bandage that bound -his head. “Does it hurt you awfully much, Billy? I’m so sorry. My eyes -ache me, too, for looking at you.” - -He was pleased with her sympathy; but being a boy, he didn’t like -to show it. “I’ll tell you,” he said, eagerly, and without further -acknowledgment of her kindness, “ask Mr. Brown to give you my books. -Perhaps to-night I can see to study.” - -But not that night nor for days after did Billy look at his books. The -second morning the fever was still present, and he told his mother he -was “all over red goose flesh.” - -“Measles,” Mrs. Bennett pronounced; and though it was a light case, and -in a day or so Billy felt as well as ever except his eyes, they were -sentenced to a dark room. - -[Illustration: May Nell plays teacher] - -May Nell had been “through the measles,” yet she shared the quarantine. -Billy resented this at first. It was “no fair.” Afterward he was -grateful; for aside from the cheer of her presence she did him a fine -service. It was her clever brain that proposed to read his lessons -aloud to him; and though he didn’t think much of it at first, he soon -saw that this would make a chance for the prize which in his heart -he had resigned. - -She made a quaint picture curled in a big chair under the window, -where a lifted corner of the curtain gave light to the book, but left -the rest of the room dark. It pleased her to play teacher. She asked -Billy numberless questions, coaxed him to explain what she did not -understand. And he soon learned that one must know a thing very well -before he can tell it. He dictated some of the written work, and she -transcribed it in her prim little script. - -Yet Billy despaired when he thought of the mathematics; Jimmy-- With -the thought of Jimmy the hot blood rose to Billy’s cheek, and he was -glad the room was dark. It was Jimmy’s right arm that was broken. - -But May Nell’s ambition was boundless. “We can do mathematics work, -too. I can multiply, and divide, and other things beside, I can do; -I’ll just be your paper and pencil.” - -Billy was skeptical, yet soon convinced, as the little girl slowly and -carefully read the problems, followed his directions, and obtained -correct results. A few problems were too complicated; these the boy had -her mark for attack with recovered sight. - -Yet only a part of the long day went to study. They spent delightful -hours rehearsing the stories of favorite books, and otherwise amused -themselves by improvising tales of marvellous adventure. The school -children sent notes, the latest school jokes, and original pictures, -interesting if sometimes not quite clear as to meaning. Clarence -indited his first letter. Here it is: - -[Illustration] - -The best of all was a letter from Jimmy, scrawled with his left hand. - - “DEAR BILLY,” it read; “Shifty seen the fight. He says it was - something fierce. He says you looked like a mad bull. He was hiding - behind the fence. He says he bet on me; but he was glad he didn’t bet - with nobody, because you whipped. Shifty’s doing some of my written - work--I’m telling him how, of course. And I’m studying right smart. - Say, Bill, I don’t lay no grudge. My arm’s getting on fine. - - “Yours truly, - “JIMMY.” - -Billy read the note several times. He knew that Jimmy meant much more -than the words said; it was his offer of the “olive branch.” And Billy, -thinking over that miserable afternoon, wondered again how it had been -possible for him to feel such murderous hate for anything living. And -for Jimmy! His mate at school, in play! The picture came to him of -Jackson crying, of Vilette,--yes, it was not strange he had been angry. -But it was not his duty to punish; even if it had been, he knew he had -forgotten Jackson and Vilette, forgotten everything except the rage of -the fight. Why was it? Older heads than Billy’s have asked in sorrow -that same question after the madness of some angry deed has passed to -leave in its wake sleepless remorse. - -The best amusement of the hours of imprisonment was planning for the -performance of “The Lady of the Lake.” Nothing definite, except that it -was to be out of doors, had unfolded till now, when irksome leisure and -May Nell’s quick mind together bore fruit. - -“We can play the first canto, ‘The Chase,’ across the river in the -Sunol Creek canyon,” Billy explained, eagerly. - -“But there aren’t any deer,” the little girl objected. “What will you -do for - - ‘The antlered monarch of the waste - Sprang from his heathery couch in haste’?” - -“There ’re deer up there, all right; but of course we can’t get ’em. -We’ll have to catch a jack rabbit beforehand and let him loose.” - -“O Billy, the poor rabbit will surely be caught; and you know the stag -hid in ‘Trosach’s wildest nook.’” - -“Oh, the kids’--boys’ dogs are mostly old or else too fat to run, like -Bouncer. I guess the rabbit can get away,--too soon, perhaps. We’ll -have you for Fair Ellen.” - -“Oh, no; she must be Jean.” - -“She won’t do it; she said so before. She wants to be Alan-bane.” - -“But she’s a girl.” - -“That’s the reason. She says a boy will spoil the part; won’t get the -shivers like she will. She thinks a minstrel can’t--can’t minstrelize -properly without the shivers.” - -“Yes, that’s true,” May Nell replied, with conviction. “And Queen will -be Lady Margaret; and you are Malcolm Graeme; and who is Fitz-James?” - -“Pretty; and Charley will be Douglas, and--” - -“And Jimmy is already Roderick Dhu.” - -“But Roderick Dhu died from fighting Fitz-James; I hate to give Jimmy a -dying part.” - -“Oh, my conscience! That isn’t any matter. All the grandest actors have -the dying parts; and they die gloriously; and the audience claps and -claps and claps; and the curtain goes up, and they all come out alive -again and bow and smile; and you eat some candy and don’t cry any more.” - -“That’s bul--dandy.” - -“But I don’t like them to do that, Billy. They ought to stay dead till -the play is done. When I see them smiling I feel as if--just as I would -if you made fun of me when I cried for my mama,--it takes all the true -out of the play.” - -“As soon as I get out of this,” Billy went on, after a short silence, -“I’ll go over and fix up Ellen’s Isle for you and Lady Margaret. We can -have - - ‘--a lodge of ample size,’ - -with - - ‘The lighter pine trees overhead,’ - -but not the strong log house where----” He hesitated, and May Nell -quoted on glibly, - - “‘The sturdy oak and ash unite’; - -but I can - - ‘twine, - The ivy and the Idean vine.’ - -If I only had an Idean vine; what is it, Billy?” - -“You can search me.” Billy was about to remark further, when a -commotion arose among the school children just passing on their way -home. - -May Nell needed no second request to “catch the racket and bring it -in.” She flew downstairs, and presently up again, arriving with a -breathless story. “O Billy, the circus train’s wrecked! There won’t be -any circus next week! Some of the animals are all dead, and the fire -burned some-- Oh, I can hear them scream now, can’t you?” She put her -hands over her face and shivered. - -“Don’t feel so bad, Chick,” he comforted; “it won’t bring them to life, -and it hurts you. That’s why you don’t grow faster; your feelings eats -up all your blood.” - -She smiled faintly. “Then my feelings must be bloodthirsty, Billy. How -dreadful!” - -“Did the little kids take it hard?” - -“Awfully hard, Billy. Some of them had ‘grief swimming in their eyes.’” - -“Poor little chaps! They’ve been talking circus for a month.” - -“Billy! I’ll tell you what let’s do; we’ll make a circus ourselves!” - -“Heavens to Betsey! We’ll do it!” - -The “Lady of the Lake” was that moment deserted. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -SIR THOMAS KATZENSTEIN - - -“Billy, Flash is the cleverest cat ever!” May Nell exclaimed as she -bounded in some days later. - -The quarantine had been raised, and at night Billy had “the run of -the house”; though his days were still spent in “the prison cell” as -he called the dark room. It seemed to him that light came in with the -little girl, and all the sparkle and fragrance of the young summer -without. - -“What new trick has Flash been up to?” - -“You know that bad, old, half-tailed Tom that whips every cat in town -but Geewhillikins and Flash and Sir Thomas--” - -“Yes; he’d lick him too, if Flash wasn’t Tom’s body-guard.” - -“Well, just listen! This morning your mama set out the meat for their -breakfast. I had Geewhillikins and Jerusalem Crickets in the pound--the -woodshed, you know. Oh, they had a big breakfast before,” she added -quickly, feeling rather than seeing Billy’s disapproval. - -“I forgive you,” he condoned. - -“In a minute I heard the teentiest little mew. I looked and there was -Tom crouched against the side of the house. He was shivering with -fright, and that old tramp cat was eating up his breakfast.” - -“The darned old robber!” Billy started up and walked restlessly toward -the door. - -“I took a stick of kindling from the kitchen and crept out to chase the -thief away; but just then Flash trotted around the corner of the house. -He’s been on the front lawn all the morning watching for gophers; -wouldn’t come when we called him.” - -“That’s Flash; he always works for his breakfast,” Billy pompously -approved. - -“He ran up and touched noses with Tom like a Feegee Islander,--are they -the people that touch noses for ‘How do you do?’” - -“I guess so. What else?” - -“And Flash mewed just once, very softly. He couldn’t see the tramp cat, -for the big oak tree hid him. But the second Tom answered his mew, -Flash flew like a lightning streak, around the tree and up to that old, -stealing feline cat. And he ran-- O Billy, you’d have laughed an ache -in your side if you could have seen him run,--over the fence, he ran -again, across the street, down the sidewalk,--he never stopped till he -came to the tip top of Mr. Potter’s big locust tree.” - -“By heck! Flash is all right.” - -“Then he walked back as slowly and dignifiedly as a minister,--isn’t -‘dignifiedly’ an awkward word? I wonder if it is right?” - -“Never mind grammar, or spelling, whichever it is; what did Flash do?” - -“He went up to Tom--he was still crouching against the house--” - -“Like the lazy coward he is,” Billy tartly interrupted. - -“O Billy, he’s so beautiful and so clever; and he put his nose up to -Flash _so_ gratefully. Flash just mewed again, low as before, and -walked off round the house. And Tom went and ate his breakfast.” - -“Well, old Tom’ll have to be cleverer than I ever saw him to pay for -that.” - -“You don’t like Sir Thomas because he’s a little indolent.” - -“It’s plain lazy. He won’t even wash himself.” - -“Yet he has more mind than Flash.” - -“Mind? What do you mean by that? Anyway, you can’t prove it.” - -“Yes, I can, right now!” The little girl, full of enthusiasm for her -beloved yellow cat, went over and laid her hand impressively on -Billy’s arm. “You know the dining-room window screen hung from the top, -that has the broken catch on one side?” - -“Uh huh.” - -“Well, Tom jumps up from the outside, hangs on the sill with one -forefoot, and pulls out the edge of the screen with the other till -he gets his nose in, when he can pry out the screen and slip through -easily.” - -“Yes, he can do that; I’ve seen him myself.” - -“Well, Flash can’t do that.” - -“How do you know?” - -“I’ve watched, and called to him from the inside; but he only stands -and mews. Did you ever see him climb up and open the screen?” - -Billy could not remember that he had. - -“But, Billy, Tom opens it for him! He climbs up, gets his nose in, and -the largest part of himself; then he crowds along as hard as he can, -and calls to Flash, ‘The way is clear; come’;--you needn’t laugh; he -says it just as plain as words,” she protested. “And Flash springs up, -creeps through, and jumps to the floor, with Tom after him; and the -screen slaps to with a big noise. I’ve seen them do it three times this -week. Isn’t that a wonder?” - -“Sure!” Billy assented, heartily. “I take it back about old Sir Thomas; -I guess they’re equal partners, after all.” - -“They’re a regular Damon and Pythias, aren’t they? And we’ll have Flash -for the Polar Bear, in the circus, and Tom for the Royal Bengal Tiger, -the baby tiger, you know.” - -“Yes; and we’ll have to train the dogs,-- Whoopee! Only four weeks of -school. We’ll have to hurry if we do the circus and “Lady of the Lake” -both before vacation.” - -“Before vacation? Why, they’ll be just the things to do _in_ vacation.” - -“They’ll have to be done before vacation or not at all,” he answered, -so seriously that May Nell wondered a little; wondered still more -as the moments passed and the dark room grew very quiet. She did not -know what purpose was growing in Billy’s mind, a purpose that largely -concerned herself. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -GOOD-NIGHT IN THE FO’CASTLE - - -The silence was broken a little later by merry voices on the stairway. -For several nights the girls had been gathering in May Nell’s room. -Billy knew “things were doing” there by the sounds; the tap, tap of the -tack hammer, added to much chatter and rustling. Now May Nell caught -him by the hand and pulled him across the hall. A strange pungent -fragrance like burning spice, yet not familiar, met them at the door. -And inside, the dark hangings full of lurking shadows gave the room a -foreign air. - -The Queen of Sheba in gypsy dress, and her harum-scarum train buzzing -with gossip and exclamation, flocked in. Bess looked magnificent in a -mass of draperies that included every Oriental thing to be found in -several families. - -“Jiminy whiz! Your royal splendor dazzles me!” Billy chaffed. - -“I’m the Royal Egyptian Fortune Teller!” Bess announced, in a deep -voice. “This is my desert tent. I shall reveal the past, present, and -future to those only whom my favor shall designate. Slaves, the lamps!” - -Clarence and Harry, much wrapped in white about the head, but with bare -little white arms and bare little brown legs, came in solemnly and -placed some red lanterns on the table. Bess posed in a chair decorated -for the occasion, arranged her draperies, pulled nearer the “incense -lamp,” which was her father’s Turkish cigar lighter, laid out her -cards, and bent over them in grave silence. - -Her absorption hypnotized the others to wondering stillness. In -a moment her attitude and intensity had transported them to the -mysterious East, and put upon them the spell of ancient superstitions. - -At last she looked up and pointed a startling finger at May Nell. “Mary -Ellen Smith, my familiars, who guard the portals of futurity, declare -that you shall be the first honored. Minions, depart! Slaves, guard the -door!” - -Jean and the twins, Charley, George and some others, rattled down the -stairs; while Clarence and Harry stood rigid, with wooden scymitars -drawn, one on each side of the door. - -Billy hesitated a minute. The dim room, the wicked-looking red lights, -Bess so stern and mysterious,--this might frighten the little girl. He -ought to wait. - -“Avaunt, hesitating noddy! The angel child is quite safe!” Bess waved -an arm, partly bare and brown in spots. - -“Yes, go away, Billy; I’m not afraid.” May Nell laughed happily. Her -quick mind was delighted with the masquerading. - -Yet it was a very quiet little child that crept down to the others a -few minutes later; when asked of her fortune she burst into tears. - -Mrs. Bennett came in and tried to learn the trouble; but it was some -time before May Nell could be induced to tell. - -“She said, the Queen of Sheba did, that I’d be in danger, and some one -would save me. And I’d have a s’prise, and a hus--husband, and fi-five -c-chil-- children!” She wailed again and hid her face on Mrs. Bennett’s -shoulder. - -“Golly! There’s nothing skewgee about that fortune,” Billy commented, -encouragingly. - -“Oh, yes; yes, there is, Billy.” May Nell lifted a teary face. “Five -children! If it had been two, or perhaps I could possibly bring up -three; but f-five, o-o-oh!” she wailed again, heedless of the laughter -around her. - -Several others were summoned and returned with remarkable reports. At -last two high-pitched little voices called in concert down the stair: -“The Royal Seeress will rend the veil of futurity for William Bennett.” - -“That’s you, papa,” Clarence piped, as an anxious post warning. - -Artful Bess! Billy had treated it all as a huge joke; but now May -Nell’s depression, the unfamiliar sound of his right name, the dim room -with its shadows and half-suffocating odors,--all conspired to send a -sober Billy into the circle of lurid light that came from the two lamps -gleaming on either side of dark Bess like angry eyes. - -A few minutes later the entire Egyptian fortune-telling outfit came -down stairs at Billy’s heels. The hubbub was a riot of fun, and no one -noticed that Billy said nothing about the revelations of destiny made -to him; though later Jean recalled that in the zig-zag journey around -the park that was Billy’s evening exercise, he spoke very little to the -chatterers with him, even forgot to “jolly.” - -That night when Mrs. Bennett went into the Fo’castle there was an -unusual note in Billy’s voice. - -“Stop and chin with me just a little, won’t you, marmsey?” - -“And what’s the ‘chinning’ to be about?” she questioned, sitting on the -bedside; “the fortune?” - -Billy looked at her wonderingly for an instant. “You guess everything -that troubles a fellow, don’t you? How do you do it?” He sighed deeply. - -“Was it as bad as that?” She smiled, and smoothed back the thick, -tumbled hair. - -“Worse! She said soon I’d have to be very brave--that ain’t bad--but -I’m goin’ to be--to be a minister--a preacher!” The last word came with -a woe-begone vehemence that made his mother laugh. - -“Why do you think that’s so dreadful?” - -“O mother,” he began, excitedly, and stopped. Only lately had he -called her “mother” in his serious moments, and the name gave her pain -as well as pleasure, for it was one more announcement of the coming man. - -“Mother,” he resumed, “I know I must freeze to some sort of business, -and that mighty soon, too. But a preacher--why, he can’t be like -anybody. He never has any fun.” - -“Do you think fun the first business of the world?” - -“Oh, no,” he sighed; “I suppose duty is the first business; but duty -is such a narrow, knock-you-down little word.” His voice was tense and -hard. - -Mrs. Bennett continued her gentle, even strokes; bent and kissed him -softly before replying. “Duty looks narrow only when it opposes -inclination, my child. Selfish people hate duty; but those who live -the longest and best lives could tell you that every victory duty wins -brings an ever-increasing joy.” - -“O mother, how can there be joy if life is all work and never any fun?” -He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek. - -“There’s a little secret about work; with grown-ups it is often their -play; and they like it.” - -“Do you _like_ to work?” His tone was insistent; and he lifted his -head and looked hard at her, as if to challenge the tiniest bit of -insincerity that might be lurking back of the words. “_Like_ to work?” -he repeated with added emphasis. - -“Billy, I don’t think you could possibly have been happier on your -birthday than I was; yet I was so tired that night that I could not -sleep. The work of that day was play to me.” - -Billy threw both arms around her and hugged her. - -“And there are many times when the duty itself is disagreeable, yet -doing it brings a finer joy than shirking it ever could bring.” - -“Then I’ll be a--a preacher if I ought to. But gee! it’s rocky!” - -“O Billy,” his mother laughed, “you need not decide to-night. Besides, -it was all Bess’s nonsense. I can’t quite imagine my heedless boy in a -pulpit.” - -Billy thought he detected a touch of resigned disappointment in her -words, and looked up with a sudden wonder widening his eyes, making -them shine even in the dim light of the shaded lamp. “Do you want me to -preach, mamma?” - -“Not unless you wish to so much that you will not do anything else, -Billy. The world needs preachers of the right kind sadly; and the right -kind take up the calling reverently, though they know it will bring -them small worldly return and much toil.” - -The boy was very still for a little, but burst out presently: “I’m -going to work, mother; as soon as school closes I’ll start.” - -He felt his mother start. “You’re too young for hard work, Billy; you -do enough as it is.” - -“Yes, when you and sister turn gray getting it out of me. No, I’m -going to do real work that will earn money; and I’m going to take this -never-get-enough grub-basket of mine to a table where my own hands have -earned the grub.” - -“Billy! My--boy!” Mrs. Bennett bent over him; and he felt a tear where -her cheek touched his. - -“Feel that muscle,” he said a moment later; bending his arm, and -pressing her fingers to it. “That’s got to grow by a broom or hoe, -something besides football!” - -His words had a new ring, and his mother was wise enough to respect the -young independence in them. “What brought you to this decision, Billy?” - - -“You remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl -because he knew he ought not to marry her? I thought that sort kind of -noble, but you said there was nobler. Do you remember?” - -“No; I can’t recall what I said.” - -“You said, ‘Death is easy. It is much braver to live without the love -one craves, to do one’s duty each day, and smile as the world goes by. -That’s the finest love I know,’ you said.” - -“Well?” she questioned. - -“I couldn’t understand it then. Now I do. My own sister is that bravest -of lovers.” His words rang with pride as well as love. - -“Why, Billy, what has happened to make you think so?” - -“Last night I heard something on the Q. T. I didn’t mean to, but I’m -glad I did. I was in the pantry chuckin’ some bread an’ butter under my -solar plexus when I heard Mr. Wright tell sister in the sitting-room--I -guess some door was open a crack--that his law business was growing a -little. I didn’t hear the next words, but there was ‘please’ in italics -in his voice. But sister said, an’ I heard her plain enough, ‘No, Hal, -not till I’ve saved enough to take Billy through school.’ ‘I’ll help--’ -Mr. Wright got as far as that when this guy waked up,--knew he’d snuck -information not intended for him. So I made a noise; I scatted the -cat--no cat there--slammed the door, and kicked up a racket generally -so’s they’d know I was there.” - -Mrs. Bennett smiled. She thought they could have had no trouble in -locating Billy. - -“Then I went in an’ spoke to ’em ’s though I hadn’t heard a word, and -hustled off to bed. I thought ’most all night, and decided that sister -shan’t wait a day longer for me to grow up. I’m going to hustle for -myself, so she can get married.” - -“Billy, my little, little boy!” She lifted the tousled head and pressed -her cheek close against his. - -“I’m going to work as soon ’s school’s out; it’s for you and May Nell, -too, you know.” - -“But your school, my child! You must be educated; you--” - -“Yes, yes, marmsey; but there’s night shops where a fellow can gobble -education by the hunk, you know, and--” He paused. Even his own mother -didn’t know the pang in his heart when he thought of Jean and Jimmy, -and the others, going on together through the high school, perhaps the -university. - -Mrs. Bennett rose and tucked him in snugly. “Let us drop it till school -closes, Billy. Then we’ll talk it over.” - -“All but finding the job, mother. Jobs don’t hunt boys; and mine’s -going to be waiting for me when the school house door shuts: that is, -if I can persuade any man in the town or county that he needs a boy my -size.” - -Mrs. Bennett bade him good-night, and left him to the stars and the -quiet night. Her heart was still sore for the little boy of the past, -yet a strange joy came to her; the thoughtful, observant, earnest man -had heralded his coming. She should be very proud of him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE CIRCUS - - -The day was fine. Billy, not long released from his green shade, -wondered if the world was ever so lovely before; the flowers so -sweet, the birds so joyous. Could it be only a few short weeks since -that gray Sunday? Billy’s confinement had quickened him, introduced -him to himself; now he looked on life with wider eyes, with a more -understanding heart. - -He was out early wheeling from house to house, where various parts -of the “show” were receiving last touches. One by one he gathered -each “attraction,” and herded them all to Jimmy’s big barn, where the -procession was to form. Some were late, Bess for one; but Billy was not -anxious about her. - -It had been hard to persuade her, though her heart was aching to join -the fun. “Huh! Do you suppose I’d be a common snake-charmer?” - -“Common?” Billy retorted, “they can’t be common. They have to have -power more’n anybody. And snake charmers ’most always are Egyptian -Princesses, or royalty of some kind,” he added hastily, lest exact Bess -should call on him for a genealogy of his princesses. - -The magic name won the day. Bess was ever dreaming of the land of -mystery, whose pictured daughters of old she resembled; and the chance -to masquerade in its atmosphere lured her. - -Max was the first to be quite ready with his exhibit. It was a queer -creature that one gradually discovered to be some sort of a bird; -though such a one had never before been seen on land or sea. Max had -arrayed his mother’s big white gander for the occasion. A turkey-tail -fan made a huge breastplate, if one can imagine a breastplate of -feathers. All the long-tailed roosters that had been killed in town -for months, one would guess, had contributed to the coat of sprawling -feathers that was tied over the body of the bird. And no one knew by -what magic the boy had coaxed some one to lend him the magnificent -peacock plumes that rose high above the little wiggling goose tail. - -In a cage of wire netting bearing the legend, “The Roc--The Egg,” the -uncomfortable gander swayed and craned his neck; and all but his voice -was satisfactory. In the bottom of the cage a whitewashed stone the -size of a small pumpkin did duty as the egg. - -A three-legged rooster appeared. And Sir Thomas Katzenstein, according -to schedule, roamed his box in great agitation, though in fine form, -impressively carrying out the label on his cage, “Baby Royal Bengal -Tiger.” - -Lying in silent disdain on his familiar cushion, Flash, as the “Polar -Bear,” did equally well; while Bouncer fretted between the fills of -the home-made, bunting-draped chariot that served as “The Polar Bear’s -Snowy Lair of the North.” - -There was a half-grown calf with an artificial hump for the “Water -Buffalo”; and Harry and Clarence were cunningly strapped together for -the Siamese Twins. - -“But they are dead,” Jimmy protested. - -“But couldn’t another pair have been born in Siam?” May Nell -questioned; and as no one felt sufficiently informed to deny it, Harry -and Clarence continued their strained relations. - -The Prettymans’ white cow was ingeniously shaped and caparisoned to -represent “India’s Sacred White Elephant”; and Jackson was the Hindoo -leader. This exhibit caused much controversy. The attendant should ride -on the neck of the elephant, all agreed to that; but the cow objected; -so they compromised by having Jackson walk. The matter of costume -for Jackson was not so easily settled, as the differing pictures of -sacred elephants presented a variation in the attendants’ garb. May -Nell,--who was to be the “Fair Princess of Bombay,”--as soon as she -could get a hearing, ended the dispute amicably by suggesting that -Jackson be allowed his choice in the matter of dress, an alternative -that permitted each disputant to withdraw from the argument with honor. - -Jimmy had the trick ponies and the trained dogs. Teaching them was the -chief joy of his life. What if there were only two ponies, and their -spots were painted on? And what if the children had seen all the tricks -over and over again? They were good as new each time. Besides, the -ponies’ one brand-new trick, when at the crack of a whip they stood -on their hind feet in unison, was so effective that it frightened May -Nell. She saw it first in the barn; and when their shod hoofs came down -she thought they would crash right through the floor. - -Jean was the Goddess of Liberty; Shifty and another larger boy the -steeds that pulled her car. But boys and box wagon were so smothered in -bunting that only the Goddess was conspicuous, standing, well-balanced, -stately, and fair. - -One tall, ambitious girl contributed a unique float called, “Lot’s -Wife Looking Backward.” She had not been certain of the color for the -desert, consequently had made the whole thing, including the wagon, the -boys, and herself snowy white. She had copied an old Bible picture, -carrying out the idea with sheets, and such liberal doses of flour, -that only a heavy dew was needed to turn the float to dough instead of -salt. However, the sun shone, and the addition of diamond dust over all -made a very realistic picture that Billy praised heartily. - -Guinea pigs, pigeons, and other and larger live stock, normal or -otherwise, masqueraded as marvellous creatures from foreign lands. - -Bess arrived at last. A gorgeous affair was her chariot, the foundation -being Mr. Prettyman’s spring wagon. Bess, with some borrowings, -Charley’s help, and her own quick invention, had made a very good -imitation of a circus wagon. Charley, the Strong Man, held the reins -over old Dom Pedro, the horse she loved, that had once been a racer. -She had discovered some very real looking, jointed snakes that wriggled -and curved in a manner startlingly serpentine; while tremendous boa -constrictors, cut from old circus posters, were disposed about the cage -in alarmingly lifelike positions. - -Bess’s coming launched the procession. People in the vicinity who had -not before known of the presence of a circus, knew it now. Everybody -talked at once, and every living thing made its own kind of a noise. -Billy as Master of Ceremonies had his hands full, his voice full too, -one might say. - -But at last they got under way and proceeded as quietly as possible -down the back street to the home of Mrs. Lancaster, where Buzz, as the -“Prize Baby of Vine County,” awaited them in his car, which was very -handsome,--one would never have dreamed it was only a large wash-tub -strapped to a coaster; flowers and cloth do make such wonderful changes -if handled with art! - -That preliminary march was not without adventure. The “howdah” on the -White Elephant where May Nell rode as the Fair Princess of Bombay, -became loose and threatened to spill its small bit of royalty. And -when Harold cinched the thing tighter the old cow bellowed so the -smaller children broke and ran. However, they were soon back, and the -procession halted at Mrs. Lancaster’s front gate in fair order. But -when she saw the imposing string of wagons, children, and animals, -known and unknown, she was afraid to trust her precious Buzz to them. - -“Billy Boy, it’s fine! It’s splendid! But it’s so big I’m afraid Buzz -will be scared.” - -“Well, why don’t you go along, Mrs. Lancaster? Don’t prize babies have -attendants?” - -“Surely; but--” - -“Oh, please, Mrs. Lancaster,” Billy coaxed. “The circus won’t be any -circus at all without Buzz. We’re to have him for a side show after the -performance. We’ve advertised _him_,” Billy pleaded well. - -“Well, the lack of Buzz shall not damage your show; I’ll go,” Mrs. -Lancaster yielded. - -And Billy did not think of it as strange till Buzz’s grandmother called -from behind the window curtain, “Delia, you surely won’t traipse -through town with that crowd! How you will look!” - -“Why, ma, the children are quite respectable; I know all their -mothers.” Buzz’s mamma looked a little mischievous. - -“You romp!” came the disgusted voice once more. “You’d better cut your -hair, and your skirts, and be a child again.” - -“I’d love to, Billy,” Mrs. Lancaster whispered; “I’ve never liked being -grown up.” - -Billy beamed upon her. He adored her, as did every child in town. - -Now the band came up, a troop of boys in gorgeous uniforms made of red -calico and tinsel paper. A drum and fife kept tolerable time; but the -wheezy harmonicas and paper-covered combs, the tin horns and clanging -triangles, quite “covered” any tune the fife attempted. Yet what -matter? It was a joyful noise; and even the horses kept step to the -valiant drum. - -Flags waved. In spite of Billy all shouted orders at once. The line was -as serpentine as Bess’s snakes that she held high and wriggling above -her snake-entwined head. Oh, she was a very realistic snake charmer! -Buzz crowed and clapped his pudgy little hands; and the Lancasters’ -small Chinese boy who pulled the baby’s car almost fell over himself -laughing. - -Before they turned into Main Street, however, the procession was in -fair alignment, and the solemnity of the moment hushed all chatter. -Billy’s most personal disappointment was Bouncer, who, unhappy because -he could not caper in freedom at Billy’s heels, let his lovely, bushy -tail, that usually waved above his back in a graceful curve, hang limp -and dusty between his legs; while from drooping head and sad eyes, he -looked reproachfully at Billy every time the latter ran past. - -But on the whole Billy was proud. “The kids showed their pluck and -stuck to their jobs,” he told his mother afterward. The White Elephant -bellowed impressively in front of the postoffice; and Jimmy’s ponies -never reared so gracefully as in front of the bank. - -All the people came out of their shops and offices and clapped -generously. A light breeze floated out the flags, and made the gold -fringe on the Snake Charmer’s cage wave and look rich and foreign. The -band outdid itself; and as the forward end of the procession turned out -of the street, a great cheer began behind them, grew and swelled, till -even the youngest child knew “folks liked the circus.” - -“To the park!” Billy shouted, his heart thumping with joy. - -“The children will get too tired,” the Snake Charmer warned. - -“No, we won’t!” came a dozen voices. - -“Yes, yes; take us to the park, papa,” piped one half of the Siamese -Twins. - -“Of course they won’t be too tired! The kids have pluck.” - -The Snake Charmer was silenced; for if the children had before this -been tired, not one of them now but swelled with pride and fortitude at -this praise from Billy. - -All went well for some blocks. There was a flattering audience at each -front door; a few honored the pageant by following. These were mostly -mothers of the younger children, who knew the possibilities of such an -aggregation of animals and boys. - -But just before they were to enter the park Bouncer had his innings. A -rabbit, startled, sprang from under the roadside bushes and ran down -the street toward the open country. Bouncer’s tail went up. He dashed -out of line, overturned the Polar Bear’s cage, and was off after his -quarry, barking wildly, with the fast disrupting cage dangling at his -heels. The Polar Bear, liberated, flew home like a streak of white -light. The trained dogs broke from their struggling boy leaders, -carrying with them gleaming bits of red paper uniform. - -The two steeds attached to the car of the Goddess of Liberty, also -deserted their task, and marked their path with bright bits of paper -and bunting. - -Old Dom Pedro, scenting fresh excitement, snorted and bolted. The -Strong Man was not strong enough to hold him to line, though he guided -the horse safely to the Carter stable, where Bess appeared suddenly, -swaying alarmingly in her flimsy snake cage. - -Half an hour later Charley went back to the disappointed remnants of -the show gathered in Jimmy’s barn, and told them Mrs. Carter had said, -“no more circus this day for Bess.” Buzz and his laughing Chinese had -been hurried to safety. The Roc had shed a part of his false feathers, -and was fast giving himself away as plain gander. The White Elephant -had also become restive, and it was thought best to transfer the Fair -Princess of Bombay from her howdah to _terra firma_. And the Goddess -of Liberty, minus her car, and a part of her draperies, and plus a -big smooch on her cheek, was somehow not very imposing. Various other -livestock became weary or rebellious, and the Siamese Twins had to be -severed to prevent their coming to blows. - -It was too bad! There could be no show in the barn. But the band was -still lusty, the trick ponies remained, the boys and girls were eager -to talk it over, and--the procession had been a success! - -Presently the little Chinese boy returned, his grin resumed, and a -large basket on his arm. - -“Missee Lancastler, she say you heap good show. Now you heap hungly. -You catchee him plenty glub.” With that he uncovered a treat that made -them forget the circus. They munched the sandwiches, the luscious -fruit, candy, and cake, and other good things from Mrs. Lancaster’s -generous pantry, and discussed the procession; voted Mrs. Lancaster a -trump; and decided to have a circus every year. - -And the shouts that greeted this fiat shook the old barn and made the -hens in the hay cackle with fright. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE HIDDEN HUT - - -The last week of school arrived. It was almost as good as a holiday, -for those who had made the required percentage during the year -were excused from examinations, and after roll call, released from -attendance; and these included Billy and most of his cronies. - -Mrs. Bennett spoke frequently of the change in Billy. He was growing -more thoughtful, observant. He remembered small duties, noticed if -mother or sister looked tired or ill, and volunteered help where -formerly he would not have known help was needed. Perhaps none of them -knew, least of all May Nell herself, how lastingly her example of -watchful kindness had impressed itself on Billy’s heart. - -If he was more thoughtful, quiet, at home, his hours of play were more -keenly enjoyed as they grew daily fewer. He had found a “dandy job” -that would not take him away from home; he could still mow the lawn, -and do the chores. He was glad now that he had learned various parts -of the housework, for he was to be janitor and messenger at one of the -banks, a fact to be told his mother as a surprise on the last day of -school. - -He went home after the engagement, walking on air and talking aloud to -himself. “Gee! I don’t suppose there’s a squinch-eyed ghost of a chance -for me to win that prize money; but twenty-five a month’ll pay mamma -for what I eat,--and break, I guess.” - -Billy didn’t see Doctor Carter passing in his buggy, nor hear his -greeting; neither did he see the understanding smile; the Doctor easily -guessed that Billy was planning fun. And he was; this last week of -school should be the happiest ever. Didn’t work begin next Monday? Real -work! He couldn’t catch up the bankers in his arms, like his mother, -and cajole them into favors. No; it would be all day and every day for -a hundred years! Only Sundays, and they didn’t count; for wouldn’t he -have to go to church just the same? Mother and sister would be hurt if -he “put out to the woods” Sunday mornings. And the bank people, too, -would expect him to go to church; hadn’t they said none but steady, -well-behaved people could remain in their employ? - -“Jiminy whiz! This is my very last week of boy; next week I’ll have to -be a man,” he said gloomily. - -He was soon at the “lodge of ample size” made the week before, not of -“strong logs” but of old fence-rails and willow twigs. He wondered if -the girls would be able to imagine it a “lodge,” or if May Nell and -Jean, who were to come a little later, could fix it according to the -poem. - -He decided to go first on the mountain and set his traps for rabbits; -also to mark the bounds for the “chase,” so that they could gather on -time at the island and go on with the second canto. If they didn’t “do” -two cantos a day they wouldn’t finish; for Friday must be given to -school. As it was some of them had to be at the school house each day -at three to rehearse for the “last day” exercises. - -Billy hid his wheel in the same tangle of rose vine, now all pink -and fragrant with bloom, that had sheltered it that earlier Spring -afternoon,--was it years ago? It seemed so. As he crept out of the -brush and turned to the steep tangled mountain, he saw the haunted -house, with the bare space in front. There were the two brothers -fighting fiercely! - -Billy slipped quickly to cover again where he could watch unseen. The -men’s faces were black with passion, and their low, intense words -seemed all the more deadly because strange, foreign. A coat split down -the back with a ripping report, and the boy saw the flash of a knife, -and turned away feeling sick. - -Was there to be another murder? Ought he to call? If he did wouldn’t -they turn on him--kill him? No matter. Some one might be on the road -and hear. And he could run pretty fast. Anyway he must risk it. - -“Murder! Murder!” he shouted with all his strength; and his boy’s voice -reached far up and down the lonely distances. - -He saw the men stop, draw apart, and look around. They discovered no -one, but delayed their quarrel and hurried in the direction of the -sound, exchanging short angry speeches as they ran. - -With a boy’s cunning and swiftness Billy made a running creep through -the underbrush up the steep mountain side. From a peephole higher up he -stopped, breathless, and watched them beat the chaparral round about -where he had stood; saw them go down into the road, look each way, -turn and scan the mountain; and at last slink off, one to the house, -the other to the vineyard. - -Relieved, yet with his nerves quivering Billy plunged into the deep -woods of the higher altitudes. The air was unusually hot and stifling, -and his eyes watered. “Fire in the woods somewhere,” he murmured, -recognizing the odor of smoke. - -He had left his traps,--the fight had sent all else flying out of his -mind. No matter. He could set them in some vineyard. Already the short -grass on the hills was brown, and many of the wild flowers were past -their blooming. The rabbits would be seeking the tender green of the -vines, the purpling alfalfa, standing lush and sweet, ready for mowing. - -Up, up Billy climbed. On the bare spaces, or balanced on the point of -some slender rock, he stopped frequently to look down on the beautiful -valley below; on little farms laid out checker-board fashion, -dark green squares for orchards, lighter green for vineyards, with -tree-lined lanes running between. Overhead fleecy clouds chased one -another like freshly washed, woolly sheep across the blue pasture of -the heavens. In the north the great blue mountain loomed, all its -opalescent tints and shadows hidden till the setting of the sun should -light them forth. - -Billy breathed deep. How he loved this opulent valley which was his -birthplace and home! He longed to see all the world, yet he thought no -other place could be as beautiful. - -As he crashed again through the close-grown brush he almost forgot the -ugly scene just enacted below. He had been sorry to leave Bouncer to -come with the girls; now he was glad. It was good to be quite alone up -there with Nature in her less familiar places. A dark ravine lured him. -Well as he knew the mountain he had never explored this gorge. The -delicate fragrance of wild azaleas greeted him; he could see their pale -pink bloom tipping the tall trees that rose out of the chaparral forty -or fifty feet above the stream that tinkled beneath them. - -As he climbed down, reaching from branch to branch, very cautiously, -he knew not why, he was suddenly halted by the sound of low voices. -Carefully he crept nearer. A tiny hut came in view, with an open door, -and the glint of fire within. A man was standing outside, smoking a -pipe, yet wearing hat, coat, and gloves, as if about to set off. He was -very large. His clothes were new and showy, too bright in color, too -large of check. His watch chain was massive; the big diamond out of -place with his colored shirt; and the soft silk handkerchief he drew -from his pocket was a brilliant red, and the largest Billy had ever -seen. Another man, in the doorway, was smaller and bareheaded. His -sleeves were rolled up, and his hands were stained. - -Billy heard the hatted one say “So long!” saw him start down a path -that followed close beside the stream, perfectly hidden from any one -who might be walking the crests above. The other man brought a pail and -started up the hill. - -Billy knew that the man was going to the spring for water; knew where -it was hidden, far in the woods, big and round, deep and clear! It was -more than a hundred yards away at least. He waited and listened till -the noise of snapping twigs was hushed, then crept down and peered into -the hut. The place was so small there was no need of entering; he could -see all the interior from the sill. - -What he saw there lent wings to his feet. - -He climbed cat-like to the crest again, slid through the brush, dashed -across bare spots, jumped from rocks that jutted in his way, struck -stones but righted himself before falling, truly “hit only the high -places,” as he breathlessly told the girls waiting for him at Ellen’s -Isle. - -“No ‘chase’ to-day, girls. I’ve got business in town.” - -“Oh, chuck the business,” Jean said impatiently. “Can’t it wait till -noon? I must go home then.” - -“No, it can’t wait one minute longer’n it’ll take me to get to town. -Maybe I can come back though.” - -“You’ll have to break the record if you get here before noon.” - -“Billy, let me plan,” May Nell interposed. “We’ll work hard to fix -up the Lodge before Jean has to go home. I’ll stay and wait for you, -and Bouncer with me; and I’ll search for my Idean vine. I must have -something that will do for that. I wish I could find a real one.” - -“I hate to have you stay without Jean,” Billy objected. - -“What’s the harm? She’s on Mr. Potter’s land, and the road’s near.” - -“And Bouncer’s here,” May Nell added, hugging the dog affectionately. - -“All right. I’m off!” - -“But you haven’t told us what hurries you so,” Jean called, while Billy -was already sprinting away. - -“Can’t stop. It’s private anyway.” He waved his hand, ran across the -foot-bridge and down the road, dodged into the brush for his wheel; and -in a moment they heard his shout as he sped by toward town. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE - - -The girls worked hard to bower the interior of the Lodge with -evergreen; to spread and hang the rugs they had brought; but before -their task was finished distant whistles warned Jean. She took -Bouncer’s face between her hands and charged him with May Nell’s -protection as if he were human. And Bouncer wagged his tail, and in a -short, sharp bark pledged himself as if he were human. - -“Don’t go off Mr. Potter’s land, will you, May Nell? The fenced part, I -mean. Eat some lunch soon; Billy may be gone an hour longer. Good-bye. -Don’t get too tired. I’ll send Clarence if I can find him.” - -Jean, too, crossed the little bridge, climbed the fence, mounted her -wheel, and rolled off down the dusty road. - -May Nell watched the flying figure turn out of sight around the -mountain; and for a minute the forest grew absolutely still, and the -child began to tremble. But a meadow lark, almost from under her feet -it seemed, sent forth a rippling song; across the river her mate -replied. A flock of white ducks came waddling and quacking from the -opposite field, plunged into the water, and swam about noisily, tipping -their little tails up and their big bills down as they reached for -submerged morsels. Bouncer made a swift circuit of the Lodge, sniffing -now and then questioningly; but came soon and sat down in front of May -Nell; put his paw on her knee and gave her another short bark. - -“Good dog! I understand you, Bouncer, and I’m not lonesome any more.” - -She opened the lunch pail and gave him a scrap from it; ate a sandwich -herself; and in a moment started off to find the Idean vine. Nothing -appeared that fitted her mind’s picture of that creeper; but she found -a great sheet of delicate wild clematis, covering the tangled roots -of a fallen oak with its pale green tendrils. The earth was soft, the -roots easily lifted; and shortly she had masses of it uprooted and -trailing after her to the Lodge. - -Many times she had seen Mrs. Bennett transplant the garden flowers, -had helped; now she put all her lore to use. Patiently she toiled with -brittle sticks and pointed stones till the vine was replanted against -the rude walls; emptied the dinner pail and trudged back and forth to -the river several times for water, to wet the earth above the roots; -and patted it down with muddy little hands. - -She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and -put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon -her and she sank down on one of the rugs. - -“Why doesn’t Billy come?” she asked of Bouncer; and the dog ran out of -the door and stood on three legs, one forefoot lifted, his eyes fixed -on the spot where Billy had disappeared. But no master was to be seen, -and he went back to May Nell, whined, and put his nose on her knee. - -“My stomach’s crying so I’ll have to eat one more sandwich, Bouncer. -It’s a shame when Billy isn’t here. I’ll give you half, old dog.” - -She put out her hand for the pail but stopped suddenly, for the dog -growled; and the next instant the room darkened, and a man stood in the -doorway. - -May Nell looked at him with wide eyes. She saw that he was not a -vineyard workman, his clothes were too fine. She did not see them in -detail, the large checked trousers, the shiny gloves, and the big -diamond, but she felt instinctively that one who could dress so was -different from the men she knew. And the look in his face made her -cold. - -“Well, Miss Smith, are you alone here?” - -How did he know her name, she wondered, yet answered more bravely than -she felt. “Yes, sir.” She thought it best to be as polite as possible. -“I’m alone now, but the boys are expected every minute.” She would say -“boys” even if Clarence didn’t come; it sounded more protecting. - -“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” - -[Illustration: “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”] - -“Yes; but I’m afraid my papa’s dead, he’s been gone so long.” How she -hated that word “kid.” - -“Well, he ain’t dead; he’s alive and bully, with a wad that bulges. I’m -going to take you to him.” - -“Right--now--are you?” The arm that was around Bouncer tightened, and -she thought her “heart would fly right up into her throat.” - -“Yes, right now.” He stepped nearer, and Bouncer growled and bristled. - -The man swore and looked for a cudgel. - -“Oh, please, mister, sir, don’t hurt Bouncer. I’d rather you’d hit -me. He’s the best dog ever lived, and I won’t let you hurt him.” Her -courage grew as she spoke, and he stopped his search and glanced her -way. She looked up, bravely pleading for the dog she hugged harder. - -“You’re a plucky kid, all right,” he replied, touched more than he -would have admitted. “I won’t hurt the dog if you do as I tell you.” He -looked for a cord or rope, but found none, and pulled from his pocket a -red handkerchief. “Tie this around his neck; let one end hang down.” - -The child obeyed, but her fingers trembled; and Bouncer whined and -licked her hand. - -“Pull it tighter.” - -That was not difficult, for the soft silk slipped into a knot as strong -as if tied in hemp. - -“Bring him here.” The man stepped out and laid his hand on a sapling -that grew beside the Lodge. May Nell followed with the dog. - -“Now hold his head between your hands and tell him not to touch me.” - -The child was “boiling inside,” yet she believed Bouncer’s life -depended on her obedience. And anyway, Billy would come in a minute. -Oh, why wasn’t he there now! - -The big hands in spite of the shiny gloves tied the dog fast and very -close to the tree. “Now give me that dinky ribbon from your hair,” he -commanded, and tied the growling dog’s forefeet together. And May Nell -knew the man’s voice was gruffer when Bouncer was helpless. He gazed -at her reproachfully from eyes that moved though his head could not. -She would never forget those sad eyes that followed her when she was -ordered away. - -She glanced down the road, and swiftly around. Not a soul in sight. -Obedience was inevitable. - -He held out his hand, but the little girl put hers behind her. “I’ll -come by myself,” she said with dignity. Whatever happened that dreadful -man should not touch her. - -He laughed coarsely. “George Smith’s kid, all right. You’ve got the -same high way with you.” - -“Where are you going to take me?” she asked, trying to equal his long -stride. - -“Where you’ll be safe till I let your father know I’ve got you.” - -“But you said you would take me to him. I thought you knew where he is.” - -Again he laughed, and patted May Nell roughly but not unkindly. “I do; -but there’s preliminaries before I get you two together. _Sabe?_” - -May Nell didn’t understand, but thought it best to answer in the -affirmative. Beyond that she said nothing, but trudged along by his -side till they came to the road and turned toward the haunted house, -when he took her suddenly in his arms and walked on in the deepest of -the dusty ruts. - -“I can walk,” she said, struggling to be put down. - -“So you can, but I’ll carry you just the same.” His smothering hold -warned her to quiescence; and she did not stir till he set her within -the rear door. - -“Do you live here?” she questioned with an irrepressible shudder. - -“No; but I stop here sometimes. Are you afraid of ghosts?” - -“Oh, no; there aren’t any. Billy says so, and he knows. He knows, too, -that there are other people here beside the Italians.” - -The man faced her abruptly. “The devil he knows!” - -“Does he?” May Nell stared innocently into the darkening eyes. “I -should think that would make you awfully agitated.” - -For an instant he looked as if he would beat her. Then his face broke -into a smile that held no fear for her. “Say, kid, you’re up to the -limit; and I’m on the square with you. In three days, if you obey me, -you’ll jump into your dad’s arms. I’ve got to lock you up now; but -nothing’s going to hurt you, and I’ll see that you’re comfortable.” - -Locked up! The child’s heart beat stiflingly; yet she did not cry out; -she thought self-control would win her more favor than tears. - -“This isn’t so bad,” he continued, as he led her into a sunny upper -chamber that looked on the mountain in the rear. “And it’ll be all over -in a day or so; you’ll see your father,--on the square you will, little -kid. Do you think you’ll scream? You’d better not.” He put his hand -under her chin to lift her face, and she was glad he wore gloves. - -“I’ll not make a noise, and I’ll--I’ll try not to cry; but I’m afraid -I’ll ha-have t-to,” she faltered, struggling to hide her eyes that grew -moist in spite of herself. - -Again he patted her shoulder, and this time his voice was more kind. -“You’re a brave little girl, and if I was your dad I’d be dead stuck on -you. Just you don’t be afraid. I’ll bring your supper by and by.” - -He went out. May Nell stared after him, dazed and trembling. When the -key turned in the lock she looked around wildly; ran to the window -and tried it. It was nailed down. For a second she stood quite still, -gazing straight before her. Then the horror of her plight swept over -her; she threw herself on the bed, a crumpled little heap, buried her -face in the pillow, and sobbed piteously. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -AGAINST THE FIRE - - -Doctor Carter was not in when Billy arrived at his office breathless -and hatless. He had not foreseen this. All the way to town his thoughts -had raced with his wheel. He had planned how he could tell his story -the quickest; had thought of no other ear for his confidence than -Doctor Carter’s, the kind, all-understanding physician who had fought -valiantly if losingly to save Billy’s father; who had ever since been -the most thoughtful of friends as well as the best of physicians. -He seemed to Billy the only man to trust with his secret. This was -something that could not be told to the best mother in the world, even -not considering the fright it would give her; it was quite out of a -woman’s world. - -The boy went into the street again, mounted and rode rapidly round the -corner. His own home was across the way; his mother might see him at -the office and call him. But once out of sight he stopped to consider -what came next. Who was the right man to tell after the Doctor? The -Sheriff! - -A shiver chased up and down Billy’s spine. He knew the Sheriff by -sight only; and he was so inseparable from the handcuffs the boy had -seen protruding from a pocket, that Billy felt it would “almost fasten -suspicion on a fellow just to be seen speaking to the officer.” - -But a familiar sound came to his ear, and he turned to see the Doctor’s -splendid bays pounding down the street, pulling the buggy almost by the -taut reins. Billy followed quickly and was soon closeted with the man, -who listened, first with a smile, afterward with grave attention. - -“My boy, you have done a wonderful thing!” he said when Billy had -finished. “You must come with me and tell your story again. If it -comes out as I think, you’ll earn at least a thousand dollars.” - -Half paralyzed with astonishment Billy went with the Doctor to the -Sheriff’s office; but he was out and the deputy didn’t know when he -would return; thought it might be within an hour or so. There was -nothing to do but wait. Billy’s perplexed, baffled face touched the -Doctor. His temples were already gray, but he had not forgotten how a -boy feels. - -“You don’t want to see your mother now, do you, boy? No more do you -feel like jabbering with Bess at our table. Come over to the hotel, and -we’ll lunch together.” - -“But Mrs. Carter’ll expect--” Billy began, yet stopped, for the -physician was laughing. - -“A doctor’s wife gets over ‘expecting’ very young, Billy. They won’t -think I’m dead if I don’t come home to lunch. But your mother?” His -inflection finished the question. - -“She’ll be all right. May Nell and me--I--we took our lunch and went -over to Potter’s pasture. Shoot! She’s waiting now! I hope the poor -little kiddie--little girl--eats, don’t wait for me,--she an’ Bouncer.” - -“Oh, she’ll eat when she gets hungry, never fear.” - -But Billy thought with pride that May Nell was one person he knew -better than the Doctor. - -They turned into the town’s finest hotel, just opened. - -“I didn’t--I haven’t washed. I’m--” All at once as Billy walked through -the tiled entrance, and felt himself in the midst of splendors he had -viewed only from without, he was overcome with the suspicion that he -looked rather queer beside the immaculate Doctor. He knew his hair -“stood up all ways for Sunday”; and his face must be dirty. “But they -won’t know how dirty,” he reflected; “this is the time them plaguey -freckles’ll get in an’ hide the dust.” Freckles were Billy’s sorest -point. - -“Come with me, Billy; I must wash up. I’ve had a dusty drive up Spring -Mountain; you know the roads aren’t watered up there.” - -Billy looked the Doctor over and wondered. He was not subtle enough -to suspect the Doctor’s purpose. “Golly! I’d hate to have to wash as -much as a doctor,” he exclaimed, as they stepped into the exquisitely -appointed lavatory. “You look now like you’d just had a Turkish bath. -But I’m glad of the chance for myself.” He surely did look better when -the two came out and crossed to the big dining-room; though there was -a tell-tale streak around his neck, and his crown lock stood stiff and -divided. - -At first he could not eat with relish, his mind was so distracted with -admiration of the magnificent room, and impatient to get his worrying -secret off his heart and conscience. But his wise host ordered so -artfully, and filled the intervals of waiting with such delightful -stories and anecdotes, explanations of the decorations, funny facts -or conjectures concerning the hotel and guests, that before he knew -it, Billy had, he told his mother afterward, referring to his stomach, -“loaded her up to the guards, ’nough to make you ’shamed of me, mother.” - -When they entered the Sheriff’s office again it was two o’clock. He -was there, and gave Billy a private audience far more graciously than -he would have done had not Doctor Carter’s presence been voucher -for the importance of the matter. When the boy repeated his story, -less confidently, less dramatically than before, yet not needing the -Doctor’s comment to prove its value, the Sheriff drew a long breath and -emphasized it with a blow of his fist on the table. - -“That’s the gang we’ve been hunting through five counties. Boy, you’ve -done what the State’s been trying a long time to do. The reward’s a -good lump; if we bag the game you shall have your share.” - -Billy looked on wide-eyed, as the Doctor said with a puzzling smile, -“And, Sheriff, if I don’t think you divide fair with my friend here, -you’ve got me to deal with next election. See?” - -“All right, Doc,” the other replied a bit gruffly; “suppose we catch -’em before we fight about the divvy.” - -It took a very short time to gather the posse, instruct it, and set -out for the mountain. The Sheriff gave Billy an old hat and bade -him to a seat behind the swift horses; and Billy obeyed, feeling a -strange elation as they set out. It was just like a story. Could it -be he, plain Billy Bennett, that was assisting the State to find -long-sought-for criminals? The horses flew, yet Billy thought they -would never arrive at the turn in the road where they would leave -them. He felt as if in some unknown way the man at the hut would surely -know of their coming, would hide, destroy, perhaps carry off all that -would convict him, and the other, the big man,-- Oh, would they never -be there? - -But a different and sudden fear leaped in both hearts as they -rounded the shoulder of the mountain. The air had rapidly grown more -oppressive; now they knew the cause, the forest was on fire! - -June had been unusually warm and dry, and careless early campers had -already started their annual conflagrations. Now high over the crest of -the mountain the flames came sweeping down; came with the wind from the -valley on the other side where they had raged till fuel was exhausted. - -“Great Scott, boy! We’ll have to hurry. We must get up there before the -fire gets down. Do you know the shortest way?” - -“Yes,” Billy answered breathlessly as he leaped from the buggy; “but -we’ll have to go in the way I did if you want to catch ’em sure. We can -come out by the trail.” - -They tied the horses, and once hidden from the road, shed every -superfluous garment. Billy was quite ashamed of the chill he could not -help when he saw the handcuffs, pistols, and cartridges disposed neatly -and conveniently about the Sheriff’s waist. They looked so vicious, -“disrespectable.” - -The heat and smoke increased alarmingly as they went on, the man -puffing at the boy’s pace. In and out, occasionally doubling and -returning but never losing altitude, Billy crashed on. His slender body -slipped through underbrush by way of small apertures that would not -admit the man’s greater bulk; he had to break his way. The boy, also -accustomed to running, climbing, had the advantage of better breath; -though the other could not, Billy still held his mouth shut against -the suffocating smoke, kept his smarting eyes partly closed. - -The roar of the flames came dreadfully near. Trees cracked, crashed and -fell, sending up columns of sparks and cinders that dropped about the -panting climbers. Billy began to wonder if he would hold out to the end -of his task. His boy’s agility had easily outdone the man’s; but he had -made the trip once before that day, had ridden from town at a killing -speed; and now his endurance was almost at an end, while the Sheriff -was getting his “second wind.” - -They came to the crest of the gorge. “We’ll have to slow up and zig-zag -down carefully or they’ll hear us an’ get away,” Billy suggested. - -“They won’t be watching for visitors,” the man answered; “they’ll be -hiding the plant and skinning out of here,--if they haven’t already,” -he added apprehensively. He stood back to the wind and scanned the -opposite bank. “There they are, two of our fellows; the chaps haven’t -escaped in that direction.” - -As ordered two of the posse were closing in from the west toward the -rendezvous. A few more steps and the four met. Those who had been -ordered to beat the mountain about the spring were waiting below; the -fire had perfectly policed that territory. - -As the four descended the air in the gorge became clearer. They -approached the hut stealthily; and when in full view of the closed -door, the Sheriff told Billy his part of the work was done, and ordered -him home out of the fire. - -“Oh, Mr. Sheriff, you won’t send me off now, will you, when the -business is just beginning?” - -In spite of the grave situation, the officer smiled at Billy’s -entreating words, remembered suddenly the danger from both fire and -possible lurking desperadoes. “All right. Get behind that tree, and -stay out of the reach of stray shot.” - -The three men lined up in front of the closed door, and one of the -deputies quickly threw it open. For an instant the officers stood -motionless with weapons drawn. Billy watched with fascinated eyes; -the moment the door opened forgot orders, ran and crouched behind the -Sheriff, peering under his uplifted arm. There in the lurid firelight -that streamed through the closed window, stood the two men he had seen -before, hands up, rigid, staring into pistol barrels. Floor boards were -torn up; strange vessels, scales, various paraphernalia Billy could not -understand, lay about them; while in a deep hole they had dug, a small, -iron-bound chest was partially covered with earth. The men’s faces were -smutched, streaming with perspiration, and pale with terror. - -“Just in time, I reckon,” the Sheriff said facetiously; “pull up that -chest and come along to our party.” - -Fight gleamed in the big man’s eye, and for the breath of an instant he -hesitated. - -“Come, come! We can’t be cremated while we wait. Mush!” - -The Sheriff was a small man with fair, curly hair like a girl’s; but -there was that in his eye that reinforced his pistol, made the big -fellow quail, the other mutter a low warning. The two lifted the chest -by its strong handles and stepped out. - -In the short moments that had passed since their coming the Sheriff saw -that the fire had gained perilously. Instead of sparks great flaming -brands dropped all around them; the crests of the ravine were sheets of -fire that swept downward, wrapping every tree and shrub in their path, -making of the pines huge towers of flame. - -“There’s a better way,” Billy called, when the deputy leading started -to climb back as he had come. “Follow the creek; there’s a trail.” - -“That’s good news. Run ahead, boy, and show us the way. Fly, fly!” - -Billy needed no hurrying. He dashed off along a well defined path, free -from hindering branches. It hugged the brawling stream, crossed it -more than once by way of stepping stones, and led on past the already -shriveling azaleas. It must have been long used to be so clear. - -Billy ducked his head into the cooling water, filled his mouth, and -ran on. He could hear the painful breathing of the prisoners bearing -the chest. It looked heavy, and he knew it was hard to carry, walking -single file down the steep trail. How awfully they must feel, Billy -thought. It was like the children in the fiery furnace. Did the men see -that this was a tragic beginning of the just penalty for their sins? -Cheats! Robbers! No, not robbers, boldly risking life for booty, but -cunning thieves, stealing from their fellow men, from widows, orphans, -perhaps from his own mother; she had taken a counterfeit piece only a -little while before. - -The heat was awful; yet it was growing less, for the fire was nearly -spent, but Billy was so exhausted he did not perceive it. He began to -stumble, to see double. Everything seemed to be on fire,--trees, rocks, -even the water gleaming from overhead flames. His blood felt hot in his -veins; and long afterward he saw red in his sleep. At length his foot -caught in a root, and he fell heavily. - -They came upon him a second later, insensible, his head bleeding from -a scalp wound. Hurriedly the Sheriff lifted him close to the brook, -dashed water over his face, washed out the cut a little, and bound it -with his handkerchief, not untenderly if in haste; for Billy had won -something more than his approval. - -“Oh, don’t wait for me,” Billy exclaimed, opening his eyes suddenly; -“you won’t catch ’em! The fire’ll get there first! Hurry! Leave me -alone, I tell you!” - -The Sheriff smiled at the note of command in the boy’s incoherence. -“Not on your life, sonny,” and his voice softened; “we’ve got to have -you in our business. Help him along,” he said to one of the deputies, -as they came a moment later to where the path broadened; while he -walked behind covering the panting prisoners. - -Presently they came to others of the posse, and after that to a -long line of farmers and other citizens, fighting desperately but -successfully against the dying flames. - -The clearer air revived Billy, and he was soon walking without help, -coming shortly to the road where the wagons waited; coming in sight of -Ellen’s Isle. - -May Nell! Where was she? He had forgotten her! It must be -three--four-- Oh, how late was it? Was she safe? Or had she fainted -from fright; and was she lying there now, helpless? He looked across -the plashing river to the green, blossoming isle, grateful for water -and grass and green shrub, and the sheltering Lodge that would keep her -safe from the fire. Yet the terror of being there alone, of seeing that -awful sheet of flame sweep down the mountain to her very feet,--perhaps -a fainting spell,--that surely must have followed,--with no one there -to revive her, it might be--fatal! - -“Oh, Betsey, give it to me!” he whispered in agony of soul. “Don’t let -up’s long’s I live! Maybe I’ve killed her!” - -But even as he looked he saw two people coming; his mother and Jean, -crossing the foot-bridge that led to the pasture side of the river. The -throbbing in his head, the stifled lungs, interest in the capture of -the prisoners,--all faded before this terrible dread. - -“Let me go, please!” he pleaded. “There’s a little girl, our refugee, -over there, fainted, I think, perhaps--dead.” - -The Sheriff wondered at the boy’s vehemence, yet was too busy loading -the wagon to pay much attention to him. “Think you’re fit, sonny? You -look all in. Better ride to town--we’ll send some one for the little -girl.” - -“Oh, no, no! I’m fit--I must find her myself--right now!” - -The man gave him an affectionate slap. “Go, then. You’re a right game -kid, sure.” - -Billy was off, fear lending fleetness to feet that a moment before had -been leaden. He overtook his mother and Jean in the path to the Lodge. -“Have you come for her?” he panted. “Do you think she’s alone still?” - -“What has happened to you, Billy?” his mother questioned sharply as she -turned at his voice and saw his damaged head. “You’re hurt, Billy!” - -“Not a bit!” His words were strangely impatient. “I’ve got to find -her!” He started past them. - -“Wait, Billy! You _are_ hurt, badly. Let me see.” She put out a -detaining hand. - -But he was not to be hindered. “It’s only a scratch, mother; you can -fuss it up all you want to later; but you mustn’t stop me now!” He -pulled away from her and bounded up the path. - -“It’s my fault, too, Mrs. Bennett; don’t put the blame all on Billy,” -Jean half sobbed; and hurried after him. - -But Mrs. Bennett wasn’t blaming any one; she didn’t really know what -the excitement was all about. - -Before he emerged from the leafy path Billy heard well-known whining, -and wondered why the dog didn’t come to meet him. The next instant he -saw him straining against his bonds. - -Bouncer tied? That red handkerchief! The boy went cold and pale. -Before he looked he knew that May Nell was not there. He turned his -white face to the others as they came up. - -“She’s been stolen, mother! But I’ll find her--I know where to look. -Don’t be afraid, mother, I _will_ find her!” he repeated with grave -emphasis, as he whipped out his knife and cut the dog loose. - -“Billy! Who could steal our little girl? I cannot think it. She’s gone -with some of the children to watch the fire.” Mrs. Bennett’s words were -braver than her face, for in her heart she felt Billy was right, though -she wondered why. - -“They’ve stolen her, all right. I don’t know why, but I know who,--it’s -the Ha’nt people!” Billy panted, coming out of the Lodge. - -“O Billy!” Jean gasped, fear for the little, delicate girl in that eery -place lending sympathy to her voice. - -“Are you sure, my boy? I’ll go with you--” - -“No, no, mother! This is business for only Bouncer and me.” He caught -up the cut handkerchief and called the dog before his mother could -hinder. “Find her, Bouncer! Find May Nell! Sic ’em!” he shouted, and -set off heedless of his mother’s continued protestations, after the -bounding dog. - -“You can send some one after us, a man--not you, not either of you,” he -called back over his shoulder, and was soon out of sight. - -Jean was for following in spite of Billy’s commands; but Mrs. Bennett, -full of apprehension, insisted that the girl should go with her; and -the two set out in search of help. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY - - -Neither boy nor dog paused till they came to the dusty road. There -Bouncer stopped and ran excitedly about the spot where the big man had -taken May Nell in his arms; doubled back on his track, stopped again, -and looked up at Billy, perplexity written all over his face. Billy -encouraged him with word and caress; but he came at last, put his nose -against Billy’s knee, and whined apologetically. - -“Never mind, Bouncer. I’ve another card up my sleeve!” He patted and -hugged the old dog till his tail waved once more gracefully over his -back. “Here! Try this. Sic ’em!” Billy thrust the scraps of red silk -under his nose; and in an instant Bouncer was off after the new scent. - -“I knew it!” Billy panted feverishly. “The Ha’nt!” Heedless of the dog -running with his nose close to the ground, Billy rushed on. His shirt -was torn, his trousers hanging by one suspender, his shoes cut and one -tap turned back. Ashes whitened his hair; though at the back a dark -mat was still damp from oozing blood,--the handkerchief that had bound -it had been torn off by a twitching twig. His smarting eyes watered so -that he could hardly see his way. Yet of all this he was unconscious. -Weariness, pain, his cracked and bleeding lips,--he knew nothing of -them, felt nothing. - -It was as if some tremendous force had taken possession of his tired, -stricken body, and carried it on with no volition of his own. Afterward -he remembered, understood; knew it was his own will that rose and ruled -every bodily faculty; knew, and was glad, for that day he stepped into -a realm of power he should never lose as long as he lived. - -In front of the stone steps that led up to the barred door he -hesitated; but the dog raced round to the rear. Instantly Billy -followed. - -What if the Italians should be there? Impossible. Surely they would -be on the mountain fighting fire. What if the door should be locked? -The thought made him tremble, yet he hurried on and softly tried the -handle. It would not open! - -Baffled, yet knowing he had expected it, he ran this way and that, -peering round each corner, scanning the bare, high walls to see if by -chance some window had been left unbarred. Not one less than a dozen -feet from the ground! He ran back to the door, was almost tempted to -shake it, yet knew that would be a foolish trick; some one might be -within guarding May Nell; might at the first noise still more securely -hide her,--they said there were fearfully deep and dark cellars under -that house! She might come to--to some dreadful harm! - -In desperation he stood still, gazing at the windows above; -reprimanding the dog sharply when he whined, though his fingers -unconsciously patted away the sting of the rebuke. - -The solid rock of the mountain had been cut away from the rear of the -house to form a natural, paved court. At the top was a small chicken -coop, its wall flush with the wall of rock; and near it grew an oak -sapling not larger than Billy’s arm. - -It quickly occurred to him to run around and climb up there by the -coop. Perhaps he could see into the windows--perhaps see-- He didn’t -wait to finish his thought, but scrambled frantically up the steep and -came around to the top of the wall. The window opposite and level with -him was bare but not as dirty as the others; and against it he saw a -bed-post. Anyway that room was used by some one besides ghosts, he -thought; and wondered what to do next. Just then Bouncer sprang up and -gave a single short bark, his bark of greeting. - -“She’s there, old dog!” Billy caught Bouncer’s nose tight in his hand -to prevent a repetition; and at that instant May Nell herself appeared -at the window! - -It took two hands to hold the dog’s mouth shut now; and for a minute -that Billy thought much longer, it seemed as if he never would be able -to make him keep quiet. But he succeeded at last, and turned again to -see May Nell standing in full view with her finger on her lips. - -“Are you hurt?” Billy spelled with the hand alphabet every boy and girl -knows. - -“No; well,” came the answer. - -“Alone?” - -“Not in the house; in this room, yes.” - -“Who?” - -“One of the brothers, hurt.” - -“Any one else?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Open window.” - -“I can’t. Nailed.” - -“Break it,--not now; when I tell you.” - -“No, no! They’ll kill us!” - -From where he stood Billy could see the distress in her face. He must -think of a way to get her, and he must, _must_ hurry! - -He ran back a few steps and found a loose board he had climbed over -when coming up. This he carried to the edge of the wall. “When I call,” -he spelled out, “break window, use chair, come across on board.” - -She shook her head. - -Just then he saw a wagon in the distance rounding the curve of the -mountain. This was his minute. He must get her before that team passed. -Then if any one attempted to prevent him he would have help. He turned -back to May Nell. - -“You must do it,” he spelled. His stiffened fingers must have carried -authority, for she nodded; and he saw her get a chair and stand with -it, ready to do his bidding. - -He lifted the board, trying its weight. Could he ever get it safely -placed? Higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that -if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the -court below. Frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. He -dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice -calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. As -it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand -with a knife or pistol. It was not for himself he feared, but for May -Nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something -to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not -save her. - -His boyish knowledge and imagination, equal to many pictures of danger -for the girl, did not extend to her captors. He never stopped to -consider, nor would he have understood if he had, the plight of the -criminals. He knew that two had been captured, one of whom before that -had carried off May Nell; but his small newspaper reading of “gangs” of -counterfeiters had given him visions of dozens of desperate criminals, -terrorizing communities, and equal to any bold crime. Now in his mind’s -eye he could see men skulking in the brush, listening in rooms below, -only waiting to pounce on May Nell the moment she smashed the window. -Oh, yes, he must hurry--hurry! - -In his distress his wandering eye discovered a bunch of vine ties, -short pieces of soft hemp rope for fastening vines to their supporting -stakes. They were hanging against the rear of the coop, and a gust -of wind had blown them into view. Like a flash he sprang and caught -them; tied several together in quick, strong knots, and lashed himself -to the little tree. Then he took up the board again, poised it at a -perpendicular, calculated the angle, and slowly dropped it. Would the -end reach the sill? No, it was too short! - -He tried to hold it from falling, but could not. It seemed as if his -arms would be pulled out of their sockets. It would fall short--he must -hold on to it, not let it strike below, for the noise would betray them -too soon; and--the men in the wagon were passing! - -With a supreme effort he straightened his arms just as the board -reached the level of the sill, pushed it forward with all his might; -and--it caught! Caught by an inch or less! - -“Stop!” his upheld warning hand said to May Nell. He found his knife, -cut his lashings, and beckoned to her vehemently. He waited only for -the crash of glass and sash, when he threw himself outstretched on the -ground, and pushed the board hard against the lower edge of the window -frame. - -[Illustration: She scudded across the bending board] - -“It’s up to you now, my girl,” he panted under his breath. “The board -will bend--you mustn’t be frightened. Fix your eyes on the tree--come -fast.” - -Gee! It was a scaly trick for a little girl, he thought; and felt sick. -Would the plank bend too much? Slip? She was such a little thing--if -only she could be a truly fairy for a minute! - -“Oh, God, walk with her!” he prayed silently when he felt her weight -first touch the board; prayed as he never had before. It seemed as if -something strange and strong was going out of him right to May Nell. - -Yet almost before the prayer was breathed the child with incredible -swiftness scudded across the bending board and stood safe by his side! - -He sprang up, caught her hand, and raced with her down the rocky steep, -calling wildly to the men in the wagon as he ran. Bouncer, no longer -watched, vented his pent-up excitement in noisy yelps; and above the -din Billy heard loud angry words in a foreign tongue that he knew were -execrations, commands to return. - -It seemed to him that his voice made no sound; that May Nell never ran -so slowly; that the travellers would surely not hear him, not stop. How -could they hear in all the noise? - -Yet they had already stopped, turned, and driven quickly to the house, -hurried by the frenzy in the boy’s tones. - -“Take her in,” Billy gasped. “They stole her; they’re after--save -her--hurry--” He could say no more, but suddenly collapsed and sank to -the ground; and the last sight he remembered was the dark Italian at -the house corner, talking fast, with one hand in a sling, the other -waving a knife threateningly. - -Yes, Billy had fainted for the first time in his life. The two men, -heedless of the Italian, took the boy up gently. One sat in the bed of -the wagon and held Billy as easily as possible, while the other lifted -May Nell to the seat, mounted beside her, and drove rapidly back to -town. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -BILLY TO-DAY - - -Things happened very fast the next few days. “Something doing every -minute,” Billy put it. Billy had neither been ill nor injured,--only -exhausted. The wound on his scalp had been worse in appearance than -in fact; and a couple of long nights in sleep, and easy days at home -mended him completely. - -Was not May Nell safe? Almost recovered from her fright and hours of -imprisonment? Was not the town ringing with her courage and quaint -sayings? For she had told her story more than once; and when she came -to the place where she said, “And I thought, ‘God can see me all the -time; if He means for me to suffer awfully I must have an awful lot of -courage; I must ask Him for it.’ So I did, and I said ‘Now I lay me,’ -and lay down on the bed so I could hear God speak--you know you can -hear better lying down--and I waited--” - -When she came to this point all her listeners looked for their -handkerchiefs. And May Nell stopped suddenly, smiled, and finished, -“And God heard me; and Billy rescued me.” - -May Nell was not taken to her father; he came to her. Edith’s pictures -of the little girl fulfilled their mission; they met him as soon as -he landed from South America. He had been a busy man during those few -days; had found not only his child but his wife, ill in a country -sanitarium; where, for weeks after the earthquake and fire had, she -supposed, swallowed her little daughter, she lingered, praying only to -die. Now with husband and child both saved to her, she was fast growing -well; needed only their presence to complete her recovery. - -It was on the first of these busy days in San Francisco that the big -counterfeiter saw at a distance May Nell’s father; saw the child’s -pictures posted in the galleries, hurried back to the “Ha’nt,” and -planned the kidnapping as a chance for “getting even” with Mr. Smith, -who had discharged him years before for dishonesty. But Billy had -thwarted him, brought him safely to justice for all of his crimes. - -“I always knew that house had something to do with me,” Billy declared -to Mr. Smith. “The kids call it a wicked house, but it’s only the -people living in it that’s wicked. It’s a splendid old place; and when -I’m a man and have money enough, I’m going to buy it and fix it up -fine, and give it a fair chance.” - -Friday came; and May Nell delighted her father with her part in the -exercises. Billy was very proud of her as she stood on the platform, -lovely in her white frock and her fair, curling hair, reciting her -“piece.” - -“She’s the swellest looking one in the whole school,” he whispered to -his smiling mother. - -“The prize is equally divided between James Dorr and William Bennett,” -the judges announced. - -And that night after school, when May Nell’s little wardrobe was all -packed,--not without a slight baptism of Edith’s tears,--and waiting -for the morning train, Mr. Smith came in and put a ceremonious looking -document into Billy’s hand. - -“The Sheriff tells me a thousand dollars will be paid to your account -as soon as the State settles, Billy. Here’s something else for you.” - -Billy turned the bulky papers over and over as if to gather some hint -of their meaning from fold and stiffness. “What is it, Mr. Smith?” he -asked wonderingly. - -“A deed to the stone house, the Ha’nt, May Nell calls it. I was glad -to know of something you wanted; and I’ll furnish the money to redeem -the place to your idea of the beauty it deserves. It is a splendid -location. And Mrs. Bennett,” he turned to Billy’s mother, “you must let -me see Billy through college.” - -“Oh, no! It’s too much. We only did what all--” - -“Too much?” he interrupted; “is anything I have in this world too much -to give for the life of my wife and child? Didn’t your son save them -both? Save May Nell from--” He turned away and did not attempt to -finish his sentence. - -May Nell ran and hugged Mrs. Bennett, and Edith and Billy in turn, -nestling afterward in her father’s arms. - -“Surely Billy has earned it, Mrs. Bennett,” Mr. Smith urged. - -“And I’m always going to be your little girl, too,” the child pleaded; -“so Billy must be my papa’s little boy.” - -Mrs. Bennett looked fondly at Billy, then back to Mr. Smith. “Thank -you,” she said slowly, trying to gather courage for what she was to -say. “Billy must not be paid for doing his duty. With the money he has -earned from the State I am sure we shall be able to help him through a -good schooling; for the rest my husband’s son must win his own way.” - -Billy felt his head lift a little higher at his mother’s words; felt a -new standard of honor and independence leap into being. The house was -too small for him. He ran out into the summer evening, down the hill -to the big rock that overhangs Runa Creek. The stars were beginning to -shine, and he could hear the tinkle of the water below. Bouncer rubbed -against him, and Billy hugged him to the peril of the old dog’s breath. - -“They shan’t ever again call me Billy To-morrow. It’s Billy To-day, -Bouncer. It shall always be _Billy To-day_!” - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - -Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - -Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - -Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Billy To-morrow, by Sarah Pratt Carr - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BILLY TO-MORROW *** - -***** This file should be named 62288-0.txt or 62288-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/2/8/62288/ - -Produced by David Garcia, Larry B. 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